#rights of rank and file

[556betrayed]

Not a great look for TWU 556 professional standards. When does it stop? Flight Attendants deserve better representation.

[impossiblefeat]

Espio says a lot of proverbs and idioms.

And here's a couple Japanese ones you might not know about:

"Being kicked by a horse" is a Japanese proverb. It's based off an old poem (dodoitsu) from the Edo period:

人の恋路を邪魔する奴は馬に蹴���れて死んじまえ Hito no koiji o jama suru yatsu wa uma ni kera rete shinjimae

People who meddle in other's love affairs, get kicked by a horse and die.

When you get a C rank in Sonic Heroes, Espio says the Japanese idiom: 平平凡凡 heihei bonbon

Heibon (平凡) means "ordinary" and repeating it like this emphasizes something as very ordinary or mediocre.

When you get a D rank in Sonic Heroes (he also says it in some event dialogue in SHTH 2005) Espio says the Japanese proverb: 油断大敵 yudantaiteki

This is translated to: Carelessness is one’s greatest enemy. (in this case) It can also be translated as: don't let your guard down / danger comes soonest when it is despised.

[cienie-isengardu]

[mageknife]

lucanis says about zara renata “there might be a higher ranking venatori somewhere, but if there is i don’t know them” and then you kill her really early in the game. lucanis is probably not right about her being the highest-ranking venatori but also it has me thinking. what is the power structure of the venatori? they followed corypheus and now the evanuris but like. of mortals. who organizes them. are the various venatori magisters in charge. is aelia in charge. i don’t remember

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage

The thing is, Tim didn't mean to put it on. He was just kind of playing with it to keep his hands busy while he was thinking about the recent murder case. GCPD had their hands full with the serial robbers that didn't rank high enough to catch Batman's attention, and Tim never had a problem with helping the police if he had time.

And the ring was a perfect fidget toy, if he is being honest. Small and plain enough not to distract him, but the round stone in the middle was loosely attached, making it able to spin inside the frame. Which is what he did, again and again, like those fidget spinners.

Of course, he was just destined to drop it sooner or later. And then, when he reached under the table to pick it up, his finger caught inside the ring, and, well.

The ring was now firmly on his finger.

The problem was that he couldn't take it off.

It wasn't stuck, at least not in the general sense of it - Tim could easily spin it around, and it wasn't tight. But it wasn't loose either, and as soon as he tried to move it past the knuckle, the ring heavily disagreed, almost like shrinking down and absolutely refusing to be detached.

Barbara suggested soap, which didn't work. Dick tried for a more mechanical approach, first with pliers and then with a laser, which the ring resisted with no effort. Cass, who was actually the one who brought the damned thing into the Cave after one of her adventures in Hong Kong, just smiled and shrugged, which was of no help either. Damian offered to cut the finger off, which probably would have helped, but Tim rather liked all his limbs attached.

Bruce called Constantine. The magician took one look at the ring, barked a humorless laugh, and pat Tim on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Congrats, mate," he said, a wry smile on his lips, "I hope you file for divorce."

Although, while all the rest of the Bats and Birds devolved into fits of hysterical laughter (Steph), indignant sputtering (Damian), and cries of outrage (everyone else sans Alfred, who was pointedly unimpressed), Tim couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. Really, his life had been a shitshow since he was around ten. It's not like he didn't expect himself to be accidentally married to some otherworldly magical creature by this point.

The worst part - worse than the actual engagement, that is - was that Constantine couldn't exactly tell them who the spouse was.

What he did say was that the Ring belonged to the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, and Eyes of Universe. But those were only titles, and, as John Constantine begrudgingly admitted, there has been a change in the management recently, so no one really knew what the new almighty monarch looked like or what they were, much less their whereabouts.

"You can't blame me for not being keen to find out, though," John said, wincing, "The last one was a bloody tyrant, and the Realms operate under the right of conquest rule."

At least, the mage assured them that since the being had not yet come to collect their shiny new spouse, they might never show up at all. The Ring has been lost for ages after all, so maybe the King didn't even remember having one. Or, the previous King didn't, and the new one didn't know about or didn't care.

The first week after the incident, they spent anxiously researching and worrying. Bruce even went as far as making Tim wear a tracker at all times, which was not great, but he did appreciate the gesture. Kind of.

After the first month with no sign of any changes, the worry started to abate. In half a year, most of the family stopped trying to keep an eye on Tim at all times lest he suddenly disappeared. Two years later, even Tim himself treated the Ring as a natural part of his daily life. The stone inside was still a great fidget toy, engagement or not.

Three years, one month, and five days after Tim first put the Ring on his finger, when the world was falling apart and breaking in front of him and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it anymore, Tim pressed his lips to the cold, dark strip of unknown metal on his finger.

"Whoever you are, I don't even care, please," he whispered in a useless prayer, his voice hoarse and his throat dry, "please, help."

And the world came to a stop with a short, amused chuckle.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

[part 2 ->]

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 1

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samoyed (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts/personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; dom/sub elements; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Some warnings only apply to future parts!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Simon remembers telling Price to ‘piss off with that shite’ when the latter had approached him with the brass’ announcement of granting the Lieutenant the rare permission to become the handler of an emotional support hybrid.

There aren’t many officers on base who are allowed to have one, and Simon knows why that is. In his opinion, the whole handler/hybrid deal has all the negative connotations of a toxic and borderline abusive relationship, and Simon simply doesn’t want to be part of that.

Did anyone of those fuckers ever bother to read his file? He bloody well doubts it.

He does respect the official handlers and trainers of the military K9’s on base, though. Whatever bond they share was forged and solidified in battle and goes way beyond that odd and shallow power play that happens between some officers and their so-called “pets”.

So, Simon said no to the offer, firmly and several times at that. He doesn’t care for the bloody permission, no matter how rare it is, no matter how fellow soldiers who’d caught rumour about it had blatantly stated their envy about the possibility of gaining a hybrid pet themselves. Truthfully, Simon becomes sick to his stomach whenever one of the other officers and NCO’s talk about wanting to own a pretty pleasure puppy; something dumb and docile to have fun and unwind with in their time off duty.

Fucking hell. No, Simon doesn’t want to be part of that, let alone be responsible of some freakish hybrid mutt.

Weeks pass, both thoughts and arguments about hybrids and handlers are pushed back and filed away in some nook inside Simon’s mind as he falls back into his daily grind and familiar routine; running drills, paperwork, field trainings, preparing for missions, more paperwork.

Until one fateful day in January.

The UK weather has been more terrible lately; icy rain and howling winds beating down on base while Simon was trying to keep the rookies in line at the shooting range. By the end of the day, his fatigues were drenched and clinging to his broad frame while the chill was seeping through his pale skin, settling into his bones; making his limbs heavy and turning them stiff as if he’d carried a rucksack full of boulders on his back for a week straight.

The moment Simon arrives at the front door to his flat on base, though, the hairs at the back of his neck bristle immediately. The hallway is empty, but–

Something isn’t right. He can practically sense that someone was here, perhaps even inside his place in the worst case.

Halting in his measured steps while his breathing levels out to that eerie shallowness he’s adapted to on missions, his ears perk up under his skull balaclava as he listens for any odd noises coming from inside. Unable to pick up anything unusual, Simon still chooses to rather be safe than sorry as he reaches for his pistol in the holster strapped to his right thigh.

Simon manages to open the front door without any noise before he slips inside effortlessly, living up to his name as a ghost as he stalks through his flat on high alert; checking the small storage room before sneaking down the short, dark hallway leading up to his open living room. He can bloody sense that something is different, that someone has tampered with his safe space; he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and tangy cologne even through his damp balaclava.

The sight that greets him on his old, tattered couch when he eventually flips on the light switch, is unlike anything he expected and Simon’s whole body tenses, eyes widening comically as if he’s met face to face by a firing squad.

But it’s just you, a bloody dog hybrid, curled up on his couch like you belong there–which you don’t.

And Simon slowly lowers his pistol, watches your fluffy white ears appear from under your hair as they perk up before you lift your head, like pristine cotton balls popping open in the sunlight; your body uncurling and stretching slowly while you squint against the bright yellow drop-light.

“What the bloody… fuck,” Simon breathes, chest deflating with a deep sigh as he puts his pistol back into his holster, securing it once more. Dark eyes flicker around the room before he catches a large black suitcase next to what looks like a gift basket.

Simon approaches the basket the way he would a bomb threat while his vigilant eyes keep shifting towards you as if you could attack him any moment, although you’re clearly still waking up, all discombobulated and sleep-drunk.

When Simon catches a clear view at the assortment of goodies and the black folder tucked between them inside the basket, his cold heart stutters and his blood freezes in his veins. At the sight of the pale pink collar with its matching leash, the vein in his temple throbs with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

The sound of your soft, sickly-sweet voice chirping out a greeting nearly makes his wretched soul leave his body. “Hi… Hello.”

Simon takes a step back, needing a protective wall at his back and as much space between himself and you as possible as he tries to assess the situation.

“How the fuck did you get inside my flat?” Simon mutters under his breath, dark eyes widening when he realizes the thumping in his ears doesn’t match his rapid heartbeat but belongs to your fluffy white tail gently wagging against the soft leather of his couch; just as fluffy and white as your ears, like freshly made cotton candy.

“I was brought here and told to wait for my new handler,” you answer as your head tilts to the side curiously, gazing up at the large man with bright doe-eyes. “Are you Simon?”

Simon’s narrowed eyes widen instantly again at the sound of your voice uttering his name so sweetly, so... casually. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth as it fills with saliva.

“Who the fuck brought you ‘ere?”

He needs a name, so he knows who to beat to a pulp before he grabs the first poor bastard who crosses his path next.

“Uhm–oh!” Your small, triangle-shaped ears perk up, and the giggle you let out makes Simon grimace underneath his mask. “They had silly names for humans,” you tell him, still giggling softly to yourself before adding: “Gaz and Soap.”

Simon huffs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it explains the “special orders” his bloody Sergeants had gotten from Price today; the reason he couldn’t attend today’s training session. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

“You’re all wet, Simon,” you remark about his appearance; sweet voice laced with a concern so genuine that is has his spine tense and his stomach churn with aversion. “Are you not cold?”

He wants to bark at you to stop calling him by his name, to stop trying to appeal to him just because your bloody stupid nature tells you to, to stop imprinting on your so called “new handler” just because someone told you that you belong to him now. He wants you out of his flat and out of his life before anything terrible and out of his control can take root and blossom behind his ribcage.

“Get up,” he snaps at you before his thoughts can spiral any further and he almost, almost feels bad when you flinch in your seat, ducking your head submissively while your ears flatten against your head. “I’m taking you back. You’re not staying here, lass.”

“W-What?” Your face drops, your fluffy tail stops wagging; eyes glossing over as you begin to tremble and shrink on the spot. The sound of your soft whine only angers Simon more, because it tugs on his heartstring, makes his protective instincts flare.

“You heard me. Get up and grab your fuckin’ suitcase. ’m taking you back to wherever you came from.”

When Simon glances back at you, something mean and violent lodges itself into his chest cavity; twisting and squeezing his rotten heart as soon as he sees the devastated look on your face; ears drooping and shoulders slouching in defeat while another soft whine vibrates in your chest.

“Okay,” you answer eventually, snivelling when fat tear breaches your lower lash line and runs down your supple cheek as you untuck your legs from under yourself to move off the couch. “Okay…”

There’s a shrill ringing in his ears when Simon’s mouth seems to move on its own, making a decision for him. “Wait. Stay–Stay right where you bloody are.”

And you immediately do as you’re told, like the obedient pup you obviously are, settling back and perking up again as you blink dumbly at the brutish man with bright, big eyes and an expectant look that makes Simon groan internally before he reaches into one of his many pockets to retrieve his old smartphone.

He mutters and curses under his breath as the cracked screen lights up, and it doesn’t take long for him to find his Captain’s name in his short contact list. Simon taps the screen with his gloved thumb to call the man, ready to argue tooth and nail to have you picked up by from his flat again, so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

Simon’s jaw is clenched tightly while his sharp gaze keeps flickering back to you, still not quite believing you’re not some stress-induced hallucination, or nightmare.

It takes two rings before Price picks up.

“Ghost–“

Simon inhales deeply. “Price–“

“Getting acquainted with your new companion, son? She’s quite the sweetheart. Easy on the eyes, too, judging by what the lads told me.”

His chest deflates, air rushing from his lungs in a long exhale. That comment alone is enough to make him even more furious. “I don’t want her. Take her back to wherever she came from, Captain.”

There’s a beat of tense silence before Price speaks up again, and Simon can hear the squeak of the old office chair as the other man leans back in it.

“Did you read her file yet?”

“No, should I?” Simon counters gruffly, feeling his patience grow thinner by the second.

“Aye, son, I suggest you should.”

“Gimme the short version, Price. I’m this close to handing her over to the next lucky bloke who passes by my fuckin’ flat.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Price says decisively on the other; his gruff voice way too calm for Simon’s liking. “She’s a rescue, Lieutenant. Got rescued from one of those terrible puppy mills.”

That makes Simon shut up as his eyes flicker over to you; softening somewhat when his eyes lock with yours. You keep watching him with the slightest pout, waiting for orders or for him to finally send you away. He’s still considering it, though the revelation of your background makes him hesitate for some odd reason. Empathy.

“Simon?”

Simon squeezes the phone harder in his grip; hard enough he thinks he might break it once and for all. “You better find a new handler for her, Captain.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “It’s not gonna be me.”

Price sighs. “Alright.” There is another pause and Simon can hear it when Price scratches his coarse beard in contemplation before he speaks up again. “Just keep an eye on her for the night, aye? I’ll make the necessary arrangement to have her transferred to someone else.”

“Good. She can stay for one night. One. Night.” Simon growls before hanging up.

The soft sound of your tail thumping against the couch catches his attention again and when he looks back at you, you’re practically beaming at him.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

MLMs are the mirror-world version of community organizing

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/05/power-of-positive-thinking/#the-socialism-of-fools

In her unmissable 2023 book Doppelganger, Naomi Klein paints a picture of a "mirror world" of right wing and conspiratorial beliefs that are warped, false reflections of real crises:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

For example, Qanon's obsession with "child trafficking" is a mirror-world version of the real crises of child poverty, child labor, border family separations and kids in cages. Anti-vax is the mirror-world version of the true story of the Sacklers and their fellow opioid barons making billions on Oxy and fent, with the collusion of corrupt FDA officials and a pliant bankruptcy court system. Xenophobic panic about "immigrants stealing jobs" is the mirror world version of the well-documented fact that big business shipped jobs to low-waged territories abroad, weakening US labor and smashing US unions. Cryptocurrency talk about "decentralization" is the mirror-world version of the decay of every industry (including tech) into a monopoly or a cartel.

Klein is at pains to point out that other political thinkers have described this phenomenon. Back in the 19th century, leftists called antisemitism "the socialism of fools." Socialism – the idea that working people are preyed upon by capital – is reflected in the warped mirror as "working people are preyed upon by international Jewish bankers."

The mirror world is a critical concept, because it shows that far right and conspiratorial beliefs are often uneasy neighbors with real, serious political movements. The swivel-eyed loons have a point, in other words:

https://locusmag.com/2023/05/commentary-cory-doctorow-the-swivel-eyed-loons-have-a-point/

Once you understand the mirror world, you start to realize that many right wing conspiracists could have been directed into productive movements, if only they'd understood that their problems were with systems, not sinister individuals (this is why Trump has ordered a purge of any federally funded research that contains the word "systemic"):

https://mamot.fr/@Lazarou@mastodon.social/113943287435897828

This also explains why the "tropes" of right wing conspiratorialism sometimes echo left wing, radical thought. I once had a (genuinely unhinged) dialog with a self-described German "progressive" who told me that criticizing the finance industry as parasitic on the real economy was "structurally antisemitic." Nonsense like this is why Klein's "mirror world" is so important: unless you understand the mirror world, you can end up believing that "progressive" just means "defending anything the right hates."

Historian Erik Baker is the author of a new book, Make Your Own Job: How the Entrepreneurial Work Ethic Exhausted America, which has some very interesting things to say about the mirror world:

https://www.hup.harvard.edu/books/9780674293601

In a recent edition of the always-excellent Know Your Enemy podcast, the hosts interviewed Baker about the book, and the conversation turned to the subject of pyramid schemes, the "multilevel marketing systems" that are woven into so many religious, right-wing movements:

https://www.dissentmagazine.org/blog/know-your-enemy-the-entrepreneurial-ethic/

MLMs have it all: prosperity gospel ("God rewards virtue with wealth"), atomization ("you are an entrepreneur and everyone in your life is your potential customer"), and rabid anti-Communism ("solidarity is a trick to make you poorer").

The rise of the far right can't be separated from the history of MLMs. The modern MLM starts with Amway, a cultlike national scam that was founded by Jay Van Andel and Richard DeVos (father-in-law of Betsy DeVos).

Rank-and-file members of the Amway cult lived in dire poverty, convinced that their financial predicament was their own fault for not faithfully following the "sure-fire" Amway method for building a business. Andrea Pitzer's gripping memoir of growing up in an Amway household offers a glimpse of the human cost of the cult:

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2025/01/amway-america/681479/?gift=j9r7avb6p-KY8zdjhsiSZxYkntna5M_rYEv4707Zqqs

Amway – and MLMs like it – don't just bleed out their members by convincing them to buy mountains of useless crap they're supposed to sell to their families, while enriching the people at the top of the pyramid who sell it to them. The "toxic positivity" of multi-level marketing cults forces members deep into debt to pay for seminars and retreats where they are supposed to learn how to repair the personal defects that keep them from being "successful entrepreneurs." The topline of the cult isn't just getting rich selling stuff – they're making bank by selling false hope, literally, in Hilton ballrooms and convention centers across the country, where hearing an MLM scammer berate you for being a "bad entrepreneur" costs thousands of dollars.

Amway destroyed so many lives that Richard Nixon's FTC decided to investigate it. The investigation wasn't going well for Amway, which was facing an existential crisis that they were rescued from by Nixon's resignation. You see, Nixon's successor, Gerald Ford, was the former Congressman of Amway co-founder Jay Van Andel, who was also the head of the US Chamber of Commerce, the most powerful business lobbyist in America.

At Ford's direction, the FTC exonerated Amway of all wrongdoing. But it's even worse than that: Ford's FTC actually crafted a rule that differentiated legal pyramid schemes from illegal ones, based on Amway's destructive business practices. Under this new rule, any pyramid scheme that had the same structure as Amway was presumptively legal. Every MLM operating in America today is built on the Amway model, taking advantage of the FTC's Amway rule to operate in the open, without fear of legal repercussions.

