#rare hometown w

[al-mayriti]

oh shit they're installing solar panels in my building

[plangentlyre]

man i love fantasy aus so much and i hate how the new set is giving me so many ideas i can barely breathe

[mickandmusings]

third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

-

i.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

-

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

-

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

[mymegumi]

GROWING PAINS ෆ GOJO SATORU

⠀ word count: 7.2k ⠀ summary: meeting up with the local college’s notorious ⠀ player, gojo satoru, for a group project, you’re shocked to ⠀ discover he’s actually a virgin and has never slept with ⠀ single soul that says they have. now, you find him endearing ⠀ and even offer to solve that pesky virginity problem for him. ⠀ warnings: afab!reader, college au, virgin!gojo, strangers to ⠀ more, corruption kink, top-esque!reader, porn w plot, ⠀ mommy kink, pet names (used by both parties ; baby), ⠀ gojo is whiney in bed, praise kink, oral (m rec), ⠀ unprotected sex, creampie, gojo is taller than reader

this project is gonna burn in flames, and you’re determined to set the match. you don’t even know how you’re going to get anything done, since your only partner is gojo satoru—if you at least had one other partner, you think there might’ve been a sliver of hope, but no, you got unluckily stuck in the class’s only group of two. the academic gods were frowning down upon you and you don't know what you could've done to have incited such wrath.

you're sitting in the library, waiting for gojo to show up for the first meeting that you'd both scheduled and he was currently nowhere to be found. you'd been waiting almost, like, a half an hour past your scheduled time and you were beginning to feel as if you were just going to give up on this. maybe you'd just work on the project yourself and email your professor what had happened, not to throw gojo under the bus, but also for him to not take credit for your hard work.

"you're kidding." there's been a commotion happening from the front of the room, but you’ve been playing your music up a notch from where it normally was to drown out the chatter. “oh em gee, there’s no way you actually know him!”

a laugh rings out across the front of the library—all of the private and quiet study rooms on the second floor had been occupied, so you’d been forced to make-do on the first floor—and the familiarity of it makes your blood boil. turning your head infinitesimally slowly, as if the slower you move the longer you can prolonge the inevitable, you find yourself face to face with your group project partner.

gojo satoru is as he normally is—carefree and unknowing to the situation he puts his peers in when he is, assumedly, knowingly late. he stands taller than you, though by a few inches or half a foot, you’re not sure. you try not to get close enough to him to tell, honestly. his eyes are a piercing blue and whenever he has a presentation at the front of the class, you feel as if you have to look away or divert your own gaze from his. as if holding his gaze was taboo, or made you feel shy. when his hair was on the longer side, it curled around his neck in soft, subtle waves before he would crop it close to his scalp again, leaving just the top parts of his hair wispy and natural. his skin was on the paler side, too, and sometimes you had to imagine he was truly an angel put on this earth to torture you.

you didn’t necessarily not get along with him. he was, on the rare occasion the two of you needed to speak to one another, kind and courteous of you. his humor was a bit similar to yours, and he always held the door for you after class if he was in front of you, but gojo wasn’t entirely out-of-his-way nice to you. again, but neither were you towards him. you didn’t mean to actively avoid him. sometimes, if you saw him walking towards you, though, you might think to make a quick detour you wouldn’t have before.

gojo satoru had a bit of a reputation. a reputation that you’d like to avoid at all costs because it was, for lack of a better word, messy. from all of the rumors on campus, gojo liked to sleep around a little bit. more power to him, but you’d also watched guys do that in your hometown, and watched them break your best friend’s hearts. you didn’t need a guy like that to be your friend or in your life at all.

this group project, in all honesty, would be the first time you and gojo would spend more than fifteen minutes together. hopefully, just working on the project and nothing more—no talk of pussy, dick, boobs, or ass allowed. just the economic turmoil faced by the lower classes and how the corporate world dictated everything. simple and easy.

“it’s true, i swear.” gojo’s smile is bright, illuminating his face as he adjusted the bookbag on his shoulder uncomfortably—his eyes darting around the library as if looking for something. when they lock onto your figure, clad in a college sweatshirt and jeans hunched over your books, is when you realize he’s looking for you. “i’d love to tell you more about him, but i have to go work on a project. so sorry about that.”

there’s the sound of a few girls pouting because, as if it wasn’t bad enough he was causing a commotion, he was causing a commotion while surrounded by about three or four girls. gojo peels himself away, waving goodbye with a toothy smile as he walks towards you. his stride is long—stupid long legs—and he reaches you in mere seconds, towering over you as he sets his bags and laptop on the empty space in front of you.

“thank god i found you.” his voice is low, but the emotion on his face doesn’t change, continually cheerful as his words differ. “they wouldn’t stop following me when i left the coffee shop. i was on time to meet you and they couldn’t take a hint, no matter how many times i walked around center square.”

“and here i thought you just wanted to skip our study session.” it’s deadpan, the tone you normally reserve for people you find annoying and gojo satoru. somehow you’re just now realizing the two categories are the same.

“no way am i missing our study date.” he slides into his seat now, hands a flurry of pulling out papers and typing his password into his laptop and getting pens out and organizing them. it makes your head spin a little just watching him. “i had to suffer through thirty minutes of ‘geto? geto suguru? omg you know him, how do you know him?’ and i need a reward.”

now that is a lot to unpack. “gojo satoru, this is not a date.” you feel as if this is the first thing that needs to be clarified, as you don’t think you want it to be going around that you consider this a date, or even want to consider this a date. the next part you don’t want to consider is the fact that gojo, in his mind, finds hanging out with you in any sort of capacity more rewarding than being fawned over. even if it’s just for girls to say they want to get to know his best friend.

“date, shmate.” he waves a hand around, lips pursed as he turns his head away. “we’re hanging out and getting to know each other. friend date.”

“‘friend date’?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows high on your forehead as you let your mouth hang open. it’s not the idea of it that makes you feel as if he’s playing with you, but the fact he’s being so openly relaxed about it. you thought gojo satoru didn’t date, that he was only fucking people and that was it. “do you even date people?”

“if it’s the right person.” he says it with a smile, eyes shining as he lets his lashes droop a little to look at you. “i’d date anyone if i knew they were going to be just as good to me as i would to them.”

it’s in this moment, inexplicably, that you begin to realize that for all gojo satoru is cocky and undeniably charming, he has the looks to back it up. sure, you’ve looked at him before and noticed he is very attractive and can be objectively considered handsome but you’re looking at him now, really looking at him, and you can feel your heart fluttering softly. it feels like a betrayal on an instinctual level—your own body chemistry reacting positively towards gojo.

he’s tall. taller than you even sitting down, and he’s looking down at you somehow even though you’re average height and will continue to insist on being of average height until the day you die. his skin is, of course, impeccably flawless but upon closer inspection, has very few blemishes and minor scars that could be anything from cat scratches to scrapes from trees or a clumsy personality. gojo’s eyes are some of the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and under their direct scrutiny, they seem to make you feel hot under your collar. you’re not used to having his undivided attention on you, but you think you could get used to it.

“the working class mentality stems from a distinct lack of motivation to do anything other than work.” you start, eyes casting downwards as you realize you’ve just been staring at him without saying anything. your leg begins to bounce under the table with the left over anxiety you can’t manage to bottle away. “if this statement is true, why is it that the work culture is toxic then?”

“what do you mean by toxic?” the two of you flawlessly switch from teasing to seriously working and it makes you breathe a bit easier. gojo leans down a bit, left hand disappearing under the table and a second later, you can feel his hand resting a few fingers on your knee gently. it provides a sort of grounding feeling and it stills the anxious leg’s shaking. “some of the sources i was reading the other day tried to explain it, but i couldn’t quite grasp what they meant.”

and you let the academia of it all lull you into a sense of security. eventually, gojo’s hand drifts from your leg but you feel it there even after it’s withdrawn, warm and sort of calming. you know that he’s much smarter than you’ve ever given him any sort of credit for—he keeps up with you and for every challenging question you give him to work on, he gives you a mental block that you have to work on, too. it’s nice, really. nice enough that you give him your number in case he has any questions on the work the two of you had mutually agreed to work on separately.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ is this that old lady w the candy?? im standing outside the ⠀ abandoned old house at the edge of the woods but i don’t ⠀ see a light on (・・;)ゞ

you laugh a little bit, eyes roving over the text gojo has sent you. when you had given him your phone to put a contact in, you hadn’t expected him to put ‘gojo (o˘◡˘o)’ as his contact name, but it bubbles a laugh out of you every time you see his notification slide onto your screen. you’re also unsurprised to know he texts with an absurd amount of emoticons—they’re oddly fitting for his personality.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀ oh yeah, i forgot to pay the electricity bill this month, so just come on in. don’t worry about the skeletons on ur way ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in, they’re just for decoration

you are surprised at how easy it is to talk to gojo. even just when you were sitting at the library desk talking about the project and about random odds and ends, the conversation flowed easily. there were no lulls in the conversation where you worried about what you had to say next, or awkward silences when you thought you had something wrong. it just kept snowballing until it had been at least a few hours since the two of you had started working. you had separated with a light feeling in your chest, proven wrong about your first assessment of his character.

gojo satoru seemed to be a good man, his out of class proclivities forgotten. for now, at least.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ do u rmbr that movie we were talking abt today?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ bruh no fckin way ur tryna talk abt alien v pred again

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ITS A GOOD MOVIE I SWEAR

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ how good of a movie can it be man

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ my roommate n i r (illegally) streaming it soon tnight if u ⠀ wanna come watch. jus smth chill (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ is it gojo satoru chill or actually chill?

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ wtf does gojo satoru chill mean ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)

there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s rude of you to be so blasé about his sex life, making jokes every other minute and saying them to his face, and then he makes comments like this—seemingly oblivious to his reputation and what people are saying about him. specifically what people are saying about things they do with him. you’ve heard more about gojo’s cock than you’d care to admit, but maybe the reason you agree to go over is because you’re curious. not about his cock, but about whether the rumors are true, about gojo in general.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ nvm. i’m down. addy?

so now, you’re at gojo and geto’s door at their dorm building, popcorn and a six pack of coca cola’s in your hand as you wait for him to open the door for you. it was an impulsive choice, since you had half a mind to just go to bed and watch anime for the rest of the night. but there’s something about his energy that made you want to hang out with him more, even if in the company of his magnanimous and heavily sought after roommate.

“yo, satoru!” you hear shouting from within, and you’re positive you can hear something falling over. “stop running. walk like a normal person.”

“don’t open the door!” it’s muffled, but you’re positive that’s what gojo’s response is. shortly after, you watch the door fling open with a breathless gojo behind it, eyes bright and smile wide. “welcome to our humble abode!”

“emphasis on humble.” geto mutters, thoroughly kicked to the side now.

the dorm apartment is nice, a simple layout of just a large living space with an open kitchen attached. there are a few doors that you can only assume lead to bedrooms and a bathroom, but the lights are all dimmed so you can’t tell bathrooms from bedroom. the living area has a couch and an arm chair surrounding a small, partially broken coffee table and entertainment center with a particularly out-of-place fancy television. there’s various odds and ends on shelves scattered around the apartment, as well as a few viney plants toppling over each shelf. a cat feeder and bowl is in the living room and you can see the tail of a sweet looking white cat every few seconds, though you never see the cat itself from where you’re standing.

you nod your head, holding out the housewarming gifts you’d brought with you. “i brought a whole box ‘cause i didn’t know if it’d be just us or more people.���

you had been expecting something of a small party, considering that geto and gojo had a reputation of being something of party animals. from your short view of the entryway, though, it seems as if it’s just the two boys and yourself.

“as if i’d invite anyone else for alien versus predator.” gojo scoffs, taking the box and ripping it open, throwing a single package of popcorn into the microwave. “you think any of the pleebs we go to school with understand the nuances and underlying themes of that masterpiece the way we would?”

“i’m still not even sure you can call alien versus predator a masterpiece, let alone say it has nuances.” you shake your head, shedding your outer layer until you’re left in your sweater and leggings. “but i’m more than happy to play devil’s advocate.”

“when was the last time i even watched alien versus predator.” geto mumbles from the arm chair in the living room, a ratty old green thing that’s covered in claw marks and has dangling strings from every angle on it. “i was probably high when i saw it, man.”

“as is the only way to see it the first time.” gojo concludes, nodding sagely as the sound of soft pops plays as background noise. “but you’re also probably bailing halfway through, aren’t you?”

the aforementioned male nods his head, bangs drooping into and then away from his face as he leans his head back onto the armchair’s back to look at his roommate. “yeah, got a study session with that hot chick from economics.”

“fuck yes, study session with that hot chick from economics!” gojo cheers, arms going up to ‘raise the roof’ and doing little spins in his spot as the microwave announces the popcorn is done. “we’ll be here, meriting the debate of alien or predator. don’t miss us too much.”

“i absolutely never miss you.”

“oh you big liar, i know it’s hard to express your feelings in front of people other than me, so i’ll excuse it for now.” the white-haired male shakes his head and pulls the popcorn out, shaking it and pulling on two corners to open the buttery goodness. “but, our guest, please feel free to sit wherever you like, except for the fire escape because it’s definitely not up to code and i can’t go to jail yet.”

“yet?” you parrot, making your way into the apartment without your shoes on and just a pair of socks, sliding slightly on the laminate flooring. “you’re leaving during alien predator? that has to be some sort of blasphemy.” you direct your last question towards geto now, sitting on the couch and crossing your legs underneath each other.

“i’m considered a heretic now.” he says, leaning over conspiratorially and cupping a hand over his mouth so gojo can’t hear it. “but he likes me too much to disown me, yet.”

“i’ve disowned you at least four times in the last week alone.” gojo says now, coming in between where you and geto had been conspiring and sits on the empty spot of the couch. he’s closer now, obviously, but gojo satoru is in your space and it gives you a second to recollect your breathing. “start the movie so you can at least watch someone die before you leave.”

gojo’s sitting close enough to you that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you now. it might be because of the cold weather outside, but you swear he’s like a radiator. geto is fiddling with the laptop connected to the television with an hdmi cord, so gojo turns to you and all of a sudden, it feels as if it’s only the two of you in the room.

“come here often?” he says while throwing popcorn in his mouth and chewing lazily. he’s got an easy going grin on his face and he leans towards you, arm resting on the back of the couch, but it feels as if he’s resting it around your shoulders.

you shrug, leaning your head back to knock against his arm gently and he tugs on a strand of your hair. it’s oddly intimate and it makes your legs tighten. “only for guys obsessed with alien versus predator, i guess.”

"thank god there's only one of those on campus." geto says it under his breath, avoiding eye contact with gojo as he wipes fake sweat from his brow. "sorry for you that it's gojo satoru."

"if i were any girl on campus, i'd be floored to know gojo likes alien versus predator." you snort, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. you remember at the last second that it's rude to eat with your mouth open, so you swallow before you finish your thought. "half the campus wants to sleep with him, the other half seems to have already done it."

while it was at gojo's expense, you had imagined your joke would have merited a laugh or at least a pity chuckle, but instead, gojo and geto share a look. the charged energy that passes between the two of them isn't lost on you, but you don't know what it is that it could mean. you're worried that it means that maybe you were right on your first overall assessment of him and your avoidance of him wasn't untoward—maybe gojo satoru is just a playboy that can't take a joke.

geto shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his thighs as he gets up, as if he were leaving a family function that's definitely gone on for too long and finally wants to go home. "well, i have to go meet up with that hot chick from econ, and maybe even learn her name. so i'm going to leave you two here to enjoy aliens and predators. i will be gone all night, do with that what you will."

the feeling of dread begins to sink into your skin. you thought gojo had invited you here tonight because the two of you had made some sort of connection that went above him wanting to sleep with you. geto's crude and offhanded remark makes it seem as if gojo had intended for you to sleep with him, and while you would've when you first came, the thought that the only reason he invited you over was to sleep with you makes you rescind the idea immediately.

you were stupid to think that maybe you could ‘figure him out’, to think that maybe things could be different than what you’d heard about.

geto's out of the door and it's shutting soundly when you turn to gojo, clear disbelief in your eyes if the apologetic hands in front of him are to mean anything.

"this isn't what you think it is." gojo says.

you seethe under your skin. "and what, pray tell, do you think i think it is?"

he gives you an awkward, fucking endearing, smile. "that i invited you over with the excuse to watch a movie but i really only wanted to fuck?"

bingo.

"is that why you invited me tonight?" your eyebrows furrow together as you begin to scooch as far into the couch arm as you can, granted it isn't very far away from gojo.

he sighs. "no, i just wanted to watch aliens versus predator with you."

"okay, so why did your roommate have to mention that he was going to be gone all night. feels a bit weird if all we're doing is watching a movie, doesn't it?" you tighten your lips into a line, raising your eyebrow and punctuating the end of your interrogation with a sharp tilt of your head.

gojo drops his gaze from yours, looking at the television where someone is getting gored by the alien. you image it's gojo in your head unapologetically. "i didn't anticipate us sleeping together, no. i might have mentioned to geto, though, that i wouldn't hate the idea of it."

"'wouldn't hate the idea of it'?" you echo, hands coming up to put air quotes around his statement. " that's fucking rich considering you fuck anything on two legs, but when it comes to sleeping with me, you would just tolerate it."

you move to get off the couch, legs unfurling from under you and your hands pressing into the soft cushiony feeling when you feel gojo's hand wrap around your bicep. "wait! that's not what i meant, i wouldn't just tolerate sleeping with you!"

"okay, so what the fuck do you mean, gojo, 'cause from where i'm standing, all i'm seeing is you being an inconsiderate asshole." you want to pull your arm from his grasp but he's got a firm hold on you—not tight enough to hurt or bruise you, but strong enough to keep you in place. if it weren't to keep you from bolting from his apartment for bruising your ego, you'd think it send fireworks in your belly.

