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fushitoru · 3 months ago

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chapter 7: the rebound a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

Once again, dear Reader, this humble Author finds herself vindicated. Country house parties, as ever, remain the fertile soil from which the most delicious scandals bloom. And today’s revelation is no exception.

Yes, indeed, you read it here first: the dashing and ever-elusive Lord Satoru Gojo will not be marrying Miss Itadori, this season’s most celebrated diamond. The murmurs have already begun spreading like wildfire, bringing sighs of relief from hopeful ladies and knowing smirks from their watchful chaperones. The eligible Duke-to-be’s sudden return to certified bachelorhood is, no doubt, a development many find most agreeable.

But what, pray, has caused this sudden turn of events? The dissolution of an arrangement so seemingly perfect? Alas, even this Author—a tireless seeker of truths—has found the particulars elusive. Was it a clash of personalities? A misstep at the ball? Or perhaps, a secret grievance unearthed during those long, candlelit evenings at the country estate?

What this Author can confirm is that the ballroom whispers point to Lord Gojo’s own doing, based upon the countenances and actions of the pair at the ball. Did the ever-charming lord tire of his diamond’s sparkle, or has he found a more alluring treasure elsewhere? The possibilities are endless, and so, it seems, is the intrigue surrounding the pair.

One thing remains certain: while Miss Itadori may have stumbled in this engagement, she remains a diamond among gems—brilliant, resilient, and admired. What paths now await her are anyone’s guess, but if this Author knows anything, it is that diamonds shine brightest under pressure.

As for Lord Gojo, the question lingers: will his rakish reputation survive this latest scandal unscathed? Or has he, at last, met a match too dazzling even for him to outshine? Rest assured, dear Reader, this Author will remain ever-vigilant, pen poised and ready to uncover the truth.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

You could have had a bit more tact when informing Sukuna of the events of the past few days, for the reaction you gained made you realize that you may have made a misstep.

��What?!” Sukuna roared, looking at the three of you with fury. Yuji jumped, while you and Choso grimaced. “He did what?!”

“Now, now, brother,” Choso stood up nervously to pat his younger brother on the shoulder. “It is all good and well, for I have arranged for a better match for our dear sister—”

“A duel!” Sukuna bellowed, standing up from his seat on the couch to stomp his way to the door. “I will challenge that Gojo fellow to a duel—” It was only until Yuji ran and tackled him to the ground that he was waylaid to God knows what he was going to do to Lord Gojo. You and Choso could only watch the scene, too perforce to the strength of bulls that your brothers had to be able to interrupt.

A few scratches and awfully purple looking bruises later, Sukuna and Yuji were seated on the couch once again, thanks to Choso’s plead for nonviolence. It was then that Choso started explaining what had occurred in the season so far. “Mother insisted,” he sighed, shaking his head. “She seemed to have struck a mutual…entente with the Duchess of Gojo. It was only a matter of time before Mother forced her ways. Now that it has not redound in her favor, I have even more rationale to have my…way with Sister’s matches. For God’s sake, Sukuna stop glaring at me Mother left me behind on the first ball—”

Sukuna did not stop glaring; in fact, he chose that moment to take a long slurp of his tea while staring fiercely at him while Choso shifted nervously. After a long bout of silence, he finally offered, “I understand Mother can be very pushy, and that you, Choso, are not fierce enough to withstand her.” Choso did not even protest, just offered a deadpan. “But I, however, will not be a feather to a simple blow of the wind that Mother is. It is time our dear sister lived up to her reputation, what she has prepared so hard for.” He looks upon you with a soft gaze—that is, a soft gaze for Sukuna. “No matter how tactless Gojo’s estrangement was, Sister will recover, so long as her morale has not lessened. Sukuna’s head turned sharply to you, “It has not weakened, right Sister? He has not left you heartbroken?”

You could hear your heart as you looked at your brother, dumbfounded. His perceptive gaze disarmed you, but you blurted out a “Of course not” and turned to hastily grab a pastry from the table next to the loveseat you were seated at.. When you looked back at your brother, you jumped as his gaze lingered on you then nonetheless turned to glare at your brother when Yuji opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to irritatedly remark on his denseness.

No matter, you think to yourself. Whatever you feel about Gojo is of no matter. The visit at the manor was only a delay and a small obstacle for your season. It was time to attend to the matter at hand: finding a husband.

The dewy grass kissed the hem of your nightgown as you wandered to the old swing set on the far edge of the manor grounds—a relic of your childhood, weathered but enduring. The creak of the chains was a sound that had long since embedded itself in your memory, a reminder of simpler days when duty had yet to tighten its grip.

You had not been able to sleep.

The house was still, the hush of midnight settling over its grand halls and sprawling grounds. Yet sleep evaded you, your thoughts as restless as the autumn breeze that stirred the curtains of your chamber. In the quiet, the weight of your obligations pressed heavily upon you, a familiar but unwelcome companion. Deciding that solitude under the stars might grant clarity where the confines of your room could not, you slipped on a shawl and had ventured outside.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing. He was seated on a swing with his big frame illustrating a comical sight on the small seat. His silhouette was faintly illuminated by the dim glow of his cigarillo, and the faint ember cast fleeting shadows across his sharp features, making his smirk all the more pronounced.

The unexpected sight of him startled you for a moment, though you quickly masked your surprise. You drew your shawl tighter around your shoulders, the chill of the night settling into your skin, and stepped closer. “And here I thought I was the only one who sought refuge in our old playground at such an hour,” you replied lightly, though your voice carried the faint weight of sleeplessness. “What brings you here?”

He took a long, deliberate drag from the cigarillo before discarding it into the damp grass, the embers hissing softly as they extinguished. Straightening, he gestured to the empty swing beside him. “Thinking,” he said simply. “And you? Or do I even need to ask?”

You hesitated for only a moment before lowering yourself onto the swing, your fingers grazing the cold chains as you pushed back slightly. The seat creaked beneath your weight, swaying gently with your movements. The motion stirred a familiar ache of nostalgia—a reminder of days when life felt less complicated. “What else could it be but the endless circus of expectations Mother has so kindly bestowed upon me?”

The bitterness in your tone was impossible to conceal, and Sukuna chuckled darkly. He reached up to push a hand through his disheveled hair, his movements purposeful, almost theatrical. “Ah, yes,” he said mockingly. “The marriage parade. The grand auctioning of one’s life for the sake of the family name. What a fine role you’ve been cast in, dear sister. I don’t envy you.”

You gave a dry laugh, your voice quiet yet tinged with resolve. “Unfortunately, dear brother,” you began, staring into the star-dappled sky, “it is my duty to be wed.”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brow furrowing. “It is not your duty, least of all when it robs you of your freedom.”

A protest began to form on his lips, but you held up a hand, your expression soft yet resolute. “Let me finish,” you said, your tone firm but affectionate. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “If I were to grow old into a spinster, there would be no one to take care of me. You and Yuji would inherit our lands and manors, and Choso is the viscount; there would be no space for me except with some of our aunts.”

At the mention of your aunts, both of you shuddered involuntarily. The thought of their overbearing presence, their sharp tongues and endless criticisms, was enough to unite even the most quarrelsome of siblings.

“You cannot take care of me forever,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the ground. The swing swayed faintly as you spoke, the motion as restless as your thoughts. “One day, you—or any of our brothers—might choose to start a family with someone you love. It would be intrusive of me to remain dependent on you all.”

Sukuna scoffed, his voice rising slightly with indignation. “You know better than anyone that I aim to travel the world. I cannot be chained to a family or a manor—not now, not ever.”

You turned to him, your eyes softening as you regarded his familiar fire, the same defiance that had always set him apart from the others. “Sukuna,” you said gently, your voice tinged with fondness, “you may do as you please, and I would never wish to impede you. But I cannot rely on you indefinitely. You deserve to live freely, to make your own choices without the burden of my future weighing on your conscience.”

Once again, silence enveloped you both, broken only by the faint creak of the swings and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, Sukuna eventually broke the quiet with a heavy sigh. “Then we must make sure to do well and find you a husband on your terms.”

You turned to him, brow arched in curiosity. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk, “that you must stop playing the part Mother has assigned you. Demure and meek may be what she wants, but it’s hardly the truth of you. Besides,” he added, leaning closer as if to share a conspiracy, “do you think the kind of husband you’d want would fall for such a facade?”

His words caught you off guard, and you frowned slightly. “Are you implying I’m to frighten potential suitors away?”

“Not frighten,” Sukuna corrected, his tone amused. “But consider this: if a man is drawn to meekness, might that not suggest he wishes to dominate or control? Would you truly wish to tether yourself to such a person? Or would you rather find someone who can appreciate your independence, who will meet you as an equal?”

His reasoning gave you pause. The image of a husband who might respect your will, who might value the sharpness of your mind and the strength of your character, was tempting—if not entirely what you needed. “And how, pray tell, do you suggest I go about finding such a man?”

Sukuna’s grin widened. “Start by being yourself, unapologetically. Let them see the wit, the fire, the resolve that I know so well. Let them see you, and if they can’t handle it, then they aren’t worth your time.”

You smiled faintly, your heart lighter from his words. After all, this scheming was due on your part; you were only grateful this shift occurred with Sukuna as your humble advisor. “It’s a daring plan, brother. Let us hope it does not lead to my complete social ruin.”

Sukuna laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “If it does, then you shall travel the world with me. Who needs societal approval when there’s an entire world to explore?”

For a moment, the weight of your burdens felt a little easier to bear. Under the vast, starlit sky, you allowed yourself to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a future where duty and happiness could coexist.

Despite the peace conversing with Sukuna had granted you, sleep evaded you still, leaving you to roll onto your side, the cool fabric of the pillow offering no solace. Your thoughts had been louder than ever these past weeks, and one name in particular echoed through your mind like a stubborn refrain: Gojo.

