#things will be all right in the end but right now i'm just... so frail and so exhausted

[nerdnag]

shrimp philosophy save me. save me shrimp philosophy

[noira-l]

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: You are falling into darkness and meaninglessness. Satoru refuses to let you do that.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of comfort, after 'premature death', after suguru deflection, describtion od depression, apathy, lost meaning in life, slight eating disorder, sleeplesness.

author's note: We finally get to see his softer side, though as is his fashion, he does it in his own way.

4 months after Suguru defected

"I know that the situation that happened has left its mark on you, however, you must not give up like this."

Yaga had been trying to reach you in his office for several minutes. To no avail. Your gaze was still blank, staring at a single point on his desk since you sat down, it didn't seem like you were present in any way.

Silence. You didn't answer anything. Just as you always do.

This is not your first meeting with your Sensei. Yaga has been trying to make his way to you for about a month.

A void in your head, so great and black that it swallowed you whole. Your body indifferent to every sense that reached you, you did not analyse it at all. If Satoru hadn't dragged you here, literally holding your hand and leading you, you wouldn't have come here at all. You didn't have the will or the strength for it.

Everything stopped at that moment. It ended. There was nothing left. Anything important and beautiful in your life was taken away from you by the terrible malice of fate. Your house burnt down. Your beloved had descended into madness. You no longer had anything to care about. Your entire past no longer mattered. Everyone is literally dead.

Even you died that day.

You wondered what was still alive.

Or at least that's how you explained it to yourself, unable to accept that the same person who promised you the world had just taken it away from you.

You were lifeless. It didn't take much to conclude that.

All that remained was a fragile, frail and empty shell of a person once filled with love, dreams and passion.

You no longer had the strength to cry, or to utter any words. If it wasn't for Shoko, you wouldn't even eat, and if it wasn't for Gojo, you probably wouldn't sleep.

You could smile altogether now. The world of jujutsu never broke you, the person you loved did. But you didn't, even though it crossed your mind.

What an honour to be the exception to the rule.

Yaga sighed leaning against his expensive chair.

"(Y/N)." he called out, though you didn't even flinch "I don't want you to end up like this. As your teacher, I recognises your self-doubt as his personal failure. The situation that has befallen you is a very difficult one and I understand that you would need time to get things back to normal."

He leaned towards you "However, in this world we live in, we cannot afford such a luxury." you knew his eyes were drilling into you.

"It has been more than four months. Your condition is not improving, only getting worse. At your request, I have specifically let you skip part of your training." you heard him grinding his teeth, but not out of anger, but out of helplessness "I'm doing my best not to send you on missions in this condition, because I know that even if something attacks you-" he paused.

-you won't even try to defend yourself.’ you finished for him in your head.

He was right, you knew it, and so did anyone who would just look at you. You lost a lot of weight, your skin turned pale got a shade of gray, and your eyes lacked their former spark.

You could see that Yaga, in that silence, couldn't find the right words. When he opened his mouth to say something, you finally muttered, pausing his speetch.

"But Sensei, you should…" you raised your gaze from the one point where it was cumulative to look the man deep in the eyes

"..let something finish me off. It's all meaningless anyway."

★ --

Yaga sat in his office, surrounded by a silence that seemed to deepen his worries. Outside the window, the rain drummed against the glass as if to wash the weight of anxiety from his soul, but it only deepened his sense of helplessness.

Your words, haunted him.

‘Let something finish me off. It's all meaningless anyway' constantly echoed in his mind, like a silent cry of despair that gave him no peace.

Never before had he seen such emptiness in someone's eyes - an emptiness that testified that all hope, all will to fight, had been sucked out of you.

He was incapable of seeing Geto Suguru roll into a similar spiral.

It was a failure that has pursued Yaga, reminding him of the fragility of the human mind.

You are reminder of that too.

Now he saw the same symptoms in your - empty eyes, unresponsive to sensory input, avoiding contact with others.

Every day when you came to training was like seeing a ghost moving among the living, unable to fully return to life. You was physically there, but you soul seemed to be elsewhere, trapped in a place you couldn't get out of.

In this state, Yaga knew he had to seek advice from others.

He must act. He will not make this mistake again.

You will not be a case to regret.

And he had a lot of them.

He was the first to go to Shoko. He met her in the corridor, as busy as ever with her work, locked in a world where medicine was everything.

"Shoko, have you tried to talk to her? Something about her condition?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. Shoko sighed, not stopping for a moment.

"I'm not good at such conversations." she replied briefly, looking at him fleetingly, as if those words would explain everything. Yaga knew that Shoko was doing as well as she could, but he also knew, that she was avoiding emotion like a fire. She couldn't help you in this battle that was going on inside. She was only capable of healing you on the outside.

The next stop was Nanami. Always serious, always composed, Nanami was someone who could be counted on in the most difficult of times. However, when Yaga asked him the same question, the answer was equally overwhelming.

"I understand what she is going through. I've tried to reach out to her, but… she's silent. I don't know how I can help her when she won't talk.’" there was a note of helplessness in Nanami's voice that had never been there before. Yaga knew that he sympathised with you, that he had tried, but that he himself could not break through this invisible barrier you had built around yourself.

Last was Satoru, always the enigmatic one, always full of contrasts. Yaga found him in one of the training rooms as he watched the younger students' classes.

"Satoru, did you talk to her?" he asked, knowing that Gojo was someone who could see more than others.

"I don't talk. I just sit by her when she's awake. That's all I can do." replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Yaga felt a mixture of relief and sadness upon hearing these words. Satoru, in his typical style, had found a way to be beside you, but even he, with all his unlimited potential, could not pull you out of your state.

★ --

3 weeks after Suguru defected

Gojo was initially not supposed to get so involved.

He kept repeating to himself that he wasn't good at such things, that he didn't know how to talk about such topics, couldn't find a solution for you or show you something he should.

Your storm you showed him that day left a mark in him. It awakened something in him. He couldn't deny it. He just kept living in the belief, that he wasn't capable of doing anything about it. He didn't feel that there was anything in him that he could offer to help you. He never knew what to say, he never knew what to do. He felt hopeless about it. Satoru was not the kind of person who makes the same mistakes twice or never learns from them.

He blamed himself for Suguru's departure. He felt that his corruption was his fault. His lack of attention, his lack of interest, his powerlessness - his failure to adapt to such situations.

Gojo Satoru was the strongest, that was the reason he was born. It was what he was made for.

He was not made to come into contact with the problems of humanity, he was always above others, he never touched such topics. And now here you are. In front of him. You are showing him this.

You bring him closer to this subject, you prove to him that he, despite his title, is still human.

He feels exactly what you feel.

You are proof that the feelings he has inside him - make him human.

What ultimately made him abandon the idea of leaving the subject to himself was the sight of you. Soaking wet for long moments on the training field.

He saw you from a distance, as he walked with Shoko to class. He separated from her to letting her go ahead, saying he would catch up with her. The rain was dark and heavy. he didn't need an umbrella, so he walked throught it like was nothing. A white beam of light, walking throught the dark.

The sight of you, sitting on the training field with a bamboo sword, completely soaked - stuck in his mind. It was an image that spoke more than a thousand words. You were physically there, but spiritually you seemed to be far away, in a place where no words could reach you. Satoru, though usually full of energy and humour, this time simply walked up to you and without a word took your hand, pulling you out of the rain. You didn't even defy him as the force lifted your body and made you float slightly above the ground.

He sat you down in his room, giving you a towel to dry you off. Gojo left for a while, leaving you covered in towels and a warm blanket.

He quickly teleported to the kitchen, to brew a mug of warm tea for you. He waited patiently for the kettle to boil the water, tapping his fingers against the kitchen counter in thoughtfulness. He thought about bringing Shoko to you, as you might have caught a cold. Suguru had mentioned that you catch such colds quite easily.

As he moved back, he set his mug down on his notebook-cluttered desk and looked at you. You stood at the window, watching the rain that had kept the world quiet all day today.

"Why the rain?" he asked, trying to strike up a conversation. You did not answer immediately, still staring at the raindrops reflecting on the window.

After a moment, you raised your gaze, looking at him with a blank stare. "Because the rain is clean. It washes everything away. Maybe if I stood there long enough, it would wash me away too." Satoru felt his heart squeeze with pain at those words, but he didn't allow himself to have any emotional outbursts.

You sat like this for a long time, he beside you, looking out at the rain. In the silence that surrounded, he could feel how devastated you were, how much you had lost the will to live. He knew that these feelings would not disappear overnight. He was aware of that.

So from that moment on, Satoru implemented a plan that seemed strange and effective, exactly his style.

★ --

1 month after Suguru defected

The first month was a time of anticipation and patience for Satoru.

When he first entered your room, he felt the dense atmosphere almost overwhelm him. The quiet, enclosed room seemed as if trapped in time. You were sitting on the bed, your back turned to the door, shoulders tense. It was clear that your thoughts were far away.

Satoru closed the door behind him, then took a seat against the wall, far away from you, right next to the door. He sat down on the floor, pulled his gameboy out of his pocket and began to play, pretending it was a normal everyday situation.

At first you did not even look at him. Your gaze remained fixed on one point, as if you were trying to find a meaning in it that you could not find anywhere else. Satoru, however, was not bothered by this silence. He concentrated on the game, allowing you to get used to his presence while giving you space. Managing the space was his special skill.

Every day he would spend a few dozen minutes in your room, sometimes playing, sometimes bringing something to eat with him. Often he would sit there with a meal in his hand, eating slowly, and the sounds of munching were the only sounds in the room. He never tried to get you to talk, knowing that your personal space was crucial at that moment.

★ --

2 months after Suguru defected

The second month brought slight changes. Satoru, feeling that your reactions to his presence had become more bearable, decided to get closer.

Instead of sitting on the floor by the door, he took a seat in the chair by your desk, which stood slightly closer to the bed. When he entered the room, you looked at him - that was a success! Noticing change in his behaviour, but you took a quick glance at him, so he couldn't be happier. He passed you a small smile, that was a welcoming greeting.

Satoru stretched out comfortably in a chair, pulled out a book and began to read. Occasionally he would reach for his headphones to turn on some music for himself, shutting himself off from the world but still being there, at arm's length, if you need him.

There were days when he couldn't concentrate on reading, so he would just sit, watching you out of the corner of his eye. As time went on, he began to notice that you would sometimes glance at him, as if trying to understand why he came here almost everyday that was free for him, even though you didn't exchange a word with each other. Even when he was busy, your room was the first stop when he came back from any mission.

★ --

3 months after Suguru defected

In the third month, Satoru felt he could risk the next step.

When he walked into your room one day, instead of sitting in a chair, he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. He felt your body tighten as soon as he sat down, but you didn't move away or ask him to leave. This was the sign he had been waiting for.

He pulled out his gameboy, fired up the game and started playing, sitting next to you. For a while, the silence was almost overwhelming, but as time passed, the atmosphere began to relax. Satoru noticed that although you still didn't speak, your presence had become somewhat more conscious.

He started bringing you food when Shoko couldn't. He felt that when he brought you something, you were more eager to glance at it. And you even took a bite of the sweet roll he left with you one day.

There were also moments when you started to move, as if you wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. Satoru did not push. He felt that these small gestures were a sign of progress.

★ --

4 months after Suguru defected

In the last month of this silent coexistence, Satoru decided to go all in.

When he entered your room, he didn't stop at the door or the chair. He immediately headed for the bed and lay down beside you without a word. He felt you body stiffen at first, but after a while you relaxed, accepting his presence. This was so strange, but so.. welcoming.

Both of you lay side by side, arms barely touching, but it was enough.

Satoru pulled out his mp3 player, turned on quiet music and placed it between you two, letting the soft sounds fill the silence. He watched the ceiling, occasionally glancing up to look at your face. The sight of it, now devoid of such deep pain as it had been in the beginning, made him relieved. He knew that your emotional state was still fragile, but he was sure that his presence was helping you in some way. You were helping him too, he just couldn't say that to you.

His presence in your room become such a small tradition, which he often looked forward to. Besides your dorm was a good escape for him, when he was looking for, there was never any thought that he could be at your place.

One day, as both you lay like this, you gently turned towards him and looked at him with a slightly softer expression on your tired face. You didn't need to say anything - your gaze said more than words.

Satoru smiled slightly at you, then closed his eyes, feeling that you had reached a state of understanding that was only possible through months of patience and perseverance.

He was content, that he could see your eyes weren't so empty or full of tears. That was a breakthrought, that he was so eager to welcome.

★ --

4 and a half months after Suguru defected

Satoru has not visited you for a week.