"you don't understand." he says, looking up at you now and seeing that he's battling with what he's saying and what he really means.

you sigh, deeply, because you have an inkling of feelings for him and you want to know if what he truly meant was just to hurt you, or if there's something else to what he said. "so help me understand."

gojo stands, hands twisting and turning with each other and he begins to pace around the small space in front of the couch and the television. "so, i know that i have a reputation for being, like, this douche who just sleeps with anything with a pulse, and honestly it never really bothered me before."

you're silent, letting him continue with what he's saying and hoping he won't lose his nerve before he finishes.

"what geto was saying was some stupid joke because i had said something earlier about how you were really pretty and i thought i might actually have a chance to take you on a date sometime because i thought that we were vibing really well." he rambles, shaking his head at himself. "but he said it in a stupid way, and i didn't just invite you over to sleep with me, because i've never ever done that before! i've never invited anyone over before to watch a movie and hoping that they’ll just spontaneously wanna fuck."

"you've never netflix and chill'd someone before?" you say it incredulously because even as you say it outloud, it feels like something you've lied about. "never?"

he says your name softly, kneeling in front of you with your hands in his as he gives you a grim face. "i've never even fucked anyone before."

this revelation feels like a very bold-faced lie. a preposterous, almost presumptuous lie that only the likes of gojo satoru himself could try and pass off. you scoff, hands pulling away from his as you lean back into the couch, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“wait!” he cries softly, hands falling to the couch as you pull your body away from him, attempting to go around him but freezing at his outburst. “i mean it, i’m still a virgin.”

“what the fuck?” spills from your mouth before you can think to filter yourself, but you’re just flabbergasted at this point. your brows have never been more furrowed but you’re rubbing at your head as you shake it. “you do realize half the campus has said they’ve slept with you, right?”

one of his shoulders comes up in a defeated half-shrug. “yeah, it started when i was a freshman. one girl got mad i didn’t sleep with her, but she said i had anyways. from there, it just snowballed.”

“why didn’t you deny it?”

he collapses now, falling from his kneeling position to sit on his ass, hands holding up his weight behind him. “what’s the point? either people believe me and then i’m weird for not sleeping with someone, or people don’t believe me and i’m called a liar.”

“don’t you want to get back at that girl for lying?” you tilt your head to the side, mouth still open slightly in disbelief. “i mean, it doesn’t bother you at all that she’s the reason people call you a whore?”

“whoa now,” his lips go from slack to an easygoing half smile, “i don’t know about whore but no, it doesn’t bother me. usually just means at parties i have to decline a lot of advances, but then again, i’d rather just avoid parties at that point.”

“so, like,” you pause, thinking of the words you’re trying to say and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of gojo, who’s just watching you quietly and waiting for you to gather yourself, “you’ve never… pee pee in vagina?”

his laugh sounds like little angels and you shift uncomfortably, realizing there’s a part of you that likes that he’s a virgin. that he hasn’t ever slept with anyone before, that there are parts of him that a single soul hasn’t ever seen. “that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“do you want to change that?” the question is out of your mouth before you can think twice—an impulse that you hadn’t expected to need to curb, but when it’s out in the open, you realize that it’s exactly what you want to do.

you wanna take his virginity.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen gojo speechless before, because he was always talking—to geto, to some random girl, to you lately. he’s perpetually avoiding silence like it scared him, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually at a loss for words. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “wh-what? i though you got mad at me for inviting you over to fuck.”

you shrug. “i got mad ‘cause i thought you were being presumptuous by inviting me over for something ‘chill’ just to want to fuck.”

“shouldn’t i be offended that you found out i’m a virgin and now you want to fuck?” he raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth is lifting.

“intensely offended.” you nod, watching him as he crawls back towards the couch, hand winding around your calf carefully. “are you? offended, i mean.”

gojo leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to your knee and it’s your turn to swallow thickly, mouth dry all of a sudden. “very. need you to make it up to me.”

you groan softly, leaning down to press your hand to his and your forehead knocks against his lightly. looking at him, his incredibly incandescent blue eyes that seem to see straight through all the fronts and walls you try to put up and nudge your nose against his. the position makes your neck ache but you can’t force yourself to move, too gravitated towards gojo. you can feel his breath fan across your mouth hotly and you can see his eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, though you’re grounded by the feeling of his hand’s warmth through your pants. “how?”

you can feel the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your leg, can feel the way your muscles are spasming gently as he runs his hand up your leg, just barely touching you. his grip becomes firm again against the outside of your thigh, tilting his head up until your lips are millimeters away, practically breathing in each other's air.

"kiss me."

your lips crash against his with a fervor you hadn't realized you had in you. his lips are slightly dry, and the position is making your neck feel almost like it's about to fall off, but you couldn't think of a better kiss with him.

his hand flies from your thigh to cup the side of your face, the other one coming to rest on your waist as he pushes onto his knees, kneeling now between your legs. with you sitting on the couch and him kneeling, he's at the perfect height to ease the pain in your neck and to wrap your arms around his neck comfortably.

gojo pulls away from the kiss, but there's not even enough time to feel disappointed because he's already pressing your lips together again, this time with a bit of a slight opening. you take this as your chance to slide your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for permission to press deeper. you want to suck on his tongue, to feel him get hard from your kisses, to know gojo in a way that no one ever has before.

you've fucked before, and you've definitely had your fair share of disappointing experiences, so you want to make sure gojo's first time is better than—if not the best experience you could give him.

“bedroom?” he mutters against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your tongue sweeping across his mouth again and you make a soft noise when he nips it gently with his teeth. “or couch?”

“do you want me to blow you on the couch or on the bed?” you ask back, hands roaming across his back and rucking up the ends of his shirt to feel his skin, smooth and warm. “‘cause i’m okay with either. want you to be comfortable.”

you can feel him shifting his weight around, and with a simple nudge of his hand on your thigh, you’re winding your legs around his waist. you’re not sure how he manages to stand from the position he’s in, but one minute you’re sitting on the couch, the next minute you’re in the air as gojo carries you towards his bedroom. your lips never leave his, and while he presses you against his bedroom door, hand fumbling with the knob, you bite his lip.

“oh god,” he whispers, eyes reverently roaming your face as he gets the door open, “i want you so bad, baby.”

opening the door, he walks you in the room and does a little bit of a spin, sitting down on the bed with you straddling his lap. he leans back on the bed, just looking at you. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you feel almost shy under his gaze, unused to the undivided attention.

“i want to kiss you.” he mumbles, cheeks all of a sudden getting rosy red and the sight of it makes your chest tighten—he’s so pretty. “but i also really want… you to blow me.”

“s’okay.” you respond, hands sliding down from his shoulders, across his chest and to his belt. you get up and maneuver yourself off of the bed, kneeling at the edge with your knees pressing into the plush carpet. “help me with the buckle, baby?”

“yes, mommy.” he breathes, hands immediately flying to his buckle and wiggling out of his jeans as fast as you think a person could get out of pants. the moniker he calls you sends a chill down your spine, unused to the term but not disliking it in any way. “is it— is it okay that i called you that?”

you nod, distracted by the bulge in gojo’s black underwear—large, twitching every so often, and you think you can see a dark spot right at his tip. it’s long, longer than you had been expecting, and it’s just girthy enough for you to wrap your whole hand around it. he bucks his hips into your hand, as if it was an impulse he couldn’t control, his own hand coming up to bite back the moan he can’t help but let out.

your eyes flicker to his, watching the way his rosy cheeks begin to spread, trailing to his chin and down his neck. his chest is heaving, as if every breath is a labor, and you can hear soft whimpers leaving his mouth every time you press your fingers firmly, or during the slow, agonizing strokes you’re giving his shaft.

you’re watching him unravel, and you’re practically salivating at the thought of his sounds when you finally wrap your mouth around him, much less when he’s finally inside of you.

freeing his cock from his boxers, you let the fabric pool at his ankles as you slot yourself between his legs further, watching him lean back and support his weight with a hand bunched in his comforter. "oh fuck."

stroking his shaft without the boxers in the way makes gojo's eyes roll to the back of his head, your skin smooth against his skin and your thumb rubbing gentle little circles on his tip. his cock has little veins running along the shaft and the tip is red, as if straining for something. "feels so fucking good."

there's a whine that's in the back of his throat that makes your arousal pool in your panties, and you begin to move your hips side to side, as if trying to get any sort of friction to relieve yourself. you want to finger yourself, press your fingers to your clit and get rid of this aching need in your pussy, but your hands are busy with gojo's cock, holding it steady as you flatten your tongue.

pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, you relish the sound of desperation, of need, that gojo makes. it sounds halfway between a whimper and a moan, and it makes you swirl your tongue around his tip just to see if you can get another sound out of him.

"holy shit."

his hand is in your hair now, pushing the strands that had fallen into your face and moving them out of your way. he holds your hair loosely at the base of your neck and when you meet his gaze, he's biting his lip and groaning softly. his eyes are lidded, drowsy with lust and need, and it looks as if he's shaking, as if from the tension it takes to hold back from bucking his cock all the way into your mouth.

hallowing your cheeks, you push yourself up to sit on your heels and take as much of gojo's lengthy cock into your mouth, relaxing as much as you can to take him even further until he's hitting the back of your throat and then some. there are tears now, streaming down your face and gojo looks almost as if he's enjoying the sight of them, of his cock down your throat and tears pooling in your eyes.

pulling back until just the tip of his dick is in your mouth, you let your hand rub the parts of him that your mouth couldn't reach. gojo lets his head fall back, neck exposed to the ceiling as he moans wantonly. his grip tightens on your hair, making your pull back just a bit further and scrape your teeth against him by accident. he flinches, but then lets go of your hair to pull you off his cock fully.

"holy fuck, i think i was about to come." he mutters, breathless and chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you, hair disheveled and messed up. "i didn't wanna come before i got to fuck you."

in no time, you're both shedding your clothes and making out on the bed again, this time he's hovering over you while you wind your arms around his neck. you're nipping gently at his lips, relishing the nervous and tentative way he's touching you—as if, if he touches you wrong, you'll disappear from underneath him.

his hands are shaking, cupping your breasts and thumbing your nipples. pushing your chest into his hand, you moan and nod fervently when he gives you a look for approval.

"d'you wanna fuck me, gojo?" you whisper, pressing your lips wetly against his neck.

he whines, hand fisting the sheets until his knuckles turn white and he rubs his cock against the wetness of your cunt, slippery with your arousal. "call me by my first name."

you blink, surprised by his need for intimacy, but you're not one to deny him what he wants right now, the need for his cock too deeply ingrained in your brain at t his moment in time. his cock glides across your pussy again, rubbing against your clit and your moans come out breathless. "satoru, please, please fuck me."

and you're smart, you should've asked him to put a condom on to protect yourself just in case anything happens, but he's a virgin. he's never fucked anyone in his life, so there's no way he's got an std or anything, and you've been on the pill since you were young, so the thought of pregnant doesn't cross your mind. the only thing that crosses your mind is that you're about to have gojo satoru's cock in you and you want to relish every sound he makes when he finally, finally fucks you.

holding his shaft, he lines up his reddening tip to your cunt, hips stuttering as he begins to push himself into you. his face is twisted in what seems to be both pleasure and agony, but you're pretty sure it's because he's holding himself back for you, not wanting to rush his first time.

"you're so fucking—" his voice is coming out high, almost to the point of a whine as he groans at the feeling of his cock disappearing inside of you, and if you weren't so focused on leaving crescent indents in his skin, you think you'd be on the same page as him. "you're so fucking soft, a-and tight, mommy."

with every whimper, every soft reverent murmur of your name, you tighten your thighs, clenching around his cock as he fucks you. there’s not a rhythm to his thrusts, nothing to focus on and meet his hips with, since he’s a man reborn. now that he’s found what his salvation feels like, he’s just chasing his high. he tries to lean back his head, as if wanting to watch his cock slide in and out of your pussy. gojo’s hips hit yours with every thrust, the sharp angle of his hip bone leaving a grounding sort of pain on your thigh.

there’s a moment when you swear you can see stars and all you can think is ‘this man was a virgin thirty minutes ago’ because he’s got you desperately close to your climax.

“s-sator-ru!”

his name on your lips as you come, tightening your pussy around his dick and clawing at his back as he throttles you off of the edge, seems to set him over the edge, too. his hips stutter, body shaking as he comes in you—so much for not rushing his first time.

he falls now, letting his arms stop holding up his weight as he lets himself relax fully on your body and heaving in your ear. it’s not exactly romantic, but you enjoy running your hands along his sides to watch him twitch back and forth. his cock is twitching inside of you, fully spending itself of its first orgasm inside another person and you’re satisfied at his soft moan when you tighten your pussy one last time.

“i tried..” he whispers, mouth turning towards your neck and tickling you with every word he forms, “holding out, but i had to come. felt too good not to.”

“s’okay,” you whisper back, afraid to break the spell of closeness by speaking at a normal volume, “you’ll last longer next time.”

there’s an unspoken ‘with someone else’ that you can’t bear to say, knowing that perhaps this is just a one and done thing. something you’d done on a whim and perhaps, he had, too. perhaps this was just the easiest way for him to get laid, and you were more than happy to provide.

“gimme a minute.” he kisses your neck sloppily—too gentle. “i’ll clean up in a minute. need to catch my breath.”

you roll your eyes. hooking your legs around his ass, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple—too intimate. “take all the time you need.”

he hums, eyelashes fluttering shut as his breathing begins to even—too pretty. you’re worried this might be the last time you see him so peacefully, and instead of worrying about later—later tonight, later tomorrow—you let your eyes close, too.

[nesepte]

Hundred Steps | Jaehyun

Pairing: Jaehyun x fem! reader

Genre: soft jaehyun, fluff (he is cute in this), very mild angst, unsaid words, cozy, vinyl record store, music(al), rich jaehyun, but very humble jaehyun, acts of service love language jaehyun, small town, small shop owner, shop assistant jaehyun, first kiss, first crush, coming of age (?), senior jaehyun. Word Count: 6.5k words

A/n: Happy Jaehyun day, my loves! Here is the full fic. This is probably the sweetest fanfic I have ever written. Hope you find it so too! xD

Taglist: @yewshi @kanekisheart @cigsaftersuh

The air was warm against your cheek. The summer had ended but the heat lingered like a stubborn heart refusing to see reason. In front of you beyond the wrought iron gates, stretched the steps to your new life but you stood frozen in place.

Mind can be so fickle, and this restless heart even more so. You had waited your entire life to leave your hometown and move to the city. You had dreamed of this college every night and here it was, ready to welcome you.

But you turned your gaze behind— the city quiet from this height. Beyond the mountains in the distance, amidst the swirling roads that led to nowhere, your eyes searched for him.

Jaehyun…

It was two weeks after your high school graduation. You were working late in your father’s store for vinyl records. Just a few minutes before closing time you heard the ding of the tiny bell fixed atop the door. He stumbled in, trying to frantically shut his umbrella which was dripping onto the carpeted floor. His brown pants were soaked at the bottom and his white shirt was wrinkled at the joints.

‘That’s alright,’ you said and he looked up. Despite the umbrella, his hair was slightly damp and the tip of his nose was red. ‘We are closing soon,’ you told him. ‘If you want to browse, I suggest you come back tomorrow morning.’

His curious eyes darted from you to the aisle behind him. ‘Where is...?’

‘Are you looking for my dad?’ you asked, trying to keep your tone professional. ‘He fractured his leg. I’ll be taking care of the shop in his absence.’

He finally managed to close his umbrella and left it by the window.

‘Right,’ he said, walking into the glow of the dim lamp hanging from the ceiling above the counter. This close, you noticed that his cheeks were red too but it wasn’t particularly cold out that night.

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ he said, ‘but by any chance did he mention any Beatles record on hold?’

‘The Beatles…’ you mumbled to yourself and ducked behind the counter to check the cabinets. At the very top, wrapped neatly in a clear film was the record and stuck to it was a post-it that had the word paid written in block letters and a name beside it.

‘Jung…’ you whispered, rising back to your feet to find the light, ‘…Jaehyun.’

It took you a moment to place the name in your head, and when you did, you blurted out, ‘It’s you!’ You looked up at him. ‘You are Jung Jaehyun?!’

Your raised voice had startled him but he replied as even as before, pressing his lips together. ‘That’s correct,’ he said.

‘Get out,’ you gritted out.

‘W-What?’

His blank, ignorant eyes angered you even more.

‘Do you have any idea what you put my father through?’ you yelled, your voice echoing through the empty shop. ‘You have been making these insane demands for those godforsaken rare records ever since you stepped foot into our store!’

You could feel your face heating up, your heart pulsating inside your throat. It was a bad look— shouting at a customer, but you could not stop the words from flowing out.

‘Do you know how difficult it is for my father to find them?! It’s because of you that he had an accident and fractured his leg. He was out in the rain to get your stupid record!’

‘I…’ He stared at you, mouth agape and his face drained of colour. He had shrunk under your gaze somehow. ‘I… I had no idea.’

‘Of course, you didn’t!’ you spat back, the thin record shaking between your trembling fingers. ‘All you rich kids care about is your own convenience!’

‘That’s a harsh judgement to make,’ he returned, though not unkindly.

‘Harsh?’ You let out a mirthless laugh. You could not believe your own anger. The bulb over the counter flickered like a dull firework as the record player in the corner switched to the next song.

‘I’ll tell you what’s harsh. All his life, my father has worked tirelessly in this shop to raise me alone and I have done nothing but kept my nose buried in books so I could get into the best university in Seoul.’

You sighed, pressing your palm to your forehead to control the wretched tears that were pricking the corner of your eyes.