His face came unbidden, as vivid as if he were standing at the foot of your bed. That insufferable smirk, the casual way he tilted his head as if always in on some grand secret. He saw through you—that much was undeniable, no matter how much you abhorred it. It wasn’t just the way his piercing gaze seemed to cut through your defenses, stripping away the layers of pleasantries and propriety until you were left exposed. It was his words, too—sharp, direct, and unyielding. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t content to let you be the demure and dutiful daughter your mother had so painstakingly sculpted.

You turned onto your back, staring up at the shadowed canopy above, the weight of his judgment pressing against your chest. “He wouldn’t want to marry me either,” you thought bitterly, biting your lip to suppress a laugh that was more self-deprecating than amused. Why would he? I am only but a pathological people-pleaser—a woman who smiles and nods and folds herself into whatever shape is required of her. It was a role you had perfected, a mask you wore so often that you sometimes forgot it wasn’t your face. And yet, he saw through it.

That was the part that unsettled you most—not his arrogance, not his sharp tongue, but his ability to cut through your defenses as though they were paper. He saw you, in all your contradictions and uncertainties, and somehow, you suspected that he pitied you for them. Or worse, respected you less for it.

Your stomach twisted at the thought, and you turned onto your other side, burying your face into the pillow. No wonder I’m still unmarried. The thought came unbidden, sharp and cruel. What man would want a wife who couldn’t even decide who she wanted to be?

But that wasn’t fair—not entirely. You had a plan, didn’t you? A bold, liberating plan that would take you far from the shadow of your mother’s expectations. You could already picture her face when you told her—calm, composed, and quietly furious, as though your refusal to obey were a personal affront. The thought brought the faintest flicker of satisfaction, but it was fleeting.

The plan wasn’t perfect, nor was it foolproof. It hinged on one pivotal point: finding a husband who could be an equal partner rather than a master. A man who could grant you the freedom to forge your own path in peace, without the constant weight of disapproval bearing down on you.

Your thoughts wandered to Duke Nanami. Equal in power to Gojo, fair-minded, and kind—a man with no appetite for games or artifice. If you manage to secure a match with him, the ton would not view your…blunder with Gojo with such amusement. Insofar your interactions this season, he had always treated you with quiet respect, never pressing you into conversations you didn’t wish to have or cornering you with expectations. He would be a good man to marry, you thought. A safe choice.

And yet, even as you considered him, Gojo’s face intruded once more, unwelcome and unavoidable. Duke Nanami was everything Gojo wasn’t—measured, steady, predictable. But it was Gojo who set your mind alight, who made you question things you had long accepted as unchangeable truths. He irritated you, challenged you, unnerved you in a way no one else did.

You sighed, turning again, the sheets tangling around your legs like restraints. The very fact that Gojo occupied your thoughts at all was infuriating. He had no place there, no right to linger in the quiet moments when you were supposed to find peace. And yet, here he was, as persistent in your mind as he was in person.

The plan. You needed to focus on the plan. Liberating yourself from your mother’s expectations wasn’t about Gojo or Duke Nanami or anyone else. It was about reclaiming yourself, about becoming a woman who didn’t need to twist herself into shapes for anyone—not your mother, not a potential husband, and certainly not Gojo.

And it would start at your wardrobe.

You give the most polite smile you can muster, but you do not need the mirror in front of you to know that your countenance is strained, the edges of your smile not reaching your eyes. “Lower it even further.”

A beat passes in the room as the modiste, your mother, and Sukuna stare at you in incredulity. The bustline to your dress is low. Of course, it is not yet teetering on the edge of what is socially acceptable, and that is the position you want it to be. Hence, you gesture to Sukuna, prompting him to regain his senses and snap his head towards Momo. “Please attend to my sister’s request.”

You could smell what you mother was about to say, even if she had not yet done so. “My dear,” she began, “I hardly think that’s appro–” Sukuna’s glares reorients itself now to focus on your mother, and she purses her lips with what appears to be arduous effort, knowing a quarrel with Sukuna would escalate quite quickly, both immediate and unwise.

Madame Momo, for the better, offers no protest as she lowers the deep, wine red fabric she was upholding against your body. If you were not wearing your regular clothes, you would know that quite a bit of the swell of your breasts would be framed by the dress. However, it wasn’t enough. “A bit lower.”

The modiste lets out a small sigh, her needle poised mid-air as she hesitates. “My lady, to lower it further would risk—” she pauses delicately, “—compromising the structural integrity of the gown.”

“I appreciate your insight, Madame, and know that you are quite skilled at your craft,” you flash her a semi-apologetic smile. After all, she is the one that has to attend to your…rebranding crisis and revamp a majority of your wardrobe. “However, I am afraid that I’d like to do something new this season. Something eye-catching.”

A faint chuckle escapes her lips, no doubt spurred on by the flattery. With a practiced hand, she adjusts the fabric once more, lowering it to the precise balance of scandalous and sophisticated. She steps back, her critical eye assessing her own handiwork. “Well, it will definitely be eye-catching.”

“Precisely.” You nod in approval, smoothing the line of the fabric with your fingers. “I believe Lady Whistledown,” you add, your voice tinged with knowing confidence, “will ensure that the modiste responsible for the diamond’s striking attire becomes the talk of the season.”

Momo’s lips twitch into a smile, and she dips her head in acknowledgment, already returning to her work with renewed purpose. Sukuna, standing to the side, folds his arms and smirks at the scene, clearly entertained by your audacity.

Your mother, meanwhile, remains silent, though her pursed lips betray her disapproval. Let her simmer, you think, satisfaction curling in your chest. This season is yours to command, and you will not be overlooked.

I cannot do this. I cannot I cannot I cannot I cann—

“Sister!” Sukuna called out. You regained your senses, snapping your head at once to look at him, who was holding out his hand. Swallowing, you grabbed it so he could assist you out of the carriage. What had you in a tizzy was the sheer amount of people. Yet again, you were attending your first party after the events in the countryside but this time without your mother and Yuuji. Not only had the people you were accompanied with changed, but also different attire. A red silk dress fell over your curves gracefully, the draping across your chest a bit lower than usual. It is the dress of your dreams—one that you would have worn if not for your mother and her beliefs regarding your image. Now, your clothing was still socially acceptable but nevertheless daring—exactly the image you wanted to present.

However, it was safe to say that after the events of the house party, venturing out in another—with so much of your chest exposed—had you nervous. Oh God, perhaps this wasn’t the brightest of my ideas— (a/n she’s just a girl :( )

“Presenting Miss Itadori, Mister Itadori, and the Right Honorable The Viscount Itadori!” As you were announced to the room, with your brothers linking arms on either side of you, you smiled—trying not to let the nerves show. At the sound of your name, the buzz of conversation faltered, dozens of heads turning toward you. You felt the weight of their gazes—sharp, judgmental, curious. You were certain half of them were eager to witness the fallout of Whistledown’s latest scandal, while the other half seemed transfixed by the boldness of your attire.

Your eyes flitted over the sea of faces as you moved through the room. There were gasps, poorly veiled whispers, and even a few widened eyes aimed at Sukuna, but what truly set your nerves alight was the attention fixed squarely on you. You resisted the urge to fidget, to adjust the neckline of your gown, to shrink under their scrutiny.

Then, amid the crowd, your gaze locked onto a familiar figure with a piercing stare—Suguru Geto.

He was lounging by the far wall, a glass of wine in hand, his dark eyes gleaming with mirth. An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shook his head, clearly entertained. Your heart stuttered, the heat rushing to your cheeks making your nerves spike further. Am I being mocked?

Before the thought could consume you, he raised his glass in a mock salute, a gesture of acknowledgment—perhaps even respect. He then nudged the man standing next to him, none other than Duke Nanami.

Your pulse quickened at the sight of the Duke, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to Geto’s casual amusement. The weight of Nanami’s steady, discerning gaze was one you weren’t prepared to meet—not tonight. In the periphery, you caught Geto slipping toward the courtyard, his laughter soft but audible as he disappeared into the night.

You tore your gaze away just in time, focusing straight ahead as you approached the Queen. Your shoulders stiffened, the intricate beading of your gown catching in the light. The murmurs grew fainter, the towering figure of Her Majesty now looming just ahead. With each step, your pulse thundered louder in your ears, but you kept your chin high, determined not to falter.

When you and your brothers reached the foot of the throne, you slipped your arms free from theirs and sank into the deepest curtsy you could manage. "Your Majesty," you murmured, lowering your head to avoid the weight of her gaze. The richness of the room—gold-trimmed drapes, towering portraits, and the hum of whispered conversations—did little to steady your nerves.

"Rise," the Queen commanded, her tone clipped and dismissive, the single word laced with impatience. You obeyed, your movements deliberate and slow, feeling the weight of every eye in the chamber on your shoulders. When you met her gaze, she was already appraising you, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe. Her scrutiny was clinical, and when she sighed audibly, it was clear her judgment was far from favorable.

“I have not been…pleased by the recent affairs, diamond,” the Queen began, her voice cold and detached, like a blade gliding through silk. A sniff punctuated her words, and the lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. “I fear this is a failure to the crown.”

The room seemed to tilt, your heartbeat quickening in your chest. The Queen’s disappointment carried a weight that could crush reputations, and yours was teetering precariously on the edge of her approval.

“However,” her tone shifted ever so slightly, and you found yourself snapping to attention, clinging to that single word like a lifeline. “Your recent change in…style is fitting.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard her correctly. The Queen’s gaze lingered on the daring neckline of your gown, the rich red fabric catching the light in just the right way to emphasize its boldness. “You are not a simple and bland gem, Miss Itadori.” Her words were deliberate, measured, and the faintest hint of approval gleamed in her sharp eyes. “You are a diamond, and you must start to shine like it.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. The Queen’s words were praise, yes, but they also carried an implicit warning: a diamond that failed to sparkle was of no use to anyone, least of all the crown.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you said, your voice steady but quiet, and you curtsied again, the fabric of your gown whispering against the marble floor. The Queen’s gaze swept over you once more before she turned her attention elsewhere, her dismissal unspoken but clear. As you rose again, Choso placed a reassuring hand on your elbow, a subtle anchor in the sea of your swirling thoughts.

A light, “You all are dismissed.”