You knew he was back from a mission, because Shoko bringing you food mentioned it. She also said that it had been a long and exhausting one, on which they had sent him alone, with no support from even specialists.

It was already very late in the night, you had been waiting for him for a long time, and yet he had not come.

For the first time since moths, you got out of bed by yourself.

You poked your head out, to see if the light in his room was on, it still was. You were overwhelmed by a strange feeling, that you could not quite describe. You wondered what the reason was for breaking this little tradition you shared between the two of you.

You came to the conclusion, that he probably needed the space himself and was just using it. Although this seemed to you to be completely unsuitable for a person you came to know. Should you do something about this fact? You nervously bit your nail.

What if he now needs the same treatment that he used to give you? What if he just needs to be alone?

A conflict arose in your mind. You didn't know what to do, how to behave. You felt a little stressed as you slowly sat back down on the bed.

What should you do?

Your decision was made, when your foot visited the kitchens for the first time in months to brew a tea for him.

All you could hear in the quiet corridor was the soft creaking of the floor, as you approached the door of his room. The wooden gates were slightly open, as if Gojo didn't have the strength to close them fully. You carefully pushed it open with your hand, peering inside.

Satoru was lying on the bed, with his arms spread, as if the weight of the world was crushing him to the mattress. His white hair, always so perfectly styled, were a mess. Fortunately, he had managed to change into his pyjamas. There was an expression of extreme fatigue on his face, but when he heard quiet footsteps, he lifted his eyelids.

Your gazes met. You gently closed the door behind you, then stepped deeper into the room, setting your mug of warm drink down on the desk. Just as he had done this to you one time. Your limbs tremble slightly from the cold. Going to the kitchen in just your pyjamas and flip-flops at this time of year was a stupid idea.

You didn't exchange a word with each other. You blandly started playing with the sleeve of your nightshirt. You didn't need words to understand how tired he was, the slight bags under his eyes and messy look told you all you needed to know.

He changed positions on the bed, moving more towards the wall, grabbed a corner of the duvet and lifted it up. He made an inviting gesture with his head and his slightly glowing eyes went out.

You sat on the edge of the bed first. Feeling a little on unfamiliar ground. You had only been in his room a couple of times. The main place for you to hang out as a group was Suguru's room. Immediately you felt the warmth emanating from the sheets.

With a slow movement you lay down next to him, letting the warmth of the duvet and his scent greet you. The mattress bent slightly under you weight, as you turned to face him. You could feel how soft and molded his mattress was, how his pillow was pleasantly arranged. Your body slowly began to warm, heat waves spreading through your body, soothing your mind and dulling your senses. The air around you was warm, enveloping, and his presence added a strange sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

You could feel your body relaxing more and more with each breath. You could hear the calm rhythm of his breathing, which worked on like a lullaby. You were so warm, not only physically, but also internally, as if this place, this moment, was exactly where you were supposed to be.

You slowly closed your eyes, feeling sleep begin to embrace you with it's softness. The thoughts that had been swirling around in your head just moments before, began to quiet down, giving a way to a blissful emptiness. The warmth of his body and regular breathing were like an focus points that, allowed you to pull your head away from your worries and sink into a peaceful sleep.

Finally, you allowed yourself to fully surrender to the moment. You fell asleep, with his hand still gently resting on your waist, in a place that seemed the safest in the world.

★ --

Satoru slowly opened his eyes, feeling the soft rays of the sun on his face. For a while he lay still, savoring the quiet of the morning and the warmth that beat from the body, cuddled into his. You were sleeping peacefully, your breathing was steady and deep, and face expressed the kind of calm he hadn't seen in you in a long time. He smiled slightly, pleased that you could finally truly rest.

He didn't want to wake you, but he knew the day was calling him. He shifted cautiously, reaching for the phone that lay on the bedside table. For a moment, he pondered how to play it, but quickly decided that the only person he could ask to do it - was Shoko.

you: "Take care of everything today? Thanks. >ᴗ<"

7:43 am

Sent a message, not waiting for a respond, he put the phone aside, before turning back to you.

He glanced at your face once more. You looked so peaceful, as if for a moment you had forgotten everything that had overwhelmed you for months.

Gojo gently ran his fingers through your hair, trying not to wake you up. He smiled, seeing how you moved slightly in his arms, as if you instinctively knew he was there.

He was so proud of himself, the sight of your sincere rest soothed his heart somehow. Thanks to him, you were finally able to rest. He felt satisfaction and contentment at the thought. He finally didn't feel so helpless and powerless. He felt that he had just done something, that at least one person, by some screwed up luck, had managed to be saved by him.

With a slight sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into sleep again. He knew that he didn't have to rush anywhere, that this was a day they could spend relaxing, even if he had responsibilities and pressures on him, at this point he totally didn't give a damn. He fell asleep quickly, holding you close to him, enjoying the moment of comfort you brought to him as well.

You two slept all day, cuddled up to each other in warm cozy embrace.

With the peace and quiet you finally rested, as you both deserved.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[campgender]

Whenever a player safewords, this is an occasion for mutual support. We understand that nobody safewords from a happy place, and that all of our egos feel frail and kind of runty when we need to back out of a scene. It is completely unethical to respond with scorn or ridicule to a person who has safeworded: S/M is not a competition, we are not playing against each other.

As tops, we have noticed that if we are having a good time and our bottom safewords, our initial feelings may not be happy. Whaddaya mean you don't like that? I do all this work and you don't appreciate it? I'm hot for being in control and you want me to stop? We have felt real anger and felt challenged in our top role... and, on a deeper level, we have felt put down, hurt and rejected. It is okay to have these feelings. It is not okay to act on them. Take three deep breaths and everybody start taking care of each other.

Sometimes bottoms get so deeply engaged in a scene that they fail to safeword, or forget, or so profoundly believe in the fantasy that it doesn't occur to them: many of the techniques we play with, like interrogation, function in the real world to undermine volition. Dossie remembers a scene in which a top offered her a choice of something or other: "I felt very confused. Some distant part of me vaguely remembered having made choices, but the response from my state of consciousness at that time was, Choose? I am not a thing that chooses." So then what is the top's responsibility?

If a bottom does not safeword and you don't pick up on what's going on, and this will happen if you play long enough and well enough, there is no blame. However, it is still your responsibility to monitor for physical safety as best you can. As ethical tops we make a commitment to never knowingly harm our bottoms. To this end we check in regularly to make sure that things are going the way we think they are, and we constantly monitor the physical and emotional safety of our bottoms. If a bottom is beyond safewording, and you as the top feel unsure about how far you should go, it is your responsibility to slow down or stop the scene and get into communication with the bottom to make sure you have informed consent. If you have to bring the bottom back into reality to do this, please remember that you helped get them into that altered state in the first place, so presumably you can help get them back there again as soon as you are sure of what's going on.

And just because someone safeworded doesn't mean that the scene has to be over. There may be times when the problem that brought either of you to safeword is so overwhelming that carrying on doesn't feel like the right thing right now - but most often we find that after we've dealt with whatever the difficulty is, we're still terrifically turned on, with the added bonus of a shared intimacy.

from The New Topping Book (2003) by Dossie Easton & Janet W. Hardy

(note: the authors use ‘top’ & ‘bottom’ in the historical S/M sense, meaning ‘person performing the act’ & ‘person receiving the act’; the act in question is not necessarily penetration.)

[sleeplesssmoll]

I think Vertin might be a tactile person.

Here are examples taken from the voice lines and context clues.  This isn't an all conclusive list of touchy interactions, just what I could find. Someone stop her before she gets hurt. Update: I'm going to keep adding on as we find more interactions together because this is really fun.

Sotheby (hat and hair): Stop it! You can't just touch an adult's head! (She is 13. Vertin probably sees her as a baby and pat her head).

Bette (hands): Ha ha ... They might be a little rough. To tightly grab the eave does require abundant practice. (assuming Vertin is holding her hand. Don’t ask me how we got here.)

Rabies (clothing and torso): Straws ... be hugged. Rabies ... feels it. (she hugged him 🥹)

A Knight (hat and hair): One step further, and you will be in close contact with Someone's nose... As long as you can hit Someone's head. (how close is Vertin standing to the AK? Or maybe she was looking for an invisible head to pat.)

Mesmer Jr (Hands) :Compared to the incurable anxiety, these wounds are minor. Oh, watch your distance. (smh Vertin not everyone likes being touched.)

Melania (hat and hair): "Well done. Please keep on." ...Aren't you going to say that? (more headpats but Melania needs vocal praise too.)

Lilya

Clothing and torso:  Feel awesome? Now it's my turn to pet you. (...what is Vertin petting? This is clothing and torso but I'm lost.)

Hat and hair: You should be grateful that I am too lazy to move now. Or you should know that the first-class pilot’s got a first-glass head-butt, too. (Vertin taking advantage of the moment to give headpats. I'm telling you, its a THING)

Leilani (Hands): Shaka brah! Ooh! Do you want a handshake or a high-five, my friend? I'm fine with either! (She’s so wholesome)

Cristallo 

hat and hair: Are you patting my head? The doctor says, this is a reward for good children. Have I done something right? 

Hands and sleeves: Would you like to hold my hands? I could be with you anytime. (Cristallo is weak and frail. The nurses say she could be blown away by a gust of wind. Despite this she says she’ll be with Vertin anytime. To me it reads as Vertin being worried Cristallo will disappear too. Cristallo notices so she offers to hold hands and says she will always be here as a way to comfort her.)

Darley Clatter

Hat and Hair:  Oh ... I can't deny you are really good at patting.

Clothing and Torso: Take a look at my beautiful muscles! I don't need to explain how fabulous I am. Hey, watch out! Rub me in the direction my mane grows.

Bonus Intimacy : Adorable? Ahh? You don't even have a taste! (Vertin pets him and calls him adorable. Darley, don’t let the girlies know. They might end your noble bloodline.)

Pavia (Hat and Hair): Wanna know how many holes I've made on others' heads? No? Then stop it. (What possessed her to give Pavia headpats?)

Dikke (hat and hair): Thou art overstepping my boundaries, arcanist. (I’m guessing Vertin is at it again with the headpats. Dikke smiles when she says this so she isn’t offended. If anything, she seems amused. )

Eternity (hands and sleeves): Go on, try holding it, and feel its temperature rising in your hand… Easy, sweetheart… take it easy, heh heh… (more hand holding but Vertin wasn’t prepared this time)

An-an Lee (hands and sleeves): What? You want a palm reading? (Vertin, why are you like this? Are you randomly touching people's hands?)

Regulus (hands and sleeves): What do you want? I don't have any spare scratch. (I'm sure she knows you're broke since she's your boss. Vertin's just being Vertin at this point.)

Vertin leads Regulus by the hand into her Suitcase in the prologue

Blonney (hands): Interesting! It's been a while since I last met someone who would start with holding hands.

She also holds Blonney's hand as she calms her down during the green lake event.

I feel like I should have picked up on this sooner. Gift-giving, hand holding, and headpats. This is the Timekeeper way.

[nytb]

If you were mine

Click here first <3

A dinner party leads to a hot encounter with what seems to be a master of all trades, Alexia now filled with lust and desire for more.

“Want to explain why you left in a hurry last night?" Mapi questions her captain, leaving the woman no time to rest after practice ended.

"You know, I could have just wanted to leave"

"If that were the case, Y/N wouldn't have left running after you like there was something to fix" The defender's quick wit taking a hold on the situation "Want to tell me what actually happened?" she smirked.

It wouldn't be implausible that her childhood best friend had laid it on thick on Alexia and it might have somehow backfired. Unrealistic? Yes, but implausible? No.

The midfielder took a quick glance around her, making sure that nobody else would be able to hear her confession.

"God, what didn't happen - " flashbacks from the previous night in her head, smiling from ear to ear.

"Spill it"

"So..." Alexia started "Have you ever not have had to think? Like whatever was happening was meant to happen and it's not like you don't want it to happen so you're just there - happily participating?"

"Ale, I think that you lost me"

"How about you give me another excuse to be around her and I will give you all the details" she smirked, Mapi always loved to know all the gossip, especially when she wasn't involved in it.

"Wait - around wh- " she questioned, only to realize it before finishing her question "You and Y/N?"

"Mhmhm" Alexia nodded, clearly proud of herself.

"Wait so the whole 'you need to celebrate getting a new apartment' thing was a setup?"

"You catch on quick" The midfielder laughed "Sadly, I think that your girlfriend got there first"

Mapi's gossip game was lacking.