‘This was my last summer before college. My last chance to taste freedom and it’s ruined because of you! I am stuck in this shop, working all day. The boxes are heavy, the shelves are high. I don’t know any of the customers and all they really do is ask about my dad. I haven’t even eaten all day but I can’t complain to anyone without looking like an ungrateful brat!’

There was more you wanted to say but you had no breath left in you. Besides, you had embarrassed yourself enough and you couldn’t risk crying in front of him.

‘Just take this and leave.’ You held out the record to him.

His hand reached out immediately but stopped just centimetres from the edge.

‘Take it,’ you repeated, hiding the hitch in your voice. You did not rush his hesitation— there was no other customer in the shop waiting anyway. At last, when he closed his fingers over the record, you let the rest of your anger flow out of you with it.

‘What?’ you asked. He was still standing at the counter, staring at you. Maybe you had been too harsh but your anger didn’t allow any sympathy.

‘I can pay the hospital bill,’ he mumbled, clutching the record tightly in his hands.

‘There is no need,’ you replied. You could not let your pride take another hit after making a complete fool out of yourself in front of a complete stranger. ‘Just… don’t come back here again.’

You regretted saying it the moment the words left your lips.

When you had first learned of Jaehyun through your father, you had imagined a stoic, old man in his 50s, dressed in an unnecessarily expensive suit with a cigar in his hand and a flashy gold chain around his neck. He definitely seemed the kind with his incessant demands for particularly hard-to-find, expensive records. He liked nothing in the shop.

Pretentious bastard, you had called him.

But standing in front of you was a boy, who didn’t look much older than you. He was careful with the record while stowing it away in his bag, holding it delicately by the edges. Despite your outburst, there was a twinkle in his eyes, one that you recognized all too well— your father had it too whenever he got his hands on a new record.

In the wake of your receding anger, you saw clearly how frightened you had made him but he did not protest again. Without another word, he left, stopping only for a moment at the door but he did not speak whatever it was he wanted to say.

However, that was not the end. He came back— sooner than you had expected.

The next morning was busier than usual. You had to receive a new consignment and the truck that came with the boxes did as little as unload them right on the street in front of the store.

The sun was already up and you were sweating through your shirt by the time you had dragged the third carton inside amidst the sea of cursing passersby tripping over them.

Jaehyun found you sitting on the pavement, exhausted and on the verge of tears again. You had your head between your palms and was about to keel over from your own weight when he tapped you on your shoulder.

You looked up at him, squinting at his silhouette against the sun.

‘Didn’t I tell you not to come back here?’ you said, unable to keep the sharpness out of your tone.

He nodded, his expression unchanged. His eyes raked over the mess you had made on the street behind you.

‘What?’ This time you actually felt the tears fall out of your eyes but he didn’t startle. Instead, he sat down beside you.

‘What are you doing—’

He reached into his bag and produced a sandwich from it. It was homemade, you could tell. He peeled the wrapper back and offered it to you.

‘You haven’t eaten, have you?’ he said.

It was your turn to stare at him, wide-eyed. ‘I— don’t understand…’

‘I made you a sandwich.’

He had it so simply as if that was the most natural thing in the world. He had that air about him. You had mistaken it for confidence but Jaehyun was never too proud. He was just… him. You were dumbstruck and humbled at the same time. There were tears in your eyes again but you weren’t crying anymore.

You scoffed instead, amused. There were people still around you, cussing while stumbling through the maze of boxes; the sun was still shining— brighter and hotter; the drains smelled foul from last night’s rain and here was this boy, sitting on a hot pavement beside you with a godforsaken sandwich in his hand because you had told him last night that you hadn’t eaten anything all day. But the most absurd thing of all was when you actually took it from his hand and ate it, right there on the street.

He waited patiently beside you, not saying a word. He only had one sandwich too— you realized it after finishing it. He asked for the wrapper and shoved it in his bag, then got up and offered you his hand.

‘Let me help you,’ he said.

‘With the boxes?’ you asked.

‘In the shop,’ he replied.

His unwavering gaze was steady on you and he inhaled before speaking. ‘I can be your shop assistant. You do not have to pay me,’ he added before you could protest.

‘You want to work here?’

He nodded his head, his eager eyes searching your face for an answer you weren’t quite sure of yourself yet. For a moment, you saw it— behind the façade of his coolness— his guilt. You did not want to be pitied but he seemed more earnest than arrogant.

‘Do you not have a job?’ you asked.

‘I am in college.’

‘No summer internship?’ You could not help the derision that seeped into your words. And he picked up on it too but he did not budge.

‘It’s only my second year.’

‘I can’t pay you,’ you said in a final attempt to dissuade him.

‘I didn’t ask for money,’ he replied in the same breath.

‘Right… the shop opens at 10 and closes at 9 but you have to report an hour early to help me clean it. Will that be alright?’

‘Yes,’ he replied.

You could not tell your father about him. Jaehyun was a stranger and the shop never had any assistants before. But you needed the help, and he was willing even if it was for his own atonement.

‘So, am I hired?’ he asked.

Sighing, you took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

‘Get those cartons inside,’ you ordered your new assistant walking inside the store.

His reply came after a pause. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

That is how Jaehyun came to work at your store.

Every morning, he was there waiting in front of the shop before you arrived. His satchel over his shoulder and a homemade sandwich in his hand that he gave to you. He listened to what you said without question. When you told him to vacuum the floor, he did. On the mornings you told him to wipe the windows clean, he did. He steered clear of the records. Perhaps he was afraid he would break them. But he did not help you with dusting nor with arranging the shelves.

He was rich, you had realized that much but, in the shop, he acted no more than an errand boy. From carrying the boxes to special deliveries— he did them all.

During lunchtime, you took turns to eat in the backroom while the other manned the counter. In the evenings, he got you coffee from across the street and offered to tally the register while you rested.

You did not speak much, nor did you learn anything about each other that was not necessary, not until that night—

It was past 9 pm. You had closed the shop. Jaehyun was folding the cartons in the backroom and you were shelving the scattered records back in their places. You were almost done too, save for one record that was supposed to go on the top shelf of the closet in the back. You jumped up from your toes to fling it into the thin gap but not even its edge made it on to the shelf.

It's useless, you sighed to yourself after another failed attempt But just as you turned around to reach for the ladder, you bumped into his chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ he quickly straightened but did not move away. His eyes landed on the record in your hand then up at the open shelf.

‘Let me,’ he said and waited.

When you nodded, his fingers closed over the edge. He pulled it from your grip but kept standing in place. You stood there with him, confused.

‘Uh…’ The tip of his nose turned red. Perhaps the A/C was too cold, you thought at first but it was when he leaned forward that you realized why he was waiting.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you cursed inward, holding your breath as you shrunk under him against the shelves. The blush on his face creeped up your cheeks, your breath drained out of you as he pressed further.

But Jaehyun braced himself against the edge and swiftly placed the record back onto the shelf, not even letting the hem of his shirt touch you. You had never realized how much taller he was than you, but then again, you had never bothered to look before.

You were looking then, up at him and back at his face when he found his footing again. He had an earphone in his right ear. You could hear the faint music leaking out of it in the sudden silence that had enveloped you both.

‘What are you listening to?’ you asked, surprised at the strangeness of your own voice.

He took the earphone out and held it out in front of you. ‘Want to listen?’

You nodded but he walked down the aisle and out of sight. Several seconds later, you heard the soft crinkling of a plastic film and the distinct sound of a record being pulled out of its case. You waited as he dropped the pin over it and the song reached you.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Unexpectedly, he found you on the floor again as the notes of the first chorus filled the empty shop. He sat beside you, just as naturally as he had done the first time.

When the record player cracked to a halt, he turned to you. He did not speak, not out loud at least, but you could make out his words. So, when the next night came, you put on a new record in the player— With You by Harrison Storm.

The night after that, he replied and the one after that, you replied to his reply. Every night, after you flipped the sign in the window to closed, you both found a song for each other. To his Dandelion you replied with Sofia. For his Laufey, you had Lana Del Rey. For your Hozier, he had Artic Monkeys.

You sat beside each other on the same spot tucked between the shelves, listening to your conversation echo against the walls. It was easy to slip through that crack in time that you had opened and enter that small pocket of dimensionless space, save for the music.

He tapped his foot against the floor when you replied to his Home with Nancy Mulligan and danced on the night you had played Something Just Like This to his question, Mystery of Love.

It was strange how you knew nothing about Jaehyun yet you had never known anybody that intimately before.

But the summer was ending. In a blink of an eye, three months had passed. You had started receiving emails and thick letters from your college about orientation, dorm rooms, classes and credits. And two days ago, you had taken your father to the hospital to get his cast removed. He was going to come back to the store; you were going to leave for college and Jaehyun… you didn’t even know where he was going to go or whether you would see him again.

You fell asleep on the counter that night after closing the shop. It was humid outside and the A/C was on full blast. It was a restless sleep and you must have been shivering because you felt him drape his outer shirt over you. It smelled of him— warm and sweet, and you groaned, suddenly wanting more. You opened your eyes slowly. He was right there, his face in front of you but your gaze did not surprise him.

He reached out and brushed a strand of your hair away from your face. His touch was so light that you thought you were still dreaming, but his warm breath over your lips was evidence enough. His dazed eyes pulled you in and for a brief moment you thought he was going to lean in but when you blinked up from his lips again, he gulped and shook his head.

‘Uh…’ You straightened up too, his shirt falling to the floor behind you. You were sweating beneath your collar, a familiar flush on your face.

‘It’s your turn to pick a song,’ he mumbled. Perhaps he did not know what to say either.

‘R-Right…’

You leafed through the records to find your words. A conversation had ended last night so it was your turn to begin anew. But all you could really think of was Jaehyun… and you, and what if you hadn’t met him like you had. What if you had met him in college. He would have been a senior and you, like every other girl in his class, would have had a crush on him. Then, one day, after gathering all your courage, you would have asked him out. Perhaps he would have said yes, and instead of helping you around the shop, he would have done all those small things for you as your boyfriend.

You found him at your spot on the floor after putting the song on the record player— Those Eyes by New West.

Three minutes and forty seconds. It’s not long, not by any measure, but it was enough for you to tell him what you could not speak that night. You couldn’t recall how long you sat beside him, silently, after the song was over. You didn’t want to leave, not yet.

Then it struck you.

‘Do you want to go on a trip with me?’ you asked, keeping your eagerness at bay.

‘A trip?’

‘It’s just to get a record from the next town. Don’t say it,’ you warned, expecting a taunt about it but it never came. Instead, he smiled his dimpled smile and nodded his head.

‘We’ll have to take the bus,’ you told him, testing his resolve.

‘Alright.’ He nodded his head.

‘We will have to leave at 5 am.’

‘Okay.’

‘You might get bored,’ you told him.

He paused— the dimples on his cheeks deepened. ‘Then let’s get bored together.’

The morning was silent and still blue. You reached the bus stop before Jaehyun, who came a minute after. There was no sleep in his eyes, nor any hint of exhaustion. If anything, he looked as lively as the birds singing in the trees behind you.

‘Did you walk here?’ you asked.

‘It wasn’t that far,’ he replied and you realised you didn’t even know where he lived.

‘What’s that for?’ You pointed at the film camera that was hung around his neck.

‘Oh, this is…’ He looked down at the camera, running a hand through his hair. ‘In case I find something beautiful today.’

You and Jaehyun sat near the end of the bus— him by the aisle and you at the window seat. The ride was short, or so it felt (you fell asleep quickly into it and woke up when the sun was up and your destination was two stops away). If he was bored, he didn’t complain, nor did you feel him stir beside you.

‘Here,’ he said, taking out a wrapped sandwich and a small box of chocolate milk from his bag. ‘Why are you smiling?’

You took the sandwich from his hand and unwrapped it. ‘Why do you bring me a sandwich every day?’ You knew the answer already but you wanted him to say it.

There was a shy smile on his face and he fumbled before speaking. ‘That night…’ he started, ‘you said you hadn’t eaten all day.’

You were grateful that he turned his pointed gaze away from you because you could feel your face heating up. Pressing his lips together, he offered you the carton of milk with both hands.

‘I don’t like chocolate milk,’ you lied and pushed the box towards him. ‘Why don’t you finish this?’

He sighed, looking disappointed but took the box nonetheless.

In the soft light of the morning sun, even the town’s chaos seemed peaceful. Amidst the sudden swarm of running children, Jaehyun pulled you close by the elbow— you were about to bump into a child, who was scampering to find his way around your legs.

‘Do you know where to go?’ he asked.

‘Hm?’ It was hard to focus when he was that close to you.

‘The way to the shop…’ he repeated.

‘Right,’ you said, pulling away to conceal the beat of your thumping heart. ‘Straight down this road and right at the intersection.’

‘Alright then,’ he said, cheerily, ‘lead the way.’

The shops were only just waking up, delivery trucks lining the streets. In the distance, you could hear the ocean, calm that morning except for the occasional thrash of the waves which marked its presence.

‘Where do you live?’ you blurted out without thinking. The question must have caught him off-guard too. He jerked his head in your direction, pausing for a bit before answering.

‘My parents’ home is in our town,’ he said. ‘But I go to college in Seoul.’

‘Oh, which one?’ you asked. ‘My university is also in Seoul.’

‘I know,’ he replied but did not answer your question.

You could see the ocean in the distance now, merging into the sky beyond the intersection. The cars looked as if floating on water as they sped off in either direction.

‘I am sorry,’ you said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘For shouting at you that night.’

‘It’s alright.’ He shrugged. ‘If someone was making my father work that much, I would have been angry too.’

That was Jaehyun— easy and uncomplicated. He had managed to put your mind at ease so simply that he made you question your own apology. You nodded, not sure whether grateful or humbled but whatever it was, you knew it was real, the feeling anchoring itself inside your heart.

When you reached the store, he stayed outside. The store owner had already laid the record out for you. It was a rare 12-inch record wrapped in a gatefold sleeve. You replayed your father’s instructions in your head as you picked it up for inspection. You held it up to the sun for signs of scratches or scruffs along the fine grooves. There were none. The label was authentic and so were the markings at the back.

You lowered the record and your gaze fell on Jaehyun, standing outside the store window. He had his hand on his camera and his eyes on you. The sun must have been burning his back— he was standing so still but he did not move.

You jerked your chin up in question but he shook his head and turned away. You had seen that look before on him before, several times in the last three months. It was either in those early hours of morning when he would report to work or later during the slow evenings just before closing time. You had never questioned it. It wasn’t your place. But you had realized as much that it was always when he was staring at you.

‘Did you get it?’ Jaehyun asked once you were outside.

‘Hm,’ you replied, tapping your bag and sighed, ‘We still have the afternoon to kill before the evening bus.’

‘What do you want to do?’

‘There is a lighthouse here,’ you said. ‘Do you want to go see it?’

‘Yes,’ he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

You retraced your steps back to the intersection and turned left this time, towards the sea and to the lighthouse that stood down the stony promenade. It was painted in striking red with a set of staircases leading up to the cabin at the top. The sea behind it was a stark blue in contrast, endlessly spilling over the horizon.

You sat on the edge of the walkway, your feet dangling over the breakwater rocks below you. You leaned back on your palms and breathed a sigh. The clouds overhead had overshadowed the sun and the salty wind had turned cold.

‘What are you doing?’ you asked.

Jaehyun had torn a page from a notebook in his backpack and was folding it up into a shape.

‘Making a boat,’ he replied with a child-like giggle.

‘A boat?’ You laughed. ‘For the ocean?’

‘Mhm.’ He had his eyes set on the paper he had laid out beside him. ‘See?’ he chimed up, holding the paper boat up to your face. ‘But the question is whether it will reach the ocean or not.’

The rocks were blocking the water and the aim had to be perfect. You got up with him, taking a step back to witness what you could already tell would be a failed venture. He angled the front of the boat towards the water like a plane and shot it like a dart towards it only for it to land right in front of your feet.

‘Here, let me try,’ you said and picked it up. You held it from the bottom and aimed it further away. It flew a few inches but landed in a small crevice between the boulders below.

‘Jaehyun!’ You shrieked.

Jaehyun had practically flung himself down the pavement to the slippery rocks, his hands still holding onto the edge.

‘Careful…’

‘I am fine,’ he shouted back above the sound of the waves just a few metres away from him.

‘Just throw the boat from there,’ you shouted back as you saw him scrambling back up to you with the boat still in his hand.

‘What’s the fun in that?’

‘You are insane, you know that?’

He smiled and shrugged.

The boat was crumpled beyond hope. With a quiet sigh, Jaehyun tore another page and made a longer, sleeker shape this time only to fail again. You tried different angles, shapes, even places. At one point, Jaehyun even took a running start and hurled the boat forward, but it always fell short of the shoreline, sometimes by mere inches.

By afternoon, a few children returning from school had joined your futile pursuit. While you kept folding new boats, you could hear Jaehyun behind you— scolding them in an attempt to keep them away from the edge.

At last, exhausted, you both plopped down.

‘Should we just give up?’ you asked. The wind wasn’t in your favour and the clouds were shifting again. You saw his shoulders slump further with a sigh as his gaze fell over the pile of the failed paper boats.

‘You look disappointed,’ you remarked.

You wanted to laugh and perhaps you did too because his dejected frown quickly twisted into an offended scowl. Why was he so disappointed over a silly boat. That boy really was mad. And, maybe you were too, because before you even realized it, you were grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

‘Come on, get up,’ you said, picking out the very first boat he had made from the pile. ‘We are going to get your damn boat into the water.’

The paper had dried hard but it was not torn. If it landed correctly, it could still float. You straightened out its crumpled edges, making the perfect cone at the top to balance its weight and took the position at the edge.

‘Careful.’ He tightened his grip on your hand.