The cool night air wrapped around Suguru Geto as he strolled into the courtyard, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The faint strains of the ballroom's orchestra followed him, muffled now by the grand walls of the manor. A slow, self-satisfied smile crept across his lips as he glanced up at the stars. The night felt ripe with possibility, though it was the scene he had just left that truly amused him.

He exhaled, letting the crisp air settle over him, before taking another measured step toward the fountain at the courtyard’s center. His fingers grazed the cool stone edge, the chill a welcome change from the warmth of the crowded ballroom. He savored the silence, only for it to be broken by the familiar sound of approaching footsteps.

“Geto,” a voice called out, casual but clipped.

Suguru turned slowly, almost lazily, as though he hadn’t already recognized the speaker. Gojo Satoru emerged from the shadows of the colonnade, his silver hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. He moved with his usual languid ease, though his sharp blue gaze belied his carefree demeanor.

“Well, well,” Suguru greeted, his tone light but edged with something sharp. “You’re out here. Don’t tell me you’ve finally tired of the fawning crowds?”

Gojo came to a stop a few paces away, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the marble columns. “Needed some air. The room’s packed with too many people pretending to like each other.” His gaze flicked to Suguru, scrutinizing. “And you? Slipping out to avoid trouble, or cause it?”

Suguru chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh, you wound me, Satoru. Can’t a man enjoy a moment of peace without being accused of scheming?”

“You?” Gojo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not a chance. So, what’s your angle this time?”

Suguru let the question hang, savoring the quiet tension between them. He set his glass down on the fountain’s edge, turning to fully face Gojo. His smirk widened as he finally spoke. “No angle. Just admiring the company tonight. Speaking of which…” He paused for dramatic effect, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “Miss Itadori made quite the entrance.”

Gojo’s expression didn’t change immediately, but Suguru saw the faint flicker of something—irritation, maybe, or something more carefully hidden. Gojo’s mouth twitched into a scoff, though the sound was faint, almost perfunctory.

“What about her?” Gojo asked, his tone deliberately disinterested, but Suguru noted how his fingers flexed briefly before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Suguru hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the sky as if considering his next words carefully. “She looked… radiant tonight. Stunning, really. I can’t imagine half the room wasn’t staring. Though, I must say, some seemed more surprised than others.” His eyes darted back to Gojo, watching for a reaction.

Gojo rolled his eyes, though there was a tightness in his jaw that Suguru didn’t miss. “She’s just another debutante. Why would I care what she’s wearing?”

“Why indeed?” Suguru replied, his voice deceptively mild. He stepped closer, leaning against the fountain with an easy grace. “But it does make one wonder—what kind of man would care? Surely someone with a sharp eye for detail. Someone with… let’s say, a bustful interest.”

Gojo stiffened slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Suguru tilted his head, studying Gojo with an intensity that bordered on playful. “Because I could swear you seemed a little distracted back there. And not by the Queen, mind you. Why did you leave as soon as the Itadoris were announced?”

“Drop it, Geto.” Gojo’s voice was sharper now, but there was an edge of unease beneath the command.

Suguru’s smirk deepened as he tried to fight the urge to snicker at his friend, but he let the moment linger, letting Gojo stew in his discomfort. He picked up his wine glass again, swirling the liquid idly before taking another slow sip. Finally, he straightened, his tone turning lighter, though no less pointed.

“Well, whatever it is—or isn’t—you’d better sort it out soon.” He started to walk past Gojo, his footsteps deliberately slow. Just as he passed, he paused, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in danger of losing your famously cool head.”

Gojo didn’t respond immediately, but Suguru didn’t need him to. The slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw—those were all the confirmation he needed for his plan.

Suguru chuckled softly, a sound more amused than mocking, and continued on his way, his voice drifting back over his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of the night, Satoru. Something tells me it’s going to be… illuminating.”

Left alone, Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he glared at the retreating figure. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked fervor. Still, Suguru’s words lingered, circling his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He turned his gaze back toward the ballroom, his thoughts uncomfortably crowded with images of a certain young lady and the maddening smirk of a man who always seemed to know too much.

It appears that you and Duke Nanami have much in common, for you are able to hold a most pleasant conversation with him.

The din of the ballroom fades to a dull murmur as you stand near the refreshment table, your gaze politely fixed on the Duke. His presence is commanding yet unassuming—a rare quality that draws you in. Dressed in a deep navy coat that matches the intensity of his solemn eyes, he inclines his head slightly as he speaks, the weight of his words tempered by the gentleness in his tone.

The arrangement is perfect. You have successfully caught your target, much to the chagrin of ladies. After all, it was not all days that Duke Nanami took interest in a lady. You would have to credit Choso; he had researched that HIs Grace did not like overbearing mamas accompanying their girls—a most rational opinion. Posing fiery opinions without the presence of anyone except yourself, it seemed that you had hit the mark.

“I find, Miss Itadori,” he says, his voice smooth yet deliberate, “that many in our circles underestimate the joy of simple pursuits. They mistake extravagance for fulfillment.” He takes a measured sip from his glass, his gloved fingers resting lightly on its stem.

You nod, a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I could not agree more, Your Grace. There is a certain comfort in the unadorned pleasures of life. A good book, a quiet morning—these seem to me the most worthwhile indulgences.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in what might pass as a rare smile. “Indeed. Though I daresay, quiet mornings are hard to come by when the season is in full swing.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost swallowed by the music that swells across the room. “Quite so. I suppose we are all too busy chasing the next waltz or whispering about the latest Whistledown missive.”

At the mention of Whistledown, the Duke raises a brow, his expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “Ah, yes. Our ever-watchful chronicler. One wonders if she, too, finds time for quiet mornings.”

“I imagine she must,” you reply. “After all, how else would she craft such keen observations? A mind as sharp as hers surely requires moments of reflection.”

“Reflection, yes,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting briefly to the chandelier above, as if lost in thought. Then, returning his attention to you, he asks, “And what of you, Miss Itadori? Amidst the bustle, do you find moments to reflect?”

The question catches you off guard—not because it is intrusive, but because it is sincere. Few have ever asked you such things. You hesitate, then answer truthfully. “I try, Your Grace. Though I must admit, the season has left little room for it. It seems my every step is watched, my every word weighed. I sometimes wonder if I have forgotten how to simply be.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, you feel as though he truly sees you—not as the diamond of the season, not as the subject of idle gossip, but as a person. “That is a heavy burden to bear,” he says quietly. “Perhaps it is time you allowed yourself a reprieve. Even diamonds require care, lest they lose their brilliance.”

The words settle over you like a balm, and you find yourself holding his gaze longer than propriety might dictate. There is no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. It is both comforting and disarming. Before you can respond, a burst of laughter from a nearby group breaks the spell. You glance away, suddenly aware of your surroundings once more. “You are kind to say so, Your Grace,” you murmur, your voice steadier than you feel.

“I merely speak the truth, Miss Itadori,” he replies, bowing his head slightly.

A pause lingers between you, not uncomfortable but weighty with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he clears his throat, his tone lighter as he says, “Would you care to take a turn about the room? I find the air here grows rather stifling.”

You smile, grateful for the excuse to move. “I would like that very much.”

As he offers his arm, you place your hand lightly upon it, allowing him to guide you into the throng. The music swells once more, and though the room is as noisy and crowded as ever, the world feels a little quieter with Duke Nanami by your side. You can see it—early mornings with Nanami, enjoying gentle banter as he returned your thoughts without any ire, without snark or judgment. Quiet respect and gentle affection filling your days. A life free of chaos, where your worries dissipate into the steady calm of his demeanor. Perhaps this could be happiness. A steady, uncomplicated happiness.

But then you see him.

You abhor your traitorous heart for lurching ever so slightly at the sight of Gojo. He is standing near the edge of the ballroom, the golden light catching on his shock of silver hair as though it had been crafted to draw attention. His smile—always so bright, so effortless—makes the lady beside him laugh. She looks at him with a sultry, yet detached and amused expression, her fan flicking lazily as if to dismiss her own growing interest.

Your chest tightens. You know this scene well. It is one you have observed too many times, and yet you have never been able to steel yourself against the sting it brings. The way he leans ever so slightly toward the lady, as though she were the only person in the room. The way his laughter echoes, a sound full of mirth and mischief, as if he had no weight upon his shoulders.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You tell yourself he doesn’t matter.

But then, as though he feels the weight of your gaze, Gojo turns his head. Your pulse quickens as his eyes widen, the usual lazy charm momentarily replaced by something sharper, something you can’t quite place.

First, his gaze lands on your face, his eyes sweeping over it with a quickness that feels like a jolt to your chest. Then, they drop lower, and you feel the heat of his scrutiny settle uncomfortably on your chest. A flicker of something crosses his expression—shock, perhaps, or something else entirely—but before you can decipher it, his gaze moves again, lower still, to where your hand rests upon the Duke’s arm.

It is subtle, the way his jaw tightens. The way his smile falters, only to return a moment later, forced and brittle. He shifts his weight, turning back toward the lady at his side, but not before you catch the way his fingers twitch at his side.

You force yourself to look away, to focus instead on Duke Nanami’s steady presence beside you. He has not noticed the exchange—or if he has, he is far too polite to show it.

And yet, the moment lingers. Gojo’s image burns in your mind like the fading glow of a candle, stubbornly refusing to extinguish. You loathe the way your heart betrays you, its treacherous rhythm quickened not by the Duke’s calm assurance, but by the mere sight of a man who has always been more trouble than he’s worth.

Nanami’s voice cuts through your tumultuous thoughts, soft and grounding. “You seem distracted, Miss Itadori,” he remarks, his gaze kind but curious.

You manage a small smile, tightening your grip on his arm as though it might anchor you. “Not at all, Your Grace. Perhaps just…overwhelmed by the crowd.”

He nods, accepting your answer without pressing further. “Understandable. These gatherings can be rather tiresome.”

“Yes,” you murmur, casting one last glance in Gojo’s direction before forcing your focus back to the Duke. “Tiresome indeed.”