MLMs prey on the poor and desperate: women, people of color, people in dying small towns and decaying rustbelt cities. It's not just that these people are desperate – it's that they only survive through networks of mutual aid. Poor women rely on other poor women to help with child care, marginalized people rely on one another for help with home maintenance, small loans, a place to crash after an eviction, or a place to park the RV you're living out of.

In other words, people who lack monetary capital must rely on social capital for survival. That's why MLMs target these people: an MLM is a system for destructively transforming social capital into monetary capital. MLMs exhort their members to mine their social relationships for "leads" and "customers" and to use the language of social solidarity ("women helping women") to wheedle, guilt, and arm-twist people from your mutual aid network into buying things they don't need and can't afford.

But it's worse, because what MLMs really sell is MLMs. The real purpose of an MLM sales call is to convince the "customer" to become an MLM salesperson, who owes you a share of every sale they make and is incentivized to buy stock they don't need (from you) in order to make quotas. And of course, their real job is to sign up other salespeople to work under them, and so on.

An MLM isn't just a pathogen, in other words – it's a contagion. When someone in your social support network gets the MLM disease, they don't just burn all their social ties with you and the people you rely on – they convince more people in your social group to do the same.

Which brings me back to the mirror world, and Erik Baker's conversation with the Know Your Enemy podcast. Baker starts to talk about who gets big into Amway: "people who already effectively lead by the force of their charisma and personality many other people in their lives. Right? Because you're able to sell to those people, and you're able to recruit those people. What are we talking about? Well, they're effectively recruiting organizers, people who have a natural capacity for organizing and then sending them out in the world to organize on behalf of Christian capitalism."

Listening to this, I was thunderstruck: MLM recruiters are the mirror world version of union organizers. In her memoir of growing up in Amway, Andrea Pitzer talks about how her mom would approach strangers and try to lead them through a kind of structured discussion:

Everywhere we went—the mall, state parks, grocery stores—she’d ask people whether they could use a little more money each month. “I’d love to set up a time to talk to you about an exciting business opportunity.” The words should have seemed suspect. Yet people almost always gave her their number. Her confidence and professionalism were reassuring, and her enthusiasm was electric, even, at first, to me. “What would you do with $1 million?” she’d ask, spinning me around the kitchen.

This kind of person, having this kind of dialog, is exactly how union organizers work. In A Collective Bargain, Jane McAlevey's classic book on labor organizing, she describes how she would seek out the charismatic, outgoing workers in a job-site, the natural leaders, and recruit them to help bring the other workers onboard:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Organizer training focuses on how to have a "structured organizing conversation," which McAlevey described in a 2019 Jacobin article:

“If you had a magic wand and could change three things about life in America [or her town or city or school], what would you change?” The rest of your conversation needs to be anchored to her answers to that question.

https://jacobin.com/2019/11/thanksgiving-organizing-activism-friends-family-conversation-presidential-election

The MLM conversation and the union conversation have eerily similar structures, but the former is designed to commodify and destroy solidarity, and the latter is designed to reinforce and mobilize solidarity. Seen in this light, an MLM is a mirror world union, one that converts solidarity into misery and powerlessness instead of joy and strength.

The MLM movement doesn't just make men like Rich De Vos and Jay Van Andel into billionaires. MLM bosses are heavy funders of the right, a blank check for the Heritage Foundation. Trump is the MLM president, a grifter who grew up on the gospel of Norman Vincent Peale – a key figure in MLM cult dynamics – who tells his followers that wealth is a sign of virtue. Trump boasts about all the people he's ripped off, boasting about how getting away with cheating "makes me smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

The corollary is that being cheated means you're stupid. Caveat emptor, the motto of the cryptocurrency industry ("not your wallet, not your coins") that spent hundreds of millions to get Trump elected.

Tech has its own mirror world. The people who used tech to find fellow weirdos and make delightful and wonderful things are mirrored by the people who used tech to find fellow weirdos and call for fascism, ethnic cleansing, and concentration camps.

In Picks and Shovels, my next novel (Feb 17), I introduce readers to a fictitious 1980s religious computer sales cult called Fidelity Computing, run by an orthodox rabbi, a Catholic priest and a Mormon rabbi:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

Fidelity is a faith scam, a pyramid scheme that is parasitic upon the bonds of faith and fellowship. Martin Hench, the hero of the story – a hard-fighting high tech forensic accountant – goes to work for a competing business, Computing Freedom, run by three Fidelity ex-employees who have left their faiths and their employers to pursue a vision of computers that is about liberation, rather than control.

The women of Computing Freedom – a queer orthodox woman who's been kicked out of her family, a Mormon woman who's renounced the LDS over its opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment, and a nun who's left her order to throw in with the Liberation Theology movement – are all charismatic, energetic, inspirational organizers.

Because of course they are – that's why they were so good at selling computers for the Reverend Sirs who sit at the top of Fidelity Computing's pyramid scheme.

Hearing Baker's interview and reading Pitzer's memoir last week made it all click together for me. Not just that MLMs destroy social bonds, but that within every person who gets sucked into an MLM, there's a community organizer who could be building the bonds that MLMs destroy.

[i2sunric]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 (l.hs)

PAIRING: demon!heeseung x angel!reader (f)

SUMMARY: in a world where you either become angels or demons in the afterlife, heeseung and you were fates of high ranking. despite all the strict rules cast upon you, you two couldn't help but drown in the forbidden feeling of your love.

WARNINGS: kinktober. frforbidden love, mentions of blood and wounds, angels and demons, lucifer and God (i do not intend to offend anyone), sexual tension, smut, dry humping, making out, missionary, this is basically love making, cream pie, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!) fluff, pet names (angel, baby), bad jokes abt heaven and hell (lame ik), lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 26th October 2024

WC: 3.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove (oneshot) @mitmit01 @lost-fantasy @annoyednblax @j1sb4e @eneiyri @strayy-kidz @victoriasvz @farashawhee @mheretoreadff @hazycottagedreams @kxppachu @rayofsunshineeee @moon368 @punchbug9-blog @strxwbloody @starggukies @wonbonie @304files @ethelia @moonpri @chuckychangmin @roslayy @cyjhhyj @iamliacamila @lanpanaz BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED

NOW PLAYING: MATCH MADE IN HELL by Dutch Melrose and benny mayne

a/n: honestly (yet again) i don’t really like how it turned out, lol. the smut is mid and isn’t very filthy but hey, i tried. please lmk your thoughts and REBLOG to spread 🫶🩷. i’m not sure i’ll publish my other kinktober works (vampire sunghoon and werewolf jay), cause i won’t be able to finish them on time.

In a world where in the afterlife you become either angels and demons, based on the amount of sins one commits in their previous life, you were the wisest angel.

Of course, being God’s right arm didn’t always mean having cool jobs, like at that moment, while you were searching through all the death certificates of your chosen region to see who would become an angel and find him a place in heaven.

You remembered how it used to be overcrowded, but now it was almost empty.

After a certain amount of time, you stopped being someone’s guardian angel to either reincarnate or stay the eternity in heaven, helping newbie angels and making sure everything was at peace.

Demons would always try to bring chaos into the mundane world, throwing unlucky cards or haunting people’s dreams, trying to drive them insane or make them commit crimes, such as murder, mugging or even as cruel as suicide.

At least, you were given a room to rest for a couple of hours and to be able to do your job properly.

It was white, mostly, with a little bit of beige and pinkish tone. Glittery as well.

Sitting on your desk, you were scanning through the nth file of the night when you heard a loud cracking sound and a groan behind you.

You turned around just to see that Heeseung had teleported there, a deep frown on his face caused by the even deeper cut in his chest, where blood was spilling out.

“Heeseung!” You gasped, and he stumbled as you stood up.

He was the nastiest demon of hell, you two had arrived around at the same time and had always been in a fight since the beginning of your astral days.

Heeseung chuckled, his face paler than usual as he clutched the gash on his chest “It’s just a little cut.” He tried to brush it off, though you were sure if any human had that kind of injury, it would’ve been fatal.

He limped forward, leaning against the wall, giving you one of his usual cocky smirks “No need to worry.”

His smirk would’ve even been hot if he wasn’t bleeding out in the middle of your room, which happened to also be in heaven, a place he definitely shouldn’t be.

Heeseung couldn’t die because, well, he already did. But the healing process would’ve hurt as much as dying another time would.

You hurried towards him, forgetting the work on your desk as you helped him on the bed “What happened?”

He groaned loudly, lowering himself onto the bed and flopping onto it as he clutched his chest, trying to keep the blood from gushing out of his body.

Heeseung hissed, looking up at you with a frown. "Got into a little fight", He muttered, "Can't you just heal me up?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly as he smiled at your worried expression.

“With who?” You asked as you unbuttoned his mutilated black shirt and winced when you noticed in what state his skin was.

Dark blood spilled out of the gash, his veins had turned black from some kind of venom you couldn’t quite point out “Or what..?” You asked, knowing it wasn’t made from mere humans or other kinds of demons.

He knew it wasn't a pretty sight. The pain was bearable for him but seeing you so worried made him hate being injured.

Heeseung looked to the side, avoiding your gaze. "You know I can't tell you..." He murmured, his voice low with a hint of guilt.

You frowned, hating that he had to keep it a secret “I don’t care about this hell versus heaven issue,” You snapped, feeling highly frustrated in that situation, “I know you’re hiding your aura so that God won’t sense you here, but you must tell me what hurt you so badly.”

He knew you only wanted the truth, and he didn't like lying to you. “ I can't tell you what hurt me," He whispered, his voice filled with pain that he hid behind his stubborness.

He looked at you, his eyes pleading as he reached to cup your chin in his palm. "Please, stop asking me, angel."

You sighed softly. No pain was comparable to seeing him hurt, “Okay,” You breathed out “I’ll see if I have some healing potion, it should help you.”

He nodded his head slightly, giving you a weak smile “I’d appreciate that.”

Heeseung laid in the bed, his chest feeling heavy with the pain. He didn't dare move to watch you as you frantically searched the drawers, trying to find the potion that would help him.

You opened and reopened drawers in desperate search of the healing potion, but nothing seemed to come to you.

“I’m sure I put it here somewhere,” You murmured as you threw out of your drawers white clothings and other items.

The panicked look in your eyes made his heart ache. He didn't want you to worry so much about him.

Heeseung sat up slowly, wincing as he did so. He reached out towards you, his voice strained as he spoke. "Angel, come here."

“No,” You frowned, not even turning around to look at him “I have to find it- I must.”

He let out a small sigh when you refused to come towards him. He could sense your anxiety rising as you scoured the room for the potion.

“Y/N,," He said, his voice firm but laced with desperation. "Please. come here. You don't need to find it for me right now, just come here."

“I’m sorry,” You whispered as you turned around. The blood dried a little, fortunately the flow had stopped completely.

You moved to the bed, sitting beside him as you adjusted the pillow behind his back.

“Don’t apologise,” His voice was a little too soft for a demon, “I just need you with me right now.”

You chuckled softly, “This looks like a bad joke. An angel worried about a demon.”

A light, amused smile appeared on his face. "It does sound quite ironic, doesn't it?"

He continued, “But I suppose it just shows the power of love, breaking boundaries even between heaven and hell."

You looked at him and nodded, intertwining your hands together, “It indeed is powerful.”

You looked at his gash again, it would take at least a whole day for it to fully close, and a week too for the scar to fade away.

At least, he was in your bed and not somewhere in hell-

bed. bed. under the bed you had some healing potion.

That’s where you had secured it. You jumped off the bed and quickly kneeled to rummage through the boxes.

He looked up in surprise at you when you jumped up so suddenly, his grip on your hand loosening as you rushed towards the bed.

He watched, a puzzled expression on his face, as you knelt down and started to rummage under the bed “What are you doing, angel?"

“Here it is!” You exclaimed, holding up a casket with bottles of healing cream.

He smiled faintly at your enthusiasm. "I can't believe it was right under the bed this whole time," He said, shaking his head slightly in amusement.

You helped him lay on the bed again, making sure he was comfortable. You opened the small bottle and poured some of its contents into your hand.

“This will help your healing process,” You informed as you opened his shirt better, “But it might hurt… a lot.”

Heeseung gave you a quick nod and you gently put the cream on his wound.

He hissed and gripped the sheet beneath him, trying to breath in as much air as he could as his skin burned.

“Shhh,” You soothed, putting the bottle on the ground and caressing his face “Don't fight it baby, it’ll be alright.”

“This ain’t got nothing on me,” He murmured, trying to be strong for the both of you.

The pain was just like dying another time, his skin was slowly healing, but by doing that his body would suffer.

Heeseung’s eyelids slowly grew heavy until they shut because of the pain.

You stayed with him the whole time, until his body stopped rocking in tremors and his skin stopped sweating cold.

He woke up just a couple of hours later, thanks to his high dark aura, making it easier for the healing cream to work.

His chest had been wrapped in a bandage, now being shirtless, just with his black jeans.

His eyes opened, taking in the light colours of your room. You sat beside him, continuing with your heavenly task, but also willing to stay by his side.

Heeseung groaned lowly, his body feeling heavy and sore from the intense pain he had undergone.

He looked around for you, his eyes landing on your figure sitting beside him.

“Angel.." he muttered, his voice weak and hoarse.

You widened your eyes at hearing his voice and quickly discarded the documents on the bed “Hey,” You whispered, turning toward him.

He could feel the effects of the potion, making his body stronger by the minutes “How long was I out for?” He asked.

“No more than a couple of hours,” You informed him, brushing his bangs away.

He nodded, wincing slightly as he moved to sit up in the bed.

Heeseung looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours. "Still doing your work, huh?” He asked, gesturing at the closed documents and pen beside you.

“Angel duties.” You shrugged, giving him a small smile “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing okay,” You replied, sitting upright “The healing potion is working.”

“That’s good.” You nodded, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for healing me, angel.” He said, the look in his eyes full of love and devotion.

You smiled gently, “I’m glad you came to me.”

He took your hand in his, “Where else would I go, if not to you?” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze “You’re my safe haven, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened at his words and something warm spread all over your chest. They then fell onto his lips, they looked so plump and soft. You had the urge to kiss him, but you couldn’t.

It was impossible for angels and demons to kiss due to the curse cast upon them, a curse that would make their lips burn as soon as they met.

He sighed softly, Heeseung knew exactly what you were thinking. He was thinking the same, “What would I give just to taste your lips, even just once.” He murmured.

“Me too,” You frowned. “This is so… unfair.”

He nodded in agreement, "It truly is unfair," He said, his voice filled with suppressed anger.

"I wish I could pull you in my arms, hold you close, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. And most of all, I wish I could kiss you, feel the softness of your lips against mine."

You shivered at his words, each one igniting a fire inside of you that could no longer be contained. You needed him and you needed him to need you back.

Still, you joked, trying to lighten the mood “You seem a little too soft for a demon.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of sheepishness in his voice. "I know, I know," He replied, a small smile on his face. “I suppose you bring out the softer side in me, angel.”

You traced your fingers on the bandage you used to cover up his gash, for finally just a small amount of blood had dirtied it “Does it still hurt?”

“No, not anymore.” He gave you a reassuring smile “It’s just a little sore now, nothing I can’t handle.”

Even if his reply was really important, you couldn’t seem to hear it as your eyes settled on his lips.

You moved unconsciously closer to him, and he noticed, licking his lips.

Heeseung held his breath as you leaned closer to him, his heart fluttering in his chest. He could feel the warmth of your skin, the gentle scent of your hair, and the soft touch of your breath against his face.

In a moment of lucidity, you shook your head and moved away. You craved his kiss, but you couldn’t hurt him just because of your selfishness.

“Would it be worth it?” You asked, your voice soft “If we kissed?”

He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes searching yours. He could see the determination in your eyes, the willingness to ignore the consequences.

“God help me," He muttered, his desire outweighing his caution.

He pulled you closer, his hands on your waist, and gently guided you onto his lap.

“Not the best thing to say in heaven.” You chuckled as you settled on his lap, holding yourself up on his shoulders.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You murmured, making sure not to add too much pressure on his aching body.

"Well, I'm not exactly welcome in heaven, aren’t I?" Heeseung shook his head slightly, his hands gentle on your waist. "Don't worry about me, angel," he whispered. "I can handle a little pain if it means I can hold you like this."

He moved your hair out of your eyes as you sighed at the contact “You’re so beautiful.” He stated. “You too,” You replied.

“You truly are an angel.” He caressed your cheek, tracing your featured “And you’re mine.”

You smiled back at him, and for a moment he didn’t even look like a demon. He looked like a human boy, holding his lover in his arms and not caring about anything in the world but for you.

And well, the worst part was that you loved him to the extreme as well.

You knew Heeseung was capable of breaking heaven and rule hell if he wanted, but he would never even consider it if it had the chance to hurt you.

He would set the world on fire to keep you warm, crave out his own wings to give them to you.

And you were no better, you thought you’d turn your back on heaven the second someone threatened to hurt him.

“What happens…” You murmured “If heaven or hell take me away from you?” You needed to hear his answer, to hear just how much he cared about you.

The thought of losing you, of heaven or hell separating you, was something he couldn't bear.

He looked into your eyes, his voice low and filled with determination. "I'll burn down heaven and hell themselves before I let them take you away from me," He said fiercely.

Heeseung pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "Nothing, not heaven or hell, can keep me from you."

At his words, you moved your face closer to his, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours, the electricity between the two of you.

His eyes flicked down to your lips, his own parting slightly in anticipation. He ached to close the distance, to feel the softness of your mouth against his.

His voice a strained whisper. "Y/N."

“Heeseung,” You whispered back “Please— kiss me, even if it hurts.”

The thought of the pain they would endure paled in comparison to the aching emptiness of not kissing you.

He took a deep breath, his voice a hoarse murmur “Damn it, angel. you'll be the death of me."

“Too bad you’re already dead.” Since he wasn’t closing the distance, you did.

You crashed your lips together in a desperate kiss. But as you braced yourself for the stinging sensation, it didn't come.

You pulled away, a surprised frown forming on your face “W-what?”

Heeseung’s expression mirrored yours, stunned, coating his sharp features.

“Maybe the curse was a lie.” You exclaimed “Maybe—“

“I don’t care.” Heeseung breathed out as he pressed his lips against yours once again.