‘I’m fine,’ you told him. ‘Just hold on tightly me.’

He braced his foot against yours as you leaned forward with his support. His fingers stiffened and his other hand grasped your elbow tightly but he gave you enough room to safely incline yourself over the rocks.

‘A little more.’

It took him a second to loosen his hold to let you lean further over the edge. You were focused on the angle, your eyes fixed on the pattern of the crashing waves. You counted the seconds in between. One more. You had to wait for just one more.

‘Now,’ you said. Jaehyun let go of your hand. You shot the boat towards the receding tide in the fraction of a second before he yanked you back into his arms.

This time the ocean accepted it, pulling the little devil inwards with its current.

‘It’s in the water,’ he said.

You had expected more of a celebration after the hours you both had spent on it. But perhaps the feel of his pounding heart beneath your palm was evidence enough of his triumph and the smile on his face was your reward.

‘It’s in the water,’ you echoed, amused at your own joy.

The evening bus was right on schedule and you barely made it back to the stop in time. The sun was setting in the distance. It was time to go back. You glanced back, as if hoping you could catch a final glimpse of the boat that you’d set afloat in the ocean together but it was gone.

The bus was packed yet quieter somehow. Jaehyun pulled a juice box from his bag for you and as you sipped on the bitter taste of farewell, your eyes swelled with tears. This really was the end— the last night of the dream that the summer had pulled you into.

Tomorrow, Jaehyun would be gone.

And so, you held on, as tightly as you could. You closed your eyes and let the setting sun lull you into one final sleep. He was still there, and you weren’t going to let tomorrow ruin that.

‘It is your turn to pick the song tonight,’ you turned to him.

His dazed eyes focused on yours then took out the earphones from his bag and gave one of them to you. It took him a while to find the song on his phone.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Why did he choose that song? It was the very first you had both listened to together. Perhaps that was his closure.

It was still early when you reached your town but the bus stop was empty save for the passengers who got down with you. Jaehyun had offered to walk you back to your house but you had refused.

You pointed to the camera around his neck. ‘You didn’t take any pictures today.’

He remained silent, but you could see his mind working behind his eyes. He was perfectly still but he seemed restless somehow and you couldn’t tell why the same impatience was seeping into you as well.

‘Didn’t find anything beautiful to click?’ You tried to break the tension his silence had caused. The street lamp above you flickered for a brief moment before settling down.

‘I did,’ he said at last, his voice not above a whisper but his smile had returned— the shy one. In the same breath, he raised the camera to his eyes and snapped a picture of you.

You are not sure how long you stood there, arrested in place by the flash but you were sure of one thing then— you had to ask him the question that had been poking at you since last night.

‘Will I see you again?’

His relaxed smile irked you. Why was he so calm?

Silently, he unhooked the chain that he wore around his neck. You had seen it before but as he pulled it away, you saw a pendant hanging at the end. It was a small silver record complete with its grooves.

He took your hand and placed it in your palm, closing your fingers over it. He leaned in close, as if whispering a secret to you.

‘On the day you climb a hundred steps, close your eyes, hold out this pendant in front of you and say my name. That’s when you’ll see me again.’

You looked up at him, confused, but he had already let go of your hand.

‘Promise me, you will remember this,’ he said. He was pulling away but his eager eyes were waiting for your answer. ‘Promise me.’

‘I will,’ you managed before he left.

That was two weeks ago and the last time you saw Jaehyun.

Nothing had moved around you— the wrought iron gates still stood; the people still walked by. The air was still warm and the college was still waiting.

Pulling the strap of your bag up your shoulder, you dragged your gaze back to your new life. One step after the other, you walked till you reached the base of a steep climb.

This entrance was reserved for freshmen. For a moment you wondered whether it was some sort of a prank set up by the seniors because in front of you was a seemingly endless set of steps stretching to a top you couldn’t even see from where you stood.

Just then, a boy next to you groaned. ‘Why are there a hundred steps here?’

You heard a breathy laugh next. ‘Funny you say this. It’s exactly a hundred steps here.’

A hundred steps…

You had started climbing the steps alongside them, your ears perked up at their conversation.

‘What do you mean?’ the first one asked.

‘It’s tradition,’ the other one replied, catching up to him. ‘Freshmen are supposed to climb a hundred steps on their first day of college for good luck.’

‘What did you just say?’ You suddenly turned to them, making them jump up.

The two boys exchanged a confused glance before looking back at you.

‘I am sorry,’ you quickly added, seeing their startled expression. ‘The steps…’

The shorter one nodded his head. ‘Yes, it’s a freshmen tradition—’

‘No,’ you cut him off. ‘Are there exactly hundred steps on this staircase?’

‘Y-Yes,’ he stammered.

Jaehyun’s words rushed to the front of your mind— on the day you climb a hundred steps…

It was the strangest thing that he had said that night. You had turned his words over in your head a thousand times, wondering if you had misheard him or missed something between the lines.

But here they were, quite literally, a hundred steps in front of you.

Heart hammering inside your chest, you quickly counted the steps you had already climbed— 24— before turning around and breaking into a run. You could feel the pendant burn inside your pocket as you rushed up the stairs, two at a time.

Your legs burned with the strain it took to push yourself up the incline, each step more demanding than the last.

This is ridiculous, you thought. This isn’t a fairytale. How would he even know about this.

But the rising questions melted away in the face of what was pulling you up.

Your breaths turned into short gasps, making your pounding heart thud against your ears, drowning out everything else. Your lungs ached for air, but you did not stop. If he was really waiting at the top, you didn’t want him to wait for too long.

One after the other, you kept going, slower when you couldn’t anymore, but not stopping until the top finally came into view.

Still panting, you reached for the pendant in your pocket, your other hand pressing against the stitch in your stomach. The silver record dangled from the chain as you held it out in front of you, the tiny grooves reflecting the sunlight.

You closed your eyes, and whispered his name like a prayer— it felt like magic anyway.

‘Jaehyun.’

The leaves above you rustled in the soft wind that had caught you. The birds were chirping too. There was a dull chatter somewhere in the distance and the soft curses of the students asking you to move. But you could not bring yourself to open your eyes yet.

God, this is so stupid. You were sure you looked deranged to others. The possibility crossed your mind too. What if he had meant his words to be something else. What if you had not paid close attention to what he had said. Ugh. Why couldn’t he have just said what he wanted to?!

But then you heard it— him.

‘What took you so long?’

You smiled first, then opened your eyes. He was standing right before you, his dimples etched on his cheeks. His hand closed over yours, pulling the pendant to himself, and you with it.

‘I am sorry, I am late,’ you said.

There he was, your senior in college, the dream within your grasp. Just like every other girl in his class must have, you had a crush on him too.

‘Do you…’ The words caught in your throat. The fantasy was easier than reality. But you had not just climbed a hundred steps to shy away.

‘What is it?’

Gathering all the courage in your heart, you asked, ‘Do you want to get a cup of coffee?’

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling like they did the first time you had seen him. His smile grew wider barely leaving space for the dimples on his cheeks. He wrapped his arm around your waist, hesitantly at first then bolder when you followed his lead. The tip of his nose had turned red but his bashful gaze remained fixed on you. He held your face in his hands and pressed his lips over yours ever so sweetly like he had been waiting to do so for an eternity.

‘I would love to,’ he whispered and kissed you again.

The End.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hi Sarah (or Sara? I remember you discussing the h but don't remember which way it's spelled). I hope you're doing well on your break and enjoying September. I have a question - how much schooling did you have to do to become a nurse? I'm considering becoming an elementary school teacher in Norway, which would require me to go back to school for 5 (additional) years. Seems like a long fucking time and i didnt do great the first run tbh. It would be free though. Investment in the future seems like it could pay off, so i guess im looking for inspiration from other ppl who have perhaps made a similar plunge

Hi, anon! I wish I could give you some straight up inspo. Instead, I navel-gazed for a while. Schooling-wise, I already had a (completely unrelated) bachelor's degree so I was able to do an accelerated nursing program after two semesters of community college doing the prereqs. I did struggle in nursing school. College has always been brutal on my mental health and nursing is a hard pivot from my original degree (double major history and english w a concentration in creative writing) (you cannot imagine how many books I read and essays I wrote). It took a little over two years in total.

You don't have to don't have to worry about student debt which is so so wonderful. I didn't have to either, and that's let me be way more adventurous with my life choices. The cost of your education would just ("just") be your time, energy, and the potential money that you could earn by focusing on work instead. I had to stick around in my hometown instead of going traveling with Cyrus. I worked a lot fewer hours than I would if I'd not been in school. I had to miss the live airing of the Jesus Christ Superstar on NBC in order to study for an anatomy test which was genuinely so distressing to me. 2018 was a hell of a year for me. (I aced that test btw. It was such an improvement over my previous test my teacher emailed me a congratulations note with twelve exclamation points.)

All of this while people were constantly talking about how shitty it is to be a nurse and how so many of them leave the field within six months. (Similar to teaching in that way, at least in America.) I was doing work I didn't enjoy for a job I might not stick with. There were a lot of times I resented nursing school for interfering with my life.

I'm still very glad I did it. My degree gave me a lot. On the very practical side, my degree has given me more financial freedom and a much higher earning potential. On the idealistic level, my degree has enabled me to do work that I find meaningful. The work touches a lot of things that I find interesting. My nursing degree has benefited my life, regardless of if I stay in nursing for the rest of my career or move on to something new. I didn't like getting my degree, but I don't regret that I got it.

Maybe it'll go way easier for you, maybe it won't be worth it. When I thought about becoming a nurse, it felt like my life plan clicked into place because it ticked every single need I had for a job. I didn't know if it would work out, but the rewards outweighed the risks. More than that, it was the first plan I had for my future that made me excited. I liked the life I pictured if I was a nurse. I've found that excitement to be rare and precious. If teaching gives you that, I'd strongly consider pursuing it.

Besides, you can always use my last-line defense against school despair: being like "fuck it I'm gonna drop out after this semester" and then keep not doing that. You can bail on stuff! It's rad.

[shizuturnspages]

Yan Diluc w/ an s/o who actually has an amazing relationship with her twin brother? They did everything together as kids, are openly supportive and friendly with each other, they gush about each other when asked about their twin, and mean the world to each other ("he's the one I can truly trust"). Basically the COMPLETE opposite of his relationship with Kaeya.

Although he's a wanderer (like Kazuha) and is constantly traveling so they don't see each other a lot, but write letters to each other and he comes to visit her sometimes!

Her brother visits her and is immediately dislikes Diluc. He can tell Diluc is a yandere and warns her about him and tries to convince her to stay away from him. He also speaks to Diluc directly and tells him to stay away from his sister.

Red Flags in Scarlet

Yandere Diluc x Reader

The relationship you and your twin brother shared was one of those rare, genuine bonds that never broke, no matter the distance or time spent apart. You were the talkative one, always getting into things, and he was the quiet observer who kept you grounded. As children, you were inseparable—whether you were building forts out of blankets, stealing pastries from the kitchen, or pretending the river near your hometown was a vast ocean to be sailed. Even now, with your brother travelling the world as a wanderer, chasing stories and chasing peace, you remained tightly-knit.

You wrote letters. Long ones, filled with everyday thoughts and small joys. You updated him on your days in Mondstadt, and he would send back tales of faraway forests, strange birdsong, and unfamiliar stars. There was no one you trusted more. No one who knew you better.

So naturally, when he announced he was coming to visit, you were ecstatic.

And naturally, Diluc was not.

Diluc had long known about your brother. It was impossible not to. You talked about him constantly, your smile bright and wistful as you recounted memories with him. You saved every letter like it was precious, ran to the mailbox like a child on festival morning, and always seemed to talk more fondly of him than of anyone else.

It had planted a slow, sour bitterness inside of him.

He’d never say it aloud. He wasn’t irrational. Of course not. But that quiet resentment festered. And when the day came that your brother finally arrived in Mondstadt—dusty from travel, long hair tied back, clothes wind-worn, but eyes alert—Diluc felt it.

He knew, immediately. That this man would never like him.

And he was right.

Your brother greeted you first, of course. He hugged you tightly, his voice warm with joy, and you two caught up with the excitement of years condensed into minutes. He asked about your health, how well you were eating, your hobbies, your new projects, and then—finally—he asked about the man standing just behind you.

Diluc.

You smiled, bright as day. “This is Diluc. He’s… my partner.”

Your brother's eyes locked with Diluc's. And in that moment, something unspoken passed between them.

Because your brother wasn’t blind.

He saw the tension in Diluc’s shoulders. The possessiveness in the way he stood just a step too close. The faint, nearly hidden smirk that flickered when he laced his fingers with yours.

He knew.

The first warning came that evening. Quietly, while you were brushing your hair, your brother leaned against the doorframe of your room.

“I don’t trust him,” he said plainly. “There’s something… wrong about him.”

You blinked. “Diluc? He’s just a bit stiff sometimes, but he’s sweet—”

“No,” your brother cut in. “He’s watching you constantly. The way he talks—it’s like he thinks you belong to him. That’s not love.”

You frowned. “You’re being too harsh. He’s just protective.”

“He’s controlling. There’s a difference.”

The conversation ended with you brushing him off—gently, but firmly. You trusted your brother, but this felt like an overstep. Diluc had always been nothing but kind to you. Maybe distant to others, yes, but with you? He was warm. Gentle. Patient.

Still… you couldn’t ignore the unease in your brother’s voice.

The next day, your brother cornered Diluc. Away from your sight.

They met beneath a tree in the Dawn Winery’s back gardens, the silence between them louder than the rustling leaves.

“My sister,” your brother said, “is the only person I have left in this world. She is kind, trusting, and far too good for people like you.”

Diluc didn’t flinch. He merely tilted his head. “Then you should trust her judgment.”

“I do. That’s why I’m here. I know your kind.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You think your wealth and status gives you the right to own people. You watch her like a hawk, isolate her. I’ve seen your type in every city I pass through—obsessed men who call it love while slowly snuffing the life out of someone.”

“You think you know me?” Diluc’s voice was velvet over glass. “You’ve been here for one day.”

“I don’t need more time to read a book with half the pages already on fire.”

Silence.

Then Diluc smiled. Not kindly. Not truly.

“She won’t believe you,” he said. “She loves me. She chose me.”

The response was simple. Cold.

“And I’ll be here to remind her she has someone else. Someone who sees through you. Someone who won’t stop reminding her what real love feels like—free, not caged.”

You were unaware of that confrontation for a long while.

But the aftermath lingered. Diluc’s grip on you became tighter—gentle in touch, but unyielding in presence. He wanted to know where you were, who you were with, what you spoke about with your brother.

He didn’t argue with you when you hugged your twin, when you laughed with him, when you spent long hours talking. But when your brother left again, on another journey, Diluc didn’t hide his relief.

Nor did he hide the fact that every single one of your letters was intercepted now. Read. Resealed. Carefully inspected.

For your safety, of course.

After all, he was just worried your brother might try to "take you away."

And that was something Diluc could never allow.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

Slick (yandere coworker)

ONE

[Masterlist]

T/w: suggestive, violence, gore

So you got jokes, don't you now?

You notice my keen interest, and it makes you nervous. I'm sorry to see your darting eyes searching for an escape whenever I approach you, but that is all I will be sorry for. You see, I don't care if you find me off-putting: I like to see whichever way you react.

I have drifted through a couple of countries. I assume so have you. Cultures may vary, but under laws, social etiquettes, cuisine and fashion, we all aren't so different. We eat and sleep. We feel good when we get what we want, and we feel bad if we don't. And since not everyone is aware of how similar we are, most of us like people who agree with us a little (or sometimes, unfortunately, a lot) more than the rest. You would assume I am a cynic, but I in fact celebrate this persistent likeness among us all. I think it is humanity. Wouldn't you agree?

And what I rejoice in even more so is the effort that we put into controlling these primal instincts. Self control - a rare and remarkable virtue. You work hard on it: punctual, courteous, and moderate on all front. I like to see it, the way you resist your emotions at any given point to upkeep this image. What minotaur are you keeping away in this intricate prison you have built? Let me in.

You see, I don't want to sleep with you. Sure... it would be nice, but that isn't my end-goal at all. If I were to, it would have been out of morbid curiosity. I want more than sex. I need to know you like an autopsy. I want to cut you open, peeling through your skin, cutting through your muscles, and opening you up to take a look at the way your organs are arranged. I will be precise, I promise, in both slicing you open and sealing you back up. All I want to do is look.

With how wary you are around me, I didn't expect for you to say yes to dinner. Maybe you were sick of eating alone, or maybe you just felt rude not to. Either way, I could tell that whichever reasons compelled you, it wasn't about me at all. No matter.

Again, this isn't about you.

You courteously ordered the mid-range price item. I asked if you were sure. You said you liked that dish. Do you, now? I didn't correct you. You refused wine, even when you were not driving home. You didn't think I would notice you coming in from an Uber, did you? I pretended not to see you coming in - you're not the sole clever one between us. I didn't push it anyhow. I liked what I was seeing: you were cautious and observant, safe under you soft-spoken exterior.

You asked me questions. You wanted to know where I grew up, if I had any siblings, how college was for me,... so on and so forth. You didn't answer any of mine - not really. I got a little antsy, I admit. Not every day do I see someone not keen on talking about themselves.

So you got my history and I got that you grew up "pretty far from here", that your hometown was "quaint but charming", that you went to college for "a degree you "aren't even practicing right now". Funny. You got jokes, don't you? You gave me a little taste of my own medicine. I felt as if we were trying to meet eyes through our own microscopes.