"Tell me everything" the defender ran behind Alexia as she made her way to the locker room. The latter turned on her hips, tapping at her friend's shoulder as she punctuated every word "One. More. Excuse." she reminded Mapi of the deal she had previously offered.

It didn't take long for the defender to concoct a plan to trap her childhood best friend in Alexia's reach.

A quick pop up, that her media team would gladly encourage, at a major concert in Barcelona.

"You do know that I hate these things right?" Y/N complained, getting dressed in Mapi's guest bedroom.

"Just think that right after we will go to your favorite sushi bar" the defender, who was sitting on Y/N's temporary bed, said "And if we get real crazy we pop by a tattoo parlor and get a new design on that arm" she smirked.

Clearly Mapi was the influence quiet homebodies begs for.

"I will even skip over the fact that you called Rosalia's concert a thing" she air-quoted the last word "And you should know that that's a serious offense in my book"

Y/N broke in laughter "Sure, because you now listen to the latest music and aren't still caught on the songs your parents still listen to" she mocked.

"Again, I will let that offense slide by" the defender stated "Aren't I an amazing friend" grinning from ear to ear, only to confess the real reason they were heading to a concert.

"Just be aware that this whole thing is a setup"

"Yeah I know, my agent has been grilling me to actually show up this time"

"Oh no cutie, she's not who I'm talking about"

Y/N turned on her feet "You're telling me that you got me to renounce training days just to hook up with one of your friends - again?" This time the boxer didn't sound as happy.

"Yeah because you had such a bad time with them" Mapi mocked "But don't worry, this time I'm not the one that planned who you're meeting"

"I'm not sleeping with your girlfriend's friends Mapi" Y/N crossed her arms, now staring at her childhood friend.

"Loosen up, this is all Alexia's doing."

Y/N's face turned blank, probably thinking about her previous encounter with the Barcelona midfielder.

"Stop daydreaming" the defender threw her friend a shirt "And cover up, you're making me feel frail."

"I have asked you if you wanted to come train with me in the past" she slipped into the tight fitted shirt.

"Yeah, you still need something over that" the defender groaned "Can't have you looking like that."

"Looking like what?" Y/N complained "I always wear this sort of stuff”

"That's the problem" the defender argued "You're always making the rest of us look like potatoes, even us athletes."

"Cheer up, in a couple of years, when all this fighting thing ends I will look just like you." Y/N joked.

"Maybe I should also teach you how to be funny" the defender threw her own dig "For when you can no longer rely on looks to get women"

"I have other traits" Y/N smirked.

"And somehow I think that that's why Alexia is so adamant on seeing you again" Ingrid joined, smiling as she greeted Y/N "What about we actually get going now? I have been keeping watch on that blonde all day - and it's tiring" she joked.

Damn - no wonder Y/N hates these things, people practically glued to one another, screams coming from every direction - this must be what introverts picture hell to be.

Getting greeting and her media press appearances over and done with, Y/N made her way to her VIP gifted tickets.

Being a star with a great agency backing her was a great asset, especially for Mapi as she managed to get a free concert and an easy setup with one single phone call.

"Remind me to thank your agent"

"So you're the one that made this happen" Y/N laughed "You had me thinking that my agent thought I liked this sort of music for a hot minute."

"And what's wrong with this sort of music?" Alexia questioned, shimmying past Ingrid, aiming her question at the boxer.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and I think that I messed up again" she extended her hand out, making a clear reference at their first encounter.

"Funny" Alexia said sarcastically "You should probably get more clothes" she stated "There is nothing wrong about having those peek through every shirt you wear" the midfielder pointed at Y/N's abs "But it's getting a bit repetitive"

"Weird, I was thinking the same thing" Y/N approached Alexia, bringing her into a hug and as she reached her ear she whispered "If you were mine you wouldn't be wearing that right now".

Alexia's excuse of a tank top that barely covered any of her skin wasn't to Y/N’s liking, let alone the short booty shorts she had on - if she was trying to cover the least amount of skin possible she successfully pulled it off.

"Maybe I'll invite you when I go shopping" Y/N disguised her previous statement, allowing herself a quick glance over Alexia's figure "Or send you along my assistant to pick outfits for me" she smirked.

"You have an assistant? Let me give you my assistant's number, maybe they want to be friends" she joked, taking the opportunity to place her hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Maybe it's me who wants her number"

The midfielder's hand flew to her own abdomen, crossing her arms like a discontented child "I liked you more when you were more action and less maybes" Alexia stated, clearly annoyed at the boxer's previous statement.

Y/N snuck into the midfielder's personal space, slightly taking hold of her hips, moving past the group but not before taking the opportunity to whisper at Alexia's ear.

"Jealousy looks good on you"

And she was off, letting everyone knew that she was on the first drink run of the night.

"What was that?" Ingrid questioned, flustered at what just happened "What actually happened between you girls?"

"A lapse in judgement" the midfielder replied, seeing that Y/N was already being wrapped by someone else's body.

Mapi, followed her captain's line of sight, sympathizing with her situation "It's probably not what it looks like" she stuck up for her childhood best friend.

"Don't" Alexia's cold statement put the defender in her place "She's literally salivating at her for goodness sake"

Y/N's return to the group had the drinks she brought along with a couple of women overshadowed, especially by the Barcelona midfielder.

"Found these two in the pit" the boxer laughed, they were also Mapi's friends.

"OMG I haven't seen you girls in forever" pure enthusiasm in her voice, greeting them euphorically.

“See? Only friends" Ingrid spoke at a tune only Alexia would hear

That probably calmed the midfielder's jealousy for a minute, but she would be damned if it were only her that would be feeling that way tonight.

Dancing with strangers, her hands travelling through another person's body, her own fully leaned into it.

Y/N was fuming.

"You think that this is funny" the boxer approached, clearly pissed but hiding it underneath the coldness of her statement "Come with me" she grabbed Alexia's wrist, taking her away from the concert.

“What!?" the midfielder crossed her arms as soon as they got to a less crowded hallway, stopping Y/N dead in her tracks.

"Don't give me attitude" the boxer warned "I will teach you how to behave" and with that statement Alexia found herself up on Y/N's shoulder as she was carried out of there.

The midfielder fought it at first, but seeing Y/N's determination, and being highly attracted at the possibilities of whatever this was leading towards, she simply closed her grip around the boxer's abdomen. Grinning from ear to ear at her previous performance, clearly over the moon that it worked.

Setting Alexia back on her feet right next to Y/N's car, the midfielder made her way to her car's bonnet, leaning against it.

"No." Y/N groaned "I'm not rewarding whatever that was."

"Oh really?" Alexia leaned backwards, resting her weight on her arms firmly placed behind herself "So what will you do?" the midfielder continued, clearly provoking Y/N, being successful at every turn "Punish me?" she smirked.

The boxer's answer was simple. She made her way to Alexia, settling herself between her legs, she pulled the midfielder by her short's waistline, getting her to stand straight.

"I clearly have a lot of things to teach you"

"What if I don't want to be taught"

"Don't lie now" Y/N whispered at the midfielder's lips "There are better things we could be doing than having this" she pointed between the pair of them "conversation"

"This is a conversation to you?"

"I would rather it not be one"

Y/N placed space between them "Get in" she ordered opening the passenger door.

"And if I don't want to?" she argued.

"I would go over there and make you want to get in"

Alexia leaned back onto the bonnet, yet another provocation. Y/N groaned.

"Have it your way" the boxer closed the door roughly, a loud echo on the underground parking filled the air.

"Don't say that I didn't warn you" Y/N groaned at Alexia's ear "I will have you begging for me to let you enter my car"

A promise that would soon be fulfilled.

The boxer pulled Alexia into a rough kiss, exploring her mouth as the midfielder reached for Y/N's shirt, pulling her even closer.

"No." Y/N stated, grabbing the Catalonian's hands away from her shirt, placing them on the car's bonnet "They stay there" she ordered.

For a while they did but as Y/N nibbled at her ear, unbuttoning the midfielder's shorts, she had no other choice than to break the command given to her.

Alexia tried her best to grab onto Y/N's hair, she wished to pull the boxer’s lips back to her mouth, but Y/N reacted quicker.

Grabbing Alexia's neck, firmly choking her she whispered into the midfielder's mouth.

"So disobedient" she started, placing Alexia's hands back on the bonnet "Let's make it easier for you" she smirked

“You move, I stop."

"No" Alexia argued back.

"I told you not to give me attitude, it wasn't a suggestion."

"Or what?"

"You wouldn't want to find that out." she warned

"Actually, I do."

That ignited a flame in Y/N, Alexia was getting what she so eagerly requested.

The boxer rose her hand, placing two fingers on Alexia's lips "Suck" she ordered and the midfielder gladly obliged "So beautiful" Y/N whispered "What a shame that you're so disobedient" she took her fingers back, lowered them into the midfielder's pants "I will teach that out of you"

"It's more fun this way" she argued back

"I will show you how untrue that is"

Y/N roughly inserted both fingers at once, no warmup this time.

"You move, I stop" she reminded Alexia the simple command she had to follow.

As Y/N expertly curled her fingers inside Alexia, bringing the midfielder into a state of pure lust, the Catalonian learned that rolling her hips - as she looked for release - was getting her nowhere, so she fought against her body's urges, at times struggling with it.

The boxer made it her mission to edge Alexia for as long as possible, ignoring every request for release that slipped the midfielder's mouth.

"More" she begged as Y/N worked her clavicle, roughly sucking on it, leaving hickeys only a few people would see.

"Say you want to get into my car."

"I want to" she whispered as she arched her back, looking for release.

"Beg."

"Please" Alexia whispered into Y/N's mouth, making the boxer stop, placing space between the both of them she walked towards the car’s passenger door “Now wasn't that easy” she opened the passenger door again.

"You're just going to leave me here and stop cold turkey on me?" Alexia was raging.

"I don't reward disobedience" Y/N stated "Now, get in."

The midfielder did just that, buttoning her shorts as she gave Y/N a death stare.

"Did I allow you to do that?" the boxer pointed at the short's button.

Alexia's death stare remained, not granting Y/N an answer.

"So disobedient"

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:First kiss with HSR characters PT.1:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I haven't written anything in a while, but I recently got a surge of motivation, so why not take advantage of that? :) There will be a few parts because I want to write for many characters and the process of writing each one is really long for me so I prefer to spread them out a bit, so if the character you would like to read about isn't here, keep an eye out for future parts, perhaps I will include them there! As per usual, English isn't my first language and I'm learning as I go, please be patient with me. Requests are open! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧】

【Pairings: Kafka, Argenti, Blade x GN!Reader】

【CW: I may have added some angst here and there, but I couldn't resist (I tried to end it with a good, slightly bittersweet conclusion each time though)! I wanted to make the characters' traits as similar to the game's as possible, but a few things may still be out of character, sorry in advance!】

a lil note: this is literally just all of these characters being absolutely SMITTEN for you and them fawning over you, but every day is a good day to get praised left and right, no?

☆〜KAFKA〜☆

It shouldn't be much of a surprise that you fell in love with this young and exceptionally charming woman. As a Stellaron Hunter, she ensures that Elio's predicted plans are carried out. That being said, you were a completely unpredicted element in a series of missions; there was never a mention of you ever being included in situations that you always found yourself stuck in. Kafka always saw it as "the usual result of the unforeseen nature of destiny," as she liked to explain to you.

After a while of simple acquaintance, she has grown more fond of you than she has of anyone. Not only were you beautiful in her eyes, which was a big thing for a connoisseur of beauty such as herself, but she felt at ease with you. She may be a sly, unbothered criminal whose prize for capturing her is enough to provide many good-lived lives for a bunch of Vidyadharas, but she actually really appreciates the times when she doesn't feel like she's being chased by people or by time itself.

Being with you was as enjoyable as studying the waves—a peaceful activity, a thought-provoking process. She desired to look at the horizon and discover more than meets the eye, however, it was quite impossible. The job of a Stellaron Hunter is challenging not only because of the relentless pursuit of destiny and the never-ending dangers but also because it entails never staying in one place for too long, never forming more meaningful connections, and never attaching yourself to finite, frail matters. Even though she knew she was more unlikely to run into the same individual twice as a Devil Hunter than she was now, her options were usually limited.

Kafka isn't one to fully hide her true feelings; she spoke very highly of you, your way of being and thinking, your appearance, and your tendency to be the miracle of one's destiny (*cough* talking about herself there). She has developed a habit of complimenting you just to see you squirm away from her gaze and bite your lower lip to try and stop a smile from forming. These occurrences weren't rare; they always followed the same pattern: she said something = you discreetly reacted = she noticed and couldn't stop noticing.