The only thing he wanted was to focus on the sweet taste of your lips against his, the sound of your moans being swallowed in the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed softly, drowning in the feeling of him.

His usual cold skin was now burning hot, even so the mere contact made you shiver.

“I love you,” He whispered on your lips, “Even if my heart can’t beat, I can feel it within me.”

You could feel his growing desire under you, making your body ache for him, “I can feel it too.” You whispered, taking one of his hands and guiding it to the middle of your chest “The pull.”

“Fuck,” He groaned and kissed you hard again.

“No curse words in heaven.” You murmured on his lips, making him smile.

The kiss was hot and anything but pure lust. “You drive me insane.” Heeseung murmured “Damn it, Y/N. The things I want to do to you.” You knew you shouldn’t feel that way, towards a demon. It was against every rule set in heaven.

But who cared? With every swipe of his tongue against yours, you couldn’t even remember what was your porpoise in there.

Unconsciously, you ground your hips on his, making him groan in your mouth.

One of his hands cradled your head, massaging your scalp and pulling your hair gently.

You hummed, loving the way he was so gentle with you.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, but gasped as you felt the bandage. He was still hurt, you couldn’t do it.

But Heeseung just smiled and held your body against his as he turned you around, so you were the one laying on the bed.

He unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off, as well as his underwear.

You looked down at him and lord, if you didn’t need him. He wasn’t huge, but he was long and thick and eveything you ever wished for.

“I need in you so bad angel,” He murmured, prepping kisses down your neck “Can I have you, hm?”

Mindlessly, you nodded. You thought that if he even asked you to give everything up and run away, you’d agree right away.

His hands roamed your body, groping your breast, then down your stomach as he sucked on your skin, leaving reddish marks.

Not even caring about the consequences, your hands tangled in his locks, encouraging him to continue.

In just a matter of seconds, your clothes were forgotten on the floor as he took in the sight of you. So ethereal and so his.

Heeseung licked his bottom lip and leaned in to kiss you once more, “It might hurt.” He informed.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his chest flush to yours “I want the pain. I told you you’re worth it.”

His hips unconsciously bucked at your words, making his forehead press against your shoulder.

Heeseung took his length in his grasp and aligned with your entrance, “If you need me to stop or slow down, tell me.”

You nodded, breathing out a quick reply before he pushed himself in.

You had expected it to hurt, to burn the same way your kiss should’ve. But all you could feel was him and the sweet sensation it sent through your body.

Heeseung groaned, your walls hugging him so tightly. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to go at a slow pace.

“You’re so perfect.” He murmured, kissing your collarbone “You’re just so perfect, I don’t know how you ended up with someone like me.”

You shook your head, wanting to tell him he was wrong but his pace quickened and each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through your body.

“I love you too.” You replied to his previous confession “S’much.”

His hips stilled at your words, his breath hitching. And then, his pace resumed, quickened as he held himself up.

He rested one of your legs on his shoulder and lightly kissed your ankle.

“So good, angel.” Heeseung grunted, the sound of skin slapping filling the heavenly room.

“Ugh!” You exclaimed as he hit a certain spot that made your toe curl “There, Hee, there.”

“Got it.” He chuckled and deepened his thrust, repeatedly hitting that spot, “Found your sweet spot, mh?” He asked, his voice low and husky.

Heeseung looked so perfect, his muscled body on full display, the bandage wrapped around his torso and his bangs sticking to his forehead.

He bit his bottom lip as he tried not to release before you, one of his hands moving down to circle your clit, wanting to bring the both of you to the edge at the same time.

Your body shook in tremors as he did, the pleasure almost too much.

Your back arched as you breathed out his name, needing him to stop and continue at the same time.

“Just a little more, baby.” He snapped his hips faster, letting your ankle go and hovering over you.

Both of your breaths mended, just panting onto each others’ lips as you felt your orgasm approaching.

You cradled his face in your hands and kissed him hard, teeth clashing.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you reached the edge, your body shaking. Heeseung throbbed at each clench of your pussy around him, emptying his seed inside of you.

His hips slowed, but he didn’t pull out. He intended staying like that for as long as he could.

He laid beside you not to crash you, but not even having the energy anymore to hover your figure.

He wrapped his arms around your body and held you close to your chest, “I don’t ever want to let go.”

“Don’t.” You stated, holding onto him for dear life “Don’t ever let me go.”

“As long as you’ll let me.” He whispered and kissed you again, deeply and slowly. For all the times he had wanted to kiss you but couldn’t because of the nonexistent curse.

Oh, but if only you knew the curse existed, but didn’t work for those who were soulmates in their past lives.

[556betrayed]

Flashback to 2015, right after 9,916 flight attendants voted down the WORST TA proposal in the history of TWU 556.

And of course, the Inflight VP ( Director at the time) took up for the sniveling EB/ Negotiating Team in their attempt to silence oppositional, Railway Labor Act protected speech.

SWA Management officials and TWU 556 union officials silencing the majority of flight attendants at Southwest Airlines Co.

Acts of Intimidation to go along with company handpicked union officials of the "Company Union."

The more you know.

[jeonjunas]

In his mercy | jungkook ff

description: who would have thought that you, the queen bee of the school, would be a crying mess beneath the very boy you bullied?

It’s not your fault he fucks you too good… right?

genre/themes: yandere jk x queen bee y/n, manipulation, blackmailing, big dick jk, dom jk, mean jk, smut cause grahhh, cumming inside

The midday sun beats down relentlessly on the back of the school building, where Jungkook sits on one of the chairs randomly piled in the corner. It’s already lunchtime, and most students are flocking to the cafeteria, making this quiet spot a rare solace for his clouded mind. A few birds chirp in one of the tall trees, and as he looks up, the sunlight grazes his golden-tanned skin.

The scene was beautiful and calming... but that peace was shattered when a group of ‘jerks’ barged in, disrupting his solace.

"Hey! Look who's here... the weird kid from the back of the class. Thought you could escape us today, huh?" Jaehyun, a student from the legal department and one of the so-called "cool" kids, sneered, making his friends burst into laughter.

Honestly, he doesn’t really know why Jaehyun and his minions enjoy picking on him… or maybe he does. He’s pretty sure it’s because Jaehyun couldn’t stand coming second in the student rankings—right after Jungkook, the quiet kid in the back who always looks half-dead in his hoodie. Jaehyun, who thinks so highly of himself, just couldn’t accept that a so-called lowlife nerd had beaten him at something.

Jungkook only sighed, thinking this whole act was pathetic as fuck. He didn’t bother to respond and was just about to leave when Jaehyun suddenly grabbed the collar of his gray hoodie.

“What now, huh? Can’t even respond to me?! Did you study so hard you forgot how to talk?”

"Look, man… I don’t want any trou—" Before he could even finish his sentence, a punch landed on his face. The blow was so sudden that he lost his balance. Jaehyun’s minions wasted no time, rushing in to kick him in the stomach.

He could have fought back, could have turned this into a full-blown fistfight—but he chose not to. Not because he couldn’t, but because his parents had already warned him that this would be the last time they’d put up with his bullshit… especially after what happened at his previous school.

Instead, he only crouched in pain, waiting for them to stop. In his mind, he knew he could have his revenge someday—but for now, he had to play along, had to keep up the act.

After a couple of minutes, Jaehyun’s minions finally stopped kicking him, leaving him lying there. Jungkook thought they were done, that they had left—until he felt something spill on him. A cold liquid seeped into his hoodie, followed by the sound of giggling.

Min Y/N.

The fucking Min Y/N had just dumped a chocolate drink on him while giggling in Jaehyun’s arms.

"That’s what you get for messing with the wrong people," she sneered.

Jungkook hated the bitch so much. She was always clinging to Jaehyun’s arm, giggling like she was innocent—typical spoiled rich brat behavior. A queen bee who thought everything would always go her way.

Too bad… she was literally Jungkook’s type if not for her bitchy attitude.

"Hahaha… let’s get going, babe," Jaehyun said to Y/N, pride evident in his voice over what his girl had just done.

At last, their stupid group was finally gone, leaving Jungkook alone. With a groan, he pushed himself up from the pavement, sighing as he glanced down at his now stained hoodie.

A tsk left his mouth. "That fucking bitch… this is literally Calvin Klein."

───●◎●───

Have you gotten their information?”

"Uhh… Yes, sir. But won’t your parents be mad?" Mr. Lee, the butler of the Jeon estate, asked hesitantly as he handed over the file Jungkook had requested.

"It’s not like they’re gonna find out. Unless… you’re planning to tell them?" Jungkook replied, his voice carrying a subtle threat as his sharp gaze locked onto Mr. Lee.

The poor butler swallowed hard, nerves creeping up his spine. He knew his master wasn’t right in the head—there was definitely something wrong with him. But there was nothing he, nor even Jungkook’s parents, could do. After all, he was the only son and heir of the Jeon family.

"Of course not, master. My loyalty stays with you."

"Maybe a few beatings would do? Or perhaps turning Jaehyun’s face into a bloody mess would be the right move. What do you think, Mr. Lee?" he asked with a bright smile, as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation—like he was simply ordering food online.

As expected, Jaehyun came from a well-off family. His so-called minions? Just commoners desperate to stay in his good graces.

And you?

Heck, you’re even poorer than some of Jaehyun’s minions!

A burst of laughter escaped Jungkook’s lips, uncontrollable and almost manic, as he processed his new discovery. His desire to beat Jaehyun to a pulp was momentarily forgotten—because now, his attention was on you.

The so-called queen bee.

The prettiest yet meanest of them all. Always draped in designer brands, always acting untouchable.

And yet… a complete FRAUD.

"So this is the queen bee, huh”

───●◎●───

A day had passed since Jungkook’s discovery, and from that moment on, he wasted no time crafting the perfect plan. A plan for revenge. A plan to make them pay.

But first… maybe he could use you.

After all, you were his type.

The thought alone sent a thrill through him—your pretty lips wrapped around cock, the same lips that had probably kissed Jaehyun.

His jaw clenched, arousal and satisfaction intertwining at the idea. Not only would he have you, but it would also be the perfect way to get under Jaehyun’s nerve. And It’s much better than just ruining his face.

Like every other day, you walk your usual route home, completely unaware that the devil himself is following your every step. The streets are quiet, the dim glow of the streetlights barely illuminating your path. You arrive at the small, rundown house tucked away across the street, pushing open the rusty gate that screeches louder than you’d like.

It has been a long, exhausting day, and all you want is to go inside and rest.

But then—

"Oh… look who I found here."

A chill runs down your spine at the familiar voice.

You turn, heart pounding, and there he is…

Your lips part, but only a breathy, stunned whisper escapes. "Ju-Jungkook…"

How? Why is he here?

You wanted to ask those questions, yet your body refuses to move, frozen under his unwavering gaze. His smug grin never falters, dark amusement glinting in his eyes.

It’s as if the wolf has finally cornered its prey.

"What are you doing here, Y/N-ah? Is this your house?" Jungkook's voice dripped with fake innocence, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Your breath hitched. "Wha—Of course not!" You forced a smile, hoping to sell the lie. "I’m just… visiting a f-friend."

But the way he looked at you told you everything—you were already caught.

Jungkook let out a mock sigh, shaking his head. "Really? Every day? That’s funny." His smile faded, replaced by something darker. "You know, I hate liars, Y/N-ah. Especially lying bitches."

Before you could react, he reached into his pocket and tossed something at your feet.

Photographs.

Your stomach dropped. Each one captured you, stepping in and out of the very house you just tried to deny.

He knew.

And from the way his smirk widened, he was enjoying every second of your panic.

Before you even realized it, a tear had slipped down your cheek, followed by another… and another. Your knees hit the ground before you could stop yourself.

"Please… please don’t tell anyone!" Your voice trembled, your fingers clutching onto his legs as if he was your last hope. "I swear—I won’t bully you anymore! I’ll even tell Jaehyun to leave you alone. Just… please."

Jungkook crouched down to your level, tilting his head as he cupped your tear-streaked face between his hands. His touch was deceptively gentle, wiping away your tears with his thumb—yet the sinister curve of his lips only made you sob harder.

"Shhh, don’t cry, Y/N-ah," he cooed, his voice laced with amusement. "I’m not as bad as you think I am."

For a second, hope flickered inside you.

Then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered—

"But you know… everything comes with a price."

You replied hurriedly, the words spilling out before you could even think—too desperate to escape this nightmare.

"What is it?! I promise I’ll do anything! Just please—"

Jungkook’s grin widened. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable.

"Really, princess?" he mused, dragging the moment out as he traced his thumb across your trembling lips. "Then… be mine."

───●◎●───

Your thoughts were a tangled mess, looping around the same dilemma over and over again.

Be mine.

Be mine.

Be mine.

The words refused to leave your head, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Jungkook’s ultimatum haunted you all weekend.

"I know this is hard for your small brain to process… so why don’t you give me your answer on Monday, yeah? If I don’t get an answer from you, then maybe I’ll just release these photos."

And now—it’s Monday.

Your head throbbed from the sleepless nights spent agonizing over what to do. The fear of your secret being exposed gnawed at you, but so did the thought of throwing away everything you had worked for.

"There’s no way I’d become a lowly student. I’ve worked too hard to build this image… this lie."

That alone was reason enough to say yes—to accept whatever Jungkook wanted if it meant keeping your perfect facade intact.

But another part of you resisted.

What does he even mean by "be mine"?

It was so vague, so unclear. Was he playing with you? Did he mean to humiliate you? Ruin you in a different way?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edges of your desk as the lecture droned on.

An hour later, your last subject was finally over. Jungkook had arranged everything for the two of you to meet again at the same spot—right in front of the rusty gate of your house. It was as if he wanted to remind you of who you truly were, and you hated it.

The walk home felt slow and agonizing, every step heavier than the last. You wished, even for a fleeting second, that a bus would just hit you—anything to give you a valid excuse not to face the devil waiting for you.

As you turned onto your street, your eyes immediately landed on him. He was standing there, patiently waiting, his gaze fixed on his sneakers. From a distance, he looked almost harmless—just another boy lost in thought.

But you knew better.

Because behind that unassuming façade was the devil himself.

Your steps felt heavier the closer you got, each one sealing your fate.

He must have heard your footsteps because his head snapped up, and that same smug grin curled on his lips.

"Ah, right on time," he mused, pushing himself off the gate as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, stopping just a few feet away from him.

"...What do you want?" you asked, trying to sound strong despite the way your voice slightly trembled.

Jungkook tilted his head, eyes twinkling in amusement. "I think you already know the answer to that, princess."

Silence stretched between you two.

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way out of this.

With a shaky breath, you finally muttered the words that sealed your fate.

"...Fine. I’ll be yours."

Jungkook’s smirk deepened.

"Good girl."

───●◎●───

And from that moment, your life became a tangled dance—a twisted tango with him. By day, you maintained your queen bee status, the untouchable girl everyone admired or envied. But the moment the school day ended, you were nothing more than Jungkook’s plaything, bound to his every whim.

It started small—harmless, almost. A lingering touch here and there. Sneaking off during lunch breaks to empty classrooms in the old building, just because he wanted to. From fleeting pecks to deeper kisses, ones you didn’t even know how to respond to, but he taught you how.

You never got the chance to hangout with Jaehyun anymore because Jungkook is always there demanding your presence, so you have made creative excuses to deny Jaehyun, but you know to yourself those excuses won't last long. In one way, or another, he will get suspicious with your sudden avoidance.

"Strip."

"Wha—?" His command startled you.

You were in his house—if you could even call it that, given how massive it was. You never thought things would escalate like this. You assumed it would only be kissing, just like the past few days. But perhaps you should have known better.

"What? Why are you acting like it’s your first time?" Jungkook scoffed, tilting his head. "I know you’re Jaehyun’s bitch, so there’s no way you’ve never warmed his bed before." He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come on, show me just how good Jaehyun’s bitc—”

A hard slap landed on Jungkook’s cheek.

Perhaps it was the weight of your emotions—weeks of stress and frustration building up because of him. Your hands trembled, your chest heaving, and before you even realized it, a tear slipped down your cheek.

Yes, he was blackmailing you. But you never expected him to say something so cruel.

He was mean—viciously, unapologetically mean.

No one has ever been this mean to you

And you hated it.

Jungkook's head slightly turned from the impact, his cheek stinging from your slap. Slowly, he looked back at you, his usual smug expression faltering for the first time.

"I'm not—" your voice broke as more tears streamed down your face. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. "I'm not Jaehyun's bitch, or anyone else's. I’ve never been with him like that… or with anyone!"

Jungkook's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but you didn’t wait to find out what it was. Your vision blurred as you turned on your heel and bolted for the door.

"Y/N," he called after you, but you didn’t stop.

You ran.

Perhaps you were too caught up in the moment, too overwhelmed by emotions, to realize you were barefoot—until you had already dashed out of his house, the rough pavement scraping against your soles, a stark contrast to the cold, polished tiles you had just been standing on.

You stumbled slightly, the sting of the uneven ground jolting through your body. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Tears blurred your vision as you ran, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. As if the night couldn’t get any worse, the sky opened up, and heavy rain began to pour.

"Y/N!" Jungkook's voice cut through the downpour. "Let's talk!"

Your legs ached from all the running, leaving you with no choice but to stand there in the pouring rain, chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally, everything in between.

Jungkook finally caught up to you, an umbrella in his hand, though it barely mattered now. Your clothes were already drenched, clinging to your shivering frame.

“Let’s get you inside, yeah?” he said, his voice softer this time.

You didn’t protest. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the sheer fatigue weighing you down, but you let him guide you back into his house.

The atmosphere had shifted. The tension from earlier still lingered, but now, it was laced with something else—guilt? Regret? You weren’t sure.

Once inside his bedroom, Jungkook handed you a towel and gently wiped away the rain from your face and arms, his touch surprisingly careful. Without a word, he grabbed one of his hoodies from the closet and held it out to you.

“Here,” he murmured, avoiding your gaze. “You’re gonna get sick.”

You slipped the hoodie over your head, the warmth of the fabric instantly comforting against your chilled skin. It smelled like him—clean, with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Not that it mattered. It was the best option you had.

Jungkook continued drying you off, his hands moving carefully, almost hesitant. You let him. Not because you forgave him, but because you were too drained to protest.

Neither of you spoke.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with unspoken words. He knew you were upset—he didn’t need to ask. And for once, he didn’t try to justify himself.

And just like that, the day ended.