I didn't push you to open up. I thought entertaining your questions would loosen your guard eventually, but you were committed to your fortress. Fine... all good. I could still watch the way you move, precise and gentle as you maneuver around the table with candles, empty glasses and flower vase. You were too smooth, as if holding back a force. It was as if I was looking at a pressure cooker. This level of management implied, at least - from my humble opinion - a boiling chaos from underneath. After all, equilibrium can only be attained by equal forces.

You kept yourself so effortlessly mysterious, it made me wonder why you would even go on this date with me. I bumbled my way through the food and dessert, antsy and eager to see a crack on your mask to no use. I suppose you got into my head... not the other way around. Still, you kept me going - your elusiveness thrilled me.

As I said, I like anomalies.

You got me so good, that by the end of the night past all the talking and electricity, my confidence took such a hit that I offered to drive you home with my tail between my legs. I would love to say I was taking it slow, that I was enjoying the process of solving the puzzle that you were, but truth is I was ashamed of myself. You didn't unravel the way I hoped you would, and I protected myself with the conviction that you were a robot, and that I wasn't that interested in your process after all.

So you could imagine the surprise when you tilted your head with the most deviously clueless look and said "really? I didn't think I was going home."

[pollymorgan]

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 3

Warnings: Of course, there's still a big age difference and Negan is an absolute asshole.

I confess to him that I will be a student at his high school after the summer holidays and therefore lied about my age. I stare at the ceiling, not daring to look at him, but even without eye contact, I feel the tension in the room.

Negan sits up and runs his hands over his face. I dare a quick look at his naked back.

"Shit.." he mumbles softly and then repeats it louder, "Damn shit!"

He turns abruptly to me and looks me directly in the eyes. I can't really decipher his gaze, but I know I've screwed up big time. I am painfully aware of that now.

"Do you realize that with this whole action, you have not only jeopardized my job but damn it, everything?" You can feel he's trying to stay calm, but his voice trembles and sends shivers down my spine.

I sit up now and try to hide my naked body under the covers. I feel incredibly vulnerable and exposed.

With a trembling voice, I try to justify myself. "I'm sorry, I.. I didn't know that...".

"This whole thing must never be found out! Understand?!" he interrupts me without hesitation. He doesn't even acknowledge what I'm trying to explain. My words don't reach him, so I reply only as expressively as possible. "Of course not!!".

He shakes his head in disbelief and then thinks for a moment. The silence in the room makes me feel my heartbeat so clearly that I could swear you can hear it pounding.

Suddenly, Negan stands up and without looking at me, he says emotionlessly, "I'll call you a taxi and then go shower. By the time I'm done, you'll be gone!"

As he says this, I feel my throat tighten. I would like to cry, to get rid of the feeling of not being able to breathe, but I pull myself together as best as I can. When he leaves the bedroom, I can already hear him starting to make a phone call. Quickly, I get up and gather my things from the floor to get dressed quickly.

When I accidentally discover a notepad and pens on his desk, I tear off a piece of paper and write on it "I'm really sorry, but I don't want to undo this night! Sam." Below that, I place my phone number. I have no idea what I hope to achieve with this. I know that this note will probably be torn into a thousand pieces and thrown in the trash in a few minutes. Then I quietly leave the house, as if I want to slip away.

The next few days are really tough for me. I constantly beat myself up with feelings of guilt and can't even talk to anyone about what happened. And the worst part is that I strangely miss Negan. Scenes from that night play over and over in my mind. I imagine how his skin felt on mine. How he looked at me. His dominant voice. The feeling of his fingers, his tongue, his penis. Never has a man driven me so crazy. But why him of all people?

I catch myself constantly staring at my phone. Hoping he didn't throw away my number and would contact me. But of course, no message from him comes.

I only have one option left. I have to get him out of my head and hope that we run into each other as rarely as possible at school. And that won't be too hard, I tell myself. It's a pretty big high school after all.

My cousin keeps asking me and wants to know who or what is responsible for my bad mood. But the fact that I can't talk to her about it depresses me even more. I constantly come up with excuses. "I miss my old clique.. moving is more emotional than I thought!" I lie to her.

She convinces me to make the most of the rest of my summer holidays and introduces me to some of her friends, and luckily, she is so persistent because over time, I have more and more fun. They are really great friends who are up for any activity and distract me perfectly.

The weather is wonderful, and this city offers so many opportunities. Hardly a day goes by when we're not out and about. Shopping malls, swimming pools, sports events, concerts, bars, nightclubs. Over time, I already know my new hometown quite well.

I wish these holidays would never end. But all good things come to an end. I've painfully experienced that several times already, so I have only one week of free time left.

My cousin, a handful of other friends, and I are once again sitting in one of our favorite places in the evening. We've been out all day and are pretty tired, but none of us can say no to one last drink.

I'm about to take a selfie with my friends when I see on my display that I have three missed calls from an unknown number. Surprised, I stare at my phone, which I had silenced so low that I probably didn't hear it ring in the bar's noise. It starts vibrating in my hand again. The same number flashes. Hesitantly, I press the green call button and say loudly, to drown out the background noise, "Hello?"

"Sam? Are you there?" answers a familiar deep voice. A lightning bolt shoots through my body, and my heart skips a beat. Almost automatically, I stand up and move away from my friends, who look at me questioningly.

"Negan?" I ask cautiously.

"It feels so good to hear your voice, damn it, how many times have I imagined it in the last few days!" he says slightly slurred. Oh man, is he drunk?

I can't think clearly and am completely overwhelmed by the situation. I leave the bar purposefully, and the warm night air gives me a chance to take a deep breath again.

"What do you want?" I ask, confused.

"What do I want? I want you, of course, but I can't have you, and that's the damn problem. Tell me you think of me too.. Please, I need to hear it..!".

Oh yes, he's definitely drunk. But as the saying goes, drunk people and little children always tell the truth. And the fact alone that he still has my number makes a lot clear to me.

"I think about you all the time.." I confess, watching the bright lights of passing cars. All the feelings I've successfully suppressed in the past weeks now come rushing back like an avalanche.

"I want you here, to touch you, to see your beautiful smile, Sam. I don't want to have to imagine it anymore.." he whispers into the phone, giving me goosebumps.

"Okay, give me 30 minutes, and I'll be there..." I say decisively into the phone. Suddenly, there is a strange silence on the other end. I wait for his response, my pulse racing wildly.

Hesitantly, he says, "That's not possible.. My wife is back from her cure, and besides, it wouldn't be right. It would be so damn wrong...".

I can't believe he's saying this. He calls me to reopen all wounds and make me feel bad. He was the one who invited me after the football game. He seduced me and took me to his place, even though he's married. He was the one who kicked me out and is now calling me after weeks just to reject me again.

It suddenly dawns on me that I wasn't the villain in this whole situation. Resolutely, I speak into the phone. "Negan, you know what? Just delete my number and forget everything that happened between us." With these words, I press the red call button with trembling fingers. I couldn't have handled a response from him at this point.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ryan W. Briggs, Max Marin, and Ellie Rushing at Philadelphia Inquirer:

BETHEL PARK, Pa. — In the sea of caps and gowns, Thomas Matthew Crooks hardly stood out. Few people clapped when his name was called. A YouTube video of his graduation two years ago from Bethel Park High School shows a slender and bespectacled student receiving his diploma with a soft smile. But the class of 2022 awoke Sunday to learn that the 20-year-old Allegheny County man was notorious, the shooter in the assassination attempt on former President Donald Trump during a rally that left an ex-firefighter, Corey Comperatore, dead and two other attendees wounded. U.S. Secret Service counter-snipers killed Crooks moments after he opened fire on the Saturday night rally from a nearby rooftop. The FBI said Sunday they believed he acted alone. He had not been on the bureau’s radar.

Crooks’ actions shocked residents in his hometown, sparked countless conspiracy theories online, and prompted investigators to begin combing through every aspect of his life, looking for motive. The mystery has been fueled by a near-total absence of Crooks’ social media postings, political writings, or other digital fingerprints. Several former classmates appeared on national television Sunday, quickly casting Crooks as a stereotypical loner who was bullied heavily during his time at Bethel Park. One of them, Jason Kohler, told reporters Sunday that students tormented Crooks “almost every day” and that he often wore “hunting” outfits to class. “He was just an outcast,” Kohler said, “and you know how kids are nowadays.” Yet, two former students interviewed by The Inquirer disputed the characterization. They did not recall specific incidents of violence or other antagonism involving their now-infamous classmate in the community they described as generally tight-knit.

[...] The slight traces of public information Crooks left behind leave few clues about his political ideology. Federal campaign finance records show he made a $15 donation to progressive political action committee in 2021 after President Joe Biden’s election, but later registered as a Republican, according to Pennsylvania voter data. His father was a registered Libertarian, his mother a Democrat. Crooks’ body was found on the rooftop of an agricultural tool manufacturing plant a few hundred feet from the rally with an AR-style semiautomatic rifle — legally purchased by his father. The shooter was wearing a T-shirt promoting “The Demolition Ranch,” a YouTube channel for gun enthusiasts. If Crooks maintained any personal social media presence, it went largely undetected on Sunday. Discord, an instant messaging platform mainly used by video gamers, released a statement acknowledging Crooks held a “rarely utilized” account that contained no information relevant to the shooting.

Sigafoos did not recall Crooks making political overtures in class, but rather as someone interested in how government works, and “not trying to insert his own beliefs into it.” Another former classmate did not share this view. Max R. Smith recalled taking an American history course with Crooks as a sophomore. He did recall Crooks making political statements — but they shed no light on his actions Saturday. “He definitely was conservative,” he said. “It makes me wonder why he would carry out an assassination attempt on the conservative candidate.” Smith recalled a mock debate in which their history professor posed government policy questions and asked students to stand on one side of the classroom or the other to signal their support or opposition for a given proposal. “The majority of the class were on the liberal side, but Tom, no matter what, always stood his ground on the conservative side,” Smith said. “That’s still the picture I have of him. Just standing alone on one side while the rest of the class was on the other.”

The gunman who killed rallygoer Corey Comperatore and attempted the assassination of Donald Trump at Saturday night’s Butler, PA rally was not only a registered Republican but also a vehement conservative.

This should hopefully put an end to the right-wing’s nonsensical claim that a “violent leftist”/”Antifa” tried to kill Trump.

[okaystoptellingmetomakeanaccount]

Scrog Timeline based on Life and times here we go. Part one lil kid scrog livin in Scotland.

The extended life and times of Scrooge McDuck. Part 1 - Glasgow 1867

First. There are a bunch of stories which show snippets of Scrooge’s life as a child (usually around Christmas). These snippets can vary from a single panel to multiple pages, but they are never the main plot. Among these are:

W DD 70-01, The Search for Cyril

W DD 72-01, Secret Of The Sargasso Sea

S 63099, Chairman of the Bored

D 9044, Wait For Me

D 99078, The Quest For Kalevala

I PM 187-2, The Brotherly News. - Note: Scrooge, Gideon and Grandma are shown as kids together in Scotland.

D 92305, The Lost Birthday. - Note: Partially time travel/suggested dream sequence, partially flashback.

I TL 2442-5, The Ghost’s Treasure… Or The Other Way Around

D 2012-058, Donald's Homemade Christmas

I TL 3063-2, The Numismatic Process

I TL 3239-1, A New Christmas Carol

I TL 3369-1, The Comfortable Temptation

D 2019-039, The New Year that Wasn't. - Note: This story contains a scene in which Scrooge travels to the past to give himself the number one dime. This is not reverted.

I TL 3368-1P, A Tournament of 100 Doors

D 2020-210, In Time For Christmas. - Note: This is a time travel story, and so the snippet is actually not a flashback. The snippet takes place during the night before Scrooge leaves for America.

I TL 3448-2, A Mysterious Anniversary

H 2022-002, The Treasure of Captain Seabass

I TL 3499-1, Fame

I TL 3501-3, Clear Coin Cleaning

I TL 3536-1P, The Test of Scottishness

I TL 3550-1P, The Leap Lamp. - Note: This story interestingly contains a retcon of D 91308. This retcon consists of Scrooge getting his shoeshine box on Christmas, as Fergus couldn’t finish it in time for his birthday. No known story contradicts this.

I TL 3616-4, $ogni nel cassetto

From here we can continue onto full stories that depict Scrooge’s time as a wee lad, whether they are flashbacks or not. Stories are placed in timeline order. If not sure (so for most of them) they are placed in release order. Among these are:

W US 44-04, The Invisible Intruder. - Note: Life And Times’ depiction of this time of Scrooge’s days is largely based on this story.

B 790164, A Taste and Three Cruzeiros

B 820168, A Christmas From the Past. - While the narrative is primarily about this past adventure, Scrooge only plays a secondary role.

B 830113, The First Bin. - Note: History told by LVD. Story does not necessarily seem to take place in 1860s Glasgow.

I TL 2865-03, The Mistake. - Note: Rare one pager showing Scrooge at school. Is in conflict with I TL 2695-1 in showing something that shouldn’t yet have happened according to Scrooge’s accounts in that story.

D 2013-026, The Orphan's Christmas

F DBG 16, The Dragon of Glasgow

H 2023-183, The First Christmas Ornament. - Note: After interference of Grandma Duck by the end, this story is revealed to be a fiction made up by Scrooge.

D 2020-145, The First Adventure. - Note: This story is a direct lead-in to Rosa’s story. As such, it’s probably the only one that can be surely placed.

D 91308, The Last of the Clan McDuck. - Note: it is very well possible for any of the above mentioned stories to take place during this story, as it contains time skips.

Honorable mentions:

I TL 756-A, Klondike’s Gold. - Note: This story famously portrays Scrooge’s youth as taking place in the Klondike, going as far as having him be born here.

W DAD 29-02, The Last Laugh. - Note: Scrooge mentions shining shoes and delivering papers when he was HDL’s age.

W DD 48-02, A Bucket of Scones. - Note: Scrooge mentions having left Scotland 60 years ago.

W JW 29-03, The Good Deed. - Note: Scrooge mentions growing up in Scotland in a boys’ home. Together with HDL they also visit his hometown: Pinchpenny.

I TL 697-B, The Unfortunate Dream. - Note: Dream sequence where Magica sees Scrooge earning his first dime as a child.

S 81095, The Search For Viking Treasure. - Note: Scrooge earns his first money by plowing fields.

I am 99% certain I have forgot and/or missed stories, so please feel free to comment or whatever to add to this. This post will keep being updated.

[i-live-in-spite]

Summary: You get a case in your hometown, you haven’t been back for almost 10 years after you left when you were 18 to join the FBI academy. Your brother was not very happy to see your transition.

Pairing: Around season 5 Spencer Reid x Trans Male reader(He/They)

Genre: Angst w/ Comfort

Tw/Cw: Family argument/dysfunctional families, transphobia/homophobia, kinda “gory” with some details, talk of s3lf h@rm, platonic pairing but they are pinning for the other, normal violence of Criminal Minds, the Unsub targets queer people, religious talk/trauma, talk of ending one's life, use of the t slur(If I missed something please tell me)

Word Count: 2.7k

I knew that if I had just asked Hotch or Rossi to stay back or for time away from the case, they would have told me yes. After all, I’m  pretty much just a stand-in for Garcia on the ground. Just there in case she got overworked or she was busy on one search I could quickly pick up the task. But the BAU taking me on the field was still pretty rare, I know why I’m here even if all I can think about is leaving again.

I didn’t know even after 10 years of healing, the wounds could still be so fresh. The feeling of blood rushed down my arms as we passed by the stores from my childhood. Some buildings I couldn't recognize but hardly anything changed from the old small town I grew up in. 

I’m snapped from my thoughts when I feel Spencer’s hands on my shoulder, “I’m sorry could you repeat the question sir?” I snapped my eyes up to Rossi who was in the passenger seat as Derek drove.

“I was just asking if you knew of any hidden in the wall clubs who may..enjoy the same sex may go?” Rossi sounded as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing, which I could understand. I have always been open about my gender identity and how I have had male lovers, I really didn’t see why it had to be hidden. At least not to them, no the team was like family. Emily and Penelope aren’t as loud about it but they also didn’t hide it.

“Uh yea, if I remember correctly there is this, old salt cave that many would go to for..activities. Whether it’s still operational is another question, I would have to be able to get down there.” Rossi nods and I look away from Spencer’s gaze and the subtle look from Derek in the mirror.

When we got to the police station I hesitated opening the car door, a few quick memories flashing through my eyes. I take a deep breath before pushing the door open and going to the back to grab my computer bag, I feel Spencer’s hand on my shoulder, the other one gently rubbing the nape of my neck. I would typically find comfort in his light touches but my anxiety was running high, all I could do was curl up from his hands.

“I know something is wrong, is it because of the murders? Or the fact that this is a ‘special’ place to you?” I couldn’t stop a choked laugh from escaping and Spencer was quick to recover, “Maybe special didn’t quite express the right emotions. You are tied to this place, and you don’t like it. Why didn’t you ask to stay back?” His voice was soft, full of concern. 

“You don’t ask to stay back when we have cases in your hometown.” I look up, my voice having more of an edge than I would like. He sighs and grabs his bag before turning back to me, a serious expression taking over his normal goofy smile.

“Yes but I had an ok childhood. It’s one thing to be an outcast because I’m smart, you were an outcast because-” Hotch calls us over cutting Spencer off, “I’m just saying, we have different memories of childhood, you had more hate than you let on.” I never heard Spencer being tied to emotions in this way. He knew my past and I knew his, we held each other's scars close, refusing to let the past repeat. 

Spencer walks over to Hotch but I highly doubt that this conversation was over. I follow closely behind, keeping my head down. The station had the same bleach smell, my nose burned from the smell. Then the world seemed to crash when I heard his voice.

“Welcome in agents, we have a small meeting room y’all can use in the back.” The sound of my brother's voice made all my muscles freeze. Hotch shakes his hand, thanking him for the space and they start to talk a little more about the case. I go to the back and set up in a corner away from the door, this is gonna be the longest case in my life. 