But even as you walk beside Nanami, his presence a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the evening, you cannot help but feel the weight of Gojo’s lingering gaze, the memory of his startled expression etched into your thoughts like a brand. You cannot help but observe the situation. Tonight, you would be ending the night on Duke Nanami’s arm, and Gojo with another woman.

Is this not what you both wanted?

Today, it seems that the usual trio at White’s is only a duo. The blonde and raven head swirl their alcohol in their shimmering glasses while sharing a comfortable silence. That is, until one interrupts.

“How do we know we’re not simply toying with her?” The blonde man’s voice is steady but tinged with unease, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glances toward his companion. “It would not be honorable of me to pursue Miss Itadori under the pretense of riling Gojo, as you seem intent on doing—”

“Kento!” The raven-haired man—Lord Geto—throws his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unapologetically amused. He leans forward slightly, propping his elbow on the armrest, as his grin widens. “So confident in your lady-pleasing and romancing abilities, aren’t you?” Nanami’s frown deepens, but Geto merely waves him off, his laughter subsiding to a mischievous chuckle. “No, no—don’t worry. You misunderstand me. This isn’t about Miss Itadori falling for you, though,” he smirks, “I’m sure you’d manage well enough.” His tone is teasing, but his words lack any true malice.

“Then what is it about?” Nanami’s voice carries a note of exasperation, though he remains as composed as ever, swirling his drink in quiet contemplation.

Geto straightens, a glint of something sharper flashing in his dark eyes. “It’s about them. They’re idiots, Kento—idiots in love, the both of them. And it is our duty, as Satoru’s friends,” he pauses, meeting Nanami’s gaze with deliberate emphasis, “to help him realize what he truly desires.”

Nanami snorts, setting his glass down with a muted clink. “You just want to toy with them, to orchestrate the ton and its leading source of gossip.”

The corner of Geto’s mouth quirks upward in a sly smile, one that practically oozes self-satisfaction. “That, my dear friend,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I cannot deny.”

They lapse into silence once more, the kind that only years of friendship can create, as the firelight flickers and dances on the walls around them. Nanami tips his glass back, savoring the warmth of the whiskey as he contemplates Geto’s words—and the inevitable chaos that would follow in their wake.

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n HEYYY POOKIES IT'S HERE IT'S HERE WHAT DID WE THINK. also here is the bridgerton!gojo playlist if anyone is interested!!! i apologize it is 99% taylor swift but i will be adding more diverse songs

despite the miss itadori hate in recent times our girl is BOUNCING BACKK #mogged i cant wait for her to become even more of a diva in the next few chapterssss!!!! (not rn shes going through her sad girl era or wtvr)

suguru (left) and nanami (right) at this whole drama

also i hope none of you WHORESSSS simped for geto when we made eye contact with him (im looking at zaynesbathrobe anon and all those anons that are obsessed with bridgerton!geto). stay FOCUSED girls gays and theys

thank you for readinggggg. a hot new bombshell will be entering the villa in the next few chapters can we guess who he is??? hint he has huge tits and smelly balls

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

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whimsiwitchy · 6 months ago

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Controversially Young Girlfriend

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men.

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more.

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million.

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything.

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it.

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends.

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here.

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two.

“You’re right.”

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier.

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…”

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen.

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy.

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes.

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.”

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you.

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly.

“Hm..Well I give it a week.”

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences.

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off.

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up.

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had.

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you.

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures.

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face.

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly.

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman.

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.”

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces.

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling.

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out.

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone.

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up.

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off.

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug.

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up.

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt.

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out.

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy.

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;)

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back.

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest.

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman x female reader #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman oneshot #hugh jackman x popstar!reader #popstar!reader #f!reader #afab reader

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a9saga · 2 years ago

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been listening to a lot of luna sea’s LA live album from 2011 lately because a lot of the studio versions of their big hits like rosier, slave, storm etc aren’t available on streaming platforms but the live album is and it’s got me thinking, man. i would probably kill to see luna sea actually.

#luna sea in boston when #i feel like that one could actually happen tho #someone needs to tell me when tho bc this news doesnt come to me until i find out about it months later #from misc nostalgic googling of particular j rock bands which happens kinda cyclically #i got lucky getting into scandal in 2021 bc i got to see mirror the next year and they were awesome live #years ago i knew of an australian blogger who would make trips to korea to see exo #in a way which was kind of questionable and was often bragged about in their tags about missing 'their family'#(they're not from korea they meant they were missing exo)#but actually if i ever make a trip to japan i would love to see a band there that would probably not come over here #no one in particular but ykno not every j rock band is scandal not everyone's actually gonna make money playing here #if luna sea tour over here again in the next couple years or so i hope they come to boston it would be awesome #dont make me travel to you luna sea but you do sound really good live... >:(#also does anyone know if the film of 'luna sea 3d in los angeles' is available to stream anywhere? even on youtube #i'm reading that that is a thing i would be down to watch it #damn luna sea's such a good band #luna sea #visual kei #j rock #shut up kaily

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chanafehs · 5 months ago

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The implications of the Inquisitor romancing Cullen is actually really funny if you think about it.

Like here is Orlais vying for gossip and scandal and lo and behold - a Fereldan man of no title or renown is apparently romantically involved with the Inquisitor and is the literal Commander of their army. That looks atrocious from the outside. What is he, some kind of upstart? I can only imagine the Orlesian court envisioning Cullen as this suave Casanova who is sleeping his way to the top and manipulating some of the most powerful people in Thedas to get where he is and when they meet him he’s literally just some guy.

“He’s using the Inquisitor to gain rank” and it’s a man that runs away from women and can’t flirt to save his life. Yeah that’s the master game player guys

#Cullen ‘needs a woman over him’ Rutherford #Cullen Rutherford #dragon age #I need a tag for thoughts I have while tatreezing. saif’s tatreez thoughts (THEYRE all about Cullen)#cullen x inquisitor

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sailortongue · 8 months ago

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Good Luck Charms

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: Kenji has misplaced his earrings and refuses to leave without a pair. so you loan him a pair of yours

an: I wrote two blurbs involving his piercings bc I couldn't decide which one I liked more. one where he wears yours (this one) and one where you wear his (here!)

-------

“Hey, baby, have you seen my earrings? I can’t find them,” Kenji called out from the bedroom.

“Have you checked your nightstand?” You asked as you walked into the bedroom to see him looking around frantically for his lost jewelry.

“Twice. I’ve looked all over but I can't remember where I put them. Only that when I put them down I told myself I'd definitely be able to find them there.”

You chuckled, knowing the feeling all too well. “Why don’t you just go without them? I doubt anyone will be looking that closely”

He looked scandalized at the mere suggestion. “I can’t go without them because I’m hotter with my earrings.”

“Kenji, you'd still be hot in a burlap sack. And who exactly do you need to look hot for, hmm?”

He smiled slyly “For you obviously. Can’t let people think my girlfriend has bad taste.” He shot a conspiratorial wink at you.

“Would you like to borrow a pair of mine?” You offered.

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. You walked over to your jewelry box and he sidled up next to you, browsing through your collection. He picked up a pair of chunky hoops—a far cry from his usual studs—and held them up to his ears. “These are definitely the ones,” he joked, mirthful laughter bubbling from his plump lips.

“Oh, for sure,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words but your giggles from his antics still seeping through.

He set them back down and watched as you dug for a more suitable pair. “What about these?” He asked, pointing to a much more modest pair this time. They were a favorite of yours, ones you wore often. “It'll be like having you there with me,” he said, a soft smile settling on his face.

You melted at his sappy words. How could you possibly tell him no? You gave him permission to wear them, and he excitedly ran to the bathroom to put them in. When he came back out, the small jade studs were secured in his earlobes, the wide grin on his face displaying how pleased he was with his choice.

He walked up to you and leaned down for a kiss. “Thank you,” he said sweetly.

“Consider them good luck charms,” you said. “Now get going before you’re late.”

He swooped in for one more kiss before rushing out of the bedroom to make it to his interview on time.

-❀-

“So, Ken, a lot of your fans, especially the women, seem to be very fond of your jewelry, but they can’t help but notice you don’t wear a ring. Is there any special lady in your life? I'm sure they’d love to know,” the interviewer teased.

Kenji chuckled, knowing that you were without a doubt watching this interview live from the comfort of the living room. “There is,” he replied. He brought his hands up to finger at the delicate jewelry in his ears. “These belong to her actually. She has wonderful taste. I mean, she must if she’s dating me, right?”

-❀-

You heard the crowd laugh at his response, a grin of your own spreading across your face. The show went on a commercial break shortly after, and you decided to get ready for bed while waiting for Kenji’s gorgeous face to once again grace your screen. You entered the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, opening the medicine cabinet to grab your dental floss—but something else caught your eye. Lo and behold, there, on the bottom shelf, were Kenji’s missing earrings.

#kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman rising

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hulkowaaa · 2 years ago

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Judit Bárdos jako Anna Moravcová v českém filmu Fair Play (2014), rež. Andrea Sedláčková/Judit Bárdos as Anna Moravcová in the czech movie Fair Play (2014), dir. by Andrea Sedláčková

#judit bárdos #anna geislerová #roman luknár #fair play #film #czech republic #sport #athlete #80s #summer olympic games #los angeles 1984 #czechoslovakia #communism #doping #scandal #eastern block #emigration

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makingqueerhistory · 14 days ago

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Stonewall Book Awards Nonfiction Winners 2025-1971

Some years had multiple nonfiction winners. How many have you read?