───●◎●───

The next few days felt normal again. He no longer bothered you, and you were able to hang out with Jaehyun like before.

Yes, he was close to you.

Yes, he called you "babe."

But you had never done anything intimate with him.

You hadn't seen Jungkook at the university either. A slight curiosity lingered in your mind about where he might be—perhaps because, in some twisted way, you had grown accustomed to his presence.

Still, you were thankful he was gone.

Or so you thought…

───●◎●───

I was seething with rage as I watched her smiling and giggling with Jaehyun again—just like the first time.

But this time, the hatred wasn’t for her. It was for him. I know I was wrong for what I said to her that night.

At first, Y/N was just another piece in my game—a means to get my revenge.

But that night… something shifted. I saw her in a different light. She was raw and unmasked—nothing like the persona she wore at school.

I exhaled sharply, trying to push down the anger rising in my throat.

I told myself I’d leave her alone, that After that night I’d back off.

But now, watching her with him, I realized…

I didn’t want to back off.

Because she wasn’t his.

She’s mine all along to claim.

And I’ll make her realize just that.

───●◎●───

I was laughing with Jaehyun when my phone suddenly rang. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

I ignored it at first, assuming it was just a wrong number. But when it kept calling again and again, I finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Meet me at the old building. Same classroom as before. We still have a deal, you know? I hope you haven’t forgotten."

Just when I thought my nightmares were over, I was proven wrong.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I knew that voice all too well. He sounded serious—angry, even.

The way he spoke, the sharpness in his tone—it wasn’t the same as before. There was no teasing lilt, no smug arrogance. He sounded different. Felt different.

I swallowed hard before forcing out a response.

"O-okay..."

"That’s my girl."

“Everything okay?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back to the present, his brows furrowing in concern.

I forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just some school stuff. I need to go for a bit.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No” I blurted out a bit too fast

“I’ll see you later” is all I said before leaving.

Upon arriving at the empty classroom, I saw Jungkook already there, waiting for me—just like before.

His back was leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable as they settled on me.

I hesitated at the door, gripping my phone tightly. “What do you want?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk as he pushed off the desk and took slow, deliberate steps toward me. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

I frowned, my stomach twisting in unease. “Jungkook—”

Before I could finish, he was already standing in front of me, too close, his fingers brushing against my wrist. “Don’t act like you don’t miss me too,” he whispered, tilting his head as if studying me.

I shook my head, trying to step back, but he caught my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “I-I don’t—”

He chuckled, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

My breath hitched when he pressed his lips against mine—slow at first, as if testing the waters. My body tensed, my mind screaming at me to push him away.

But then he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me flush against him. His warmth, his scent—it was all too familiar, too intoxicating.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against my lips. “No matter how much you try to run, you always end up here, don’t you?”

It’s like there’s magic to his words that intoxicates me. His hands were just so skilled that it sent shivers in my skin. Perhaps because I’ve never been touched this way by a man.

The kiss was intense, our tongues intertwined. I was close to being out of breath, but he deepened the kiss before letting go. A string of saliva connected us. I looked dazed, almost drunk, as I gazed at him, and the next thing I knew, I was already lying on the teacher’s desk—skirt rolled up, panties gone, blouse unbuttoned. I tried to cover myself out of shyness, which only made Jungkook chuckle.

“I-I’m…”

“Relax doll… I know you’re a virgin, now let me take care of that, yeah?”

Before I could even know it, one of his fingers started slowly entering me, as he laps his tongue on my clit. The intrusion was a bit painful, yet very pleasurable.

“Shit you taste so amazing doll”

My legs were trembling from the unfamiliar feeling, one finger followed by another, as he scissors my insides. It was so good that I became a moaning mess, as I unconsciously buckled my hip out of desperation.

“Ahhhh… J-jungkook, please!”

Jungkook only smirks at the sight of you, he loves the control he has. He loves the way you begged.

He continues to ram his fingers in you before deciding that you’re already ready to take his cock.

His lips brush against her ear as he whispers:

“I’m going to put it in now”

And just like that, he slides his big cock into your tight hole. It hurts, especially with how thick it is, that you started gripping hard on the collar of his uniform as a means to relieve the pain.

After being fully in, he set a slow pace for a while, before brutally ramming in your core.

“You’re so tight, doll. Only for me. Don’t worry, I’ll shape you so you’d only crave me. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

You’re already intoxicated with the pleasure you don’t even know how to proper respond

“Fuck… you’re taking me so well, princess. Just like that. I knew you’d be good for me.

Everything he says is just too much for you, it’s so perverted and degrading that you don’t want to meet his eyes, but he forces you anyway, refusing to let you look away, making sure you see everything that he’s doing to you. Making sure that you’d remember how we claims you

“You thought I didn’t see you, huh? Laughing and giggling with that Jaehyun, while I was away. Now Look at you—whimpering, begging, fucking crying on my cock. You’re mine, princess. Say it.”

You couldn’t respond properly fast enough, so Jungkook grips your jaw, making you open your mouth as he forces to hear those words from you.

“Say it”

Y/N gasps out the words. “I’m yours, jungkook! I’m yours.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Jungkook smirks, satisfied, before thrusting even deeper, if possible, before shooting all of his load inside her pussy.

“I’m gonna fill you up, princess. Gonna make you round and full so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Y/N also reached her high together with Jungkook, but he didn't pull out immediately. He waited till his hard length would soften, and by the time he pulled out, he watched as his cum mixed with yours, dripped down your pussy.

The scene was amusing for him.. you being all fucked out and full of his cum. It’s better than any porn he had watched. So of course, it is only rightful for him to save this moment by taking a picture of it.

Jungkook smiles at you, as he proceeds to fix your crumpled clothes, and puts back on your panties, making it immediately drenched with cum as it acts as a barrier to not let his cum flow out of you.

And you’re just there… too tired to move that you just let him do things for you.

“You're coming home with me now, princess. In our house" Jungkook said with a genuine smile plastered on his face, as if he did not just ruin you.

And in that moment, she realizes—she’s lost.

Completely.

Utterly.

In his mercy.

[wilwheaton]

I am first angry at the people who live among us, some of whom are family and friends, who support this repellent, orange, stomach-churning mess of a man — a complete loser who took no time at all blaming everybody but himself for the horrific plane crash that took the lives of 67 human beings. Next, I am angry at the tens of millions of United States citizens who couldn’t bother to vote at all, and instead stayed at home picking their noses and dialing up TikTok videos. I truly wish the worst for them. They, more than anybody else, deserve this. I have spent the past few months communicating with many Democratic Party activists across the country, and I can tell you most are seething about this incoherence from party leadership. This was from Christopher Webb, a Democratic Strategist in California, in response to my endorsement of Wikler yesterday: “I support you on that but I’m not endorsing. I agree he’s probably the best suited of the options we have, but I feel like we need a bomb-thrower, not a fundraiser. There’s a lot of absence right now (from leadership). Dude, it’s driving me crazy. What’s keeping me sane is knowing a lot of the rank and file like us see it, too. So I’m not crazy.” No he’s not. What’s crazy is following the same people over and over, who have proven they have absolutely no idea where they going. Time for a change.

Chaos: There is something very, very wrong inside the Democratic Party

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Special Delivery

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, possessive Simon, arguments, annoyance (spouse and nonspouse annoyance)

Author’s Note: Simon forgot some stuff at home, you are a firecracker if anyone has ever seen one so here we are. Inspired by one of my favs @bi-writes and her younger!wife x John Price fic

Masterlist | Bi’s Fanfic

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It starts with a text.

My Ghostie: Forgot my wallet.

Then another.

My Ghostie: And my lunch.

And another.

My Ghostie: ...And the file on my desk.

You stare at your phone, lips pressing into a flat line. Unbelievable. You love your husband, truly, but some days? Some days he tests your patience.

With a sigh, you gather everything—his wallet, his carefully packed lunch, and the stupid file he swore he wouldn’t forget—before grabbing your keys. You could ignore it, let him suffer, but you both know you won’t.

Which is how you find yourself at the base entrance, staring down a soldier who looks entirely unimpressed with your existence. Arms crossed, legs planted apart, like he’s guarding the last bastion of civilization.

“I can’t just let you in, ma’am.” His voice is flat, bored, like this is the most mundane problem he’s dealt with all day.

You, on the other hand, are vibrating with irritation. “Look,” you huff, adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder and waving the brown paper lunch bag in your other hand. “I’m not some crazy stalker trying to infiltrate your little clubhouse. My husband, Simon Riley, left his wallet, his lunch, and some other important stuff at home, and I’m just here to drop it off.”

The guard doesn’t budge. “Can’t confirm that without proper clearance.”

Your patience is wearing thin. You exhale sharply, then, with slow, deliberate movements, hold up a very distinct leather wallet between two fingers and shake it slightly. “Alright, genius, let’s use some logic. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, do you think I’d just so happen to have Ghost’s actual shit?”

The man hesitates, clearly uncertain. “That… that could belong to anyone—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, resisting the urge to fling the wallet at him. “If I was trying to sneak onto base, don’t you think I’d pick something a little less obvious?”

You go in for the kill. Flipping open the wallet, you shove it right into his face. “Does that look like just anyone to you?”

The poor bastard leans in, eyes locking onto the ID tucked inside. His face blanches.

It’s right there. Simon’s name. Simon’s face. Your husband’s face.

“…I mean, I still can’t—”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alright, listen here, Private Dumbass.” You shift your stance, letting the overhead lights catch the big-ass rock sitting pretty on your ring finger. You tap it against the metal of the gate for good measure. *Clink, clink.* “See this? This means I can make your life very difficult.”

The man stiffens. You decide to twist the knife. “I may not have rank here, but I am married to a lieutenant. And if you don’t let me through in the next ten seconds, I will personally make it my mission to have you running laps around this base until your legs fall off.”

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “You… you can’t do that.”

You smirk. “You sure about that? ’Cause my husband definitely can.”

That does it. With a sigh, he gestures for another soldier to let you through. “Fine, fine. Go.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, marching past him with your head held high.

Smart man.

——

After waiting at the gate for so long, you storm onto the base with a paper bag in one hand and a duffel slung over your shoulder, exuding confidence as your boots click against the concrete. The guards barely had time to stop you before a sharp-tongued remark had them stepping aside, unsure if they were more intimidated by your presence or impressed by your sheer audacity.

Simon’s dumbass forgot his lunch, his wallet, and a few other essentials, and you’ll be damned if he goes without just because he’s too stubborn to admit he needs you. He might be the terrifying "Ghost" to everyone else, but to you, he’s just your husband—the same man who forgets his keys and leaves his socks all over the damn house.

Walking into the common area is like stepping into a lion’s den—if lions had the audacity to gawk at you like a bunch of wide-eyed recruits seeing their drill sergeant off duty for the first time. A few soldiers are loitering, some cleaning their gear, others playing cards, but the moment they spot you, their focus shifts. You can practically hear their thoughts.

Who the hell is this?

Why does she look like she owns the place?

Did we miss a briefing?

The most unsubtle reaction comes from a particularly cheeky Scot lounging with his feet kicked up on a chair.

“Well, now,” Soap drawls, an impish grin spreading across his face. “And who might you be?”

You don’t bother stopping. “Not in the mood, Braveheart. Where’s Simon?”

Soap lets out a low whistle. “Oi, no need to be feisty, lass. Maybe if ye tell me who ye are, I can help.”

You sigh, shift the duffel on your shoulder, and lift your left hand just enough for the overhead light to catch on the massive wedding ring decorating your finger.

“His wife.”

The room goes silent.

Soap’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. His mouth opens, closes, then—“No shit.”

“No shit,” you confirm dryly. “And unless you lot want to deal with a grumpy, starving Ghost, you’ll tell me where he is. Now.”

Before anyone can answer, a deep, familiar voice rumbles through the space.

“Don’t need to.”

The effect is instant. The tension in the room shifts as every soldier in the vicinity straightens instinctively.

You turn just as Simon strides in, the mask covering his face doing nothing to hide the sheer command he carries with every step. He looks at you, and even though his expression is unreadable, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

You plant a hand on your hip, tilting your chin up. “Bringing you your shit.” You shove the paper bag into his chest before shrugging the duffel off your shoulder and letting it drop at his feet. “Your lunch. Your wallet. And the file you swore up and down you wouldn’t forget.”

Simon catches everything with practiced ease, his gaze dropping briefly to the items before flicking back to you. “…I would’ve managed.”

You snort. “Yeah? And by ‘managed,’ you mean sulking around all day, hangry as hell, making everyone else suffer for it?”

A muffled snicker comes from Soap. Simon’s head *slowly* turns toward him. The room collectively holds its breath.

Soap lifts his hands innocently. “What? She’s got a point.”

You smirk, smug. “See? Even he agrees with me.”

Simon exhales sharply, a sound you know is the closest thing to a fond sigh. Then, before you can react, he hooks a hand around your waist and tugs you in, pressing your body flush against his. It’s firm, grounding, and entirely possessive. His fingers spread wide over the small of your back, holding you there like he’s making sure you’re real.

“You shouldn’t’ve come all this way,” he mutters, voice softer now.

“You love when I show up unannounced.”

His grip tightens slightly. You know you’ve won. His hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer if that was possible. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding you in a sense. You tilt your head up at him, grinning. “Besides, I know you missed me.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he rumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“And you’re lucky I love your grumpy ass.” You grin up at him, reaching up to brush your fingers over the side of his mask. “Eat your lunch, alright? I made sure it’s still warm.”

A long beat passes before Simon finally responds.

“…Yeah. Alright.”

Soap mutters something under his breath, and Simon growls, “MacTavish, if you don’t shut it—”

But before he can finish, you press a quick kiss to his mask-covered cheek. His grip tightens slightly, and you catch the subtle shift in his stance. Oh yeah, he missed you.

“Well, my work here is done,” you say, stepping back with a playful salute. “Try not to forget anything else next time, yeah?”

Simon grunts, his version of a reluctant thank you. But as you turn to leave, you hear him mutter, “Get home safe, love.”

As you turn to leave, you call to your husband, “Oh, by the way—told the guy at the gate he’s gotta run laps for giving me a hard time. Make sure he actually does it, yeah?”

You shoot him a wink over your shoulder before strutting out, leaving a room full of stunned soldiers—and one very flustered Ghost—behind.

You don’t stay to hear the response, but you do catch the sound of Soap absolutely losing it as you step out the door.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[mrs-kmikaelson]

icarus

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x sunshine!reader Summary: Aaron thinks you're just about the most radiant person he's ever met. But then you fly too close to the sun, and all your light disappears. Warnings: grumpy x sunshine turned not sunshine, some references to the greek myth of icarus, religious imagery, graphic descriptions of violence, murder, brief allusion to suicide, heartbreak, complicated relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, cm timeline not canon, takes place in s6ish, extreme angst and no happy ending (yet) Words: 4.1K

Masterlist | helios (part 2)

a/n: part 2?

You'd been in Hotch's office too many times to count, typically sitting on his couch. Oftentimes, you'd come in after hours, waiting for him to finish his work before you walked to the parking lot together. He'd scribble away at his desk while you rested your eyes, and then he'd walk over to you when he was done.

Now, you sat on the couch, the same as before. But this time, Hotch sat in front of you. You weren't resting your eyes and he wasn't working on any case. A file laid on his lap, nonetheless.

Your file.

You wanted to question that. Was it performative? What would he find in that file that he didn't already know about you? Did he want to make you sweat, make you tense up?

He didn't need a file for that.

Your eyes zeroed in on the tan folder, labelled with the FBI seal, and they stayed there until he spoke your name. "Y/N."

You looked up. Aaron's face betrayed no emotion. His expression wasn't warm, nor was it cold. It was just blank.

But, see, you could read Aaron Hotchner better than any file. And in his eyes, you saw traces of concern, hope, frustration, desperation, and all those other things he was hiding behind his unit chief persona. You wondered if he could see anything in your eyes right now.

You weren't really there. Not in that moment.

Your mind went back to your first time in that office.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner, it's a pleasure to meet you."

You gave him a remarkable smile. "Please, the pleasure's all mine. Agent Y/N Y/L/N."  You had a firm handshake, he'd give you that. "It's— it's an honour to be here, sir."

David Rossi was your connection. He served with your father during the Vietnam War. Hotch thought that made him biased, but Rossi told him otherwise. She's the sun, he'd said. I guarantee, you'll never meet anyone as radiant as her.

Upon meeting you, Hotch could see that. He could see the beam in your smile and the light in your eyes. Maybe that should've deterred him from letting you on his team, but you were convincing.

Sitting opposite to you at his desk, he read from your file. "It says here you come from Crimes Against Children?"

"Yes, sir."

"You've held the highest number of cases solved within the unit for the past 2 years." He finally looked up at you, his lips twitching ever so slightly. "That's quite the accomplishment, agent."

He didn't seem like a man who gave out compliments very often, and so you had to fight the urge to smile like a lunatic. "Thank you, sir."

He didn't seem like a man who smiled much, either. And so, before he even said another word, you knew that you made it.

When the interview ended, you shook hands a second time, and he told you to pack a go-bag and be ready to come in for Monday. This time, you couldn't hide the smile.

"Welcome to the BAU."

Aaron's voice broke you from your reverie. "Please state your name and rank for the record."

Your eyes darted to the voice recorder on the coffee table before looking back up at him. You cleared your throat. "Supervisory Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N."

Aaron didn't waste any time. "Agent Y/L/N, in your time with CAC, you had the most cases solved within the unit," he stated. That was once a compliment to you.

It didn't feel that way anymore.

"Yes," you affirmed.

"You were there for 2 years."

"Yes."

Hotch paused. His next words weren't a statement. "How did that affect your mental wellbeing?"

Low blow. Very low blow. But you kept your composure, answering, "I was evaluated frequently as a member of the CAC. I was deemed fit to be in the field on each occasion." You bit your tongue to keep you from saying anything else. This is being recorded, you reminded yourself.

Hotch narrowed his eyes, almost imperceptibly.

Almost. 

"And once you got to the BAU, there was no residual guilt?" He made eye contact with you, and perhaps now your eyes were communicating something.

That was lower.

But you supposed that Aaron knew exactly where to hit.

"It's okay if you have to take a break, you know."

You jumped at the sudden voice, putting a hand on your heart. You didn't hear anyone enter the stairwell.

An apologetic look crossed his face, but you were the one with an apology on your lips. "Sorry, I— I'll get back right now."

You attemped to walk past him, but his hand caught your shoulder. Your breath hitched. You didn't know why.