As I continue my setup, I hear his whistle. “That’s some mighty fine computers you got there, but I was told y’all had a tech analyst back at Quantico.” I refused to look up from my keyboard as I continued to fidget with my settings to appear busy. 

It was Derek who finally spoke up, “Well we do, but the lovely little lady doesn’t always enjoy coming on the field and sometimes her work load is a little too much. So we bring him in and he helps on the ground.” My brother lets out a choked noise and even though he tried to whisper it was clear as day.

“That’s a boy? I mean i’ve seen my fair share of boys with long hair but that’s..damn near to the floor.” Derek sighs and expresses again I was in fact a boy, keeping out the fact I was trans. Which fills me with gratitude. “Damn well.. Okay. Nice to be working with you las.” 

His hand appeared in my face and I was slow to grab it. I felt his gaze on my freshly painted nails, it was just a simple black and white look. But I could feel the judgement of his gaze.

“Did you know that a handshake spreads more germs, it would be safer to kiss.” Spencer’s distraction makes me laugh, of course he had no idea that we were actually siblings or the fact my brother would rather live in hell than kiss another boy.

“And who are you?” I was thankful for the attention to be off of me, though I’m very much aware of the attitude that hides behind my brother's voice.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer waved a little uncomfortable. My brother looks him up and down before nodding.

“Well. Thank you for coming to look at the problem.” Spencer and Derek nod as my brother leaves and I finally let out the air in my lungs. Derek turns to me and sees the look of discomfort not fully leave my face.

“I typically try to keep the past the past, but the history between you and the sheriff?” I shift a little before looking down at the computer.

“Can't you see the family resemblance?” The boys are physically taken aback by this information. I smile awkwardly and get back to the set up of my computer. Neither of my fellow males spoke up after the statement, for once I’ve made the great Spencer Reid silent.

—-

“I need you to go to the cave, you are trusted there correct?” Hotch looks down at me as I gently play with my hands, a nervous habit I picked up from Spencer.

“I’m sure the older ones may remember me, I won't know for sure till I get down there though.” Hotch nods and scratches under his chin some.

“Would you be comfortable going alone or would you like someone to go with you?” I think for a minute, I would refuse to ask anyone from the local p.d. to join, but Emily or Spencer could be candidates. But Spencer is still getting over getting shot that him joining me is a hard no from me, even though he claims he was good to go. 

“Emily would be a good fit to join me.” Hotch nods and leaves to tell Emily about joining me. I didn’t hear the door open till my brother spoke.

“You look different now, since when did you turn into a boy?” My brother's voice was a little callous, the same tone he used when I told my family I planned on leaving.

“I have always been a boy, you and the others just refused to see it.” He scoffs and looks around to no one particularly, I still refused to turn to him.

“Oh I’m sorry miss ‘used to love dresses’, it’s kinda hard to think you were a ‘boy’ when you always dressed all pretty like.” 

“Because how I dress doesn’t define who I am,” I couldn’t stop my southern twang from coming through, something I fought to hide for a while. “, I’m very much aware that when I dress feminine people may see me as a girl. But also growin up here, if I dress like how I wanted to I would be shot on site. I’m not an idiot.”

My brother crosses his arms and I feel him staring me down. “So what, you put on a pair of pants and suddenly you were a boy? Is that really how easy it is? To erase the life mom gave you? To destroy the bridge you and dad had?”

“I would have died Evan!” I turn to him, rage clear on my face, “I would have killed myself. My only hope was my friends. Friends you belittled. Do you have any idea what that does to someone?” My brother laughs and his face hardens.

“And you do? Do they become the killers you chase down?”

“No Evan. They kill themselves, they do drugs, they hide every part of them because they can’t live any other way. I didn’t kill the little girl I was, I saved the little boy you tried to snuff out like a fire. I protected myself because the same people who were supposed to do it were the ones cutting me deeper than any of my blades do.” I took a step to him, the fire was clear behind his eyes. “Aren’t you proud? I changed my name. You can tell everyone I died in action. You have no connection to the man I am today. I may have to use extra means to make myself who I am but I am more of a man than you'll ever be.” 

Before he could say anything Emily walks in and tells me she’s ready. I grab my coat and walk out without another word being said.

—-

The next couple of days went on with my brother ignoring me, if he had anything to say he went to Hotch or Derek. Not that I really cared, but I knew the team could tell the tension between my brother and I was getting very heavy.

Spencer walks up to me with an iced coffee, he looked a little unsure of himself. “I remember one time you told me you preferred iced coffee, I went down to the local cafe and got you one.” I thank him softly and take a sip. “Are you okay with working on the case? I mean with your brother and openly gay people being targeted..”

“I’m okay Dr. Reid, I’m a tough cookie you know this.” He nods, tapping his hand on his arm.

“I’m aware of that but after the case I got shot, you were worried about me, I could hardly go pee without you commenting about how I needed my crutches.” His smile was genuine, I knew he truly loved that I cared enough to keep him up with doctor orders.

“It’s not my fault a certain FBI genius liked to test his limits, someone had to care for him.” I smile and he shuffles steps a little closer.

“And this genius wants to make sure you're not chewing off more than you can handle. You’re just as important to this team as Garcia or Morgan or me.” There was a hidden message behind his words, that I was important to him.

“The best thing I can do is work and stay away from my brother where I can. I’ll be okay pretty boy, I’ll be good. You won't even have to handcuff me.” Spencer’s face bloomed into a nice rose pink colour, he was always so easy to fluster. It was another thing that made him one of the cutest people I have ever met. Can stare at dismembered bodies, but can’t handle a compliment fully.

“I’m here for you, we all are. Don’t go somewhere you don’t think iIcan join. I’ll find you, and I'll bring you back.” His hands slowly grab my face, his eyes searching mine. But before we could do anything the door swung open.

“Garcia thinks we found our unsub.” Spencer nods and grabs his vest before turning back to me as Derek leaves.

“I mean it, I’ll follow you into any river, any ocean, any fires you think you have to handle alone.” And like that he was gone. I stayed by the phone waiting for any information that this person actually was our unsub. 

It wasn’t long before Emily was pushing the guy through the station spouting bullshit, saying the kids deserved it. I look at him, he looks back at me. 

“You some little tranny aren’t you. You cried over their deaths? They were gonna do it anyway, why not speed up the progress?” I just stare at him. I knew him, but I knew everyone here.

“Sir, all you’re doing is incriminating yourself. The gender of my agents are none of your concern. He doesn’t have to kill to make himself feel good.” Hotch pushes him forward, him having my back makes me tear up. “He’s not weak. He doesn’t push others around to make himself known. He is a man.” Hotch was pushing the UNSUB every time he would call me a he. 

Spencer shows up beside me, “We found a hair in his truck bed. It’s being analysed right now.” I nodded, his hand finding its way to the nape of my neck. “Hotch is correct, you aren’t..what he said. You’re strong and you’re the male you always knew you would be. You’re so strong being able to fight your way out of a town like this, with a family who did everything it could to keep you down.” All I could do was nod, I didn’t trust my voice.

By the night Hotch had everything he needed to prove this man did it, I started to pack up my stuff. “I will never understand you. Why did you tear it all down?”

I turn to Evan, annoyance clear on my face. “I tore down broken walls, I tore away the paint that hid the beautiful tile underneath. I am who I was always meant to be.” My brother started to talk but I cut him off, “I will never be your sister again, either accept it or stay out of my life.”

“You weren’t meant to be a boy though. You were born a girl, why can’t you understand?”

I take a step closer to him, “Your mind is one of the smartest things in the world, it’s not always connected to your body. Nerves can be damaged, emotions can be out of place. We live in a world where your next door neighbour murdered innocent kids because their brain didn’t match the way their body was. I bet deep down you wished we never caught him.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“It started being your fault after I left how you continued to fill your brain with the idea that who I am was a choice, that the fact I like guys as a guy was something I just woke up and picked. When in reality it was you who drove me away.”

“You’re unnatural.” His fist was balled up and I knew we would never see eye to eye, not in this lifetime.

“Goodbye. Enjoy the wife, but I hope your kids never have to live in the fear I did.” I grab my bags and walk out the station. I fit my bags snuggle in their place as Emily turns to me.

“You know, the family isn’t just blood. The saying ‘blood runs thicker than water’ isn’t always true.” She offers me a small I’m sorry type of smile.

“Actually one of the earliest sayings of the quote was ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’, meaning your brother doesn’t have to be the brother you accept. We will always love you.” Spencer has a goofy smile, his knowledge of everything makes me feel better.

“And I will always love you.” Spencer can’t hold my eyes sensing the deeper meaning behind my words. Derek ruffled my hair and we started the long hours home.

[askinkiskarma]

Cruel Summer | Chapter IV: 'Tis The Damn Season

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 8.2k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, Neteyam x reader being the absolute cutest, some fluff, all the feels, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: Neteyam in unable to stop himself from confessing a truth he's tried to bury for years, a truth that will change everything between you. Jake shares news with his son that will threaten whatever peace Neteyam's come to know.

A/N: there's no earthly reason why this chapter had to take so long except my own inability to write it and procrastinating with requests instead. i hope this was worth the wait, and as this is the second to last chapter, prepare yourself for the main meal soon. I don't think that will take that long, cause I've had the last chapter in my mind before I even started writing this story to begin with. I hope you enjoy, i'd love to hear your thoughts, i love to hear from you besties.

: ̗̀➛ listen to the Cruel Summer playlist here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

 

I'm stayin' at my parents' house

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you in my hometown

Neteyam’s head was spinning with worry and mind-numbing fear, watching his sister’s spirit be taken out of her, her bioluminescent freckles that usually shine brighter than any other Na’vi he’s ever seen so dim they were barely alight anymore. He was picking at his nails nervously, a habit he hasn’t had since he was 7, watching as his mother was trying her best to shake her awake, almost like she was trying to will life back into her. The wails got to Neteyam more than he cared to admit, and eventually, he excused himself and left the family marui, settling instead for watching the tiny glowing fish as they surrounded and circled his ankles. Neteyam rarely felt powerless in his life. No matter what the situation was, no matter how dire, he always felt like he could somehow make it his own, he could somehow make it work. But now, as he stood there, listening to cries and tries, listening to his family trying to figure out how to save his baby sister, Neteyam felt hopeless and helpless, like a child. In moments like this, he missed you most. It was hard being without you always, his body having to unlearn and relearn instincts and feelings, having to rewire his brain from having been so accustomed to you and your body, and your mind and your soul for the past 19 years of his life. You would know what to do. You’d have some medical trick or a human way, you’d scream everyone out of the room and you’d just somehow figure it out. You always were able to just… figure things out. He missed that, along with everything else. 

“I’m going to contact Norm and Max, ok, baby? It’s going to be alright, they’ll know what to do. It’ll be alright.” 

Neteyam was terrified as the hours passed, waiting for the flying machine he knew would be coming any minute, and what would it bring along with it. His questions, his biggest dream and biggest nightmare, all plaguing him and his mind for the past few hours, were swiftly answered as from the helicopter came three figures, one blue one and two humans. One human in particular he cared about. His heart was beating so loudly it was almost completely covering the incessant, deafening sound the propellor blades were making. You were so beautiful, even more beautiful than he remembered. He couldn’t help the way his eyes trailed over your body and focused on scars that have appeared in the time you were apart, scars that made his stomach drop, or the way your hair was shorter, or the way you have gotten leaner and more muscular. He couldn’t help his mind wandering and twisting every change, a deep feeling of sorrow and weird jealousy, for the people that got to watch you grow, for the people that had to touch your body to heal your wounds, for the people the got to help you when he didn’t - when he couldn’t. 

Your eyes immediately found his, the way they always had the power to, and his breath hitched in his throat, the way it always seemed to when you did. He didn’t miss the way your eyes widened imperceptibly as you noticed him, nor the way they hardened as his presence took his toll on your mind. The frown and the hurt, the slight glistening of tears threatening to spill reminded Neteyam of the last time he saw you, the time that could have gone better, should have gone better than it did, and how he never got the chance to say goodbye. So many words he wanted to say, so many confessions that have rested in his chest for years that needed to be let out but weren’t, now close to spilling out as a blurt of messed-up feelings. So close, yet so far. Because this wasn’t the time - it never seemed to be when it came to you and him. You stood in the back and watched as Norm and Max greeted his father, and you all made your way back to the tent, the attention fully back on his sister who was still unconscious. The sight of her tugged at his heart so much it was making him sick, so he refused to walk in and see what they were doing, what human devices and contraptions it took to bring Kiri back to them. 

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you, it's the same to me

His skin felt like it caught fire as it perceived your body in its vicinity, as you walked out of the marui and settled on the weaved pathway by the edge of the water, feet dangling off it. It felt so strange, having you back in his space. Like so much and yet nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t left you, and his life behind, his happiness and hope, like you didn’t kick him out and refused to send him off and at least pretend to make it easier on both of you. Like he never had to keep pretending his life wasn’t permeated fully by your very essence, your very being, by everything you were. 

“Vol…” 

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Neteyam felt anger bubble up inside him. This whole thing was so fucking unfair. You were so fucking unfair. He didn’t choose any of this. He didn’t want to leave you, why can’t you see that? Why could you not at least try to understand, try to be a little sympathetic towards the fact that this was killing him, and he suffered everyday, and the cold he felt from you cut worse than any blade, hurt worse than any wound. 

“God fucking damn it, Vol. Can you stop with the attitude and just please talk to me? I don’t see you in months, you show up here, clearly, you wanted to see us… see me. I’m here, so just talk to me. If you have to scream, or shout, or kick me, you can do that as long as you fucking talk.”

“I’m not here for you. I’m here for Kiri.” 

“Oh, stop it. Norm and Max could take care of Kiri well enough, and you know that. You’re not just here for Kiri. You’re here for me, too. I want to talk, we have to talk.” 

“No, Neteyam. We don’t have to talk. There’s nothing to talk about because nothing fucking matters anymore. None of it. We’re just strangers now, right? Acquaintances. I’ll see you every few months whenever Jake needs something and that’s about the extent of our relationship. Nineteen years of being there for you, of being your best friend, and in a day, you somehow became a stranger. You gave away the right to talk to me the second you walked out that door.”  

Neteyam watched as you took your leave, going back into the tent, leaving him once more to deal with all that stood to plague him.

It took hours, but Kiri’s condition wasn’t improving even with all the contraptions and equipment you were using on her. None of you knew what was wrong, although Norm and Max thought it was epilepsy. It looked like epilepsy, you thought, but if it had been, she would be back by now. It hurt you watching her like that, laying on the floor, the light of her freckles so dim they were barely visible anymore, and you touched her, running your hands over her chest and arm, hoping you could pray the light back into her, so you could tell her you’re sorry that you didn’t say goodbye to her. You would tell her that every time you are in the forest and you find a bead or flower that you’ve never seen before, you collect it with her in mind and keep it there in the hopes you’ll one day see her again, and she could use them for her tops or for the jewellery she always makes for everyone she loves. You missed her, the same way you missed them all, and you needed her to know that, despite all the hurt and the pain they’ve left behind, she would always be your sister. 

Neytiri eyed you curiously while you spent time with her daughter, and you cowered a little under her gaze. You knew it was dumb, but you’ve always loved Neytiri. You watched your whole life as she was the best mother to her children, and how patient and caring and funny and attentive she was, and you always hoped one day she’d learn to love you too, and that through her you could finally feel what it was like to have a mother, a loving mother. But she never did, no matter the time that passed or the efforts you made, so you stopped trying and forsook your futile aspirations. It was time to grow up, and you did - not fully whole, never quite the person you hoped you would become, but there was no point in dwelling on matters of the past, of realities you’d never be able to undo. 

“Will she live?” Your eyes snapped to her in shock as she spoke. She very rarely ever spoke to you directly. And not only did she do just that, but she asked you a question. A genuine question about the well-being of her daughter. You couldn’t believe she cared what you thought about it to ask. She sounded so sad and desolate, her voice hoarse and nasal from the amount she had cried. 

“I’m sure she will… she’s a tough girl. She’s special, she always has been. I think she’ll be just fine.” 

“Then why isn’t she awake yet? If it’s what they say it is… why?” Her voice broke at the last word and yours was not far off when you answered her. 

“I don’t know. But I don’t think they are right. I think it’s more complicated than that.”

She looked confused at you, then approached and sat down in front of her, across from you, as her hands also found Kiri’s body, pushing the bangs out of her face. 

“Her seizure happened at the Tree of Souls. At the bridge between this world and Eywa’s. I think nothing we, humans, or our technology could possibly do could bring her back. I think she needs the Tsa’hik.” 

Her eyes widened at your words and she immediately got up and sprinted out of the tent, and you hoped you were right, partly because of Kiri and partly cause maybe this way, not that it mattered anymore, but maybe she’d finally stop looking at you like a stray dog and more like an actual person.  

The next thing you knew, Neytiri came in with an array of people, the most imposing of which was a woman, who you assumed was the Metkayina Tsa’hik, who intimidated you beyond belief from the second she walked in, all tall and beautiful and imposing… and pregnant. You instinctively rose from your spot and got out, feeling a sudden chill in the room and knowing for a fact it wasn’t a place you were welcomed in anymore. You didn’t care, as long as it meant Kiri would be fine. You joined the rest of the family and the scientists outside, the silence thick as all of you watched with heavy hearts, hoping for a miracle. It took a while, but eventually, the silence was disrupted by gasps of relief as Kiri did indeed wake up, immediately tackled by several of her family members hugging her, consoling her as she cried. 