Sex With a Brain Injury: On Concussion and Recovery by Annie Liontas (Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster LLC)

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H (The Dial Press)

The Women’s House of Detention: A Queer History of a Forgotten Prison by Hugh Ryan (Bold Type Books)

Faltas: Letters to Everyone in My Hometown Who Isn’t My Rapist by Cecilia Gentili (Little Puss Press)

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi (Riverhead Books)

Queer Games Avant-Garde: How LGBTQ Game Makers are Reimagining the Medium of Video Games by Bonnie Ruberg (they/them) (Duke University Press)

How We Fight for Our Lives: A Memoir by Saeed Jones (Simon & Schuster)

Go the Way Your Blood Beats by Michael Amherst (London: Repeater Press)

Queer Threads: Crafting Identity and Community by John Chaich and Todd Oldham (Los Angeles: Ammo Books)

How to Survive a Plague: The inside story of how citizens and science tamed AIDS, by David France (New York: Alfred A. Knopf)

Speak Now: Marriage Equality on Trial, by Kenji Yoshino (New York: Crown Publishers)

Living Out Islam: Voices of Gay, Lesbian, and Transgender Muslims, by Scott Siraj al-Haqq Kugle (New York: New York University Press)

American Honor Killings: Desire and Rage Among Men, by David McConnell (New York : Akashic Books)

Raising My Rainbow: Adventures in Raising a Fabulous, Gender Creative Son, by Lori Duron (New York: Broadway Books, an imprint of Crown Publishing, a division of Random House, Inc.)

For Colored Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Still Not Enough: Coming of Age, Coming Out, and Coming Home, edited by Keith Boykin (New York : Magnus Books)

Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture, by Jonathan D. Katz and David C. Ward (Washington, D.C. : Smithsonian Books)

A Queer History of the United States (Revisioning American History), by Michael Bronski (Boston, Mass. : Beacon Press)

Inseparable: Desire between Women in Literature by Emma Donoghue, (Knopf)

Unfriendly Fire: How the Gay Ban Undermines the Military and Weakens America by Nathaniel Frank, (St. Martin's Press)

Dishonorable Passions: Sodomy Laws in America, 1861-2003 by William N. Eskridge, Jr., (Viking)

Dog Years: A Memoir by Mark Doty, (HarperCollins)

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel, (Houghton Mifflin)

The fabulous Sylvester: the legend, the music, the seventies in San Francisco by Joshua Gamson, (H. Holt)

Evolution's Rainbow: Diversity, Gender, and Sexuality in Nature and in People by Joan Roughgarden, (University of California Press)

Lost Prophet: The Life and Times of Bayard Rustin by John D'Emilio, (Free Press)

How Sex Changed: a History of Transsexuality in the United States by Joanne Meyerowitz, ( Harvard University Press)

The Scarlet Professor: Newton Arvin, a Literary Life Shattered by Scandal by Barry Werth, (Nan A. Talese)

Gaylaw: Challenging the Apartheid of the Closet by William N. Eskridge, (Harvard University Press)

My Lesbian Husband: Landscape of a Marriage by Barrie Jean Borich, (Greywolf Press)

Stagestruck: Theater, AIDS, and the Marketing of Gay America by Sarah Schulman, (Duke University Press)

The Shared Heart: Portraits and Stories Celebrating Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Young People by Adam Mastoon, (William Morrow and Co./Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Books)

Geography of the Heart: A Memoir by Fenton Johnson, (Scribner)

Virtual Equality: The Mainstreaming of Gay and Lesbian Liberation by Urvashi Vaid, (Anchor Books)

Skin: Talking About Sex, Class & Literature Dorothy Allison, (Firebrand Books)

Uncommon Heroes: A Celebration of Heroes and Role Models for Gay and Lesbian Americans by Phillip Sherman and Samuel Bernstein, (Fletcher Press)

Family Values: Two Moms and Their Son by Phyllis Burke, (Random House)

Making History: The Struggle for Gay and Lesbian Equal Rights, 1945-1990 by Eric Marcus, (HarperCollins)

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth Century America by Lillian Faderman, (Columbia University Press)

Encyclopedia of Homosexuality edited by Wayne Dynes, (Garland)

In Search of Gay America: Women and Men in a Time of Change by Neil Miller, (Atlantic Monthly Press)

A Restricted Country by Joan Nestle, (Firebrand Books)

And the Band Played On: Politics, People, and the AIDS Epidemic by Randy Shilts, (St. Martin's Press)

The Spirit and the Flesh: Sexual Diversity in American Indian Culture by Walter Williams, (Beacon Press)

Sex and Germs: The Politics of AIDS by Cindy Patton, (South End Press)

Another Mother Tongue: Gay Words, Gay Worlds by Judy Grahn, (Beacon Press)

Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940-1970 by John D'Emilio, (University of Chicago Press)

Surpassing the Love of Men: Romantic Friendship and Love Between Women from the Renaissance to the Present by Lillian Faderman, (Morrow)

Black Lesbians: An Annotated Bibliography by J.R. Roberts, (Naiad Press)

The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies by Vito Russo, (Harper & Row)

The Cancer Journals by Audre Lorde, (Spinsters, Ink)

Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality: Gay People in Western Europe from the Beginning of the Christian Era to the Fourteenth Century by John Boswell, (University of Chicago Press)

Now That You Know: What Every Parent Should Know About Homosexuality by Betty Fairchild and Nancy Hayward, (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich)

Our Right to Love: A Lesbian Resource Book edited by Ginny Vida, (Prentice-Hall)

Familiar Faces, Hidden Lives: The Story of Homosexual Men in America Today by Howard Brown, (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich)

Homosexuality: Lesbians and Gay Men in Society, History, and Literature edited by Jonathan Katz, (Arno Press) [Series of historically significant reprints]

Sex Variant Women in Literature: A Historical and Quantitative Survey by Jeannette Foster, (Vantage Press)

The Gay Mystique: The Myth and Reality of Male Homosexuality by Peter Fisher, (Stein & Day)

Lesbian/Woman by Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon (Glide Publications)

A Place for Us by Isabel Miller, (published in October, 1971 by McGraw Hill as Patience and Sarah )

#queer history #queer #lgbt #lgbt history #gay history #lesbian history #transgender history #transgender #making queer history #queer books #lgbt books #nonfiction books #nonfiction reader #nonfiction reading

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deadliestpieceontheboard · 11 months ago

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jeremy is hiding a dead brother, rich controlling parents, family feuds, an exy scandal and something involving cops and his freshman fall banquet. but he rather spend his page time talking about a cardboard dog and how much he loves los angeles architecture.

#shaking a metal gate #let me iiiiin #jeremy tell me the truth jeremy #tsc #the sunshine court #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court spoilers #aftg #jeremy knox

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hrtwayne · 22 days ago

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Hasta Los Dientes || Alexia Putellas [Part Two]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

It was barely seven in the morning when Y/n Lancaster sat up in bed, her eyes still heavy and her cheek slightly marked by the pillow. She stretched for a few seconds before finally getting up and starting her old work routine. Y/n felt her mind wandering through the negative possibilities about her return to football, about how fans and the media might not like her performance on the field.

Y/n knew it was her anxiety speaking louder, and that she should go back to consulting with the team psychologist. She sighed audibly as she packed some extra clothes in her bag, along with an extra pair of socks and shin guards. Six months away had been a true chaos of disorganization and stress. Y/n zipped up her bag before finally heading to the bathroom to relax with a hot shower.

Little by little, her routine was returning to normal. It had been just over three days since Y/n had been reintroduced to training with the rest of her teammates. She was relieved at the prospect of at least playing the second half of the game in the middle of the month, and that could be the first moment to find out if it was worth moving to a completely different country than the one she was used to.

Y/n took a generous sip of juice, savoring the moment as if it were her last breakfast in London. The defender bit into a piece of freshly baked bread and sighed contentedly at the familiar taste. She needed a few minutes of calm before hearing the slightly scandalous voices of the players and the strange atmosphere between Leah and her.

The defender entered the training center wearing Prada sunglasses and her faithful Adidas tracksuit in the team's colors. Y/n smiled in the direction of the team's media staff—it was no secret that Y/n was a real favorite among the fans, especially the younger ones who followed her on social media.

As she entered the space reserved for storing her belongings, Y/n's expression closed when she saw the team captain with a fixed and completely indifferent look in her direction. Leah and Y/n had had a relatively turbulent history—it couldn't be considered a relationship, but it also couldn't be treated as a casual fling. The breakup had been complicated, which seemed to shake the chemistry on and off the field between the players. Y/n definitely wasn't the jealous or combative type, but the last two months of that strange relationship had made her discover a frightening side of herself.

The breakup had been the right decision to make. Y/n didn't feel happy or satisfied with the direction of that strange relationship. She was a grown woman, well-resolved and with a successful career. She wasn't willing to be someone's pastime or indecision—she wanted something serious, with a guaranteed future or at least an attempt at one.

"Good morning, Lancaster. They called you to the meeting room," one of the girls from the management team said, making the midfielder frown for a few seconds.

Y/n followed the dark-haired girl to a room reserved for meetings about renewals or possible transfers.

"Y/n, we were waiting for you," one of the club's directors said, shaking the player's hand. "As you know, your contract was set to expire at the end of 2024 with a renewal clause if you met certain goals. Those were met, but with your injury, it was relatively hard to believe your knee would fully recover."

Y/n sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.

"We've received seven offers from some European teams and two Brazilian teams that wanted to sign you," he began, placing a stack of papers on the table. "Your agent filtered the best offers and left it up to you to choose your future for the next few years."

Y/n picked up the documents, seeing the familiar logos: Chelsea, Manchester City, Lyon, Real Madrid, Atlético Madrid, and finally, Barcelona. Y/n's eyes widened when she saw the million-dollar offer from the Catalan team—she would earn triple what she made at Arsenal for a period of three seasons with the option to renew.

"I received the email from Barcelona weeks ago and spent some days thinking about the offer. It's been a few years since I belonged to this team... and I think everyone is aware of that. If necessary, I'll choose Barcelona's offer and leave the team today," Y/n stated, observing the way the directors tried to hide their shock. "I grew up watching Arsenal with my dad, but I think my time here is over."

The middle-aged man sighed wearily, with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

"We'll process the termination contract and inform Barcelona's management that you've accepted the offer," the man replied, hearing her sigh in contentment and stand up to leave.

Y/n looked at her agent, and the blonde woman immediately knew she was about to get an hours-long lecture.

With a slightly reluctant sigh, Y/n entered her mother's house with a couple of extra coats due to the sudden change in London's weather. She hung her overcoat on the rack while hearing some voices coming from the kitchen, most likely from Haley and Aliyah, her younger sisters.