His eyes softened. They were normally hard, inpenetrable, but you were starting to realize that he looked at you differently. The team teased you for favouritism, and you denied it every time, but you could only lie to yourself so much.

"Y/N," he started, "if you think you have something to prove, you don't. You've already proven yourself." His voice was tender, not as though he was treating you like you were delicate, but like he wanted to be gentle. "You're allowed to take a minute."

You sighed. "But I shouldn't have to, Hotch." You looked away from him, trying to find the words to verbalize your thoughts. "I— I dealt with tougher cases than this in CAC. I should be able to handle it. It's not fair for me to break down when that boy is out there, all on his own."

A lump grew in the back of your throat. It wasn't fair. Nothing about this job was fair.

You weren't normally so quick to cry, but you'd been holding this in. Aaron could tell. 

After cases, you were everyone's shoulder to cry on. Even he had confided in you multiple times when he probably shouldn't have. You were always there.

He wondered who was there for you.

"What you feel is valid. This is a hard case; it's normal to be a bit overwhelmed. You don't have to carry guilt over that."

A little laugh left you. "Hotch, how can you say that when everyone else is handling it just fine?"

His reply came quick. "They're not." You wanted to interject, but he continued, "Prentiss may seem fine, but beneath the surface, she's disgusted. Morgan is no different; he's angry, and that's manifesting into aggression. Reid is quieter today. Rossi is going to get a drink later. JJ has called Will 3 times since we got here, checking on Henry. And every time I see that boy's picture, I think of Jack, and I'm barely holding it together."

You swallowed at the admission, realizing his hand was still on your shoulder when he took it away. You missed the warmth.

"You're not alone, Y/N."

You believed him.

Your jaw tensed. "Guilt is inevitable. But I didn't have any more of it than the average agent."

Aaron didn't believe you. He wouldn't. He knew better.

But he was Hotch right now, and technically, Hotch wasn't meant to know anything about you. Hotch was conducting this interview, and his subordinate, Agent Y/L/N, sat across from him. Not his teammate or friend.

Certainly not the girl who fell in love with him.

You and Emily stood in the break room. She poured you a coffee as you talked about your weekends. She was just in the middle of telling you about her weekend to Atlantic City. Your laugh echoed throughout the room.

"Prentiss, next time you go gambling, take me with you! I promise I'm good."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that."

Your head turned to the new voice, seeing Hotch standing at the doorway. His lips quirked upward slightly, almost a smile. It was the most you'd get from him—you knew that.

A part of you was grateful for anything he was willing to give you.

You matched his smile with much more vigour. "You should try me sometime. I'd give you a run for your money, Hotchner," you teased. 

If you didn't know any better, you might've thought his eyes softened right then and there. "Somehow, I don't doubt that, either," he said.

You nearly forgot Emily was even in the room, missing the look she sent you. You wouldn't have known how to respond to it, anyway. Sometimes, you almost thought Hotch was flirting with you—and maybe he was. But that was the furthest it'd ever go, the most he'd ever give you.

That part of you, the biggest part, was grateful for it.

And another part of you didn't see the problem with that.

As if he was coming to his senses, he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest and informing you, "Round table in 5." Then he was walking away like nothing ever happened. 

Maybe it didn't. Maybe you imagined it. Sometimes, you felt like pinching yourself.

But then from behind you, Emily chirped, "You know... he could've sent JJ to come tell us that."

You hummed, refusing to look at her.

Amusement flooded her voice. "It's... it's almost like... something just pulled him here."

"Okay, Emily."

You ignored her cackling, making an early trip to the round table as heat licked the tips of your ears.

Hotch's gaze didn't let up. You felt your face burn.

You knew he had a Rolodex of thoeries in his mind, a mental profile of who he thought you were. He once told you that he was a collector in his youth, and so you knew he had a collection of questions in his head.

He was striking out with this one. He moved on to the next.

"Would you say you've built close relationships with the members of this team?"

Your eyes travelled to the photo behind his desk, barely making out the image of you at a bar with the rest of the team, Aaron included. He stood next to you in that one. You were all smiling, even him.

You re-directed your attention back to him. "Yes, I have."

"You should smile more."

Aaron looked down at you, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. "What?"

Blinking, you repeated, "I said, you should smile more." A dopey grin arose on your face. "It suits you."

Aaron resisted the urge to laugh at your drunken antics. He was perfectly sober, having already anticipated that he'd have to someone's ride. "Okay, I think it's time we get you home." You didn't protest, nor did the smile on your face move. Sometimes, Hotch thought it was there permanently, like it was a fixed part of your character.

He grew to really like that smile.

Maybe more than like.

He said his goodbyes for the both of you, receiving teasing glances from the rest of the team and wiggly eyebrows from Morgan. You barely took notice of any of it, now enthralled by the laces on your shoes.

When he guided you up and you realized you were leaving, you waved haphazardly. "Bye guys!"

A chorus of goodbyes and laughter followed you out the door of the bar. Before you could even shiver, a coat was being draped over your shoulders. It took you a few seconds to figure out it was Aaron's.

Butterflies swarmed through your stomach.

Hotch was silent for a few seconds. It was like he was hesitating. But not for long.

"And would you say that those relationships are still the same now?"

You swallowed. Butterflies were in your stomach—and not the good kind. These butterflies ate away at your insides, making you want to vomit what little breakfast you'd eaten that morning. You felt sick.

Moths, you realized. Not butterflies at all.

You were a moth, too. Drawn to the flames of something bigger than you. Was that what Hotch was getting at? Was that why he was asking you all these pointless questions? 

He knew the answers already. Why was he asking you?

You responded, anyway. "No." Even if he wasn't a profiler, it would've been impossible not to notice the way your voice tightened up.

He was getting somewhere now. He dug deeper. "Is that because of what happened in Glendale?"

No. No. No. No.

Yes.

He knew that. God, he knew that better than anyone. But still, you could question him and his credibility. That was an awful question, not because he already knew the answer but because it was so unspecified.

"A lot happened in Glendale," you said. A lot.

Everything.

"You look tired."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks, Hotchner. That's just what a girl wants to hear." You flashed him a smile, anyway, like you were showing him that your annoyance was nothing more than playful.

You were still smiling, even in the midst of all this. Sometimes, Hotch thought you could smile enough for the two of you.

His hotel room was right beside yours. You were still getting your key out. Truthfully, he didn't know why he was just standing there, watching you.

In a way, it was like you were waiting for him, too. Despite having fished your room key out of your purse, you turned your body to fully face him. Something soft twinkled in your irises.

He wanted to say he saw stars in your eyes, but it was really just you. 

You were the star.

If he took another step closer, you'd be able to feel his breath against your skin. But you knew he wouldn't. You wanted him to, but he wouldn't, not even if you asked him to. And you wouldn't ask him.

He was the unit chief; he valued that. He valued rules, and order, and protocol. You couldn't ask him to turn on that. 

But you could do it yourself.

You took one step forward. He didn't step back.

"Y/N," he pleaded. It was meant to be a warning, but his voice was as light as a feather. 

You didn't know what you were doing. Ever since you joined the BAU, you were sure of yourself, absolute. Hotch made you rethink things. He made you feel like you were a champion, on top of the world and so close to the sun.

Aaron was warm. That's all you ever wanted.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand on your face. "Please," you whispered. "Please."

You weren't asking—you were begging. Begging him to see you. God, Hotch had been engulfed in darkness for so long. You were begging him to bask in the sunlight with you.

But he wouldn't.

Within seconds, the warmth was gone. "Goodnight, Y/N."

When you opened your eyes, he was already walking away, leaving you standing there with a key in your hand and your heart on your sleeve.

Hotch sighed, his forefinger going to his thumb. Tired. "I'm talking about that night, Y/N."

Your heart dropped.

You remembered that night. You remembered it well. But he wasn't talking about the part where he left you standing in an empty hallway.

He was talking about what came after.

Knocking sounded at your door, incessant and loud. You suppressed a groan, getting up and throwing the door open without checking the peep hole. Maybe that was stupid, considering you were working a serial killer case and all the victims looked like you, but you honestly would've preferred anything other than seeing Hotch standing on the other side of the threshold.

When you opened the door, his hand fell. Soon after, so did his face. You'd been crying. You suddenly wished you'd gotten the chance to splash water on your face before carelessly opening your door.

But Hotch collected himself in an instant, returning the stony exterior you were used to. "There's been an update in the case. We have the unsub's location," he told you.

Just like that, you stood straighter, composing yourself in record speed that could put your boss to shame. "Just let me put on my shoes." You hadn't even changed.

You put on your shoes, and then you and Hotch left without another word to each other.

In the elevator, you wiped away the last of your tears as he stared straight ahead.

You were glad he didn't mention it.

Tears built in your eyes, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back. Still, you held your resolve. "I don't want to talk about that night."

For the first time since this conversation started, Hotch's voice softened. "You have to, Y/N." He sounded like he pitied you.

You didn't want his pity. You didn't want his or anyone's anything. You just didn't want to talk about it.

"Alright, JJ, Prentiss, you take the side. Rossi and I will take the front. Morgan and Y/L/N take the back."

You saw a few confused eyes dart your way at his assignment, but you brushed them off. It wasn't the time to question why Hotch didn't pair you together, even though he always did, or why he'd address you with your last name when that name was practically foreign to his tongue.

Now wasn't the time.

Instead, you nodded, following his orders. That much hadn't changed.

At the back entrance, Morgan kicked down the door and then you made your way in, holding your flashlight above your gun.

Beyond the back lounging area, there were two hallways extending on both sides. Derek nodded to the right direction, and you nodded back at him, taking the left.

The rickety floorboards creaked under your weight. You shined your light on the walls. There was framed artwork, but no family pictures, just as you profiled. Everything was as you profiled. This was clean cut.

It was supposed to be simple.

But it wasn't.

Right as you turned the corner, you were slammed into the wall. Both your gun and your flashlight fell out of your hands, dropping to the floor. 

You didn't get the chance to retaliate. The unsub grabbed you by your vest, throwing you against the other wall. Your back hit glass, shattering everywhere. You gasped, and then he was striking you to the ground.

Your arms flailed at the sides, trying to reach your gun, but it was no use. He climbed on top of you, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

It was so dark. But you could see his face so clearly. His teeth glinted in the light as he grinned at you. "You... are... beautiful."

You cried, mustering all your strength to get up. It wasn't enough. Not enough, not enough, not enough.

With a knife you hadn't seen before, he caressed your face. Cold, cold, cold. It was so cold. 

Then the blade was off your face, and relief flooded through your veins. Until it was replaced by something worse. So much worse.

You didn't feel it right away, but when you did, your head shot up like this was all a bad dream you could just wake up from. 

Except it wasn't. The feeling of his knife being plunged into your abdomen proved that. 

It was gone, and then it just came right back. Again. And again.

You tried to scream, but no sound would come out. Your mouth warped around nothing.

The pain took you whole, wrapping its arms around your body and enveloping you in ice. You had never felt so much pain. God, was this what Hotch felt when the Reaper attacked him? Did he feel so heavy and so light at the same time?

More tears raced down your cheeks at the thought. It hurt so bad. You knew it would hurt, but you never thought it'd hurt this bad.

The unsub pulled the knife out of you yet again, dripping your own blood onto your face. You could see his eyes. They were lifeless. He smiled maniacally, raising his arms above his head. This was it, you thought. His face would be the last thing you saw.

He was gonna end it. Finally.

You nearly prayed for it.

You screwed your eyes shut, awaiting the blade to meet your skin one last time.

It never did.

A gunshot rang through the hallway. A heavy mass fell on top of you before it was shoved off. Somebody was calling your name. You couldn't decipher who it was.

They were shaking your shoulders. Something wet hit your face. Your eyes didn't open.

The pain was so strong. You were so tired. So, so tired.

You let yourself fall asleep.

"Y/N!"

"Y/N."

Hotch's concerned eyes were too much for you. You couldn't do this. You couldn't pretend to be here when you were still there. 

You shot out of your chair, fervently shaking your head. "Turn the recorder off."

Hotch matched your stance, knitting his brows together. "Y/N—"

"Damnit, Hotch, turn it off!"

At your outburst, he narrowed his eyes, but he ultimately did as you said, pressing pause.

You ran your a hand through your hair. The room was spinning. Your head was spinning. Your vision got blurry.

He tried to reason, "We have to talk about this—"

"No!" you cut him off, pointing your finger at him. It wouldn't stop shaking. "No, we don't. We could leave it alone like I am asking you to— like I am begging you to."

His face softened, looking less like Hotch and more like Aaron. But you didn't want to see Aaron. Not now. "No, we can't—"

"Yes, we can!" you shouted. You were lucky the office was empty at this hour. You were lucky Hotch gave you the couresy of emptiness. Your eyes were wild as you stepped closer to him. "When Elle spiralled, nobody talked about it. When everyone found out about what happened to Derek, nobody talked about it. When Spencer was kidnapped and got hooked on drugs, nobody fucking talked about it. And you!" You pointed your finger back at him, now in his face. "When you were stabbed and Foyet murdered Haley in cold. blood. you came back here and you never talked about it!" Tears ran down your face in a waterfall, your lips quivering. "Why can't I do the same?"

Hurt was all over Aaron's face, but he didn't step back like you were expecting him to. Instead, he stepped forward. If this were before, he would've grasped onto your shoulders. His fingers could only flex at his sides.

"You're not the same, Y/N." Just like that night in the hallway, he was pleading with you. He was pleading to just let him help you.

A humourless laugh left you. "Of course, I'm not the same, Aaron. No one is."

How could he expect you to be the same? How could he expect you to come back and be the same person you were when that person was still lying in a house in Glendale? How could he expect you to be the same person when you could still feel that man's body on top of you? When you could still feel his knife cutting into your flesh?

"I'm trying to help you—"

"Well, you can't." You took your finger and pointed it at your chest. "It hurts here. Everything about me is shattered and broken into a thousand little pieces and you can't do anything to fix it."

He shook his head. "Don't say that."

"God, and you only make it worse." Maybe this was unfair of you, but it hurt so bad you couldn't see clearly.

He looked pained. "Please don't say that."

"But you do." You stepped forward, nearly closing the gap between you. "You hurt me, Aaron. Having this conversation is hurting me. Please— please just stop. "

"Y/N." He whispered your name like it was his last Hail Mary. Tears responded to his call.

You couldn't do this. 

You pursed your lips together, stepping away from him altogether. "I can't be here anymore. I— I have to go."

He tried to reach after you, but he couldn't stop you from walking out the door. And as soon as you weren't in his sight, you were running. Running away from the same room you'd fallen asleep in time and time again. Running away from the man that occupied it. The same man who held your heart in his hands.

Hotch stood alone in his office, staring at the open door where you'd left. You took all the light with you.

You were a constant beacon in the darkness that surrounded your lives, brightening up the BAU day by day. That light was always there, even if it dimmed a bit. You chased it like a moth drawn to a flame. But now it'd been snuffed out.

You had flown too close to the sun.

And now your light was gone.

[alwaysshallow]

Simon finding out that higher ranked reader was cheated on by her husband ? 🫨🫨

now, now, now........

his jaw clenches, fists curling; he finds out just because he heard some chatter and as curious as he is (especially about you), he couldn't stop listening. recruits talks something about you being in a "pissy mood", something about crying, something about your husband calling you multiple times, but you're not answering a single one after calling him a cheating pig.

he gives the recruits fifty laps around the field; as a punishment, he'd say; spreading lies, gossiping when they had so much other things to do.

simon doesn't really want to believe them; even if he wants you and your husband to split up, being cheated on isn't the right way, it's not a dream scenario to get together with him. you don't deserve something like that, when you're the most precious soul that he met.

he finds himself under your office, a few hours later; to give you space, perhaps. he has an excuse; documents, but when you open him, your mascara smudged (barely, but he notices) and your smile not reaching your eyes, he gives you the worried look.

"don't look at me like that, lieutenant," you laugh with bitter, looking at the file in his hand. you reach out for it, but he doesn't give it to you; instead, he pushes you deeper into your office. "lieutenant, i-"

he cuts you off, saying your name. it's nothing like his usual tone, harsh or flirty. it's surprisingly soft, melting like butter. you sigh, rubbing your eyes, not even bothering about the makeup.

"it's nothing."

"it is something because if it's true-"

"-if it's true, then what?" you ask, looking at him. ghost makes a thin line with his lips.

"i could kill him, if you asked me to."

you laugh, stopping in a second, when he doesn't. "it's not even an option."

"i mean it."

"simon."

"i really do. and a lot of other things."

"simon."

"you don't even know how much i'd do for you. anything."

and you seem to believe in his words - man in love is capable of everything for the woman he loves.

[maeedrg]

What are we ?

part 1

Fake dating trope Gojo x fem reader

ᯓ★

MASTERLIST of the series

Part 1 Part 2

Synopsis : Gojo Satoru is your best friend since highschool. Your friendship was special, something that you valued. But then, he asks you to act like his girlfriend for a social gathering among high ranked jujutsu sorcerers. Everything doesn’t go as planned, and you come to wonder what your relationship with Satoru really is.

Words count : 8k.

Warnings : fluff, alcohol consumption, drunk Satoru and reader, sexual tension, misogyny, Naoya Zenin (yes he is his own warning), mentions of sex, mentions of pregnancy, swearings, mentions of arranged marriage, fake dating trope.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I’m back after one month ! Yeahhh ! Hope you guys will enjoy this series !

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Being best friends with Gojo Satoru since highschool had its perks, and downs… Indeed, you never expected, that on a friday morning, half asleep and putting some order in your files, you would receive this demand : 

“I need you to act like my girlfriend,” exclaims Satoru out of nowhere when suddenly entering the empty classroom in a loud bang. 

You raise your head, only to meet the blindfolded man closing the door behind him and walking quickly towards you. Unfazed by his morning outburst, long used to his weird antics, you sigh and stretch on your seat.

“Bro, what ? It’s too early for me to indulge in your weird ass roleplays like last time-” you start to answer, watching him drag a chair towards you and sitting on it. He leans towards your figure as he interrupts you.

“No no no, not like last time. Come on, I’m not joking. I really need your help and for you to act like my girlfriend ! Pretty please ?” he almost begs, clapping his hands together and pouting his lips as an imploration.

You look at him deadpan. Gojo Satoru was unpredictable, and him asking you this favor, actually didn’t look weird to you, as it was something almost considered normal in your daily life with him.