A kiss from her would be more of an indication of her love than a reveal, showing rather than declaring it. It may have happened during one of your late-night chats where you slowly opened up to one another, or it could have happened in the early morning after she invited herself into your home after you had just woken up and weren't sure if you were still asleep. In any case, without having said much, she leaned in, rested her hand on your cheek, and left a tender and delicate kiss on your lips. It didn't last long, but it meant more than a decade of stolen glances and conversations with hidden meanings.

It didn't feel like a goodbye kiss, it never did, but it was clear it was some form of leaving you wanting more, leaving you yearning for her to come back and see you again, and leaving you wondering how long it would be before she does it once more.

☆〜ARGETNTI〜☆

Knight of Beauty, a follower of the fallen Aeon Idrila. He's constantly on the journey to honor the principles of beauty itself, spreading the grace of his Goddess all over the universe. Discovering numerous forms of beauty in the ordinary and in the extraordinary. When he first laid his eyes on you, it was as if time began to bend around you, a black hole in which the concept of time didn't seem to exist, trapping anyone and everyone residing in its proximity.

Recognizing refinement in people was second nature to him, admiring their souls that mirrored their personalities and beliefs. He wished nothing more than to convey compassion to those who possessed honorable qualities, pure hearts, and desirable traits. Your beauty shone with such radiance that it put the stars to shame; your existence was an excellent reminder of Idrila's presence in the universe.

To Argenti, love is a miraculous feeling that is a joy to experience; it reflects a person's deepest desires and is an act of care so poetic that it almost brings a tear to the eye. In a way, having never experienced it before and having no opportunity to try due to his commitment to traversing in solitude, he decided it wasn't he who was supposed to feel it and that he was merely destined to admire the beauty of it from afar.

Meeting you meant the world to him; you made him feel love for another person for the first time—the all-consuming love from every classical novel he had read. The purest form of it is tragic love, one that breaks down the foundations that hold one's life in perfect balance. He spent several days and nights with you, staying in one location longer than he ever did since becoming a knight—the place where he started to ponder his destiny and his vocation.

He made every effort to push these thoughts away, thinking such things felt like a violation of the universal code of chivalry he upholds, yet when he gazed at your gentle smile as he held your hand, it was a tougher battle than that of a wax candle facing the sun. He was melting into a pitiful puddle as your very being formed him again, never to be the same as before.

One beautiful night, when the birds had gone to sleep, no expectations were laid forth, and no secrets were to be unveiled, Argenti took you by both hands, kissing each knuckle as if they would break if he put pressure on them. He spoke of you as if you were the one he had devoted his life to worshiping, his lips singing silent praises; perhaps it was a prayer, perhaps an apology. His eyes met yours, a nonverbal plea, and you leaned in, connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss, electricity coursing between each soft teeth clashing.

What an outstanding farewell kiss that was. The thought alone made you gulp down the lump growing in your throat. Argenti has to leave, or rather, ought to leave; otherwise, he's afraid he may decide to stay. He's certain your paths will cross one day; it's just the way of the world. Either way, he always finds himself drifting towards beauty. Behind him, he will leave a timeless tale of a wounded and repaired heart, as well as a dose of fate that makes no mistakes.

☆〜BLADE〜☆

The undying man who became a blade, a shell of a person, a mara-stricken monster with no hope for craved demise. His story is one of endless agony and misery. In this everlasting life, Blade's abilities are used in matters including bloodshed, spreading the pain he felt himself, and only then would he feel himself disappear, even for a moment. As bitter as that was, it was reality, his burden to bear. Blade didn't have "companionships" and never needed attachments. The closest he had to an acquaintance was Kafka, whose voice managed to calm the monsters who grew inside him relentlessly, and possibly Silver Wolf. However, he didn't understand her, nor did he wish to.

How you were able to capture his wounded heart remains a forever-unsolved mystery. He, of course, didn't decide one day that the way you laughed made him feel emotions so intense that he wondered if what he was feeling was some form of suffering he'd never experienced previously or that his intensified urge to protect you wasn't just due to the fact he was always nearby when danger struck, but because he genuinely cared. It was a lengthy process imbued with a myriad of understatements and denial. An "I love you" leaving his lips was as bizarre as the prospect of hell freezing over... yet when it did happen, you only wished to hear it again.

He frequently wonders why he finds himself faintly grinning primarily in your presence alone (and obviously during combat). When you resided in his vicinity, everyone could feel a shift in the atmosphere surrounding him, as well as a change in his usual behavior. It was almost comical to observe, especially to his fellow Stellaron Hunters, who never missed an opportunity to tease him. Nonetheless, love expressed by a presumably loveless man is as fascinating as it is arduous. Your existence was curative, helping him to rediscover parts of humanity he thought he had lost, yet healing is a part of him he has come to loathe with every fiber of his being. At one point, he distanced himself, as if limiting your healing influence on him was the sole thing that he could control about his 'condition'.

That didn't last long, and he scurried back to you like a moth to a flame. Blade didn't grasp the concept of physical touch as a kind of comfort; it never failed to remind him of how many times he had been hurt. You, once again, were the exception. Gentle arm touches, random lacing of fingers, your scent, and that insufferable (not really) look in your eyes whenever you stared at him drew him in. As much as he despised life, he did not detest the idea of living simply to be with you; that paradise that always seemed to be out of his reach, a mere push away, appeared to be standing right in front of him.

A minor brush of your body against his made you excited, but a kiss? It's overwhelming to even imagine. You'd have to initiate it, subtly steering the conversation to a topic where it wouldn't be too odd to inquire about moving to the next step in your relationship, acting as lovers. If Blade didn't wear a stoic expression on his face more than half the time, you could tell by his nervous swallowing that he would be at least blushing a little. He wasn't an adolescent, and he didn't think of a kiss as the grandest gesture of intimacy; nevertheless, that didn't free him of hesitations. Being vulnerable and helpless in the hands of another, all of his shortcomings could be easily revealed.

Kissing Blade had to come naturally when you were alone and indulging in small talk; there was no need for a perfectly timed gust of wind or a captivating blanket of stars above, just two imperfect people pouring all of their desires, yearning, and passion into a single imperfect kiss. Your lips met, linking your souls and creating a sensible spark deep within. There was no distance between you, and you were both entirely defenseless against the other's will. After you moved away, it was as if a thousand sentences were pulled from your mouths, yet no one spoke a word. With swollen lips, you were unable to resist a grin while Blade leaned in for another kiss.

lil ending note: hope you enjoyed! also, I have to mention that I know that both Kafka and Blade are Stellaron Hunters so the main problem portrayed in Kafka's part (the never being in one place too long) could potentially be brought up In Blade's part as well, but I decided that would be pretty repetitive so I wrote about Blade's history instead :D

[melverie]

Can I just say that I absolutely LOVE how ever since they all found out that MC is human and was brought here against their will, it was Lucifer who kept insisting that they shouldn't be the ones to trap MC in the Devildom. That whether they want to stay or not is a decision MC has to make themself and that the brothers should support them no matter what they end up choosing

And now that the moment is finally here, now that MC has confirmed that they indeed plan on heading home, and now that all of his brothers agreed on helping them get back, having forged a pact and lending their powers to do so—

Now that he knows that he's the final piece needed to send them back; that the lingering idea of the yet to be forged pact between them is what's stopping MC from potentially leaving their side for good, leaving his side for good—

Now that they have finally gotten to this point, he realizes something. And he's unable to live with it

And so, he goes back on his word.

He's taking that choice from them.

"I don't want to."

Lucifer's pride is what keeps his voice leveled and neutral, as if it were just another day. As if he everything was completely fine. As if he didn't feel this pain in his heart, almost as if someone had rammed a dagger through his chest over and over and over again

To most people, he'd appear to be in perfect control of his emotions—if only his gaze wouldn't completely obliterated that frail façade of his. The way his beautiful dark eyes shimmering with a hint of blood red silently plead, beg MC to stay...

Internally, he is breaking apart because he knows what he is doing isn't right. He knows that he shouldn't trap them like a bird in a cage, and yet he can't help himself. Not in this situation. Not when it comes to MC

'No'

He—Lucifer, Avatar of Pride himself—is the last thing trapping the very person that finally made him realize what his sister had meant forever ago

'I won't let you go'

How one day, someone would stumble their way into his life, and how he'd love them so wholeheartedly and so deeply that everything else would become trivial as long as he'd get to hold them in his arms

'I can't let you go'

Someone that he'd happily throw away everything for, not even considering any alternatives if only for the shred of a chance at just one last tomorrow with them

'Please stay with us. Please stay with me'

Everything.

'I cannot lose you, MC'

Even if they'll never forgive him for it.

"I'm not going to forge a pact with MC."

[impishjesters]

Agents of Cat-astrophe

warning(s): none unless you count Jax note(s): This gave me a good chuckle as someone who's consistently dropping more curse words than regular words, I'd imagine the system to just censor anything and everything that comes out of my mouth at that point. A/N: (In response to the requester) I wish I was taking breaks (I mean I am sorta), I'm fully aware I'm running myself ragged right now. But it's hard for me to stop myself... I'm caffeinated and chaotic and I don't wanna stew in my brain for too long. At least I get up and stretch every now and then. Request: Anyways, I’m requesting a Jax x reader (crushing stage) where the reader is sorta at the same level of meanness as Jax and likes to do pranks with him on the other characters. Also the reader’s digital form is a short cat that at first glance makes them look nice/friendly (obviously not an actual cat but yk what I mean), and they have a sailor’s mouth that is unfortunately censored but that doesn’t stop them (can also purr and does so when they’re content which is usually when there chilling in Jax’s room or with Jax in general). I think it would be fun if the reader surprisingly was sorta nicer to Kinger and has a small soft spot for him and does more playful pranks on him than mean/harmful ones.

When you first showed up, you looked so small and frail, like a literal little kitten completely out of place in this big colourful nightmare world

Ragatha thought you’d be like Pomni, and boy howdy was she wrong

You just ended up being another Jax—who you later met and found out was also an agent of chaos

Similarly to Pomni you cursed up a storm when you first arrived and the endless censorship that came with it

You have a knack for testing Caine’s patience when it comes to your sailor’s mouth, much to Jax’s entertainment. It’s not every day Caine loses his cool like that and you’re just a newbie, needless to say, you caught his interest

That sailor’s mouth also gets used towards the other’s and Jax won’t lie and say it’s not funny because shit’s hilarious.

Sure they all curse from time to time, but you just laid out an entire sentence that was completely and utterly censored. Like the system said “fuck this I’m gonna censor the whole damn sentence”

Unlike Jax who doesn’t show any remorse for who he pranks or how cruel they are, you draw the line at messing with Kinger.

Okay, that’s a lie you still mess with him but it’s not like how you mess with the others. Kinger has this sweet unstable dad/grandpa vibe and it kind of makes the place more homey in a weird way. (plus that man has been through enough trauma, give him a break, and talk about his bug collections or some shit)

The upside is that his mind is so scattered sometimes that using the same pranks on him always results in something hilarious. So you really don’t need to try for any new material. (he also really needs to consider actually using the lock on his door, he makes it too easy)

Jax considered you his little partner in crime the more time passed—not exactly a friend nah, but like a good ol pal that also likes to partake in joining him and his bullshittery

The first time he hears you purring is when the two of you are lazing about in his room, he’d gotten distracted collecting things for a prank on someone and heard the loudest rumbling coming from behind him

“Are you fucking purring?”

It’s a little embarrassing at first, you’ve uh, never done that before..

Jax has the biggest shit-eating grin, if he wasn’t using dumb cat-themed nicknames before he sure as hell is now

“Oh, like you don’t stomp your feet like a petulant child you overgrown rabbit.”

He does not stomp his fuckin feet like a temperamental rabbit, thank you very much (that’s a fuckin lie if I ever heard one)

Jax already had mixed feelings about you before, nothing particularly bad, just feelings he couldn’t place…that was until the prank…

He doesn’t know how you did it, or how he got so wrapped up in it. But you pranked him, and you pranked him good.

Oh, oh okay that feeling is new… butterflies don’t typically belong inside your gut, now whether Jax has ever experienced a crush before or not is probably beyond him. But these little butterflies are a bitch and it takes awhile of placing two and two together to realize he’s… caught feelings to some degree

You, however, probably had a crush on him for a while, perhaps really noticing it after the whole purring fiasco when you learned that it only happened around Jax

[naamahdarling]

Two days ago and I was comfortable enough that this was the right choice that I was able to make the call to have Smooch put to sleep. I am sure now. I wish I weren't. It hurts to see him like this. The vet is out or I would move it forward. We could do the emergency vet but I literally do not think I could do it without our vet and my favorite nurse. That feels selfish but when she answered the phone yesterday the comfort was... astonishing.