Y/n softened her closed expression the moment she felt the warm arms of her mother. The maternal touch was an obvious sign that Y/n was tired and shaken by the painful departure from her team, the place where she had been discovered and celebrated. Y/n allowed herself to relax and cry copiously in the arms of Angela Lancaster, the woman who always knew exactly what to say or do.

Shhh, I know it hurts, my love," Angela whispered, stroking the player's hair.

It wouldn't be the first or last time Y/n would run to the warm embrace of her mother. It had been like this with her first heartbreak, her first scraped knee, her first victory or failure, her breakup with Leah, or her fight with Alessia after a loss in the Euros. Y/n would always turn to the one person who knew the right words to say.

"I'm leaving for Barcelona this weekend," Y/n said, wiping the tears from her cheek.

"At least you'll be close to some teammates. Maybe it's the best place for you to start over," Angela replied in a comforting tone. "And you know the captain, right?"

Alexia?" Y/n asked, with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. "I've talked to her a few times, but nothing major."

"But it's something, dear," Angela adjusted the dark strands, making the defender sigh. "You know that living with your 'ex' wasn't doing you any good, my love."

The defender bit her lower lip, knowing the older woman was right about that subject.

"Now go sit with your sisters in the living room. I feel like they're going to miss you for the next few months," Angela gently pushed the girl, making Y/n laugh softly.

#alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #gxg #fem reader #imagine #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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wonderjanga · 5 months ago

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Marvel Being a Bad Dad (Pedro, Eugene, and Darla Edition)

By the way in this AU Mary is still his twin, but let’s say he knows the Vázquez for whatever reason. Also, in case it wasn’t obvious all of the Marvels besides Billy look like kids. Like actual kids. 10 to 14 depending on how old they are actually. Anyways, this is just a little short add-on to the original post. Nothing more. Also this has a little bit of Mexican Billy, courtesy of someone’s headcanon I saw and a post of Jason Todd babysitting the other Batkids.

*The League is throwing a party and Billy brings Darla and Eugene along. Marvel is talking to Batman while Darla is running around with Impulse. Also Eugene is talking tech with Tim!Robin*

Marvel: “And so yeah—” *looks to a table before doing a double take* “One sec.” *Looks around for Darla*

Darla: *stopped at the snack table for some juice*

Marvel: *Does that thing my mom does to get my attention: snaps fingers and beckons with her pointer with an expression that leaves me wondering if I’m going to get my ass beat*

Darla: *pauses mid juice sip and zips over*

Marvel: *leans down to whisper in her ear* “Toma esa cosa de la mesa.” *points el adorno on the snack table*

Darla: “Wha?” *looks over to the table* “The centerpiece? You can’t take that—”

Marvel: “Cállate!” *takes two fingers and pinches her mouth close* “No me importa. Tú lo vas a tomar. Vete.” *tries to shoo her away and takes his fingers off her mouth.*

Darla: “But that’s wrong!”

Marvel: “Vete.” *says while gritting teeth* “O corto el pelo de todas tus Barbies.”

Darla: *scandalized gasp*

Marvel: “Ah, y dáselo a tu hermano cuando termines. Gracias.” *shooes her off again*

Darla: *has distraught expression as she zips over and grabs it and runs off to Eugene to hand it to him with a guilty look before running back over to run around with Impulse again*

Eugene: *promptly throws it over his shoulder into his pocket dimension*

Robin!Tim: “Was that one of the centerpieces?”

Eugene: “Yeah?”

Robin!Tim: “Did you guys just steal it?”

Eugene: “Also yes.” *nods head*

Robin!Tim: “Why…? Also where did it go?” *rounds Eugene to look for it*

Eugene: “I threw it in my pocket dimension.”

Robin!Tim: “How does that work?”

*The two then forget about that whole thing and then start talking about magic, then go back to tech, then start talking about combining magic and tech*

*Back with Bruce and Billy…*

Batman: “Why did you just go send that child to go steal one of my centerpieces that I paid for with my money in my own Watchtower?”

Marvel: “You understood that- actually wait. You’re Batman. Of course you understood that.”

Batman: “Hn.” (Batman language for: Just tell me already)

Marvel: “Alright, alright.” *claps hand on Bruce’s shoulder* “Look, we needed it more than you ever will, okay?” (They really don’t)

Batman: “Elaborate on that.”

Marvel: “See, I can’t. So instead I’m just gonna go raid the snack table.” *juts a thumb towards the snack table* “See ya, Bats!” *waves and walks off to the snack table*

Batman: *Bat-glares at him as he leaves*

*The Justice League are fighting a super strong villain. Currently, Flash and Billy are hiding behind a rock while the villain’s goons are shooting at them. Billy also forgot to mention to Flash that he brought along Pedro*

Flash: “Okay, so here’s the plan- Dude, why is that little kid here?” *points to Pedro*

Marvel: “Huh, you mean him?” *also points to Pedro*

Flash: “Who else, man?” *gives Billy a look* “Bud, in case you can’t tell, this place is super dangerous. Like, Supes got knocked out for a moment type of dangerous! So why’s he still here? You should’ve sent him away!”

Marvel: “What? Pshhhh… He’ll be fine, Flash. Trust me.” *pats Pedro’s head* “Anyways, buddy, say hi to Flash.”

Pedro: *gives a little wave*

Marvel: *stage whispers this to Flash* “He’s a little shy. Me and the others are trying to get him to interact with people more.”

Flash: *notes how Marvel is a little too carefree about this. He later forgets about that when Pedro actually helps quite a bit in the fight. He also notes how this is one of the only instances he’s seen of Marvel acting positively towards his “kids”*

Translations:

Toma esa cosa de la mesa = Take that thing from the table

el adorno = The ornament/the decoration/in this case the centerpiece

Cállate = Be quiet

Vete = Go away/Go

O corto el pelo de todas tus Barbies = Or I cut the hair of all your Barbies

Ah, y dáselo a tu hermano cuando termines. Gracias = Oh, and give it to your brother when you’re done. Thanks.

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #pedro peña #darla dudley #pedro pena #eugene choi #batman #dc impulse #the flash

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ruewrote · 3 months ago

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ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: the end of s6 e10, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff to angst to fluff, friends to lovers SONG INSPIRATION: close by nick jonas, tove lo WORD COUNT: 5.4k

navigation | ask | evan buckley masterlist

working out with buck had been your idea. you’d been needing a workout buddy for weeks, and when the team’s golden retriever of a firefighter overheard you mumbling about it to yourself, he all but begged to join.

“you kidding me?” he’d said, practically bouncing on his heels. his blue eyes lit up. “i’ve been dying for someone to spot me! eddie’s great and all, but he always wants to do leg day. you can’t skip chest, y’know?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, rolling your eyes in fond amusement. “fine,” you’d said, shrugging. “but don’t complain when i make you do cardio.”

he’d placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “cardio? brutal. i’m in.”

truthfully, you weren’t about to turn him down. buck’s infectious energy was always a mood booster, and the idea of having some company – especially someone as good natured as buck, made the thought of dragging yourself to the gym a little more bearable.

what you hadn’t expected, though, was just how much of a scene your new workout buddy would cause once you actually got there.

from the moment you walked in, it was clear buck had a way of drawing attention. it wasn’t just his size, though, at a towering 6’2 with broad shoulders and a physique that screamed firefighter, he was hard to miss.

it was the way he carried himself: confident, animated, and completely unaware of how many people were stealing glances his way.

“alright, partner,” he said, clapping his hands together with a grin as he surveyed the gym floor.

“what’s the game plan?”

before you could respond, he leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “wait…please tell me you’re not one of those people who only does the treadmill and leaves.”

your eyebrows shot up. “and what if i am?”

buck gasped, scandalized. “then i’d have to stage an intervention. you’re not just here to take instagram selfies, right?”

“relax, buck,” you said, laughing. “i actually want to work out. and for the record, i don’t even have instagram.”

“good,” he said, relieved. “because i have a strict no posers policy,” he laughs.

the first hour was typical enough. you’d both started on treadmills to warm up, buck kept pace with you, occasionally shooting you goofy grins or nudging your arm to try and playfully throw you off.

but when it came time to hit the weights, the playful banter took a backseat to something else entirely.

“alright,” buck said, clapping his hands together as the two of you moved to the weight machines. “what’s the plan? you wanna start light and work your way up?”

you gave him a look, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “not exactly.”

he blinked, his curiosity piqued, as you walked past the smaller dumbbells and headed straight for the leg press machine. without hesitation, you loaded it up with plates, a lot of plates.

buck’s eyebrows shot up. “uh…” he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “you sure about that? that’s, like, 280 pounds.”

“yeah,” you said casually, adjusting the seat as if it was no big deal.

he stepped closer, his concern evident. “i mean, not to doubt you or anything, but… that’s a lot of weight. you sure you don’t wanna, i dunno, warm up with something lighter?”

you shot him a grin, sliding into position. “relax, buck. i’ve got this.”

he opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat as you pushed against the plate, lifting the weight with almost laughable ease.

his jaw dropped.

“holy–”

you completed the first few reps with smooth, controlled movements, your legs steady as you pressed the weight up and lowered it back down like it was nothing. by the time you finished the set, buck’s jaw was practically on the floor.

you sat up, brushing a bead of sweat from your brow and giving him an amused glance. “what?”

buck shook his head, a laugh bubbling out of him as he stared at the loaded machine. “i don’t even know what to say right now.”

“say i’m strong and move on,” you said, smirking as you got up to grab a towel.

“oh, you’re strong, alright,” he said, still staring at the weights like they might be made of styrofoam. “you’re, like, scary strong.”

you rolled your eyes, brushing off the compliment as you moved toward the next machine. “it’s not that impressive.”

“not that impressive?” buck repeated, practically tripping over himself to follow you. “are you kidding me? you just lifted more weight than half the guys i know! heck, i’m not even sure i can do that.”

you shrugged, unconcerned. “it’s not a competition, buck.”