So we could call it even

You could call me babe for the weekend

'Tis the damn season, write this down

Early in the evening, when everything settled down, you made your way outside the marui once more, looking at the sky as it was preparing itself for eclipse, finally able to take in the beauty of this place, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before and more breathtaking than you could have ever imagined. You felt Neteyam’s presence flood your own as he approached you - your senses might never be as acute as theirs, neither your vision, or hearing, or touch able to hold a candle to their own, but none of that ever mattered when it came to him. His being was enough to turn you inside out, and sharpen your senses so that it would pick up everything about him, from his slightly musky and woody smell, that changed throughout the month as his heat approached, to the sound and cadence of his footsteps that were unmistakable to you no matter how far they were approaching you from, to the slight clink of the beads in his hair, that sometimes felt like it moved on its own accord, to even his breathing and its pattern, and the way it seemed to increase whenever he was close to you. 

“Now can we talk? Kiri’s fine, she’s finally fine. Please, Vol…” 

“Neteyam, I can’t make myself any clearer. I have nothing to say to you.” 

Neteyam felt anger overtake him again. What would he have to do to get you to listen, to get you to give him one second, just one second to explain to you, to talk to you? It was so fucking unfair, to have to lose so much and yet be painted as the villain by you, the person who’s supposed to know him better than anyone else in the world, who used to understand him, to whom he never had to explain any of his thought process because there was no need. You always just knew. He hoped he didn’t have to do this, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and with that rationale in mind, Neteyam approached you suddenly and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and making his way out of the village. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! Put me down!” Neteyam pondered her question for a second. Maybe he truly was out of his mind. None of this was like him at all, this is not something he would ever have done a while ago, never before you. Neteyam was selfless, that’s how he was brought up to be, that’s the only way he knew how to be. But for the first time in his life, he needed to be selfish. For the first time in his life, he would do what he wanted to do, and he wanted to talk to you. Alone. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to remember what it was like for his heart to jump out of his chest and for his nostrils to be flooded with the only scent that drove his senses haywire and for his mind to scramble trying to understand the myriad of emotions running through it while he looked at you. He hasn’t seen you in months, haven’t felt you in months, and he was supposed to let it go without a fight?

No fucking way. 

You were so light in his arms, it felt like he was carrying a doll, and he barely registered your tiny ineffectual fists punching at his back, although he did feel like your legs were definitely stronger, just like the rest of you was since he last saw you. He didn’t stop until he hit an isolate meadow in the mangrove forest, your annoyed huffs and croaky screams drowning out the beautiful melodies played by the birds and his family’s ikran, that now had a home in these trees.

“I have no problem with holding you like this the whole time, but I’d rather look at you while I speak. I will put you down, but I swear on everything I hold dear, Vol, if you run, I will drag you back by your feet if I have to. We are talking, whether you like it or not.” 

With that threat, he lifted you off his shoulder and put you gently on the ground. You stood where he placed you, but refused to look at him, a deep frown marring your beautiful face. He sighed, feeling defeated and unmoored, but kneeled in front of you so he can look at your face properly, and you could look at his. 

“Vol, we haven’t seen each other in months. I didn’t know whether I’d ever see you again, but you’re here. You came here, out of your own volition. I know you wanted to see me. I know you, Vol. And you know me. You’re the only one that knows me.” He takes a hold of your mask gently and angles your face with barely any force to make you face him. “I was so mad at you for the way you shut me out. For not allowing me to say goodbye the way I wanted to, the way I should have. I needed to hold you, and tell you that I’ll miss you and that you’ll always be my best friend. That I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Your eyes could barely hold it in, the urge to let it out and cry. Cry at seeing him again, at how frustrating he was, how angry you were, but how happy at the same time to finally see him again, to feel his touch on your skin and the way it lit it on fire, the way desire and ache and love pulsed through your veins at his mere proximity, how, despite all the months, all the time, all the hurt, it felt like nothing had changed between you, like seeing him again was exactly like coming back home after a long day outside, exhausted and spent, and happy to be comfortable and safe again. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care how sorry any of you are. You left your clan behind, and me, all of us behind, to go hide while we stand and fight and worry for our lives and the lives of everyone in the clan.”

Your words struck a chord in Neteyam and he felt the anger prick painfully at his mind, and despite priding himself on his composure, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, not anymore. Months of anguish kept inside finally came out and there was little he could do to stop it.

“We left so we could protect you! Why must you be so stubborn all of the fucking time? This wasn’t done to hurt you, Vol. This has nothing to do with you! None of us wanted to go! Believe it or not, you’re not the only one affected by this. I understand that you are upset and you have every reason to be, but what was the alternative? Either we stayed and the whole clan was even more at risk than it already is, or we brought two humans with us across the oceans to a new clan that hates humans?! Stop being so fucking selfish for one second and understand this isn’t only about you! I fucking lost everything that day! I lost my home, and my friends, and my future as Olo’eyktan, fuck, I lost the woman I lo-“ 

Your eyes go wide in shock at the words almost spoken, words that you imagined all your life but couldn’t believe right now. That can’t be what he was telling you, right? After all this time apart, after all the time together, in which you shared anything and everything under the sun, in secrets kept and broken promises, it couldn’t be that Neteyam was confessing to you something you swore you’d never feel for each other, something you wanted nothing more than to hear, something that would somehow both kill you and put you back together at the same time. 

“What did you just say?” 

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out

We could just ride around

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you in my hometown

His own wide eyes settle after a while, deep, settling breaths calming his heartbeat that he could feel in his throat, in his ears, in his temples. This was it. After all this time, after everything you’ve gone through, ironically now when there was no chance for you, not that there ever was, now when he was mad at you, when he would lose you again in just a short while, now he was about to confess something that has plagued him for years, that he’s wanted to tell you, that he knew he never could. 

He slowly brought his hand to your neck and collarbone, eyes tearing up mirroring your own, and he knew it would be easy telling you this, because loving you was easy, and falling in love with you - the easiest thing he’s ever done. His thumb caressed your soft skin and he watched in wonder as your mouth opened slightly, a soft exhale escaping you, and he followed the tear that rolled down your cheek when you closed your eyes from the overwhelming feelings trying you. 

“I lost the woman I love. The only woman I’ve ever loved. The annoying, aggravating, impossible woman who I’ve watched become the most beautiful, intelligent, incredible person, who taught me everything I know about anything that matters. Who I promised I wouldn’t fall in love with, but I did. A long time ago.”

You shook your head slightly, feeling the tears fall down your face, the stitches that you managed to put in the wounds deep in your soul coming loose around him, bleeding once more, and you wondered if despite wishing to hear these words for years, now that you have, it was the last thing you were ever going to hear. Because how are you supposed to survive this now, this overbearing pain of loving him, and losing him, knowing all this time he loved you, too, and that this was so far past what you agreed on… that it was love, requited love, crazy, stupid, incredible, one-of-a-kind love?

“You can’t say shit like this to me, Neteyam. You think I’m selfish? How about you? Why would you say these things to me now? I’m about to leave, I’m about to lose you again. It took me months to put back together what you broke, and I’m still not there yet, and now you say this shit, and what am I supposed to do with it, huh? How am I supposed to move on? To accept that I love a man that’ll never be mine, that I’ll never have except in fleeting moments, in secret affairs, that I’ve had to watch turn his back to me and choose duty over me, over and over and over again. You’re being mean. You’re being selfish.” 

“You fucking taught me to be selfish. You told me over and over my whole life to be more selfish. Well here I am, I’m being selfish. I want something, and that something is you. I want you. I need you. I need you to know that I’m in love with you, and to know that at least once in my life I get to make love to the woman i love and know that she loves me too, and that this is real, and that I’ve known this feeling and lived this feeling, at least once. Please. Please just tell me it wasn’t in my head. That all these years, despite what we told each other and ourselves, I loved you and you loved me too. And it was real, the only real thing I’ve ever known.” 

He sounded so forlorn, so desperate for you to ease his pain and mend his heart that was just as broken as yours, that suffered through as much, if not more, that was laid bared on the table for you to see it, to feel it, to either take it gently in your palms or squish it under your feet. No matter how mad you were, it was hard not to be taken aback and awed at his confession, not to feel privileged to be loved by him, by the best man you’ve ever met, a man who could have anyone in this world easily, whose mere presence in a room commands respect and attention, whose mind and words inspired Omaticaya songs, whose body motivated young men and enamoured young women. He was the best there was, and he wanted you. A human, who had none of the qualities praised and admired in the clan and in his world, but all the ones he wanted and hoped for. Because you were his best friend. And you understood him, and you stood by him through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, your whole entire lives. And you loved him, despite his shortcomings, despite being different to you, and you smiled at him in the way that put the sun to shame, and your eyes lit up when looking at him in a way that put the stars out of work. And you found him funny, which few people did - Lo’ak was the funny one, not him, that’s what he has always been told, but not to you, and if he was honest with himself, he only made jokes to hear your laugh and to feel the way you punched him whenever you found something funny. You have loved him all your life, you’ve been in love with him for years, and despite all that stood against you, all that you knew would prevent your own happy ending, despite your mind telling you it’s easier to just walk away, it’s safer for you to just leave and protect your heart, your heart needed to feel his, and feel him. Your heart needed to know what it would be, to be with him knowing what you knew now, knowing for a fact this is real, and it’s everything. 

You circled his wrist with your fingers and your other hand found his hair, that you pushed away from his face. You couldn’t help your smile that felt like the first real one you’ve cracked in months, and the way your heart skipped every other beat taking in his beauty, marvelling at his eyes that were pools of love and lust, of sadness and hope, of anguish and fear. 

“Of course it was real, skxawng.” You said with soft sobs. “It’s all real. It’s always been real. My whole life, you’ve been the only thing that’s been real.” You took off your mask, and closed the distance between you and kissed him, and you both melt into it, feeling the months apart fade away, feeling your mind empty of everything outside of him and his taste and his scent, and the feel of his skin as your palms traced his face and neck, of the way your own skin tingles under his touch. As you put your mask back on, struggling to catch your breath, he reaches for the buttons of your linen shirt and undoes them with surprising gentleness and accuracy, so tiny in his huge hands, and slides the shirt down your arms until it falls on the floor. You shudder a little under the breeze now caressing your bare skin and at the way Neteyam’s thumb flickers over one of your nipples, still covered by a black lace bra. 

“You’re so beautiful. So, so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to love you, I can’t believe you’re mine. And I’m yours, Vol. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours. I’ll always be yours.” 

You said nothing as the seed of doubt didn’t allow you to hope or even consider the future, instead getting lost in the pleasure of his skilled hands on your body, that still knew everything about you, as he laid you down on the ground gently and hovered over you, as his lips drew maps of unknown marvels on your soft skin, so different to his, but still so familiar, and he felt for the first time since his ikran landed on that beach months ago that this place could finally feel like home. He hated how despite memorising every curve, and beauty mark, and scar on your body, there were things that he had to relearn, curves he had to discover as his mouth came to terms with the changes he wasn’t there to witness, wasn’t there to get accustomed to as they happened to you. He pushed the unpleasant thought aside. It just meant he needed to relearn it, and he was happy with that. He was happy to hope he would get to once again know everything about you, and never get the chance to miss you again. 

Despite your silence, the tears still came and went, fogging up your mask listening to him and thinking about how much you’ve wanted this, and how much it will all hurt when it will inevitably succumb into nothing again. He stopped and came back to your level as he heard your quiet sniffles, ears perking up at the sound. 

“Vol…” 

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Neteyam. When you left, it killed me. It took me months to get back together enough to be normal again, if we do this, after everything you’ve said, after what i know, if i lose you, I…”

 

For the first time in his life and in your life, it was Neteyam who removed your mask covering your face and kissed you, and you swore you could have died then and been happy about it, and thank your lucky star you got to go while feeling his lips on yours, but soon enough he covered your face again and caressed your hair gently. 

“We have to do this because of what I said. Because of what you said. Because you are the only woman I’ll ever love, because for all intents and purposes, you are my mate. I want you to be my mate. Because all I’ve dreamt about for years is doing this with you knowing that you loved me too.” His expression changed, and in a serious tone, he continued. “But we won’t do anything you don’t want to, Vol. If you don’t want to do this, just tell me.”

Damn him, you thought bitterly. Damn him for having the ability of making you completely forget and forsake reason or any critical thinking when it came to him, when it came to what he meant to you. Of course you wanted to do this. You wanted nothing more than to do this. And despite how much your mind was screaming in pain at the eventuality of his loss, another part of it was screaming at the possibility of never feeling this feeling, at least once. All you managed was a meek shake of your head, and he smiled, a stupidly handsome smile and you couldn’t help yours from blossoming on your face as well, or the sense of fleeting happiness that enveloped you like a warm blanket. 

Despite whatever feelings of love you now knew were harboured in your convoluted relationship, you and Neteyam very rarely acted like it when you had sex. Your love was mostly tangible in the way you healed him, in the way he listened to your endless chattering about human stuff, in the way he looked at you when you said something that he found particularly endearing or the way you looked for him first whenever something anything of note happened to you. Sex, on the other hand, was a means to an end to you most times, just a way to relief tension and stress, a way to give your body what it needed, what it wanted, with someone who knew how to get it there. It was rough, and teasing, it was pushing your bodies to the extremes and testing your own and each other’s boundaries, but there was no need for that now. Because right now, in the way he touched you, in the way you felt, you knew this was different. You knew it was going to change everything yet again, more so than a mere confession ever could. Because now, knowing what you knew, feeling what you felt, you were making love, and it was an intimacy you’ve never experienced before. 

Back then, no matter how thoroughly he got you ready, no matter how long the foreplay, there was always a sense of urgency. It lasted all night, and there was still urgency to it. There was none of that now, as he explored every ounce of your body in languid, deliberate movements in between sonorous whispers that sounded a lot like adoration and wonderment, that told you how much he loved you, how much he’s missed you, how you were everything to him and listening to it felt a lot like heaven, a lot like comfort, a lot like home. 

He caressed your thighs from your ankles to the hips, and gently removed your shorts and placed them on the ground, next to your shirt. He inhaled sharply taking in your body and how much he missed it, and how much despite all the little changes, you were still very much yourself, and your body was still the one he used to get drunk on every night, that he got to once more tonight. You helped him out by removing your bra and underwear, and you smiled at the way his pupils dilated watching you, his eyes almost black now. You pulled him by his loincloth until he was over you again, and he took no time in attaching himself to you, and his lips to your neck, and his hands to your waist. Your heart was beating loudly as you felt him and he smiled against your chest when his lips felt your quickening pulse, knowing that his was just the same, that this was so much more than it ever was before. He never quite understood while people put so much emphasis on sex, why it was regarded as such an intimate act, especially to humans, but he understood now, as he felt you, as he knew you were in love with each other, that there was no doubt in either of your minds, that this feeling, and what you were doing, was something he could only conceive of doing with you, that this was going to bind you for life, regardless of the bond, regardless of a mating ritual, regardless of anything else. You were his and he was yours, forever. 

You reached over and untied his tewng and threw it with the rest of your clothes and just as it happened every time, you were always taken aback by his length, that somehow was always bigger than you remembered, and in light of the months spent apart, you were genuinely wondering about the logistics of how it was ever going to fit. 

“I know, I’m a little concerned, too.” 

You laughed, relieved that it was a thought shared between you, and doing your best to compose yourself and take a deep breath in, you removed your mask once more with one hand and pulled him towards you with the other, your lips meeting in a wet, messy kiss, filled with euphoric smiles and breathless moans, and for the first time in your life, you felt happy. Even it was just for a little while, just for a short, fleeting moment in time, you were wholly happy, and you had everything you ever wanted. A maskless kiss in the beautiful nature that surrounded you, shared with the man you loved, that you now knew loved you too, and the quiet hope of tomorrow. You didn’t want it to end, even as you felt the world slowly disappear from view, even as he reluctantly put some distance between you and helped you fasten it back onto your face. 

“I never missed your room more than right this second.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

As he slowly entered you, you were reminded of your first time, nearly two years ago now, and how sweet he had been, and how thoughtful and kind, and how he was the same now. He took his time, comforting you at every point, and held you as you cried from the pain of being stretched out after so long, by a length and girth no human normally was supposed to know, and he talked you through it, and you cracked a few jokes in between soft sobs and muffled cries, and you understood then what it felt like to be whole, and mended by a touch or a gaze, as long as they came from the one person in the world that mattered. 

When the pain subsided, it was replaced by ecstasy and the best feeling you’ve ever felt, as the pleasure he was always able to coax out of you was magnified infinitely by his confession, and you knew he felt the same by the way he looked at you, by how isolated tears fell from his eyes and onto your mask, how his smile was radiant and reassured, how he held you and touched you like he’d never let you go again, and God, you hoped he never did. When you came, you came together, and the overwhelming feelings left you a panting, limp mess around him, your mind empty from the high and full from the simple “I love you” that followed.

“I have missed you so much, Vol.” suddenly, he picks you up by your waist and turns you so that you are placed gently on his chest, and you sprawl on his body, with him still deep in you, tightening your arms around him and your head on his chest. You lay there for a long while, while he places kisses on your head and runs his fingers down your back and thighs, taking you in, and you listen to his heartbeat, fast and erratic, so much like your own, so much like the soundtrack to your dreams, the music of your deepest fantasies. 

It took forever for either of you to move at all, just content being in each other’s presence, making up for months of lost love and lost nights. Eventually, you removed your head from where it has found its once-more home, and looked at him. 

“I missed you, too. I can’t believe I’m here. There’s so much I want to tell you.”