“Like, right now ? Is someone coming ? One of your fans ? I swear, I’m not dealing with them again, because their Gojo fanclub almost killed me-” you once more start to rumble, pointing at him as you recall this quite unfortunate moment when you had to mingle with the crazy fans of the great Gojo Satoru. But he quickly cuts you off by grabbing your hands in his, his large palms englobing yours firmly.

“No fans, I promise. It’s tonight, and the elders have literally forced me for months to attend one of their boring fancy ass gatherings with other clans. I know they want to take the opportunity to make me meet some people for possible arranged marriages, and there is no way in hell I'll participate in this without destroying their plan. So please, please, please, my sweet, amazing, beautiful, awesome y/n, pretend to be my girlfriend just for tonight !” 

You blink, once, twice, before looking at him for a few seconds in silence. He squeezes your hands in his, as a way to emphasize his words and probably convince you to agree.

“So you want me to act like your girlfriend, to destroy all the hopes for a possible arranged marriage idea they would have at this gathering ? Wow, I feel like we are in ancient times. There is no way they really are trying to force you to marry someone,” you finally answer, chuckling nervously. Playing pretend with Satoru wasn’t a problem for you, you two already were pretty close. Instead, it was everything that would come with it that could be a problem.

Satoru sighs, and lets go of your hands before passing his fingers in his hair, clearly annoyed.

“Yup. They say it’s my duty, as The Strongest, and the head of the Gojo Clan, to soon marry and have heirs. I agree, their mentality is stuck 200 years ago. But look at them, all wrinkles and shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were born during the 18th century,” he tries to joke as he shakes his head before crossing his arms over his broad chest. You let out a laugh, before taking a deep breath. 

“That sucks, I’m sorry. Of course I don’t mind helping you out, but they already know that we aren’t dating. So suddenly arriving tonight at this gathering, hand in hand, acting all lovey dovey, would be weird. Don’t you think so ?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and he hums at your words, thoughtful.

“I don’t care if they don’t believe it. The only thing that matters is to show that I’m already taken and can’t possibly get married to one of their daughters. That’s all. And hell, if you really wanna convince them, we could make out in front of everyone-” he ends up teasing as he lifts his blindfold to show you his blue eyes and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah, I’m not making out with you !” you interrupt him, rolling your eyes as you stand up from your chair. Satoru’s smile drops and he pouts.

“Awww, come on ! I know you secretly fantasize about that !” He stands up as well, following behind you, tall frame looming over your figure.

“You better stop or I will change my mind and not help you out,” you frown as you say that in a warning. You turn around to face your best friend and even point at him in an accusatory way. He lifts his hands up innocently.

“Ok, ok, geez. Can’t even joke anymore… Kids these days..” he huffs.

“Satoru…” you warn again.

“I mean thank you soooo much ! You really are the best !” he ends up exclaiming as his hands snake around your waist and bring you towards him. He starts to attack you with many kisses all over your cheeks, laughing while you squirm.

“What the hell ?!” you can’t help but laugh as well as he doesnt stop, on purpose doing big, fat, smooches on your plumpy skin.

Well, you were in for a long day. You just hoped that tonight wouldn’t be too chaotic. At least, not too chaotic. Because Gojo Satoru didn’t like sitting still.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

It was 6 P.M, and you were getting ready in your bedroom. Satoru explained to you how it will go, that he will come get you at your apartment, and both arrive together at the gathering at 7 P.M. You were wearing your dress halfway, as it wasn’t closed in the back. You still were deciding on what makeup to put, and the colors you will apply on your lips and eyes, wondering which one would be the best. As you sigh and look at yourself in the mirror of your vanity, your phone rings indicating a new message. It was Satoru saying he was early and would just come to your place and wait for you to finish getting prepared. You shrug, used to having him at your apartment.

At the same time, you hear keys and then the door of your home getting opened. In the past you did give him spare keys to your place, so you directly knew it was your best friend. You stand up from your vanity chair and walk towards the entrance. Your eyes lighten when you see Satoru wearing a tight black suit, and his hair combed backwards. His sunglasses fall over his nose and his tie is hanging somewhat loose on his collar. Oh, he really looked handsome. He already did everyday, and Satoru knew better than anyone else how charming he could be. But seeing him in this attire really did something to the butterflies in your stomach.

“Wow, look at you !” you exclaim, and Satoru walks quickly towards your figure, flashing a bright smile towards your direction.

“Says you,” his eyes glint while he stares at your body up and down, taking your hand and making you twirl on the tip of your toes.

“You arrive just in time, I need you to help me close my dress,” you say, and Satoru stabilizes you from the twirl as his hands land on your waist. He stands right behind you, and his warm fingers slowly slide on the naked exposed skin of your back for a second. You shiver head to toe, not expecting this touch.

“Satoru ?” you ask again as he still didn’t do what you demanded, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, yeah. No problem,” he whispers, letting out what seemed like an awkward chuckle before zipping up the back of your dress in one go, as if he lingered too long he would burn himself. You felt the hotness of his breath on your nape, before stepping back.

“Here you go,” he says and you smile as you wink at him and walk towards your bedroom to continue your makeup.

“Thanks ! Now, since you are early, you will be my special stylist. You’ll help me choose my makeup,” you order him as you sit on the chair and he sits two meters away on the edge of your bed.

“I feel honored, here I can see the backstages of how you do your makeup,” he smiles as you roam through your drawers before taking out a palette with many different shades of colours. You turn slightly towards him, wanting his advice. 

“What colour should I use for my eyes ?” you ask, and Satoru tilts his head as he passes his hand in his snowy white hair, analyzing what he sees. He hums, tapping his foot, before looking back up at your eyes. He stares at your irises in silence, deeply, and even if you are used to doing staring contests with your best friend for fun, it always felt destabilizing to look into the depth of blue in his eyes. It always felt like drowning, somewhat intimate and vulnerable, as you knew his Six eyes ability allowed him to see things about yourself that you couldn't even know.

“This one, it’ll make your eyes pop. Trust your boyfriend on this,” he says, casually dropping this name appellation for himself. You look at the colour before raising your eyebrows at what he said.

“We still aren’t playing pretend, Satoru. We are alone right now,” you chuckle as you turn back towards your mirror and start to apply the shade on your eyelid.

“And ? Have you never heard of practice ? I gotta get in the skin of my character, duh,” he justifies himself, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Ok grand actor Gojo Satoru. You want an Oscar ?” you tease, now doing the other eye.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. I’ll play my role so well that even you will wonder if I’m really your boyfriend or not,” Satoru muses as you continue with your eye makeup and what you wanted to add as final touches. 

“Oh yeah ? Then good luck with that,” you snort, applying the final touches of mascara.

“You don’t believe in my skills of being able to seduce you ?” his tempting voice is suddenly right next to your ear, and you realize that he teleported behind you. He looks at you cockily in the mirror, his hand on your shoulder. You get startled at first, not used to him using this tone of voice with you. For a second you felt your heart beating faster.

“Let me do my makeup in peace instead of annoying me before we even started your evil plan of acting like a couple,” you ignore his flirty joke, trying to focus back on what you were doing.

“Evil plan ? So does that make us partners in crime ?” he asks cheekily, the hand that was still on your shoulder squeezes the flesh.

“Who is Bonnie and who is Clyde ?” you laugh asking that, lifting your face to look at his blue eyes.

“Can I be Clyde ?” he demands like a kid, and you can’t help but snicker before grabbing two lip products, your favorites actually.

“Ok Clyde. Then tell me, what lipstick should I use ?” you end up questioning as you hold them in front of his face. He narrows his eyes, grabbing them, eyes darting in between your mouth and the makeup products. You don’t even realize that you end up licking your upper lip, focused on waiting for his verdict. He squints his eyes at what you just did.

“Hmmm… this one,” he ends up pointing at. You nod and open it before starting to apply it in front of the mirror.

“Why ?” you ask curiously, smudging your lips together to put the product evenly.

“Because it makes your lips look kissable ?” he answers as if it was the most logical answer, gazing at your reflection. You almost choke on your saliva before nudging him, which makes his smirk widder. This stupid bitch, he enjoys watching your reactions.

“I said we will not make out-”

“What ? I’m just saying ! If I wanna resemble a convincing boyfriend, isn’t it better if I always look like I wanna kiss you ?” he acts all innocent, even daring to pout at you and doing his usual puppy eyes behind his sunglasses.

“If you want it to work, I’ll just have to stick candies on my lips for you to want to look like you want to kiss me, because your sweet tooth is stronger than anything,” you joke, now doing the final touches of your overall makeup and hair, humming slightly.

“Hey, my sweet tooth is not that bad. And don’t worry, I don’t need candies for me to want to do so,” he drawls, stepping back to stare at you standing up. You approach the small box on your night stand and grab some jewelry to wear for tonight.

“I swear you are so annoying when you are flirty !” you groan as you smack the back of his head and he acts like you just gave him the worst pain ever, whining, even though he could have activated his infinity to block your slap. He wraps his arms around your waist and puts his forehead against your nape.

“Ouch, you’re such a bad girlfriend,” he complains, clearly wanting to annoy you. You roll your eyes and spray some perfume regardless of his small tantrum. You swear you just felt him sniff the scent on your neck.

“If I’m such a bad girlfriend, maybe I’ll purposely destroy your plan and tell everyone at this gathering that in reality I’m your best friend and that you are a liar. No ?” you threaten, putting a hand on your hip in a reproachful way as you turn to face him. 

“You are a wonderful girlfriend, and best friend. Did I forget to tell you how amazing you are ?” he directly corrects himself, batting his lashes to sooth you down. You chuckle, and step closer, before grabbing his tie and putting it back well as it was too loose. You feel his minty breath on your head, and you raise your eyes, smirking smugly.

“I know, it’s for that I’m helping you out. I hope you’ll pay me back in kind, yeah ?” you muse, tightening the tie by sliding it upwards, and Satoru’s lips stretch in this grin that would make anyone fall on their knees.

“Of course ! I’ll let you use my card to spoil yourself in anything you want, so shopping time,” he shrugs, before touching his tie, fingers brushing against yours innocently.

“Hmmm, that’s a deal…” you whisper.

Some minutes later, your shoes on, you finish putting on your coat and take your bag. Satoru’s car was parked down your street, and the drive wouldn’t be very long, only 20 minutes to arrive at your destination. Before you both step out of your apartment, your best friend inspects you one last time, looking at your dress and how it compliments your curves, as well as your hair sitting prettily around your charming face, the makeup enhancing your natural beauty. He can’t help but smile like an idiot.

“What ?” you ask, feeling his gaze.

“Hmmm ?”

“Why are you looking at me like that ?” you repeat, suspiciously.

“You’re just very pretty tonight, y/n,” he says more gently, and Satoru doesn’t often compliment you like that, so it surprises you. Yet, you smile at his kind words, and look away to avoid his burning gaze.

“Well, thank you. You look good too. The hair slicked back does suit you well,” you answer, opening the door and walking towards the stair of the building as Satoru closes the apartment with his spare keys. As if he really did live here. Well, he may, since he always ends up spending time at your place.

“You might as well make me fall in love for real tonight,” he teases, putting his hand behind your back while you walk down the stairs.

“Ahahah, I thought I would be the one falling in love because of how good you’ll act ? Are the roles already getting reversed ?” you joke, and Satoru returns your smirk, shaking his head playfully.

“Nah, the roles aren’t getting reversed,” he answers.

You roll your eyes, and after some back and forth, you enter his car in the passenger seat. As you both talk and listen to the radio, looking at the lights of the streets of tokyo during this evening, you can’t help but wonder how it will go. You have this one hell of a strange feeling in your gut. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Your arm is wrapped around the one of Satoru, as he insisted on walking like that by your side, and to enter the gathering this way. It was chic and elegant, the place screaming money as you walked past the door. The moment Gojo Satoru steps inside, everyone around is looking at The Strongest. You felt slightly intimidated, as people stared at you, wondering who the woman was locked at his arm. 

“Here we go for a ride of fun…” mutters Satoru to you in between his lips, giving a fake smile to an elder greeting him. You sigh, nodding.

“Greetings. We didn’t expect you to finally come and be blessed by your presence, sir Gojo. May I ask who is… she ?” asks the elder, sipping on some champagne as he eyes you up and down before smiling through his moustache to the white haired man. Many others gather around, wanting to hear the answer, and to talk to the great Gojo Satoru in person.

“I got forced to come here, if I had the possibility of not coming, I would have…” he starts to answer in this bratty way of his, clearly not caring about etiquettes or other basic polite ways of speaking, “but anywayyyssss. This is y/n, my girlfriend,” he finishes, grinning mischievously, waiting for their reactions.

Gasps are heard, they look shocked, staring at each other wondering if it was true, and then back at the two of you. You decide to continue this little act, coughing slightly before getting closer to your supposed boyfriend. You squeeze his arm against your breast, and give a bright smile.

“Pleased to meet you. Satoru insisted for me to come and to give him company, I hope it’s not a bother. I’m indeed his girlfriend,” you bow slightly saying that, and you see at the corner of your eye the smiles he flashes them, proud at how utterly flabbergasted they look.

“No way…” “This man is already taken ?” “Do you think he’ll marry her ?” “I heard rumours that he never wanted to settle down, what is going on ?” “Here I wanted him to marry my daughter… I hope they will break up soon” “Is he really dating someone like her ?” “Who the hell is she ?”. These were all kinds of sentences and whispers you could hear around you, and you already started to have a growing headache just by listening to all this. Yet you stay unfazed.

“Now, If you may, I have some clan leaders to greet,” Satoru excuses himself and brings you with him, discreetly showing you his hand that you high five.

“I wish I could have recorded that,” he chuckles slightly, and you give him a wink before stopping in front of a couple of an old woman and man, looking judgmental. You recognized them as the heads of a clan. A not very powerful one, but it still did hold its ground.

“Gojo, what a pleasure to finally see you. You ended up answering your duties,” the woman starts, squinting her eyes as she glares at him.

“If I didn’t come before is because I had better duties to attend to,” he answers like a provocation, acting nonchalantly and unbothered.

“I see you were busy having… fun,” adds the man, now looking at you when saying his last word.

“We heard she is your girlfriend. When will you marry her ?” The woman raises an eyebrow, looking strict as ever. If you had water in your mouth, you would have spilled it all over them. You feel Satoru tensing next to you, so you decide to answer instead of him : 

“Hum, marriage is a bit soon to talk about,” you chuckle slightly nervously saying that.

“Well, you should quickly give him heirs. The jujutsu world can’t wait,” answers the man, not expecting an objection from your part.

“The jujutsu world will wait,” retorts Satoru more firmly, now all the teasing in his voice is gone.

“Oh- sir Gojo, this is not the first time we talked about this. The weight of the world is on your shoulders, giving heirs to have strong lineages of future jujutsu sorcerers is the top priority !” scoffs the woman, looking indignant. 

“Right, the top priority is surely not to make the new generations strong enough to be able to survive in this damned world, and do our best to protect people from curses,” snarls Satoru, rolling his eyes. The tension was growing fast, and you felt that the anger bubbling inside of you, Satoru, and them, could cause big problems.

“You little brat-” groans the old man.

“If you insist on him having heirs, we will go make some in the toilets. Hope you won’t mind. Bye,” you exclaim, irritated, offering them a big smile before grabbing Satoru’s hand and dragging him towards the toilets for a small break. Barely some minutes in, and it already was damn overwhelming. You understood better why Satoru avoided these gatherings like the plague. 

“Didn’t know you wanted to make babies with me,” suddenly says Satoru as he leans against the sink, arms crossed over his chest and smiling at you. He didn’t look tense at all anymore, as if what happened barely some seconds ago was long forgotten. His lips curl in this seductive grin, wanting to joke around.

“Satoru, I said this to be able to breathe for two seconds,” you sigh, looking at yourself in the mirror before dusting your dress. You still felt tense from what they said, and it didn’t escape Satoru’s Six Eyes. He could read you like an open book, after all. Knowing you since high school allowed him to understand whatever was happening inside your brain at light speed.

“Awww… and here I thought you wanted to fuck me. Ok, my bad,” he fake pouts, getting closer to you as he stands from his position against the sink.

“Very funny,” you scoff, flustered but deciding to hide it. Satoru always liked to joke around, so him saying that wasn’t a surprise. But why in this situation did you feel oddly nervous in his presence and more sensitive at his teasing ? Satoru notices the frown forming in between your eyebrows and decides to change the subject.

“Are you already feeling pissed ? It’s only the beginning. I told you it would be exhausting. They never know when to shut up, or when to stop being pains in the ass,” he sighs, now being in front of you, and your back against the door.

“I’m good. Let’s go back,” you end up announcing, giving him a determined gaze. He smiles and then takes your hand in his, walking out of the bathroom.

“As you wish, but if you need a break, I’ll gladly come with you,” he nudges you playfully.

“Well, I’ll drink some champagne to help me to not want to kill myself every second of this evening,” you laugh in return.

“Wise decision.”

And here you were back in this loop of playing pretend with Satoru. Aside from the very annoying questions of the elders, and some that were clearly unhappy of this newfound union, acting like his lover was very easy. You just had to hold his hand or arm, and say you were his girlfriend, and sometimes act a bit cringey on purpose (which Satoru adored to do).

You left Satoru to go fetch another glass of champagne. As you sip on it and start walking, you bump into someone and almost make the liquid spill on the floor. But thankfully a hand grabs your arm and stops you from making this mistake.

“I didn’t know the girlfriend of Gojo Satoru would be clumsy,” says a voice, a familiar annoying voice. As you lift your head to meet the eyes of the man, you directly take off your arm of his grip when you see who it is.

Naoya Zenin. A man you despised so much. He had this bad reputation, and the small moments you interacted with him since highschool, you knew you couldn’t stand him. Arrogant, sexist, thinking he was better than anyone, mean, uncaring… An horrible mix that sadly made him a powerful man. 

“You are the one that bumped into me, don’t you think you should say sorry ?” you snap back, clearly not wanting to deal with him right now. For fuck’s sake ! Why did he have to attend this gathering too ? 

“Oh, feisty as always, y/n. A nice woman would apologize. Don’t you know how to act cute ?” he stands closer to you, narrowing his snake-like eyes, and lifts his chin arrogantly.

“Don’t you know how to mind your own business ?” you reply, before turning on your heels ready to leave. But at the same moment he grabs your arm again and quickly follows you to block you from walking away. You glare at him, doing your best to not slap him and start a scene.