“no, but seriously, how did you– what’s your secret? is it, like, spinach? protein shakes? did you sell your soul for quads of steel?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “hard work, buck. and maybe a little bit of magic spinach.”

he laughed, still looking at you with something bordering on awe. “okay, but now i’m scared to spar with you. what if you accidentally throw me across the room or something?”

“don’t tempt me,” you teased, grabbing a set of dumbbells for your next exercise.

but buck wasn’t letting it go. he lingered by your side, peppering you with questions about your routine, your strength, and how you managed to make 280 pounds look like a warm up as you both did your shoulder press sets.

“do you ever, like, wrestle people for fun?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity. “because i think you could clean out a bar with those legs.”

“i don’t usually make a habit of that,” you said, amused by his relentless fascination.

“well, you should. you’d make bank,” he said, completely serious.

you chuckled, shaking your head as you put down your equipment. you moved to another machine. “buck, are you going to work out, or are you just here to watch me?”

“oh, i’m working out,” he said, grabbing a pair of weights. “but i’m also taking mental notes. i mean, i thought i was strong, but now? i’ve got to try not to be lifted by you in every single exercise.”

“good luck with that,” you said, smirking.

buck’s grin widened, his competitive streak lighting up in his eyes. “oh, it’s on.”

as the workout continued, buck kept finding new things to be impressed by.

when you did pull ups, he counted under his breath, his awe growing with each rep. “you’re gonna make me look bad,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“then keep up,” you teased, dropping down effortlessly.

when you moved back over to free weights, buck watched as you lifted with perfect form, the muscles in your arms flexing with every movement.

“i think i just found my new hero,” he said, only half-joking.

“buck,” you said, laughing. “stop staring and do your set.”

“i can’t help it,” he admitted, grinning. “you’re like… the woman version of captain america.”

you rolled your eyes, your cheeks warming despite yourself. “you’re ridiculous.”

over the weeks, going to the gym with evan had become a comforting routine. he always made your favorite protein shakes, bringing it in the reusable cup you’d picked out together on a shopping trip.

there was a soothing familiarity to the cycle you’d both fallen into: wake up early, eat, meet evan, work out, eat again, then head to work.

it was exhausting, sure, but it also made you feel more alive and motivated than you had in ages.

as much as you enjoyed it, though, it was becoming a bit of a problem. you felt an ache of disappointment on the days evan couldn’t make it or when he brought someone else to the gym on days you were too sick to go.

there was a twinge of something deeper, an unease in your stomach, whenever you weren’t around him.

you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking glances at him between sets. watching him lift massive weights with ease, his face barely showing the strain, made your cheeks heat up. flustered, you quickly turned away, taking a sip of water to hide the smile threatening to betray your feelings.

the more time you spent with evan, the harder it became to ignore how much you enjoyed his company – how much you looked forward to your time together. it was in the way when he’d adjust the equipment for you, his knowing smirks when he caught you stealing glances at him, and the way he made the gym feel more like a hangout than a chore.

that morning, as you finished a set on the leg press, you caught evan watching you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than usual. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“not bad,” he said. “looks like someone’s been paying attention.”

you shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “someone had to. i can’t exactly count on you for tips.”

his grin widened as he pushed off the wall, walking toward you. “oh, is that right? maybe i should stop correcting your form then.”

“maybe you should,” you quipped, grabbing your water bottle. “but we both know you can’t help yourself.”

he laughed, low and warm. “you’re lucky i like you.”

you tilted your head, smirking. “oh, you like me? i thought this whole thing was me doing you a favor.”

he stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who keeps showing up to see me.”

you rolled your eyes, even as your pulse quickened. “don’t flatter yourself, buckley. i’m here for the gains.”

“sure you are.” he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “and the protein shakes, right?”

you shrugged, letting a sly smile cross your lips. “well, the shakes are pretty good. i might keep you around for those.”

he laughed, shaking his head as you brushed past him toward the mats. “unbelievable.”

the rest of the session passed with the same energy. quick-witted remarks, lingering looks, and more than a little playful tension. when you finished stretching, evan handed you your protein shake, his smirk firmly in place.

“taste test,” he said, nodding toward the cup. “admit it. i’m the best gym partner you’ve ever had.”

you took a sip, deliberately slow, meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. “mmm… you’re definitely in my top three.”

his jaw dropped in mock offense. “top three? that’s all i get?”

you shrugged, walking toward the door. “guess you’ll have to work harder if you want to move up.”

he followed after you, his chuckle soft but full of amusement. “oh, i will. don’t worry.”

as you stepped into the cool morning air, the playful grin you exchanged with him lingered. it wasn’t just the workouts keeping you coming back, and you were pretty sure he knew it too.

you should have said something before you left the station.

the bad feeling in your gut had been sitting there all morning, clawing at your nerves with every glance toward buck. he’d been his usual self. bright, charming self. in the way only evan buckley could be, but something about today felt incredibly off.

you didn’t know what it meant but you knew it wasn’t anything to do with his usual antics that made you uneasy.

as soon as the alarm sounded, buck had been all business, as if the bad feeling had somehow missed him completely. but it had latched onto you, sinking its sharp claws deeper with every second.

"hey," he had said just before you all climbed into the engine. "you’ve been staring at me all morning. something on your mind, or do i look extra good today?" his grin was wide, teasing, just like always.

you rolled your eyes, the usual banter offering no comfort this time. "just… don’t do anything stupid, buck."

he smirked as he slung his helmet on, the motion so casual it could have been an instinct at this point. "define stupid," he teased back, his voice light as he climbed into the engine.

you watched him for a second, a twinge of frustration running through you. he wasn’t taking you seriously. but the bad feeling, the nagging sense that something was off, wouldn’t leave.

you knew you weren’t being paranoid.

"buck," you called, stopping him by holding onto his arm just as he was about to get into the engine, his back turned to you. "i'm serious. you’ve been a little more reckless lately, and i don’t want to see you get hurt. you need to be careful."

his expression softened slightly, but there was a flicker of that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "hey, you worry too much," he said with a chuckle. "i’ve got this."

you exhaled sharply, watching him climb in and settle into his seat. you should have insisted more. should have made him listen. but instead, you let it slide, trying to push aside the bad feeling in your gut.

still, that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.

the entire drive to the scene, you couldn’t shake it. you kept glancing at buck out of the corner of your eye, but every time he caught you staring, he’d throw you a grin or wink, as if everything was just fine, as if nothing was wrong. he didn’t see it.

you tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to prepare yourself for whatever was waiting for you once you arrived. but that feeling, that certainty in your gut that something was about to go wrong, kept escalating.

the scene before you was pure chaos. flames licking hungrily at the night sky, smoke billowing in plumes from the high rise apartment building. the rain was relentless, drenching everything, adding a cruel, ironic touch to the flames. you worked quickly, herding evacuees to a safe distance, your voice steady despite the frantic pounding of your heart.

through it all, your eyes kept flickering to buck. he was ‘arguing’ with chimney, both gesturing toward the ladder propped up next to the burning building. you didn’t need to hear them to know what it was about; the decision of who would ascend into danger.

buck won. chimney relented, clapping him on the shoulder before stepping back. you watched buck as he adjusted his gear and started up the ladder.

your hands itched to pull him back, to ground him. but this was the job.

“be careful,” you murmured under your breath, as if the wind might carry your words to him.

he was now fully up the ladder, chimney and eddie stood close by, ready to assist

the hose spraying water over the flames as he leaned into his harness. the muscles in his arms flexed against the pull of the stream, his movements steady despite the slippery ladder and the brutal weather.

you stayed rooted on the spot, keeping a watchful eye on him. every instinct in your body screamed at you to make sure he was okay. he was professional, you knew that, you'd seen it time after time again but also knew that he was always pushing himself, always risking too much.

he adjusted his grip on the hose, pausing for a moment to glance around. his head tilted slightly, scanning the sky above.

that’s when it happened.

a blinding flash of light. searing, far too close. the bolt of lightning struck with a deafening crack, so near it sent a shockwave through the ground. you stumbled back, shielding your face against the glare. when your vision cleared, the madness continued.

eddie was on the ground, sprawled beside the truck, stunned but moving. your eyes darted to the ladder, searching frantically for buck.

your breath hitched.

he was dangling. his body hung limply from the harness. your heart dropped into your stomach, your voice breaking as you screamed his name.

“buck!”

hen was suddenly beside you, her hand firm on your arm. “i’ve got this,” she said quickly, taking your place as you stumbled toward the ladder.

everything around you blurred except for him. your heart racing as you saw chimney and eddie already scaling it, their movements urgent. your heart pounded in your ears.

buck was still swaying in the harness.

chimney reached him first, working quickly to detach the harness, easing him on a stretcher. the seconds felt like hours as they maneuvered to bring him down, each movement too slow for your frantic mind.

they pulled his helmet off, revealing a face that was far too pale. he wasn’t moving. he wasn’t breathing.

“oh my god.” the words left your lips in a whisper at first, then louder, more frantic. “oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

your knees buckled, and eddie caught you, his arms steady around your shaking frame. “they’ve got him,” he said, his voice tight but comforting. yet his eyes betrayed him, he was just as terrified as you were.

chimney was already working, barking orders, his hands moving with practiced precision. but all you could do was stare, tears streaming down your face as you clung to eddie.

“come on, buck,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “please.”

time stretched endlessly, each second a cruel twist of the knife. eddie’s arms tightened around you, grounding you as you sobbed into his shoulder, unable to tear your eyes away from the still figure on the stretcher.

and then, mercifully, chimney shouted, “i’ve got a pulse!”

relief washed over you, a sensation you hadn’t realised how desperately you needed until it finally hit. the moment buck’s chest rose and fell, a steady rhythm of life, you felt a flicker of hope ignite in your chest.

you were the first to jump into the ambulance after they loaded him in, not even thinking, you just knew that you needed to be with him, to stay close. you sat beside him, as the paramedics worked, hands moving swiftly.

your eyes stayed glued to buck, to the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. the fog of his exhale against the oxygen mask was the smallest of assurances, but it was enough. enough to make you believe that, against all odds, he was still here with you.

your fingers curled into the seat beneath you, holding on to that fragile hope. his pulse was steady now, mingling with the low hum of the ambulance. for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe again, knowing that somehow, miraculously, he was still with you.

later that night, the others came by to visit buck after their shifts ended.

first, it was hen. she walked into the room, her face drawn with concern, her eyes immediately seeking you out. when she saw you still sitting in your uniform, not having moved from buck’s side, her expression softened. she took a slow breath, then crossed the room to stand beside you.