I'm trying to prepare. I've been waiting for this for a long time, which is why it's bearable at all. I have entertainment, I have an art project to memorialize him ready to go for whenever I feel like it. I have plans to make a couple of keepsakes. But there's going to be a hole in my life so much bigger than his frail little body. It's the end of part of me. He has been there in my future for so long, thinking about not having him there is like vertigo, or a reverse haunting of some kind. It's a Wrongness, part of the world about to be unmade. He is genuinely part of my identity. I'm all these things that I consider core parts of me -- queer, funny, creative, curious, a little clever, loving, an artist, a survivor, my friends' friend, my blood sister's sister, my chosen sister's sibling, my father's daughter, my boyfriend's partner...and I'm Dried Pickle Man's person.

Here at home IRL and online, and everywhere I go, to almost anyone I speak to at all, I have been his human for 13 years and 27 days.

And that isn't enough apparently, because Sid, too, is slipping away. I...I don't know that we can save him, either. His digestive issues are keeping him from eating, we can't stop the flare, a feeding tube won't fix it, meds aren't helping him. He's losing weight very fast. Vet is at a loss. I usually have a pretty good idea of what to do next or what needs to happen. I have nothing for him. The specialist might know. How the hell do we keep affording it?

And Raleigh. Oh god. Raleigh. If we can't afford the surgery or if it fails. What do we do?

What if we lose all three?

What if my boyfriend loses BOTH his boys? Raleigh alone is going to devastate him. Not just sad, like ordinary grief, I mean I have never ever in my life seen an animal love a human this much.

He's already struggling with his depression and ADHD. He will suffer and there is nothing I can do to stop this all from happening. I can't dig into a hidden well of trying harder, I can't outsmart it. I can't comfort him by saying that it is hard but possible to influence this. I hate seeing him in pain.

And I'm scared for me. I am afraid it will just ruin him and I will lose him too, until and unless he can recover. And I already spend so much time alone. Even my art is...gone. Too painful. Writing isn't really possible, either. My body barely feels like mine these days. I have so fucking little to hang on to. My cats are one of the last things I have of myself. One of the only good things I have in my day to day life.

It's all an absolutely terrifying cascade. Unlike a lot of situations where I'm scared of the future, this isn't me afraid of unlikely scenarios that are several crises away. This is very real. And I'm usually not scared for my boyfriend like this.

It won't kill us. You can come back from something like this, probably, I know people survive much worse and I'm bombarded with reminders of that a dozen times a day. But it can take such a long time to come back, and...sometimes you just...Come Back Wrong.

I'm not often genuinely completely helpless. I am helpless now.

[aris-ink]

Omg all of your works are so so good I’ve binge read them all😭😭😭 can I please request like an agedup!/ dilf!Namjoon with reader, dub/non-con? Daddy Joon just has me on my knees all day every day🧎🏽‍♀️

tysm I love you <3 and 👀

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: strangers to lovers, doctor!namjoon au

warnings: implied murder, mentions of anxiety and neglect, hints of (emotional) parental abuse, obsession, corruption, dub con, misconduct, inappropriate medical examinations lmao, age gap, daddy kink, praise, soft manipulation, psychological humiliation, multiple orgasms, risky sex, creampie, implied imprisonment/pet play at the end??? (up for interpretation ajdjdfjdh)

Namjoon always had a soft spot for strays. A keen eye, too. And you? You were but a little kitten in the body of a tigress. A kitten without an owner. Not one that knew how to care for you, anyway, and sometimes that was a fate far worse than one of an orphan.

He wasn't quite sure what it was about you that caught his eye. He has never felt anything towards any of his patients, politely ignoring any subtle attempts at flirting with him. But after your first visit, he decided right then and there that he was going to help you get better; in every way he could. Bring out that little kitten from hiding and give her shelter, where she wouldn't need to pretend to fit in with the predators to survive.

Because now, you had your very own predator watching your back.

He looked forward to your every visit, although it pained him to see you unwell. When he noted the slight tremble in your hands as you sat in his office, he started weighing the pros and cons of referring you to a psychiatrist. Did he want to see you wither away to nothing? No. Did he want to hand you over to someone else? Definitely not.

Tapping his pen against his lower lip, he lifted his eyes from the computer to your face.

So beautiful. So frail. Oh, he could crush you if his hands weren't careful. Maybe he should; maybe you needed to fall apart and be rebuilt again. What a shame. What an opportunity.

Shall we leave it up to fate?

Gently, Namjoon reached out to take your hand in his.

"Listen to me, sweetheart," he sighed. "You're not well, and I don't think there is much more I can do. I think you need to see a specialist."

You only blinked at him, looking so lost, your brows furrowed softly.

Namjoon gave your hand a squeeze, then released it to swivel around in his chair, facing his computer again.

"I'm going to write you a letter of referral, and then-"

"I don't-" you interrupted him, immediately avoiding his eyes. "I don't think I want to see a psychiatrist right now."

Ah. There we go.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side.

"I know it's a big decision, but you need help to get better."

You hesitated for a moment, laying your hands down in your lap. You fiddled with your skirt, and Namjoon had to physically restrain himself from letting his gaze wander down to the smooth skin of your legs.

"But..." You sighed, biting down on your lower lip. "Then..." Another sigh, like you couldn't quite figure out how to express yourself properly. "Can you help me?"

'Atta girl.

Namjoon took his glasses off and placed them on the desk beside him. He stayed quiet, watching you with dark eyes, waiting for you to wrap up your thoughts.

"I- I don't want to see anyone else right now," you managed. "It's hard enough to open up to one doctor."

His lips quirked. Check, mate. How perfect you were, building yourself a house of straws. How considerate for the wolf who wanted to devour you.

This was his cue to stick to his oath and do what was best for his patient. The only thing was that every patient's case differed; and he knew exactly what was best for you right now. What you lacked, what threw you off balance in the first place. Only he possessed the medicine that held the cure to all the aches of your soul.

He pretended to think it over, his eyes sincere as they stared into yours.

"Okay," he agreed, soft and quiet.

It was enough for a ghost of a smile to grace your face. His heartbeat picked up its pace.

"But," he continued, leaning down to grab a stethoscope from a plastic drawer, "I need you to work with me, okay? I want to see you get better."

You nodded instantly, your back straightening when he stood up from his chair.

"How about we start with a check up?" He suggested, placing a large hand on your shoulder. "Can you lie down for me?"

You relaxed beneath his touch, silently leaning back to sink into the leather bed. It was propped up, so you were really almost halfway to sitting up, but he gave you a warm smile, briefly moving his hand to rest atop your head.

"Good girl."

He noticed the deep inhale, the way you seemed to flush at the praise, and he had to busy himself with putting the stethoscope on in order not to barge into that little straw house and frighten you with his sharp teeth.

No. He'd claw at it, circle it, until you were curious enough to peek outside and consider what the beast had to say to you. And most importantly, what it had to offer.

He placed the cool end of the stethoscope on your chest. Your heartbeat instantly pulsed in his ears, loud, clear and fast. He looked down at you, sliding it an inch lower, his knuckles barely ghosting the swell of your breast.

A beautiful stutter in the rhythm followed.

"Are you uncomfortable?" He murmured.

You shook your head, your voice coming out soft when you answered.

"No."

"Nervous?"

You shook your head again.

Namjoon smiled at you.

"Good. There's no need to be."

He took the stethoscope off then and put it somewhere behind him, not paying it much more attention. Instead, he placed his hand on the crown of your head again, his thumb brushing over your temple.

"Do you get heart palpitations often?"

You stared up at him, those big, innocent eyes making it hard for him to remember that an entire world existed outside of you, outside of this room. Making him want to do bad things. Dip into that innocence and twist it inside out, just like you did to his soul.

"Sometimes," you replied quietly.

Namjoon hummed.

"Do you know how many physical conditions follow anxiety? Stress spreads like poison. Ignoring it is never a solution."

He noted the way his statement sank into you. Nothing he said was a lie; but how easily you accepted any words that fell from his mouth made his stomach tighten. Oh, he'd leave black handprints all over your pure, little soul. And he was okay with that. An eternal mark, proof of belonging to him.

You sighed. That made his heart tighten. Such a pitiful sound. How could he ever resist taking you into his care? Would a priest resist a sinner's confession? Never. It was a holy path, guiding people and helping them heal. You deserved the best of them all.

"That being said," Namjoon continued, "I'll ask you a few questions now, and press down on a few crucial places." He emphasized his point by putting some pressure onto his thumb, proceeding to massage your temple. "Is that okay with you?"

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

"Yes."

His thumb slid down the soft, warm skin of your face, tracing the apple of your cheeks.

"Are you still getting migraines, love?"

You shook your head. Namjoon placed his hand on your tummy, his thumb once again drawing comforting, mindless patterns into the cotton material of your shirt. You exhaled softly.

"How about nausea?" He asked, keeping his voice low and his eyes on yours. "Did that improve at all?"

"A... a little."

It was difficult to focus on anything but the way you responded to his touch. He was mesmerized by how flustered you seemed, but how pliant all at once. Laid down before him like a sacrificial lamb, your fate long accepted. Perhaps even cherished. A lamb longing to be slaughtered and handed straight into the hands of their god, looking for the slightest proof of his existence; even if it came in the form of death. Always, in the end, yearning for their father's warm embrace.

"That's good," he whispered.

Cautiously, he let his hand slip a little lower, his palm brushing over your abdomen before it settled at its very bottom. Your breath caught in your throat, yet you didn't move or look away from him.

"But... medication can only help so much. Same goes for relaxation. The best way to solve a problem is to focus on its root, don't you think?"

You nodded once more, and he felt content and intrigued at the same time, his free hand settling down on your knee.

"Then let's do that."

He could see the way your gaze flickered to his hand, tracing the veins over it before flicking back to his face.

He gave you a small squeeze of reassurance.

"College has been difficult, hasn't it? Not to mention... everything else. Have you tried to socialize a little more like I recommended?"

His question prompted you to sigh once more.

"Not really."

Namjoon let his hand shift a little higher, coming into contact with your inner thigh. The softness of your skin alone was enough to stir warmth inside his body; but the way your muscles tensed suddenly only added fuel to the fire, setting him ablaze.

"Why not?" He questioned. "Humans are social creatures. Conversation, a sense of belonging, and even-" his hand finally wrapped around the flesh of your thigh firmly, giving it a squeeze, "touch, can bring tremendous comfort."

You gasped, and the sound made him throb. Meekly, you turned your head to the side, looking away from him.

"It's hard to change."

Namjoon gave your thigh another squeeze, a gesture that could have been comforting, had his hand not been resting on the very inside of it, tips of his fingers brushing the skin under your skirt. Instead, it was rather inappropriate; but you were nowhere near close to pushing him away. And that was an invitation enough for him to lean in a little, his lips stopping just before they touched your ear.

"Change starts within."

You swallowed thickly, frozen in place. Enthralled or perhaps frightened. Beautiful all the same.

"How?" You whispered, like you weren't sure what he meant.

Namjoon pressed his fingers into your leg, slowly pulling it away from the other. His lips brushed over your ear this time, his answer coming out equally quiet.

"Let me show you."

He could feel the shiver that went through you; it quickly morphed into the smallest, softest whine when he rested his hand upon your clothed core. He expected the heat and he expected the wetness, but not this much. There was a clear, damp spot forming on the cotton, burning beneath his skin.

His knees felt weak, his fingers pressing into it automatically to rub slowly. He let out a strained, shallow breath into your ear.

"Oh, I think you really want to learn, hm?"

Your hand flew up to his coat, grabbing at his collar helplessly. Namjoon lowered his head further and placed his lips on your neck, pressing a hot, heavy kiss right into your pulse point.

"I'll teach you, baby."

Your back arched gently at the name, thighs spreading more to encourage his touch, let him defile you whatever way he wanted. Something slipped out of your lips as you pulled on his collar; something like a moan. A moan in the shape of a word that made his head snap up sharply.

It was almost a whisper. But there was no way he wouldn't have heard it; you were all he could hear, feel and see right now.

"What did you call me?"

Though his pace remained slow, his fingers began to rub your clit harder, the soaked material so flimsy he could practically feel you pulse under his touch.

He stared into your eyes, watching you struggle to catch your breath through his ministrations. It appeared to be even more difficult when he asked the question, embarrassment instantly shadowing your features.

Namjoon tsked.