And so you did. You spent hours talking, catching up, talking about anything and everything, like you always used to when you were young. You told him about training and how Tarsem is doing a good job as Olo'eyktan, how he wants both you and Spider to be a more involved part of the plan, how he’s got you training and how you feel excited to be more involved in this part of his life that you never quite got to be involved in before. You tell him about every new scar on your body and he does the same, and he goes over the village and the training, and all the new people he’s met and how he likes Tsireya and Rot’xo but not Aonung, he tells you about all the ways Lo’ak is testing their dad’s patience and all the dreams he’s had of you. That takes a while, and you laugh at the sillier ones and cry at the more emotional ones, and cry at the way he was right that you had been selfish, and how much in your attempt to deal with your own heartbreak, you forgot that he was going through his own. You never separated from each other, still hugging, or cuddling, or pressing at least one leg against the other’s, refusing to be more than a couple centimetres apart at a time, if you could help it.

Sleep in half the day just for old times' sake

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

So I'll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends

Who'll write books about me, if I ever make it

And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'

You didn’t talk about the future. About how you knew you would have to leave soon, and what would happen after, you didn’t talk about the hurt or the pain, or the way it would come crashing down in front of you so soon, because right now, it didn’t matter. Because you knew for the first time in your life that all the pain the world could possibly throw at you would be worth this, and if you had to spend your whole life paying for it, you’ve made your peace with that. At least, you got this. And no matter what you lost, you’d always have this. 

In the morning, he took your hand in his and lifted you, and watched as you put your bra and panties back on. He didn’t say anything as you bent for the rest of your clothes, clearly enjoying the view, but stopped you as you were trying to get dressed. 

“Let’s go for a swim. You have a mask, you can breathe underwater better than me.” He chuckled a little. “I want to show you my new life, I need you to be part of it.” 

You were touched by his words. You nodded and dropped the shirt, and removed your hand from his swiftly. Without warning, you started running towards the beach, not looking behind you as you screamed after him. 

“Last one in the water has to do whatever the other one wants.” 

Neteyam rolled his eyes, but watched as you ran away from him, as you always did, wild and free, and he was relieved to realise some things would never change, and this was definitely one, alongside the eternal love he felt for you. He gave you quite the headstart, but eventually started running, and it took very little on his part to catch up to you, and he listened to your screams of annoyance as his feet touched the water first and he dove in, submerging his body and grabbing your waist and pulling you under with him. He allowed you to take the unearthly beauty in, with a shocked expression on your face, your mouth agape as you noticed the coral and all the fish that were circling you curiously. You reached out for them and they immediately dispersed, and he smiled at how it made you jump slightly, his heart swelling with affection and jubilance at this moment that he never thought he’d get, that he would never forget, that he would cherish forever. 

You swam for hours, and for the first time in either of your lives, Neteyam felt grateful for your mask, that allowed you to breathe underwater for extended periods of time, much longer than he could, that allowed you to go with him on an ilu and experience this new feeling that felt so different than an ikran, and yet somehow just as liberating and freeing, and you loved it, and all of a sudden he loved it a little more than he did before. 

"So what do you want?" you say playfully as you resurface, your head in his neck, his body flush against yours as you float aimlessly. He just tilts his head, not understanding your question.

"You beat me in the water. I said that whoever wins gets to tell the other what to do."

Neteyam thought about it for a long while.

"I have everything I want right now." he held you a bit tighter as he answered. "I still can't believe you're here. I can't believe these last few hours have been real. There's nothing else I could ever want."

You sighed against him, and he couldn't tell if it was happy or not, and right now, he didn't want to know.

"You're a better person than I am. I would have asked for eternal servitude."

He chuckled as his lips found your wet hair again.

"You got it, Vol."

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

As you walked back to the village, the dream world you lived in since he brought you to the forest was quickly fading before your eyes, and the worries, and the fear were settling in again, like they always seemed to, and it felt a lot like greeting old friends that never left, just hid a little under a curtain of flowy incandescence, ready to pounce at the slightest opportunity. Neteyam's voice broke through the dark feelings overcoming you, like he always had the power to.

“I know it's scary, thinking of what's next. I know. I'm terrified, but seeing you again, Vol, this night, this morning, it made me realise I can't lose you again. So just stay. I’ll talk to my parents, I’ll talk to the Metkayina. We’ll figure it out. Just please stay.”

His words managed to put your mind as ease almost as much as they shocked you in their spontaneity and craziness. Neteyam wasn't a rash person, or a person who just blurted out big life decisions, such as this one. You laughed awkwardly, trying to defuse the tension you felt in yourself and in the air around you.

“How would that ever work, silly?”

“I don’t know. It will work. Or I’ll come back with you, I’ll come back home. We’ll figure it out, ok? Just please say yes.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but you were grateful. And so, so happy. Because despite everything, this was everything you've ever wanted, and everything you thought you'd never get. You didn't know why you came to Awa'atlu. To yell at him, to check for yourself how he was doing, if he managed to move on easier than you could. To be angry, to get closure, to say goodbye forever. But now, it felt a lot like you were here for a new beginning, for a second chance at love, and how could you ever say no to that? The little nod makes Neteyam beam, and he picks you up and spins you around, once again kissing each-other against the ticking time bomb of your forsaken mask, laughing against his lips and his cheeks as he peppers kisses throughout your whole face, on your eyes, and your cheeks, on your forehead and your nose.

"Thank you."

We could call it even, even though I'm leavin'

And I'll be yours for the weekend, 'tis the damn season

"I'll go check on Kiri. You talk to your parents, ok?"

Neteyam did just that, as he found his dad sitting alone by the edge of the water, cleaning his favourite weapon, the way he liked to do when there was something on his mind, or something weighing heavily on his shoulders. Kiri's condition must have taken a bigger toll on him than Neteyam realised, he thought absentmindedly. He was so nervous, so afraid of what he had to say and how his parents would react. His mating situation has been a matter of great debate in their family for a years now, and so to tell them he's chosen... a human, essentially giving up his chance at feeling the bond, at a child... he knew would be a lot to take in, but he was ready, and he had chosen, and for once in his life, Neteyam would have his way.

"Dad?"

His father was startled as he got pulled out of his musings, another rare occurence.

"Neteyam, it's good you're here. I need to chat to you."

Neteyam took a seat by his dad, eyeing him keenly.

"Is everything alright, you seem off."

"Neteyam..." the former Olo'eyktan winced a little, refusing to meet his son's gaze.

"The situation with the Metkayina is... a little more dire than I told you before. Tonowari told us the clan is not fully willing to accept us, that they don't consider us one of them, even despite the Uturu given by their own Olo'eyktan. He's worried for our future here, and honestly son, so am I. I don't want us to have to leave again, to have to uproot our family once more.

He's... thought of a solution. For it to be an easier transition. A way forward, a way to unite the clans, the power of the Omaticaya, the blood of the Toruk Makto with the ruling family of the reef people. As you know, Tonowari has an older daughter, a warrior. She's said to be one of the most proficient and skilled warriors this tribe's ever seen. They say she's beautiful and smart. Kind and charismatic.

Neteyam... in order for us to stay, you will have to mate with her."

And I’ll be yours for the weekend..

‘tis the damn season.

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @fanboyluvr @bananafruityawne @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @netemoon @www-interludeshadow-com

[prince-liest]

Mr Prince, do you think Alastor can still speak with a Cajun/Louisiana creole accent, or is his voice stuck as the transatlantic radio show host accent? I like the idea that he could slip back into his older accent when he's has a bit too much to drink, or when he's very excited/angry/feels a strong emotion, or when he's lost in thought and something reminds him of his old life/hometown/mother

Pilot VA doing an exxagerated cajun accent https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_Rml2FtvW4

Cover of Friends on the other side (w/ Dr Facilier's - AKA Husk's VA - Louisiana cajun accent) with Alastor's voice https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZVwcFWSji8

ETA: I forgot to add this due to being distracted by accent mechanics, but the asker sent a follow-up that I think is worth noting since as a commentor said, Alastor is Creole specifically:

just an interesting publication I found about the interconnection of Creole and Cajun - TIL Creole is mistakenly used as a racial designation, even though it encompasses a large spectrum of people of all colors and cultures - including some Cajun people who were considered a subset of the Creole people (LINK)

Okay, so, FASCINATING that you ask me this, hahaha, because I actually have a roommate that was put into speech therapy at around 11 years old because she was facing bullying due to having a UK accent, and she converted pretty fully to speaking with USAmerican accent over the course of 2-3 years.

This ask prompted me to ask her some questions about it, so here are some points she shared:

She does experience revertigo to her UK accent, but it has less to do with feeling strong emotions and more to do with context. It happens more easily if she's had something to drink or is sleepy, but the actual trigger for it is speaking with people or watching media that includes that accent. On rare occasion, if she is thinking deeply about old memories from when she still spoke with a UK accent, that can also cause the code-switch.

She still does vowel and consonant exercises sometimes, especially after a night where she had revertigo (most recently: had a few drinks with her boyfriend and got an Uber driver that was from a neighboring town to where she was born on the way home).

She has moments where she feels like she has to focus on speaking with sharper consonants, and also moments where she feels like the USAmerican accent is effortless. The more she's around people with US accents, the easier it is.

Now, Alastor's case is pretty different in some ways (for one, he likely started putting on the transatlantic accent a few years older than that), but is probably pretty similar in others (I imagine with the accent being so popular for media, there were plenty of known resources for teaching it to yourself, akin to speech therapy). And beyond that, a lot of how the human brain processes language, pronunciation, accents, and code-switching would remain consistent across the two different situations.

So most likely, he does have a chance of reverting back to his "mother" accent, likely when he's had a few drinks and is around folks who speak the same way. Now, whether his control issues would allow that to happen is a different question - he's very dedicated to his image, and I can see him being fully aware of the circumstances in which he's likely to slip, and subsequently either going a little easier on the alcohol or just plain paying extra attention to his enunciation when he speaks.

Since he probably started putting on the transatlantic accent later in life and also is never actually around people who speak it (since it's fake), I imagine he probably still has to regularly do vocal exercises for upkeep!

(Various sources: My roommate's life experiences and own education in psycholinguistics, oops, haha.)

[nesepte]

Hundred Steps | Jaehyun — Preview | Read full fic here

Pairing: Jaehyun x fem! reader

Genre: soft jaehyun, mild angst, fluff (sort of – he is cute in this), cozy, unsaid words, music(al), enemies (one-sided) to lovers, rich jaehyun, but very humble jaehyun, acts of service love language jaehyun, small town, summer, small shop owner reader - vinyl record store, coming of age (?) Word Count (Preview): 1.1k words

A/n: It’s Jaehyun's birthday month so I thought of posting this on tumblr! The whole fic will be published on his birthday. Consider it my gift to you all here xD

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this – leave a comment, or a message, or anything you want.

The air was warm against your cheek. The summer had ended but the heat lingered like a stubborn heart refusing to see reason. In front of you beyond the wrought iron gates, stretched the steps to your new life but you stood frozen in place.

Mind can be so fickle, and this restless heart even more so. You had waited your entire life to leave your hometown and move to the city. You had dreamed of this college every night and here it was, ready to welcome you.

But you turned your gaze behind— the city quiet from this height. Beyond the mountains in the distance, amidst the swirling roads that led to nowhere, your eyes searched for him.

Jaehyun…

It was two weeks after your high school graduation. You were working late in your father’s store for vinyl records. Just a few minutes before closing time you heard the ding of the tiny bell fixed atop the door. He stumbled in, trying to frantically shut his umbrella which was dripping onto the carpeted floor. His brown pants were soaked at the bottom and his white shirt was wrinkled at the joints.

‘That’s alright,’ you said and he looked up. Despite the umbrella, his hair was slightly damp and the tip of his nose was red. ‘We are closing soon,’ you told him. ‘If you want to browse, I suggest you come back tomorrow morning.’

His curious eyes darted from you to the aisle behind him. ‘Where is...?’

‘Are you looking for my dad?’ you asked, trying to keep your tone professional. ‘He fractured his leg. I’ll be taking care of the shop in his absence.’

He finally managed to close his umbrella and left it by the window.

‘Right,’ he said, walking into the glow of the dim lamp hanging from the ceiling above the counter. This close, you noticed that his cheeks were red too but it wasn’t particularly cold out that night.

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ he said, ‘but by any chance did he mention any Beatles record on hold?’

‘The Beatles…’ you mumbled to yourself and ducked behind the counter to check the cabinets. At the very top, wrapped neatly in a clear film was the record and stuck to it was a post-it that had the word paid written in block letters and a name beside it.

‘Jung…’ you whispered, rising back to your feet to find the light, ‘…Jaehyun.’

It took you a moment to place the name in your head, and when you did, you blurted out, ‘It’s you!’ You looked up at him. ‘You are Jung Jaehyun?!’

Your raised voice had startled him but he replied as even as before, pressing his lips together. ‘That’s correct,’ he said.

‘Get out,’ you gritted out.

‘W-What?’

His blank, ignorant eyes angered you even more.

‘Do you have any idea what you put my father through?’ you yelled, your voice echoing through the empty shop. ‘You have been making these insane demands for those godforsaken rare records ever since you stepped foot into our store!’

You could feel your face heating up, your heart pulsating inside your throat. It was a bad look— shouting at a customer, but you could not stop the words from flowing out.

‘Do you know how difficult it is for my father to find them?! It’s because of you that he had an accident and fractured his leg. He was out in the rain to get your stupid record!’

‘I…’ He stared at you, mouth agape and his face drained of colour. He had shrunk under your gaze somehow. ‘I… I had no idea.’

‘Of course, you didn’t!’ you spat back, the thin record shaking between your trembling fingers. ‘All you rich kids care about is your own convenience!’

‘That’s a harsh judgement to make,’ he returned, though not unkindly.

‘Harsh?’ You let out a mirthless laugh. You could not believe your own anger. The bulb over the counter flickered like a dull firework as the record player in the corner switched to the next song.

‘I’ll tell you what’s harsh. All his life, my father has worked tirelessly in this shop to raise me alone and I have done nothing but kept my nose buried in books so I could get into the best university in Seoul.’

You sighed, pressing your palm to your forehead to control the wretched tears that were pricking the corner of your eyes.

‘This was my last summer before college. My last chance to taste freedom and it’s ruined because of you! I am stuck in this shop, working all day. The boxes are heavy, the shelves are high. I don’t know any of the customers and all they really do is ask about my dad. I haven’t even eaten all day but I can’t complain to anyone without looking like an ungrateful brat!’

There was more you wanted to say but you had no breath left in you. Besides, you had embarrassed yourself enough and you couldn’t risk crying in front of him.

‘Just take this and leave.’ You held out the record to him.

His hand reached out immediately but stopped just centimetres from the edge.

‘Take it,’ you repeated, hiding the hitch in your voice. You did not rush his hesitation— there was no other customer in the shop waiting anyway. At last, when he closed his fingers over the record, you let the rest of your anger flow out of you with it.

‘What?’ you asked. He was still standing at the counter, staring at you. Maybe you had been too harsh but your anger didn’t allow any sympathy.

‘I can pay the hospital bill,’ he mumbled, clutching the record tightly in his hands.

‘There is no need,’ you replied. You could not let your pride take another hit after making a complete fool out of yourself in front of a complete stranger. ‘Just… don’t come back here again.’

You regretted saying it the moment the words left your lips.

When you had first learned of Jaehyun through your father, you had imagined a stoic, old man in his 50s, dressed in an unnecessarily expensive suit with a cigar in his hand and a flashy gold chain around his neck. He definitely seemed the kind with his incessant demands for particularly hard-to-find, expensive records. He liked nothing in the shop.

Pretentious bastard, you had called him.

But standing in front of you was a boy, who didn’t look much older than you. He was careful with the record while stowing it away in his bag, holding it delicately by the edges. Despite your outburst, there was a twinkle in his eyes, one that you recognized all too well— your father had it too whenever he got his hands on a new record.

In the wake of your receding anger, you saw clearly how frightened you had made him but he did not protest again. Without another word, he left, stopping only for a moment at the door but he did not speak whatever it was he wanted to say.

However, that was not the end. He came back— sooner than you had expected.

[creatorbiaze]

1, 8, and 9 for Alden for the twst ask game because I am rotating him in my brain like an inventory item in an rpg

hehehe :33

1: Name: What does your twst OC's name mean? Why does Rook/Floyd call them [insert nickname]?

Alden means "old friend", and Lynx is from the lynx species :3 Floyd calls him "catfish" cuz, catto, and Rook calls him monsieur uh. it translates to "bright eyes". that ones from a rook rp blog i interact w/ :3 it started cuz Rook met Alden when he was up in a tree & Alden's eyes glow in darkness due to extra magic in him from the 9 Lives curse

8: Homeland: Where is your twst OC from? Do they know anyone from the same hometown prior to NRC?

I haven't actually figured a name for it but it's in the Shaftlands & is based on Hocus Pocus; most of the townspeople are kinda wary of magic due to the 3 powerful witches that terrorized the place before their death. However there's not much actual malice towards magic-users anymore (at least not openly), due to the Lynx family– some of the ones hurt the most by the witches– have mostly forgiven.

There's not really anyone in his hometown in NRC; the few that do choose to harness the magic they can use rarely go to mage schools at all.

9: Club: Which club does your twst OC join and why? Is there anything memorable about the club fair day/their first day at the club? Which clubmate is their favorite?

he's technically part of the boardgames club but actually usually shows up to Jade's Mountain Lovers club or Malleus's Gargoyle club bc of the long walks (& they both get quite happy when someone finally tags along, so Alden wants them to feel better).

His first day of Boardgames club was like... one of the few he actually attended. He challenged Idia to pretty much every boardgame the club had and lost in all of them. every boardgame made him more stubborn and adamant on beating Idia lol, she was pouty for a couple days after that.

She also likes Idia more than Azul (cuz Azul's an openly troublesome/kinda dangerous person, Idia's relatively safe... in NRC) but slowly opened up more to Azul over time. now he's comfortable enough with Azul to prank and annoy him lmaoo