“hey,” hen said quietly, her voice gentle as she took in the sight of you, your exhaustion evident. she noticed how you were clinging to the quiet hope that buck would wake up any moment. she placed a hand on the back of the chair you were sitting in, her touch light but grounding.

“i know there’s nothing i can really say to fix this, but just know you’re not alone, alright?”

you gave her a small, tired smile, grateful for her presence. “i know,” you whispered, nodding toward buck. “i just… i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon, hen. he has to.”

she didn’t push you to talk more, knowing there were no words that could change what had happened. she simply stood there, her presence a quiet comfort. she squeezed your shoulder lightly before stepping back toward the door. “i’m one phone call away if you need me.”

you nodded again, and hen gave you one last look. one filled with unspoken support, before she left the room, leaving you alone with buck, the steady beeping of machines and the soft rustle of sheets the only sounds filling the silence.

next came bobby. his steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he approached. he paused for a moment by the door, taking in the sight of you sitting by buck’s side, clearly worn out but unwilling to leave. he stepped closer, his hand briefly resting on your shoulder in a silent show of support.

“how’s he doing?” bobby asked, his voice low but laced with concern.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you gave him the same explanation you’d given hen. “he’s stable. the doctors said it’s just the aftereffects of the lightning strike. he’s in a coma, but they’re monitoring him closely.” your voice wavered slightly, but you pushed through, not wanting to show how deeply it was affecting you.

bobby nodded, absorbing the information. he didn’t ask for more details. his gaze lingered on buck for a moment, his brow furrowing with worry before he looked back at you.

“i know that he appreciates you being here with him.”

you offered him a tight smile, appreciating the sentiment even if it didn’t quite ease the weight in your chest.

bobby gave you one last, understanding glance before he turned and made his way to the door.

he left quietly, leaving you alone once more with buck, the room feeling a little emptier than before but still filled with that quiet hope that he’d wake up soon.

it wasn't long until eddie got there. he stood at the doorway for a moment, looking at you with that familiar, quiet worry in his eyes. his gaze flickered to buck before he approached. “how are you holding up?” he asked softly.

you nodded, though the exhaustion was starting to hit you. “i’m fine. i just... i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon. the doctors are optimistic.”

eddie gave a short, strained smile, but his eyes didn’t quite match the gesture. “you’re doing everything you can.” he patted your shoulder and lingered for a moment, then left without another word, his presence offering you the slightest bit of comfort.

after eddie, chimney and maddie came by together, both looking drained from their shifts. they paused when they saw you still sitting there, but you shook your head, silently telling them you were okay.

you reiterated what you had said to the others.

chimney gave you a concerned glance, but maddie was the first to pull you into a hug. her arms wrapped around you, offering a quiet but comforting presence. you let yourself lean into the embrace for a moment, grateful for the feeling of someone who understood what you were going through.

they stayed for a little while, with maddie talking softly to you, her voice calm and steady, offering small distractions. eventually, she gave chimney a look, and he gave a brief nod before heading out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

the room felt a little quieter, a little more intimate, and the weight of everything seemed to settle around you both. after a beat of silence, maddie let out a soft sigh and glanced over at buck, his unconscious form still hooked up to machines. “of course evan would be the one to go and get struck by lightning,” she said with a light laugh, the sound a bit shaky.

you couldn’t help but chuckle too, glancing at buck with a fond smile. the moment lingered for a while, but the laughter eventually faded, and the air grew heavier again.

maddie’s expression softened, her tone turning more serious. “he talks about you all the time, you know?”

your head snapped toward her, the surprise evident in your eyes. “he… he does?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

maddie gave a small, knowing smile and nodded. “a little too much, if i’m being honest. but don’t tell him i said that,” she added with a wink, as though sharing some kind of secret.

you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought, warmth spreading through you. the idea that buck, through everything, even in the midst of his chaotic life. talked about you with such frequency, it was almost too much to process.

but somehow, it made the weight of the moment feel a little lighter, the hope growing that he’d wake up and that you’d get the chance to hear all of it from him, yourself.

you requested time off, and bobby didn’t hesitate to approve it. he knew, as well as you did, that there was no way you could focus on work, not when your heart and mind were stuck in that hospital room.

so you stayed. you spent your days at the hospital, barely leaving buck’s side. the rest of your life faded into the background. the gym, your job, even basic routines. all of it felt distant and unimportant compared to the need to be there for him.

every night, the nurses gently urged you to leave when visiting hours ended. you could tell they didn’t want to force you out; the sympathetic looks on their faces said as much. they were kind, patient, and understanding, but rules were rules.

each time you left, you were reluctant, your heart aching at the thought of being away in case he woke up. before you’d go, you always leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering a moment longer each time. you’d clasp his hand in both of yours, brushing your thumb gently across his limp fingers, whispering words of hope he couldn’t yet hear.

at home, everything felt heavier. eating and showering became a struggle, but you managed, if only because you needed to be somewhat put together for him when you returned. you’d collapse into bed, trying to drown out the fear and negativity with the faint hope that maybe, when you woke up, he would too.

a week passed like this, each day melting into the next as you clung to your new routine.

on this particular evening, as visiting hours neared their end, you sat by buck’s side again. you clasped his hand, bringing it to your lips briefly before leaning over to place another on his forehead.

and then you felt it, a faint squeeze against your hand.

your breath caught in your throat as you froze, your heart racing. slowly, you pulled back and stared at his hand in yours, disbelief mixing with hope. “buck?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

your heart pounded as you stared at his hand, still clasped in yours. for a moment, you wondered if you had imagined it, if your mind was playing tricks on you after days of exhaustion. but then it happened again, a weak, deliberate squeeze.

“buck?” you whispered again, louder this time, leaning closer to him. tears welled in your eyes as you searched his face for any other signs of movement. his eyelids fluttered, just barely, but it was enough to send a wave of relief crashing over you.

“oh my god, buck, can you hear me?” your voice cracked, and your free hand reached out to gently brush against his cheek. his skin felt warmer than it had in days, and the faintest sound escaped his lips. a low, hoarse groan.

you pressed the call button frantically, your hand shaking as you leaned in closer, desperate to see more. “it’s me. i’m here,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “you’re okay, buck. you’re safe. just keep waking up for me, please.”

the door burst open as a nurse hurried in, quickly assessing the situation. “he’s waking up,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and panic.

the nurse nodded, immediately moving to check his vitals and calling for the doctor. you stepped back slightly to give them space, but you couldn’t take your eyes off buck. his fingers twitched in yours again, his head turning just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. his eyes opened slowly, unfocused but alive.

“hey, there you are,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you smiled through the overwhelming emotions.

his gaze drifted to you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he was trying to make sense of where he was. his lips moved, dry and cracked, but no sound came out.

“it’s okay,” you said quickly, leaning closer again. “don’t try to talk. just rest. you’re in the hospital, but you’re safe now. i’m here, buck. i’ve been here the whole time.”

the doctor arrived shortly after, giving you a reassuring smile as they began to examine him. you reluctantly let go of his hand so they could work, stepping aside but never straying far from his side.

“his response is a very good sign,” the doctor said after a moment, turning to you. “we’ll keep monitoring him closely, but it looks like the worst is over.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, your chest feeling lighter than it had in days. as soon as the doctor stepped back, you were at buck’s side again, taking his hand in yours.

“see? i told you you’d be okay,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d seen in a while.

a couple of hours later, after the doctors had left and the atmosphere had settled, it was just you and buck in the quiet hospital room. the dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the color slowly returning to his cheeks.

he shifted slightly, wincing, and you immediately reached for the cup of water on the tray beside his bed. “easy,” you murmured, slipping a straw into the cup and holding it up for him. “here, small sips.”

buck obediently took a sip, his eyes never leaving yours. his throat worked as he swallowed, and you felt a wave of relief seeing him manage something so simple. it was progress.

“you scared the hell out of me, you know,” you said softly, setting the cup down once he’d had enough. “you got struck by lightning, buck. lightning. do you even realise how lucky you are to be here right now?”

he blinked, his gaze turning thoughtful. “i remember… the storm,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. you immediately reached for the water again, bringing it to his lips before he could continue.

“here. drink more. don’t push yourself,” you said, your fussing in full force now. you fluffed his pillows, adjusted his blanket, and scanned the machines monitoring his vitals, as if you could will them to show even better numbers.

“you remember the storm?” you prompted, sitting back down beside him and holding his hand tightly.

buck nodded, his brow furrowing. “yeah. i was on the ladder… the flames were bad. i remember hosing them down, and then…” he paused, his eyes growing distant. “a loud crack. bright light. and then… nothing.”

your grip on his hand tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “buck, you were out for a week. a week. they weren’t sure if you’d–” your voice cracked, and you quickly shook your head, brushing away a tear. “but you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

buck’s lips twitched into a small smile, his hand weakly squeezing yours. “you’ve been taking care of me, haven’t you?”

you scoffed lightly, brushing it off. “of course i have. someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like this again.”

he chuckled softly, the sound weak but warm. “you don’t have to worry so much, you know. i’m okay.”

you froze, staring at him in disbelief. “don’t have to worry? buck, do you even realise what just happened to you? you almost died! you were in a coma! and now you’re telling me not to worry? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

as you ranted, your free hand gesturing animatedly, buck just lay there, watching you with an amused smile.

“what?” you snapped, though there was no real anger in your tone.

“nothing,” he said, his voice soft and laced with affection. “just… you’re cute when you’re like this.”

your face heated, and you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself. “you’re impossible, buck.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, his smile growing.

you shook your head, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“yeah, looks like you're stuck with me, buckley.”

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