"Come on, you can do it."

He dragged his fingers away from the spot he was massaging, only to slip them underneath your panties.

"Say it again."

Your hips jerked in surprise. The heat of your soaked folds, bare under his fingers, made his cock twitch in the tight confines of his pants. God, you felt so perfect; divine, really. He pressed the tip of his finger into your clit, trying to coax you, his strokes firm and lazy.

You moaned. It was a heavenly sound. No angel choir could have compared. As if on instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

"Daddy," it was shy and came with a shudder.

It was filthy and had him throbbing again, driving him to press his lips against your cheek as he touched you.

"Who hurt you, baby?"

The words came out soft, so unlike their actual mocking nature.

"A man takes advantage of you, and the first thing you can think of is spreading your legs and calling him daddy?"

The amused murmur went straight into your skin - and then deep, deep beneath it. He felt you grip his collar tighter, felt and heard the unsteady, shaky breath that fled you.

If you had been embarrassed before, you were mortified now, on the verge of crying. But he could also feel more slick gushing right out of you, and he sped up his movements on your clit slightly. His lips felt soft against your heated cheek, slow in making their way up to your ear.

"It's okay," he whispered. "That's a good girl. Show me where it hurts. I'll make it better."

A breathy, quiet moan was the only sound you were capable of producing. Namjoon let himself continue feeling and memorizing every inch of your skin he could, the bridge of his nose brushing your neck.

"Lemme fix it. Lemme fix you, sweetheart."

Your fingers dug into his shoulder, hips beginning to move in circles, mimicking his touch, following it straight into oblivion.

"Good girl," he repeated his praise in a quiet breath. "Gonna come for daddy?"

You pressed your face into his neck, whimpering into it. Your body answered for you, thighs trembling when it hit you, his fingers sticky and wet as they ceased their movements.

He didn't move his hand, though, kept it pressed against your cunt, even when a knock on the door made you jump.

"I'll be there soon," Namjoon called, ignoring your attempts at trying to close your legs and turn away from him. He grabbed your jaw and pressed his lips into yours, wasting no time in suffocating any protests and worries with a messy kiss.

With his forehead leaning against yours, he finally took his hands off you only to unzip himself. The sound startled you, your eyes popping open and shoulders stiffening.

He smiled at you, his dimples showing, as if he wasn't prying your legs apart to settle himself in between them.

"I- I-" you stammered nervously, shaking your head in protest.

Namjoon pressed into you, the tip of his hard cock rubbing right against your leaking entrance slowly.

"You what?" He breathed into your lips, dark, hungry eyes stuck on yours.

You mewled, fighting to keep your eyes open and your hips in place. How cute.

"You don't want to get better?"

You stared back at him, eyes hooded but brows furrowed, your chest heaving against his. The internal conflict was a lot, as was his cock twitching against your heat; but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Did you know?" Namjoon murmured. "When the soul gets sick, so does the body. Pretending all your life is gonna get you nowhere, baby."

The warmth of his hand burned into your hip as he pushed forward. The tip of his cock slipped into your tight heat, making your back arch beneath him. Namjoon's head fell into your neck, a low groan escaping his throat.

"I'll take care of you, I'll never leave you lonely or worried," he breathed into your skin, continuing to push forward agonizingly slowly. "You'll never... have to feel... that way again."

Each inch stretched you out so well, reaching deeper and deeper - until his hips were flush against yours and you felt like there wasn't enough air in the room.

Namjoon's harsh, hot breaths dotted your skin in goosebumps. He lifted his head to look up at you, entranced. Your eyes shone with unshed tears, mouth wide open, and he wondered if it was from the feeling of his cock inside you, or from his words. He wondered if your heart was also jumping out of your chest, desperate to get closer to his.

He got his answer when you tightened around him. His free hand travelled up your waist, hips pulling away only to slam back into you. Only one thought remained in his head. How divine you were, quivering beneath him and fighting to stay quiet. Right where you belonged; in his arms, at home. Where you didn't have to worry about obtaining money, acceptance or affection. You didn't even have to ask for it. You just had to take it.

He kept his pace steady, careful not to make too much noise, though it was hard with the way you were dripping and clenching around his cock. He tried to muffle the soft moans with another kiss, his tongue quick to slip past your lips. But it didn't do much to hide the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you. He could feel his spine tingling, a veiny hand settling on your breast to knead it.

He knew there was no time. But considering the fact that his balls were already tightening, it wasn't going to be a problem. He broke the kiss, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips.

"Gotta be quick today, baby," he breathed, pressing two fingers into your clit to rub it harshly. "Yeah? Is that okay?"

The way your pussy squeezed his cock made his hips stutter. He released your breast to slap his hand over your mouth as you started coming, his head finding rest in your neck once more.

His moans were quiet, raspy, his cock pulsating inside you. With how big he was, it seemed there should have been nowhere for his cum to go, and yet he filled you up with every last drop until his eyes rolled back.

You still quivered around him when he stopped moving, trying to catch some air into his lungs. He lifted himself up slowly, releasing your mouth to stroke your cheek instead. You looked so perfect; dazed and exhausted, lips swollen, the tension completely gone from your body. Namjoon could feel it too; the glow in his chest, the euphoria running through his veins. He leaned it to place a gentler, lingering kiss on your lips.

"You did so well," he murmured lovingly. "Such a good girl."

With delicate fingers, he grasped the drenched cotton of your underwear and held it carefully as he slipped out of you. Even if he could make a mess in his office, the thought of you going home with his cum leaking out of you into your panties was enough to make him twitch. He breathed out a sigh, zipped himself up and helped you sit.

"Good?" He whispered, eyeing you intently.

You shied away from his gaze but nodded. Namjoon smiled, then turned to grab a piece of paper and a pen.

"Your next appointment is on Monday," he scribbled on the sheet as he talked to you. "This is my private number and address. In case you need anything."

You stared at him uncertainly. Namjoon cocked his head, the tone of his voice kind, though it didn't match the darkness in his eyes.

"My door's always open for you."

Slowly, you lifted your hand and accepted the small note, planting both of your feet onto the floor.

"But..." you fiddled with the sleeves of your blouse, eyes still bright with tears. "O... okay. Thank you."

With a nod and a subtle smile, Namjoon opened the door for you. The low hum of conversation and soft lights lighting up the corridor reminded him that he still hasn't finished his work for the day. But with the taste of you still on his lips, he didn't really care.

Through the window in his office, blurred by the streaks of rain hitting the glass, he watched you get into your father's car. He narrowed his eyes as he observed the man's scowl, like it was an awful inconvenience that he had to wait this long. Only this once, Namjoon could sympathize with him. He didn't like waiting either.

And yet it was what he had to do for the sake of your well-being. Good thing that for this very reason, he didn't mind killing your father slowly. Who'd know if he exchanged a couple of pills? No one but God, and he feared no judgement. Where was God when he put you into the hands of a neglectful, harmful parent? As far as Namjoon was concerned, God's sins outweighed his own.

He could see you buckling up, still dazed and tired, withdrawn from your surroundings. The car began to reverse, and slowly you disappeared from his sight altogether.

Poor, little kitten. Searching for sustenance and warmth. He didn't even need to ask you to keep quiet, or worry about whether you'd show up at his door. He knew you would. Somewhere in your bones, you so clearly felt it. It was time for you to heal; time to find you a new home. And he had a pretty collar with your name on it waiting for you under lock and key. A pretty golden ring as well.

Only the best for his little girl.

💌 taglist: @wonyuknow @baalsgurl1913 @glowunderthemoon @sweetempathprunetree @era-genius @bucketofhiros @imnotlauriane @httpsbts @silv3rswirls @iceprincessviviane @osakis-gf @kooktrash @dollseung

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XIII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. There is a mention of a small accidental cut on reader's hand and broken glass.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII

----------------------

“Are you sure you don’t want me to heal it?” Shoko was covering a cut on your hand. “I’ll get it right this time.” She had disinfected and treated the small cut, and now she had secured the bandage tightly around your palm.

Shoko had found you fumbling around in the infirmary for something to cover your cut with. She was still just starting to dive in the possibilities of her healing technique, but when she held your hand with such care, you had no doubt: She will make a great doctor.

“Are you sure you don’t just want another test subject for your technique?”

She smiled. “I have plenty of those,” but her smile faltered as she saw your eyes fixed on your injured hand, “so don’t make it a habit of showing up hurt. I don't need more practice, okay?”

When your eyes flickered back to her, you saw her gaze was softer.

The cut in your hand was not deep, and it was not the work of a curse of any sort; in fact, the reason was pretty mundane: a crystal-made object had broken in your room, and you had hurt yourself accidentally when trying to pick the pieces up. That was what you had told Shoko, and that was what you were going to tell anyone who asked.

Although that was a summarized version of the truth. Something had been broken, yes, but that had been Gojo’s fault, or so it seemed, but you were not sure. In his words, it was an accident.

You wanted to believe him. He was not the type to break things when upset after all. However, it felt as if your friendship was breaking apart as well, and that, you did not know how to mend.

***

Satoru had been odd around you for the last couple of weeks, and he had been particularly upset after you showed up a few minutes late to his birthday lunch, as if he himself did not show up late everywhere, every time. Then he stopped by your room to invite you to the arcade with him and Suguru as if everything had been perfectly normal.

“What’s this?” He was trying to peek into the paper bag sitting on your desk while you were looking for a sweater that was warm enough. “Late birthday present?”

“Why do you think everything is a present for you? I already gave you one for your birthday”, was your response as you finally pulled the sweater you had been looking for from your closet. “Don’t touch it, it’s frail.”

That made him arch an eyebrow.

You narrowed your eyes in his direction as a warning. Satoru was nosy, always had been. When he was a kid and you refused to tell him something, he would sulk until you gave in. Telling him you knew something he did not know was an easy way to tease him, and he had not changed much.

You stood next to him and took the contents out of the bag, taking off the wrapping that was meant to protect it, and held it up to him. A pretty crystal figure you had gotten during your last outing. The item could be considered a collectible of an anime you liked, but it was nicely shaped, and it had been the way it looked in the light what had caught your eye at the store where you got it.

Satoru was not a fan of that same anime, but even he recognized it was a pretty thing. He was about to grab it when you said “A bit pricey too, but Haruki helped me buy it.”

You did not notice how his smile dropped.

“So I guess it technically belongs to both of us, but he said I could keep it.”

It had been a most generous gesture. When Haruki had seen how much you wanted to take the figure home, he was more than willing to pitch in a little despite your protests. You assured him you would pay him back as soon as you could, but he said it was fine; he liked that franchise too, so it was not a loss to him.

Satoru’s hands were redirected to his pockets. “That was nice of him.”

You nodded and put the figure on your desk, admiring it. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

He hummed in response, and you said “Well, we should get going if…”

“I thought you didn’t like it when people bought you stuff.” Gojo’s gaze was fixed on the figure you had just put on your desk.

He was recalling the gifts he had presented to you through the years. More than one had been “overpriced”, “too much”, or “too lavish” for your taste. You had always been too ready to decline anything from him, but you had no issues with accepting someone else’s help?

“And I do not,” you tried to decipher his expression, “but I paid for it too, and it’s different.” You were going to pay Haruki back, no matter what he had said.

“Because it’s him?” Satoru’s eyes focused on you.

“Huh?”

“Is it different because it’s him and you just do whatever he says?” His tone was calm, so much that it reminded you of the way Suguru sometimes reverted with the snarkiest remark while sounding completely disinterested.

It’s rubbing off on him.

“What do you mean I do whatever he says?”

Satoru knew he should bite his tongue before saying anything that could backfire, but he did not.

“If he says you will like something, you try it; if he tells you to accept something, you take it; and if he asks you to stay with him for a little longer, you’ll do it even if it means you’ll ditch your friend on his birthday.”

All right, he had said it.

“I said I was sorry for being late. How many times do you want me to apologize for it?” You understood why he could have been upset; you really did. But why was he fixating on it so much?

Sure, you and Haruki shared a lot of interests, so his recommendations were often good. And he had been so intent on helping you buy that figure that refusing him would have been rude, and yes, you had been with him that day you were late for Satoru’s lunch, but that had not the reason, and the main event was going to be his birthday dinner anyway (because yes, Satoru insisted on having a birthday breakfast, a birthday lunch and a birthday dinner). You could take the blame for making it late one time, but he was taking it out of proportion.

He sat down on the chair at your desk. “I thought you were not going to come.” Satoru sounded deflated.