“Hey, where are you going ? I want to talk. I just actually can’t believe that you suddenly are dating Gojo Satoru,” he laughs, but clearly it’s a mocking laugh. 

“Why is it so surprising ? I have known him since highschool, and we’ve been close for years now,” you defend yourself. And even if it was fake, deep in your heart, you knew that it wouldn’t be very shocking if you and him really ended up dating, as you both have been inseparable for years. Even more since Suguru deflected. 

“Well, he doesn’t do commitment. Didn’t expect him to be tamed by someone like you,” he insists, eying you like you were a prey of some kind. A shiver of disgust runs down your spine. 

“This is no one of your concern,” you spat, threatening. 

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll cheat on you ?” he asks, in a fake innocent way.

“Excuse-me ?” you raise your eyebrows, not believing what he just said.

“You heard me well. I don’t believe Gojo Satoru is the kind of man to be a good boy and stay with a woman and marry her. He’ll surely go see what other women have to offer him before he gets bored,” he scoffs, and his smile gets wider while talking this nonsense. Sure, being The Strongest meant for Satoru that settling down was something almost impossible for him, and he never actually dated anyone. But he wasn’t the type to cheat and disrespect women or an imaginary partner. And that enraged you that Naoya misunderstood him, and that a lot of people probably thought the same as well when they didn’t even know him personally. That was downright disrespectful. 

“Watch your mouth, you’re talking about my boyfriend right here. He is not like you, treating women like objects to fool around with,” you snarl, stepping even closer menacingly. You were boiling with anger. 

“No, me, if I have a woman, I will directly marry her and make her bear my heirs. That’s what the head of a clan should do,” he retorts, raising his chin even more to look down at you.

“You aren’t even the head of your clan,” you correct. He scoffs, and looks away. But then his eyes land on something, and a mischievous smirk forms on his lips.

“Tch… Well, look at that. Surely he’s already cheating on you,” he points out while doing a movement with his head, showing you Satoru talking to a woman. He was facing her, so you only saw his back, unable to look at his facial reactions or what he could be saying. The woman, on the other hand, was blushing and clearly interested in that talk. You don’t know why, but you felt a pang of jealousy in your chest. You shake your head, chasing this thought of your mind.

“He’s just… talking to her. What is wrong with you ?” Naoya smiles.

“Don’t look so sad. He didn’t even put a ring on your finger. Why don’t you leave him before it’s too late ?” he proposes, looking at your hand that was holding the glass of champagne. You frown and gulp it down, putting the glass on the table at your left.

“Leaving him ? To do what, uh ? Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You shake your head, huffing.

“If you were mine, y/n, I would have already married you and knocked you full of my child,” he whispers, stepping closer to you and murmuring these nasty words in your ear. Ew. Disgust is written all over your face, and you clench your hands, nails digging in your palm as you glare at him, ready to tell him how inappropriate and repulsive it was.

“Gladly she is not yours,” a voice suddenly says. An arm snakes around your waist and brings you against Satoru, looking deadly at Naoya, showing how pissed off he was by what he just heard.

“Satoru ? Weren’t you-” you stutter confused by his sudden presence, looking at him.

“Ah, sorry sweetheart. Got caught up in an unwanted conversation. ‘Mind if you tell me what this pesky rat wants ?” asks the white haired man, bringing you closer and even kissing your forehead tenderly. You knew it was for the act, but this simple gesture helped you calm down significantly, reassured he was here. Naoya, on the contrary, frowned at the way Satoru called him, clenching his jaw. A vein was about to pop.

“Don’t make me laugh, ‘The Great Gojo Satoru’ settling down ? What a joke !” he scoffs mockingly. Your best friend unconsciously tightens his grip on your waist. 

“What, don’t tell me you are jealous, Naoya ? Y/n is very well by my side, and if she had to marry someone, it surely would never be you,” he answers, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head to the side. 

“As I said, there is no ring on her finger. She is still available on the market, as well as you, and I’m not sure that even if you did ask for her hand in marriage, the elders would accept such a union.” You look offended, starting to again be angered at the poor way he was talking to you and Satoru. This man had no shame in his bones. 

“Your opinion is irrelevant. Treating people like objects will lead you nowhere aside from being a scumbag,” you interfere, squinting your eyes. 

“No, I’m just stating facts. Gojo, maybe if you fuck her good and impregnante her, she’ll be accepted as your bride,” his smile widen at his disgusting words, clearly proud of what he just proposed. Satoru stiffens, and the blue of his eyes becomes electric, the air around him shifting to something menacing.

“Have you gone mad, Naoya ?!” Gojo says, in a cold and unwavering voice, giving you the chills. Seeing he was about to snap, and even if you would be happy to see him beat up to death the Zenin man, you knew better than to cause a scene in this gathering. 

“Goodbye, and please fuck off, man,” you say to the green haired one before dragging Satoru with you.

You quickly grab a glass of champagne and hand it to your best friend, noticing how many people around were eavesdropping on the conversation, clearly interested in this drama going on and wanting to gossip about it.

“Here, drink this instead of murdering someone,” you say. He takes it, before swallowing the liquid in one go, putting back the now empty glass on the trail. You gulp one too, taking this advice for yourself, because if you listened to your inner thoughts, you would have already jumped Naoya and snatched the skin off his face. 

“Are you okay ? Sorry, I didn’t know he would attend this event, and would come to pester you. If I knew I wouldn’t have left you alone,” says Gojo, looking apologetic as he steps closer to you and even takes your hand in his. 

“I’m used to this bastard spatting nonsense, it’s nothing new and clearly not your fault. So, don’t apologize,” you squeeze his fingers gently, sighing.

“I’m a bad boyfriend, aren’t I ?” He asks with a small smirk, his thumb caressing your soft skin. You didn’t know if he did this because some people were looking, or if it was a genuine sign of affection. You secretly hoped it was the second option. 

“No, you are a wonderful boyfriend, Satoru,” you correct, smiling up at him. He winks at you before grabbing another glass of champagne and drinking it. You frown.

“Hey, you don’t hold your liquor, so don’t drink too much,” you try to warn him. 

“It’s either that, either I hollow purple this place. You choose, sweetheart,” he muses, his cheeks already turning red. Even if he didn’t like the taste, Satoru was pissed off as hell right now, and he just wanted to put his mind elsewhere, and gather some more energy to stay at this gathering. You sigh, and decide to join him in this drinking session when you see another couple of elders approaching. Here we go again…

A whole hour passed. It was boring as hell, that even the uptights clan leaders started to drink more too. Least to say, everyone was bored, actually. You sigh as you step away from a conversation Satoru had to entertain with some daughters of high ranked jujutsu sorcerers. You were tired of rejecting their advances towards your fake boyfriend, as they clearly thought they still had a chance to maybe marry him in the future. Satoru looks at you like a lost puppy when you walk away, not wanting to be left alone. But you just wanted some fresh air. 

As you step in the balcony, at the corner of your eyes you see Naoya looking at you meters away, before saying something to an older man. This man nods and glances at you, before smiling in a way that makes your skin crawl when you see him walking towards you. Oh no… You try to stay calm when he is in front of you, and how he is adopting a seductive posture.

“Good evening. It’s Y/n, right ? What a lovely name… Gojo Satoru is very lucky to have a beauty like you at his side,” he says. You give him a polite smile, the alcohol in your system making you want to say nonsense but you shut your mouth instead of talking shit.

“Aww, are you shy ? I know I can be intimidating… Don’t worry, I’m sure we will get along. I know how to talk to women and entertain them." He steps closer, narrowing his eyes. You want to throw up. Is he flirting with you ? Even though he surely is twice your age and married ? You look at the ring on his finger. Yep, this man has a wife. You pity her.

“I’m good,” you simply say, not wanting to engage more in the conversation. 

“Since you seem timid, how about we go somewhere quieter to talk and learn to know each other ? I know an empty room next to the main event, like that, it would be just the two of us,” he grins, looking at your curves, and his eyes fall on your breast. You swallow thickly, stopping yourself from slapping his face. Double ew, what a pervert. 

“I don’t think it’s appropriate. My boyfriend will surely disagree, as well as your wife,” you answer, narrowing your eyes. He puts his hand on your shoulder, and you swear it’s as if his touch burned your skin.

“Oh… my wife isn’t here, don’t worry about that. And your boyfriend wouldn’t know,” he muses, but then a strong hand snatches his hand away by gripping his wrist strongly. The man lets a gasp of pain, and his face distorts with anger.

“I wouldn’t know what ? And I’m sure your wife would be very pleased that you are trying to get with someone the same age as your daughter,” asks Satoru, putting more strength in his hold, and if he applied just a bit of more pressure, you were sure the bones would crack immediately.

“Sir Gojo, I fear this is a misunderstanding !” he gasps, afraid. 

“I fear that it is not. Learn to respect boundaries, and never touch my girlfriend again, or any other women, if you don’t want something bad happening to you. Yeah, you old geezer ?” he menaces him with a bright smile on his flushed face from the champagne. You realized you were as inhibited as him.

“Why not make him learn his lesson now, honey ?” you say drunkenly, stepping closer, threatening. You really just wanted to snap. This interaction was your last straw, and the man in front of you scoffs offended and tries to squirm away. But thankfully, in this balcony, nobody notices what is happening. Satoru chuckles, clearly amused by your proposition.

“Awww, what a wonderful idea sugarplum ! What do you think about cutting his small dick ? Like that we’ll be sure he will not bother anyone else again,” chants happily the white haired sorcerer, grinning widely, almost unhinged. 

“Don’t forget his hand, like that he’ll touch nobody else,” you add playfully.

“Do you realize who you are talking to ?! I’m a noble, and invested a lot of money in the jujutsu highschool of Tokyo !” protests the man in a broken voice, lamenting about what was about to happen to him.

“Don’t make me laugh. You are talking to Gojo Satoru, duh. The money you invested is nothing to what I could provide. And how about admitting that this so-called money is actually from gambling ? Yeah, I know more than you think I do. Did you know that your wife loves to gossip when she is bored of having an awful husband like you ? I bet you don’t, since you spend all your time gambling and drinking,” muses Satoru, bringing him closer and looking down at him with disdain, something dangerous and provocative in his eyes. The man gulps and shakes of fear.

“This- I- I’m sorry, this is all a mistake !” he implores, and seeing that someone was approaching the balcony, Satoru lets go of his bruised wrist and the old noble runs away. He even bumps into some other persons, stumbles, but still rushes towards the exit, humiliated.

“Bahahahahaha !” you explose of laughter as Satoru whispers to himself that he would deal with him later. He looks at you, and joins you in your laugh, enjoying seeing you smile like that. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, walking back inside and giving a provocative glance to an annoyed Naoya meters away. 

“I’m bored, should we go ?” he proposes, trying to walk straight as the drunkenness was really taking over his tall body.

“Hmmm, I agree,” you nod, walking towards the main door to exit this gathering. It was getting late, anyway. 

Satoru stops and makes you spin around. His arm that was around your shoulder slides down your back, bringing you flush against him. Your skin suddenly feels hotter, and his hazy half lidded eyes look down at you. A big smile stretches on his rosy lips, which he licks for a second.

“Satoru ?” you ask, surprised of him doing that. You stabilize yourself against him, hand on his chest, wondering if he forgot something before leaving.

“Let’s shock them well before leaving, what do you think ?” he proposes, his face getting closer to yours. Something glints in his irises, and you get hypnotized as you stare into the depth of his eyes. Your heart quickens again, excited.

“Uh- alright ? But doing wh-” you get cut the moment you agree, his lips crashing against yours. You open your eyelids wide, and even hear some gasps around you. But fuck, the sweet taste of your bestfriend lips were so delicious, and the alcohol in your system made you bolder, wanting more. You close your eyes, and his other hand cradles the back of your head to bring you impossibly closer.

He parts his lips, his tongue entering your mouth. The blood in your body rushes to your face, and in between your thighs. You answer the kiss, not caring how inappropriate it was, but it was Satoru’s plan to shock them all. So, on purpose, you grab him by his tie and flush him against you, tongues caressing each other sensually. You melt against his mouth, him kissing you like a starved man that couldn’t stop his hunger. It’s as if he couldn’t live without your lips. Your eyes flutter, getting lost in whatever was happening.

Sensing it was escalating, he slowly parted ways, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You gasp for air, and his feverish eyes look like they want to devour you.

“Told you we’ll make out,” he says, before grinning at you. You swallow thickly, and step back before looking at all the people around whispering among themselves. You had no time to feel embarrassed that the drunk Satoru, with no shame, takes your hand before bringing you with him and then he screams : 

“Now fuck you all ! Byeeeee !” 

You couldn’t even properly react that you were back outside. The coldness of the wind brings some sense to your clouded mind, and he stretches before looking at the sky.

“Ahhh, that felt great ! I feel like a new man now,” he sighs, clearly proud of what just happened.

“Don’t you think that will backfire ?” you ask, looking at him.

“Nah, I did way worse. They are used to me being a pain in their ass. But they can’t really say anything. The perks of being The Strongest, y/n,” he winks at you saying that, and it’s only now that you realize your smudged lipstick is all over his mouth. You chuckle and go on your tiptoes, taking your thumb to gently try to wipe the makeup off his skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me ? Because it’s working,” he whispers playfully, and his breath mingles with yours.

“So the roles are indeed reversed,” you add, passing your thumb on his lower lip and then looking at your finger full of makeup. He looks at you intently, eyes roaming over your face.

“Nah, it’s you that is so in love with me right now,” he corrects, winking at you playfully, and you can’t help but feel flustered as you let out a laugh at his saying.

“You are the one that kissed me,” you reply.

“Yeah, and I liked it,” he murmurs, looking down at your mouth. Was the alcohol making him say bolder things ? You didn’t know.

“So you agree you are the one that got charmed ?” you ask, brushing his hair with your hand, putting back some loose strands. His eyes are on you when you do that, and if outside wasn’t so dark, you would have noticed the tip of his ears turning red.

“Good question,” he simply answers as you step back, letting some distance in between the two of you.

“And we are drunk, so we should get home,” you then inform, looking around at the street where some cars pass, as well as a few people.

“I can’t drive my car, then,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do we do ? If we call a cab, your car will stay here,” you frown, realizing the situation. Maybe you shouldn’t have given this glass of champagne to Satoru back then…

“Let’s sleep in a hotel room,” he proposes nonchalantly, pointing at one that was on the opposite street.

“Are we really having this whole dating experience right now, or…?” you try to joke. It wouldn’t be the first time that you would sleep in a hotel with Satoru, nor even sleep together. It was something usual in your friendship, having sleepovers or even pajama parties as Gojo called them. But, in this situation, it felt different. 

“You might become my real girlfriend at the end of the night, who knows ?” he teases, nudging you, and that makes you roll your eyes at his antics.

“You wish,” you laugh.

“You’re so mean to your bestie,” Satoru whines, pouting, before dragging you with him.

It didn’t take long to register at the hotel and have a room. Sleeping in the same bed wasn’t a problem either. As soon as you arrived inside the place, you quickly went to shower, taking off your makeup and hoping the water would wake you up. You wash yourself, getting lost in thoughts.

Great, you had no pajamas, and surely you wouldn’t sleep in your dress. And even if you really liked Satoru, sleeping naked next to him was a no. You sigh, wrapping a towel around your body and stepping out of the bathroom. Satoru was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone to try to distract himself, but you saw how he was mindlessly looking at it. The alcohol really did hit him hard. You try to not laugh. He lifts his head and smiles when seeing you coming, you notice his gaze on your wet skin.

“Can I use the shower now ?” he asks, standing up.

“Yep, but we have a problem. We don’t have any changes, or pajamas,” you sigh, sitting on the bed where he sat earlier. He hums, looking down at you, before taking off his suit jacket, and then he slowly takes off his tie. He slides it down, liberating his neck and he lets out a small groan of relief. This simple gesture was horribly sexy, that you almost caught yourself drooling. You snap back of your train of unholy thoughts when he unbuttons his shirt, showing his broad chest, and then abs, down to his marked v-line, before wrapping the tissue around your shoulders.

“Use it to sleep with,” he says, and when you raise your eyes, you are met with his right in front of yours. 

“What a gentleman,” you say, smiling more awkwardly than you intended.

“I told you I’ll be a good boyfriend ! Anyways, I come back,” he muses, winking at you before closing the door behind him once he enters the bathroom. Soon, you hear the sound of the water running.

You take off your towel and close the shirt around your body. It was big enough to arrive under your ass, around mid-thighs. Shit, it smelled just like his cologne. Some weird fantasies come to your mind as you lay under the covers, remembering the heated makeout of earlier. Your heart is hammering inside your chest, and you try to control your breathing as you rub your thighs together.

This is bad. Satoru is your best friend. Yes, you maybe had a crush on him since highschool, and you two have been extremely close for years. But you always kept your feelings to yourself. Yet, what was happening right now messed up your mind. You had to calm down. Plus, you still were drunk, and Satoru too. It would be inappropriate to hope for something, or even try something in this state of mind.

Your thoughts are stopped when Satoru steps out of the bathroom only in his boxers, a towel around his neck. He grabs yours that was still on the bed and puts them to dry. He then walks towards the bed.

“Don’t fall asleep without me,” he says, sliding under the covers and smiling at you. You return the smile and scoot closer without realizing. His grin becomes bigger.

“I’m tired,” you whisper. 

“Then come here,” he says, opening his arms, inviting you to come snuggle in the warmth of his chest. You don’t need to get asked twice, you directly shift around and lay your head on the spot of his heartbeat. His strong arms wrap around your frame, hugging you closer. The sweet smell of shower gel caresses your nostril, and your cheek is flush against his soft skin.

“Are you satisfied with your evil plan ?” you ask in a quieter voice. His hand gently caresses your back up and down, sharing his warmth with yours.

“Hmm, I think we should pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend more often,” he says.

“How long will it last ?” you roll your eyes, looking up at him saying that.

“Until mariage !” he jokes, but you are not sure if he is completely joking.

“What, and want me to give you a kid too ?” you add, thinking back about the sayings of the people at the gathering. He stays silent for a second, and you wonder if he took your joke badly. But before you can say anything, he murmurs, “If it’s with you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad in the end.” You didn't quite hear what he said, so you raise your eyebrow, looking at him.

“What ?”

“Nothing. Good night, y/n,” he simply answers after his chest rumbles from him laughing. You then feel his lips land on your forehead, kissing it tenderly. He turns off the light, and now you two are in the dark.