Still…

“Satoru, I wouldn’t…”

“If you had to choose, who do you like better…” You thought he was looking at the crystal-made you had gotten, but he was actually looking at the small, framed picture behind it that portrayed two kids. Satoru tried to remember if it was from four or five years ago.

Before high school, you had never attended the same school. Satoru’s family did not allow it, but he was able to sneak out a handful of times when you invited him to your school festivals.

Maybe their last year of elementary school or the first of junior high?

He remembered how you pulled him around all day, introducing him to your friends and showing him around your school.

“Don’t you have to be with your friends?” he had asked referring to your classmates, who seemed to be expecting you join them on a walk around the stalls.

You looked at them and declined with a smile. “No, they are fine without me. Besides, I like you better.”

And when a friend of yours offered to take a picture of you with the camera she had borrowed, you pulled him closer to you and smiled brightly. If he focused, he could hear the shutter sound of the camera.

“Why would you ask me that?” You tried to look at his eyes behind his glasses. You thought he should know the answer, but it was not a fair question, so you settled for just stating the facts. “Both of you are my friends.”

That single phrase seemed to have slapped Satoru on the face and he turned his head to look at you.

“True, but you are not just any friend. And you know it, don’t you, Satoru?”

No, Ikeda. You were wrong.

“You can’t be serious,” he muttered.

“Would you be able to pick between me and Suguru?” You were not meaning to irritate him, but that should give him some perspective. Whenever he was not with you, he was with Suguru. It was evident he cared deeply for him.

He frowned. “It’s not the same. You like him too.”

“Because I gave him a chance. You never gave one to Haruki.”

Satoru shook his head, standing up. “And that makes us the same to you?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Of course not. You are like no other.

Could you really tell him that? It did not matter, he did not give you the time.

“Fine... I really don’t get you sometimes.”

“You don’t get me?” you scoffed. “You are unrecognizable. Why are you so pissed out all the time these days.”

He sighed, took off his glasses and put them on your desk. “Just…”

You were right. He had been uneasy since that chat with Ikeda (not that he had told you about it), but he had gone there because of you. He did not need that guy trying to get in his head, telling him he liked you, or that he was a coward. He did not need any of that.

What a terrible idea that was.

If he had not gone there, maybe he would not feel as confused, as if he needed to scream something but not knowing what it was.

Now you were looking at him with a question in your eyes, but he was not sure he could answer.

“Just...you should head out, okay?” he finally said.

“This is my room.”

“I mean, Suguru will be waiting for us.” He scratched the back of his neck.

You knew he meant ‘I don’t want to fight you now.’

“Fine.” You turned on your heels and walked out with Satoru following you but left him behind quickly.

Always a fast walker when they are upset, Satoru thought.

He was about to close the door of your room when he membered he was forgetting something.

There, his sunglasses were sitting on top of your desk. He rushed to the side of your desk and grabbed them, and maybe it was the swift motion of his arm, or he might have bumped the side of your desk lightly, but as he was running back for the door, a shattering noise reached him, and next thing he knew, he was looking at a bunch of crystal pieces on the floor.

Shit.

Satoru’s heart rate picked up as if he were about to fight a curse as he walked out and closed the door slowly. How was he going to tell you?

His hand was still on the doorknob when he heard your voice. “Satoru?”

You were coming back for him after realizing he was not following behind. “What are you doing?” You looked at him. Why was he holding your doorknob and looking at the floor?

He turned to look at you, but he did not move his hand. “I will replace it.”

“Replace it?”

“I’m sorry.” He turned the doorknob and the door swung open.

You passed him by to enter your dorm. “What are you talk-?”, you did not finish the question when you saw the mess next to your desk. Your crouched down in front of it. It had shattered entirely; you picked up the base, the only piece somewhat still recognizable.

“You are going to get hurt. Let me…” Satoru was crouching next to you.

“Are you hurt?” You moved away from him.

“[name]…”

“How?” Satoru thought he saw tears forming in your eyes. He avoided your gaze.

“It was an accident. I came back for my...”

“Are you hurt?” You were not looking at him anymore but at the million pieces scattered in front of you.

“No.”

He saw you bite your lip and nod from the corner of his eye. “Then… You should go. I’ll clean this up.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No.”

“I can pay for it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay to have broken it.” You wiped away a stray tear. Was it anger or sadness?

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Satoru defended.

“Wasn’t it?”

He frowned. “Of course not.”

“Okay. Then let me clean it up. Please tell Geto I’ll join you next time.”

Satoru did not feel like you believed him, but still, he stood up. “I really am sorry.”

He saw you nod and headed out.

He only left because he knew you. You were probably too angry to talk to him now. He would beg for forgiveness later and try to make it up to you. Perhaps he could ask Ikeda where you had gotten the item, but he really did not want to talk to him again.

Even if you could just take the money for it, would that make things right between you and him?

Boy, what a mess.

***

“He snapped at you too?” Shoko grinned at Suguru.

Geto just rolled his eyes and sat by her side.

“He is in a bad mood.” The dark-haired boy shrugged. “Is there any way you can ask [name] to hurry? I'm starving.”

“I doubt it.” She sighed and looked wistfully at the food in front of them and then at Gojo, who had left the table for the third time to wash his hands. He was fidgety when he waited, especially when he waited for you.

She was not going to call you. She had tried that, but your phone had probably died. Maybe if she prayed silently, her wish would reach you.

Hurry up, [name]. Annoying birthday boy won't let us eat until you are here.

----------------------

Note: Sorry for not updating sooner (sigh...what a week). It might happen again but as always, thank you for reading!

Next: Part XIV

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay

[askinkiskarma]

say you'll remember me

➳ young!coriolanus snow x f!reader

➳ warnings: angst, mentions of lucy gray, some violent imagery, no happy ending, allusions to smut, snow should be a warning by himself honestly

➳ wc: >1000 words

➳ a/n: i'm back from the dead after ?? months ?? because much to my dismay, i have fallen prey to movie coriolanus snow's charms (tom blyth the man that you are). i need that man biblically. no i have not read the books, please don't come for me, i don't care how unhinged he is, in the movies he's pookie and i love him and i could change him i KNOW it. anyway please enjoy x

He's so tall and handsome as hell He's so bad, but he does it so well I can see the end as it begins My one condition is

Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. Barely a man, when you really stopped to think about it, but it didn’t look like it right now, as he was sitting in the empty auditorium of the university he just left behind, with the stature and poise of a titan… or a god. His time in district 12 changed him. It brought out a side to him very few people knew him capable of, least of all his beautiful, gentle cousin, Tigris. The boy you once knew, golden curly locks of hair inundating the space on his face his azure irises usually lit up, wit and ambition so clearly displayed in them, the boy who, despite it all, despite all that stood against him, still had the remnants of a gentle heart in an environment that thrived on beating such a needless thing out of you… that boy seemed gone, killed by the person who stood tall in front of you, who desperately fought to let bygones be bygones. 

Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. He had to be, to get to where he wanted, to become who he knew he was always destined to be. He had to be, to forget - the war, the famine, the hurt and pain, the loss of love, the loss of hope, the loss of innocence. His blood-red coat was still and unmoving, the fabric as rigid as the persona he skilfully embodied, even as the wind blew past him and circled the room you were carefully eyeing, noticing every detail of it, of him, as you tried your hardest to gauge a mood, or hear a thought, through the unwieldy silence that met you like a careful, long-lost friend.

“So curious, aren’t we, little bird?” 

It shouldn’t have, not when he was the one whose back was turned to you, whose head lost in rumination, but his words, soft and whimsical, took you by surprise. As it always happened, your heart jumped in your chest in quiet anticipation, yearning to catch a glimpse of the one only you were fortunate enough to see. 

“Is it less intimidating… now that you’re done?” 

He turned then, his bright eyes finding yours immediately, drawn like a moth to a flame, and he smirked knowingly, the facade slipping away little by little, chipping like the paint on old walls. It’s funny. Out of the pair of you, you’ve always thought that was you. The moth. Forever risking your life and wings, for the beauty of it all, for the fire that you knew would either consume you or breathe new life in you. It was always a gamble, being in his presence, a game of Russian roulette you were addicted to, because how could you not be? How could you not… when he approaches you, slowly and methodically, his eyes never leaving yours, hungry and needy, speaking all the words he refused to say out loud, allowing you to see it - the glimpses of the boy. The boy you loved, the boy who survived somewhere inside of him, begging to be let out in the presence of someone who wouldn’t hurt the frail, withering existence that still clung to life the best way it knew how. 

“Who says it was ever intimidating, huh?” 

Your smile was enough to thaw the ice, enough for his hand, cold and calloused, warm and calming, to find your face, his thumb caressing the supple skin of your jaw, tracing the soft lips he dreamt about in whispered nights and wildest dreams. He tasted like roses and desire, and he kissed you like you were the breath he’s been denied his whole life. It was easy to forget in those moments, who he was, who you were, all that stood against you, the ghost of the girl he was trying so hard to banish from his mind. 

“Let’s go for a walk, just you and me.” 

Long walks in the city that was still reeling after the war you could barely remember felt intimate and almost like for your eyes and ears only, for only your bodies to feel and touch, for only your minds to wonder about and wander through. Through them, you knew Coriolanus - his many strengths and few weaknesses, his outright dreams and closeted desires, the depths of his soul he felt reluctantly comfortable to bare to you… and in turn, he knew you, more and more each day, as he found breath in the drowning sea that was once Lucy Grey and was levitated to better and never-seen before heights, away from the pain that haunted him every moment of his life.

“I think I loved her.” He tells you one night, his fingers massaging your back, tracing patterns onto it only he could understand, patterns you could spend the rest of your life trying to decipher. 

“I think you loved her, too.” You sigh, happy that his walls, tall and reinforced in layers of heavy, indestructible brick, were slowly chipping at the seams for you, but sad at the ghost that tormented his every breathing moment, and, as a result, yours, too. 

“I think I love you.” His voice was dark, serious, plagued with a twinge of uncertainty and fear, for the feelings he wanted to bury but couldn’t, that he wanted to hide from you and from himself, but decided against. It was short and simple, the confession, barely a few words whispered in the dead of night, while his glistening body was trembling softly under your touch and under the weight of the confession. It was short and simple, but it was enough to knock the breath of your lungs and any semblance of thought from your mind. 

“You wouldn’t… leave, right? You won’t leave.” 

You smile in his chest, and it almost hurts, the need to feel him, closer still, to touch your lips to his and pour it all into a kiss and watch him do the same. 

“Never.”

In these moments, he wasn’t Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem, the heir to the Plinth fortune. In these moments, he was your Corio, and you were his little bird. When you are done, the disjointed song of the city coming to life falls upon deaf ears as you hold each other, reluctant to let go and face the harsh realities of the world that surrounded you and seeped into every aspect of your being, no matter how unwelcome. You hoped you could stay like this forever, safe in his arms, in the arms that welcomed you, in the arms that held onto you and thus, onto the inherent goodness born into him that he was forever struggling to subjugate, that you hoped he never would. 

But… Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. And when he inevitably left you one fateful night, you tried to forget the tears that stained his pillow, the last remnants of the boy who gave his dying breath in his soul, that cried and screamed for the life he could have had, a life that was taken from him, a life that the world and the man whose presence still inundated the now lonely, deserted room, conspired to end. And as you lay on the empty bed, your own tears mixing with his own as they drenched the fabric you knew you’ll never see again, you couldn’t help but wonder if the man he would become would remember you, and all you shared, or if to him, much like the boy you loved, you were already dead. 

Say you'll remember me Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe Red lips and rosy cheeks Say you'll see me again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams

[lythevoidwitch]

I am a simple woman.

If I see SVSSS content, I will like, I will follow, and I will open another tab to read every fanfiction recommendation. (Even though I shouldn't with my 64 open tabs right now. 27 of which are ongoing ff as I patiently wait for more chapters to be released.)

That's not all though.

I'm considering getting back into writing some fanfiction for my current addiction. I have a few ideas, but I would love to hear your favorite ship, crackship, headcanons and so forth!

I'm heavily debating on a few fic ideas:

SY and SJ shenanigans : Disciples? Estranged Siblings? (LBH Sobbing in the bg)

SY as a rogue cultivator, successfully avoiding LBH for most of the plot. (Switch between LBH and SY pov?)

Modern SVSSS, College!! (SJ the prettiest and pettiest of college professors, he doesn't get paid enough for this. Why is his student flirting with him? Why is his student flirting with his brother? SJ might consider homicide as justifiable.)