You close your eyes, relaxing against him, and your breathing becomes softer, as well as his. His hand continues to mindlessly caressing you, lulling you to sleep. It was in those simple moments that you realized how much you value your relationship with Satoru. Even if you both never confessed, or weren’t really dating, the comfort of having him by your side and knowing you always could count on him was enough.

But you had to admit... This tension that was already there for years, went skyrocket tonight. Not to add the kiss. Satoru mentioned too how you both will surely continue to play pretend, as in the eyes of the high jujutsu society, you now were his girlfriend.

Will this little game lead to something bigger ?

It only was the beginning, and putting too much of your mind into it would give you a headache. So in the warmth and intimacy of this moment, Satoru and you both fall asleep, unaware of how your relationship would evolve in the future.

***

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : the part 2 is out, here the mlist for the ones that want to know more.

[inu1gf]

you won’t be able to take your eyes off me

NOW PLAYING: miniskirt by aoa

WHO: gen narumi & soshiro hoshina (separately) (kaiju no. 8)

WARNINGS: reader is wearing a miniskirt, stockings, and heels (wrote this fic while listening to the song cause it gave me inspo) other than that it should be gn!

never did you think you could capture his attention, the difference not only in rank but raw power they held compared to you should’ve deterred you away but when the attention was reciprocated, you didn’t want it to end. dancing around each other, tiptoeing around the line not knowing if you should push the boundary, to see where this could lead.

as time goes along and seeing no change in this dancing routine that was set between you two, it started to weigh on your heart. does he just want to someone to occupy his time with? is he just doing it to mess with you? to waste your time? to have fun and see what he could do without crossing the clear line between you two. you can’t have that. that would just mean what you thought was a genuine connection, he thought it was a game. you weren’t just gonna stand by, wait for him to come back, and have the cycle repeat again.

out of sight. out of mind.

now what was just a slight peek between the curtains between the two of you, were just closed and locked windows. he wasn’t gonna be able to see that side of you no more. not a moment longer were you going to think of him anymore.

it took a while and you had to show that you were no longer occupied, you finally landed a date. you honestly didn’t think of it as anything serious. just a a little toe dip into the dating pool once again. even though you were ready for a new thing, you literally just got out of a one sided situationship so diving in head first on the first date wasn’t really a smart idea.

going through the process of aligning schedules, making plans, and deciding on the time, and with a little bit of help with outfit planning and a bit of confidence boosting, you were ready for a night out. now you just had to report to your higher ranking officer to give additional notice that you were spending your off day off base.

even if you weren’t on duty or in uniform, it felt a bit weird to not straighten out your clothes and posture before needing to make your presence known.

knock knock knock

“state your name.”

“it’s officer [name] reporting.”

“come on in.”

when you opened the door should’ve had a feeling that he’d be in the room…

expecting to see vice captain hasegawa at his desk, you were not sure why the two-toned-haired idiot you were trying to avoid was seated in a place like it was his office. then again you weren't all that surprised when seeing a stack of files on both sides with vice captain hasegawa standing behind him keeping watch.

upon entering both turned your direction to you, different expressions but it was all the same to you since you decided he was just captain narumi to you now and not gen (is what you told yourself but your heart felt like it was going to jump out your chest and land right in front of him for him to sign his name right on it).

“sorry to interrupt captain narumi and vice captain hasegawa. just wanted to report that i will be heading off base, can’t give a specific time but i will be back and i will be present for morning training.” in salute position trying to maintain being fixated on the wall behind both men, you couldn’t trust yourself to not have your expression change if you made eye contact nor could you stop your thoughts from crushing the confidence pep talk that kikoru and rin gave before leaving your room.

what you didn’t notice was the look over gen gave you when you stepped through the threshold nor could you have noticed the fast-paced heartbeat and heated ears that donned him once he saw how breathtaking you looked. having only seen you in either your regular civies or defense uniform, it would’ve made him beamed with pride had the change in clothing style been for him, but seeing as you haven’t even spared him a glance in a matter of weeks, he was happy to at least be in the same room with a good 6-foot distance separating you two.

as of late the only time, you would even allow yourself to be near him (at a wide distance but still being in the same room) is if it’s he finally decided to grace the first division with his presence and oversee training, or he’s dragged to a meeting and scuffed at the neck like a kitten by hasegawa. as if a switch flicked in your head, one day you couldn’t help but be next to him no matter the time or place, and now you couldn’t be in a room with him unless you had to.

he doesn’t even know why he is having such a hard time bringing up the situation or just speaking to you in general. this isn’t him. sure he can’t stand when his vice captain talks to him as if his title as captain of the first division doesn’t exist but with how you two danced around the line he didn’t know whether he should make his move or even how he should do it. like come on, holding his rank as both captain of the first division and japans strongest anti-kaiju combatant, and he doesn’t mean to brag (he totally does hope it wows you even more) most if not all, hold him in high regard and entrust the safety of the entire freaking country and defense force to him. this should at least boost his points with you. its not like you don’t know what he can’t do having been on the battlefield together. his speed and durability. his strength and endurance. his skilled martial arts mastery and intellect. never been one to shy away from flaunting his abilities that clearly sets him ranks above the rest (okay big head we get it you’re the best at what you do), it should show that what he can do and has to offer can push you more to him. so why is it that you are trying to pull away from him?

“…captain. captain narumi? CAPTAIN NARUMI?” finally registering that it was you who was calling him back off of whatever cloud he seemed to have found himself on since you came in, he looks at both you and hasegawa in confusion.

“yes, do you need something from me?” trying to make himself look like he wasn’t just spiraling into a hole of turmoil trying to see what could he have possibly done to have you in front of him dressed up so attractively appealing for someone.

“nothing sir. just wanted to wish you both a great night. hopefully, my intrusion didn’t slow down your progress on your work. i’ll get out of your hair and be on my way out.” with a quick salute, you leave straight away not wanting to waste anytime to get to your date (you may not truly like the guy but it’s not like you’re so cold-hearted to just leave him standing after all the planning that went into this date even if you don’t feel like going out now).

with your uver estimated time being 5 minutes away, you tried to speed walk as fast as you could to the entrance doors while simultaneously trying to keep the miniskirt kikoru slipped you in from riding even further up than you could handle. now just hearing the clacking of the high heels, you couldn’t focus on the sounds around you, trying to make it to the exit as fast as possible. nothing could have prepared you for the sudden pull on your arm into the quiet and empty hallway, would anything have prepared you for the sharp deep red eyes that you have been trying to avoid looking at for weeks.

“so what the first time in ages that you speak to me and you can’t even look at me and ‘captain’ or ‘sir’? haven’t heard you call me that since you first arrived. what happened to just narumi? what happened to gen? what’s with the sudden name change? sudden change in everything as a matter of fact? what happened? just tell me what went wrong!” a frenzy of questions snowballed right at you giving you no time even react to the first one. you couldn’t even look away from him when his presence and energy was just demanding your full focus and attention on nothing and no one but him.

“i can’t do this right with you, captain. my ride is going to be here in less than 4 minutes. as of a few minutes ago, i’m not on duty to have my off time disrupted. if that was all you had to say, please let me go. i have a date i can’t miss.”

date. (what?!)

a date. (where?!)

you’re dressed nice and pretty for a date. (why?!)

you’re dressed up nice and pretty because you’re going to a date. (when was this decided?!)

you’re dressed up nice and pretty because you’re going to a date thats not with him. (with who?!)

as he spiraled down his flurry of emotions that seemed to show on his face and eyes even with his mop of hair practically covering a good portion of his face, you were able to bear witness to each one. one right after the other tugging at your heart. making your brain go into its state of unraveling on the tight knot it held on your feelings for him begin to rise its way back out. you just couldn’t hold back on what you had been holding onto.

“please captain just please let me go. please don’t hold onto me anymore. please stop practically taking all my attention. please just stop giving me hope in whatever you lead me to believe this even is.” from the tight hold his eyes held onto yours to trying to focus on the high ceilings to blink away at the tears that threatened to fall and make a mess at what took hours of your support team working on to make sure that even if you were suited up in your usual uniform, you’d be able to battle anything that came your way. yet you seem to be losing the one you started one-sidedly.

“you want me to let you go after you walk in, looking smoking hot by the way, and finally talking to me after weeks of no response from you, only to find out you are going out on a date with some random who probably doesn’t know you as well as i do? i don’t care if i have to throw you in my office and break the handle to keep you in there, you will not be leaving my side. especially for some date with someone that’s not me. when did this even happen? how did this even happen? i’m pretty sure i’ve been dishing out more duties to you just to keep you occupied until you finally had enough to just come to yell at me about it.” he’s been dumping workloads on you on purpose? “anyways you’re not leaving. you are not leaving me. you understand that? now what’s this about ‘me giving you hope’? why would i stop? i thought what we had was something. im into you. you’re into me. why stop that? why try to go on a date another some other guy when that’s the step we’re supposed to be on? cancel that uver. they could be outside right now for all i give a crap. you’re sticking with me and we’re hashing this out. now.” not even letting you fight back, he starts to pull you into the familiar direction where his room is. one that you thought you would never be in again.

the closer you get, the more erratic the pounding in your chest, and the more your mind races having you think it was just the cycle repeating itself.

finally deciding to drop your weight in the opposite direction he was pulling you to (didn’t really do much in all honesty) does he decide to finally look at you again, seeing you in the heart-wrenched state he put you in. “i’m dressed for a date not a situationship lecture from the one who i was in a situationship with. so unless you’ve decided to actually take my feelings for you seriously then i won’t be going in there.”

“give me 30 minutes. i’ll take you on the best date you’ll ever have. by the time it’s over, you’ll never think about being on anyone’s side but mine.”

you didn’t even realize you were standing outside his door, until he faced forward opening his room, having you sit on his throne as he gathered his clothes and such, making the light bulb in your head come to light as you realize that you’re going on a date with gen. not the poor guy who has now been waiting for a response to his texts for the past 15 minutes.

it shouldn’t have surprised you that he’d be here with captain ashiro, it really didn’t phase you as much as you thought it did. not wanting to show how it affected you, you fixated your gaze onto captain ashiro herself, but it was like he was invading your sight everywhere you went. with his back towards you not even wanting to acknowledge your presence, the clenching around your heart was a dull ache, but it was nothing new. you’ve already steeled your nerves when you decided that if he wasn’t going to do anything with what you thought was something good between you then you weren’t gonna waste your time.

“sorry to disturb you, captain ashiro and vice captain hoshina. the officers advised me to give notice just in case so i wanted to report that i would be off base for a few hours.” you didn’t know if it was because you were standing under an air vent or just your nerves running rampant, but it was just making the chills drive up your legs that not even the stockings covering your legs could provide a small ounce of warmth.

“it’s just us here so you don’t have to call me captain. you look pretty by the way. where you going?” it wasn’t known to most of the division that you and ashiro were friends. after a run in at the convenience store for some dried shredded squid where you both reach for the last one in stock, it sparked a quiet friendship between you two, and leading to you both meeting a few times cooking dishes for her, where you would use the shredded squid, after finding out she can’t really use a kitchen knife to save her life.

having heard his captain compliment someone out loud, soshiro doesn’t fully turn to you but just half way so he can see you in his general peripheral vision, and what his captain said was no lie at all.

now standing in a common hand-on-hip pose just seeming more slightly relaxed, he starts his trail at your black red bottom high heels that make the sheer black stockings that hug your legs in a way that has him weak in the knees, having to hold onto the desk he was starting to lean on, paired with a miniskirt and blouse that accentuated the lovely curves he can’t help but fantasize about when he’s alone with nothing but himself and his thoughts.

what pulled him out of his current position was your response.

“just a date with someone from the operations department.”

just a date.

just a date.

JUST A DATE.

“what the fuck.” who said that? did he say that? he didn’t mean to say it out loud, but as quick as he said it he masked his surprise, in case it slipped off him, and adjusted himself since he started to feel two sets of eyes on him. he could feel them burning on his side.

“this section on the report is wrong. i’ll go check it out to see how to fix it. I’ll leave yall to it.” giving this the only time to be able to turn himself facing to you, he got to see you in your full glory. you look as beautiful as you always do everytime he sees you.

Just as he gets ready to salute his captain, you salute back to him and start to head towards the door before him.

“I’ll let you know how it goes, shiro!” with a little wave to both captains, you rush out the doors and zip through the halls making it in time outside as your uver driver arrives.

if the drive didn’t feel like it had gotten you to your destination too fast, then it was the date that felt like it went painstakingly slow. all they did was talk about themselves, how they had done this and that, and how if they were given the chance, they would’ve done this better than hoshina. hoshina. how you honestly wished it had been him here, instead of the self absorbed person who’s done nothing but waste about 3 hours of your time.

you would’ve left halfway through but if it wasn’t for the gnawing ache in your heart of having to accept that even if you try to be with someone who wasn’t him, you wouldn’t have been able to open your heart to them the way you bore your heart open to him.

it seemed like you didn’t have to sit and suffer in silence any longer because it seemed like even thought they couldn’t get enough of hearing the sound of their our voice, they hated that you didn’t egg them on to continue their endless stream of compliments they wanted to shower themselves in. just slapping a few bills on the table, they left without so much as a glance to you, but you weren’t going to complain about it either. sure it was possibly the worst date you’ve ever been on, but at least you can finally get yourself out of this outfit. sure it was the best thing you’ve wore out since joining the force, but to have it wasted on a date as horrible them, all you could do is hope that whoever decided to take you out next will be worth the amount of effort you put in dressing yourself for.

who were you kidding? as if you’d ever subject yourself to another one like that ever again. sure they may not all be self absorbed and do nothing but waste your time, but at least after each date it wouldn’t have you feeling guilty for wasting theirs as well because no matter how many people you choose to be with, they’ll never be able to occupy the empty space in your heart that he decided to make his place in.

making your way back to base was easy enough if it wasn’t for man himself standing next to the entrance doors.

“well wasn’t that quick. what’d they do? stand you up?” as if that was the greatest joke he ever heard, he couldn’t help but do that cute laugh that he does, clutching at his sides while little by little slightly bending at the knees.

“ ha ha ha! laugh it up. and for your information, he didn’t stand me up. we had a nice time.” lie. “, and he treated me to that restaurant i’ve been wanting to go to.” half lie. “i see the promise of a second date in our near future. so laugh it up while you can. save it for someone who can’t get a date. wait a minute… isn’t that ‘someone’ you?” thinking that should have at least stunned him, you started to make your way past him, but what you didn’t count on was the sudden grip and spin you got in return now having to face the man himself. eyes open and fixated on yours. unmoving. it was a test checking to see who would make the first move…

but you’ve had enough with games.

enough with the side glances.

enough with second too long stares.

enough with the unmovable mocking grin he seemed to give anytime you were caught looking in his direction.

enough with the flirty inside jokes.

enough with the flushed face when he pays just a little more attention to you than he did with others.

enough with waiting.

enough of tail chasing you seemed to be doing just to get him to look at you the same way you look at him.

enough with just being strung along.

enough with him.

“if that’s the case then, why would you be with him and not me?” it seems like today was just full of surprises. there was no way those string of words came out of his mouth. however, if that question didn’t throw you in a loop then the second one did the trick.

“what can i do to make you stay with me?” you couldn’t even back away. with the tightening grip he had on you as if you were just going to sprint in the opposite direction if he were to weaken his hold on you and in no way would you have stayed as well.

did it really have to take him seeing you actually going on a date for him to finally make a move?—but again, if you wanted to hear anything on a already bad day after a bad date, then might as well have it done now.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you don’t care that you are about to get disciplinary action for what you just said to your superior, but who wouldn’t react that way when it was what you needed to hear a few weeks ago for the man himself. no longer were you just going to hide behind the little actions you’ve been doing to keep distance between you two. no not anymore, and if you had to hash it out in from of the division building then so be it. already too frustrated from the crap date and crap ride back just to be stopped by the problem itself only to be landed right back where you started, you just need the weight to be lifted off your chest so you can finally just breathe.

“what do you want? what is it to you that i went out on a date or that ill be going on more? who are you to tell me anything? if anything, you don’t get to dictate what i do outside of my duty to the squad. i’m pretty sure for someone who’s as intelligent as you then you should know how i feel about you and if you anything about me, you should know im not going to wait around anymore just for you to make a move so if you are done with whatever you have right now then just leave me alone” tone getting louder and louder, you don’t seem to notice how his hands went from your shoulders and gently sliding up to hold the sides of your face.

you only notice it when you feel a cold pressure on your lips and then seem to move on their own as they continue to lock with his. heart feeling fuller and your chest feeling lighter. you couldn’t help the tears that started to glide down your face and he couldn’t help himself when he felt them on the pads of his thumbs.

there was no stopping them. what had you agonizing for weeks came to a stop with just one kiss.

apologies coming from him just seemed to make the tear come in steady streams and when he saw that maybe they wouldn’t stop for a while, as if he was holding something so precious (in his case he was), you felt the bottom of your feet lift from the ground and he started to move. to where? you didn’t know. all you can see is the red tint on his ears and feel the tightening grip under your knees and shoulder.

it wasn’t until he adjusted his grip did you glance around to see where you were at.

vice captain hoshina soshiro

he was leading you into his office.

it wasn’t a new place to you. many times you’ve been in here. either waiting out the time as he completes his paperwork so he can give you some more pointers on your swordsmanship (you figured that if there was anyway to get closer to him, it was to learn the craft that he cherished deeply) or just to be in his presence as you helped him with whatever he needed from you (he always made up tasks just to have you around him just a minute longer).

you expected him to just sit you on one of the chairs he has in front of his desk. what you didn’t expect him to do was make his way around it and feel him sit down on his chair with you still in his arms. you didn’t expect him to adjust you so that sitting in his lap. you didn’t expect him to cradle you closer as if he was trying to meld you into him. you didn't expect the small featherlight kisses he lays on your face to get you to calm down.

there were many things you didn’t expect for him to do.

if only those were the only surprises he was going to lay on you, but nothing topped what he said next after resting his forehead onto yours.

“look i know it’ll take a lot to trust what i have to say and i don’t expect you to make it easy. if you can give me time, i promise ill be able to show you just how much you mean to me. i want to be able to make you see that i am yours. that i will always be yours. i hope that you can see just how much i want you to be mine.”

A/N: my first fic so any constructive feedback would be much appreciated!! sorry if they seem a bit too ooc i tired staying in character as much as i could without going too flowery and corny >_< hope you like it and if you have any requests, send them in! and ty to soshiros bbygirl for beta reading;*