Modern SVSSS, SY and SQH wake up from their strange dream. Find out Cucumber and Airplane know each other in rl. Ensue chaotic best friend behavior. (In the bg cue, MBJ and LBH handling this with nothing but poise and grace. I'm lying. They're doing the exact opposite. Don't worry, I'm not a monster. LBH and MBJ find their wives, eventually, probably.)

Modern Cultivators! SY and SJ didn't think they would ever run into an actual demon, demons are rare these days. They often face ghosts and spirits. Cue SY accidently waking up a good old Blackened/Sealed Lou Bing-ge. Cue (dun dun duhhh) chaos.

Demon SY? Cultivator SY? Dunno yet, SY in the Abyss. (I read an unfinished fic about SY in the abyss, and I'm obsessed with the idea of SY just absolutely trying to get LBG to speedrun the Abyss, and LBG deciding "Nuh. I'm staying here, with you". I was also considering entire Abyss ancient civilizations because I'm unhinged, and the idea of what used to be sprawling demonic kingdoms in the abyss is beautiful.)

Have you ever accidently married the emperor of the 3 realms? SY did. Now, SJ has to ask YQ for help to save his brother. (Subsequently: You ever accidently end up with a husband? LBG was surprised, too, but he has a system, a way these things work. Just because SY is a man doesn't change anything. LBH now has to make sure his frail husband doesn't die and doesn't get kidnapped by pesky cultivators.) Three povs???? SJ (trying to save his brother and getting pettier by the minute), LBG (thwarting SJ's plans, spying on his husband, general court affiar), SY (fangirling over everything, getting himself into trouble, falling into every wife plot under the sun).

These are just some ideas, some of my favorites that I've been clinging to. Free game, take em, write em if you want. The more fanfiction and content we have, the better!

I've rambled. Oh god. Lemme know your favorite, I'll probably boost it to the front of my list.

[piracytheorist]

FINALLY

Thoughts on episode 2x01!

I'm so making a crack recap out of this. Idk if it's going to be this week, but I may have to skip all the other episodes up to this point XD

Ok for those of you who don't know, the bullet-in-butt date (which I can finally mention openly as it's not manga spoiler anymore!) was the only manga chapter that hadn't been adapted that I read from very early on, way before I decided to stay anime-only so I knew everything about it. So I expected the beginning. I actually like that we don't see Yor do her slaughter at that place. She's like a ghost, or a legend, as the short-lived survivor calls her.

Look at her! So cute, covered in the blood of her victims 😌

I do have to say, I was surprised by the amount of blood they showed. I think they actually put the violence up a notch in comparison to the previous season, bringing it much closer to the manga levels of violence.

It's also a bold choice to like, actually open the season with this. It's serious business and I appreciate that. I'm not too big on violence but I also don't like it when it's "purified" or whatever. We're watching a show where two of the main characters kill people left and right. Blood is a prerequisite at this point.

Anyway! GRANDE upgrade on the animation, oh my god! It's all in the little movements and additional "swerves" of the characters' forms. I don't have the time to make a gif now showing that but it's obvious they took the money they made the previous year and put a lot of it on animation budget! Love it!

Aaaaaaaand new music! Most of the new stuff is quirky and funny, perfect for Anya and Franky's shenanigans :D Looking forward to see what new pieces we'll get with this season!

I had some frail hope they would have titled the episode "Date with a Bullet in the Butt". Can you imagine. We were robbed. Robbed!

Ever since I read that chapter I went like, Yor says she treated the wound... does that mean she got the bullet out? Or is she actually walking with the bullet in her buttcheek all this time? I mean... it is called the "bullet-in-butt date" after all...

The way all of this could have been solved by Yor going like "I tripped down the stairs and fell on my butt and now it hurts to walk and sit". But then we wouldn't have this! It's the funny miscommunication that makes them, really <3

The way Anya worries about her! I felt a little sad for her because this is the first time she sees her mama so beaten down by a job, I think?

One of the ways you see the upgraded animation: the way Yor trembles as she straightens up after reassuring Anya, and then the dizzy walk to her room as she goes to rest. Awesome.

Yor just walks it off and Anya is like "Mama is actually immortal, wow" meanwhile Loid is losing his absolute shit

"WIFE IS SAD. THE WORLD IS ENDING. I SHOULDN'T HAVE ASKED HER TO GO GROCERY SHOPPING. I AM A HORRIBLE HUSBAND."

Oh, I adore the different colouring on the memory scene. I also love how the gossip trio just falls on Yor the moment she slips out that oh no they don't do all the conventional couple things!!

Dude is genuinely confused. BestTM SpyTM of WestalisTM, flabbergasted by a woman with social skills in the negatives.

It was eight in the morning. On a weekend. Yor was way too excited for the date she ran to get ready and they were out all day. My god. When am I gonna get my learning date with my emotionally constipated fake husbando

Twilight has a smug grin on his face as Franky accepts the cheque as payment to do chores. I love that addition!

As I love this

Franky grabbing Anya's hand and waving to them for her. They really knew how to handle an already funny chapter and use animation to add more humor to it!

Look at him, starting off so smug but then

He's truly an intelligence agent, trying to work with the information he has on hand. Since he doesn't have the information that Yor is injured, his plans are doomed to fail.

The way Franky is down with everything crazy Anya proposes. I love that duo.

I also liked the way they allowed Bond to sit this episode out, since that manga chapter takes place before the Doggy Crisis arc and Bond is not yet part of the family. I do have some thoughts about the timing of this episode but I'll get to that later.

And here we have the angst punch in the gut, as others talked about it, it's a point in Twilight's character to not see anything fun about the spy work that it's not even fun to play spy. Since one of the moments adding to that is an anime only scene (from the part where Anya makes secret codes) and the dialogue here is just slightly different from the same scene in the manga, it looks like it's a deliberate choice to make anime Loid more sensitive about this specific thing. Interesting!

I gotta say, it would be so easy to objectify Yor and her body with where her wound was. But even though they showed her in a pants-tight-enough-to-hurt-your-butt-wound situation, it was still pretty clear what the focus was. I really appreciate that.

Yor says no to the tight pants and Loid apologizes??? Why wasn't that in the translated version of the manga??

Like here especially, with the face they gave him and the way Eguchi delivered that line it was pretty clear that Yor's reaction made Loid feel like he crossed a line with what he told her. What happened in the manga translation???

VERY interesting picture choice for the movie poster! Ostania gots propaganda to do, after all!

I love how Anya fell asleep during the film while Franky cried his eyes out. Poor sap XD

And LMAO Anya seeing her parents leaving from the spa and trying to get Franky to move but he's too busy getting a massage! And then some added wackiness with Yor being so tense from her wound that she made a murder glare enough to scare a bear!

And Loid is still like DAFUQ AM I DOING WRONG

I like though, that he is not blaming Yor at all. He doesn't consider her irrational or ungrateful for the date, he just sees it as him not having done enough research... and in actual reality, he doesn't have all the data needed, specifically the whole "bullet-in-butt" thing. I'm sure he would have planned differently had he known that XD

Poor Franky XD at least he's finding ways to vent XD

The way they animated Yor's reluctance to sit was great, lol. I'm not sure it was clear she was "hover-sitting" but it was funny in any case.

I loved the tension when we saw the surviving Red Circus member! It was handled so well dropped right in the middle of a funny episode.

This had no right being this funny. But also. Anya is imagining a "default" kind of guy because even though she's reading the guy's mind she doesn't know how he looks like, so she's just making up a face to play out her imagination. Great detail from the manga already.

Anya imagines Loid saying he'll abandon her if he finds out about Yor being an assassin. That's another angsty punch in the gut but also for another post probably XD

The timing here feels a little weird. This chapter was supposedly long ago, when the family was still getting used to living together. Franky sees Anya worried and goes like "Even though they're a fake family, she worries so much?" and seeing that in the anime, practically two episodes before this one he went like "Hey do you love your dad and mom" and she said she does... idk maybe in the adaptation process some things could be left out so that they can make more sense.

How did neither Yor nor Loid suspect something wrong with the suddenly very thick and muddy cocktail she was offered?

Once again, upgraded animation as Yor drinks the pufferfish poison! I love it! Hopefully it'll keep being that good for the rest of the season :D

I remember the tension I felt when I first read the manga in that moment. I was like oh no! And then I was Anya

Gremlin Anya is back and I love it

Anya goes ahead and Home-Alones too close to the sun and fucking makes a bomb. That's a whole other level. You really don't want this girl turning evil, she'll take over the world XD

She should have seen her entrance as Thorn Princess' ally! She was epic!

There was some violence censorship there, as the bad guy in the manga is shown a little burned and bleeding after the explosion, but in the anime he's just... ruffled or whatever.

Idk they probably decided it would be too much to show that a child caused such violence XD

So does Loid go on thinking that Yor was in a super bad mood and then everything went away as soon as she downed a glass of cocktail? I also just realized she just went bottoms up on it, lol.

The episode was great and the date was funny and cute at the end. But.

GIVE ME BLUSHING LOID YOU COWARDS. SHOW ME THAT BLUSH. YOU GAVE US "HIS SMILE HIDES A HINT OF REAL EMOTION" YOU CAN AFFORD GIVING US A BLUSH. *screams* *eats drywall*

The date ends well and with fun! Then the monster wakes up again the next day.

Loid's got a lot to learn. Who knew humans can be complicated!

Overall, a great introduction to the second season! I'm happy we got the bullet-in-butt date and I'm so excited to venture into new stuff that I know next to nothing about :D

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (3) (teaser)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Teaser wc: 391 Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: toxic relationship (not reader and jimin), arguments, cheating (not reader and jimin), talks about previous child abuse, anxiety attack, strong language, crying, emotional abuse (not reader and jimin), mentions of depression and mental health, lots of angst in this one, finally making some progress though, age insecurity, mutual pining, lots of side character development in this one, they really are so sweet together, jimin just being the nicest boy in the world, so much PDA, physical touch is his love language 👀👀👀, more in the official posting...

Release date: April 6th, 2024 at 6pm EST

masterlist || playlist

Jimin and I said our goodbyes and I promised the blue haired boy I would call him in the morning to set up another meet up. He called it a group date, something neither Jimin nor I disagreed with, but it did make me feel queasy. Depending on how our conversation goes, we may never spend time together outside of training. I felt like I was going to vomit.

“Let me drive?” Jimin murmured as we parted ways with the couple. 

I nodded, digging in my purse to find them. “Mind reader, I swear. Get out of my head, kid.”

He snickered, “Who says you weren’t in mine, granny”

The queasiness dissipated and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier now. Being alone with Jimin had never felt this nerve wracking before, not even the first time we met, and it was hard to explain all of the thoughts and feelings going through my head. We were finally having the talk, but I had never imagined it going this way. Handing him the keys, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Whoops,” I mocked. “You know me and my bad eyesight, kiddo.”

“Watch it,” He hissed, rubbing the spot. “Don’t want you breaking anything. You know you have frail bones.”

I laughed, “Don’t make me give you a knuckle sandwich, punk.”

Sliding into the passenger seat felt less daunting after the light hearted exchange. Still, my blood was pumping as Jimin clicked his seatbelt in place. I had no idea when the conversation would shift into murkier waters, but I needed to start thinking about what to say to him. 

Denying my feelings would only make things worse, and I did not think the younger man would believe me. In fact, he would be offended that I thought he was dumb enough to get bamboozled in the first place. Lying did not seem like the right call anyway. My feelings were not something to feel ashamed about, but they were very frightening. 

“When is later?”

I gasped, startled out of my thoughts. We had been driving for over ten minutes already. Time seemed to slip by when I was lost in my own head. Jimin apologized for scaring me but repeated the question once I reassured him that I was fine.

“Now,” I mumbled. “I guess later is now.”

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from the taglist. -Lex

[i984]

Blazing Promises | Part 5

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: Hurt so much hurt God pls help our poor souls, Wednesday has severe relationship trauma because of a certain normie, comfort at the end tho, kiss the pain away, you both cry in this one, tell me if I should add more warnings

|Summary|: Wednesday Addams breaks down in front of you.

|A/n|: Here is the last chapter to the mini series, check end of fic and replies for more. Song is I Don't Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Terrible.

That's the word for how you look right now.

And that's also the word to describe what Wednesday had done to you. She knows this, so as she stands outside your door looking at your puffed-up eyes and your quivering lips, her feet dread to take a step.

Get inside. Just do it. Now.

So she did. Her gaze tears away from yours to the floor, and she shuffled across your room. The space feels vast. Suffocating. What had she done?

She noticed the sweaters first. Her sweaters sprawled across your bed. Then the tissues—you quickly pick them away and throw them into the bin near your desk. Atop your desk, the trigonometry workbook is still there where she left it; the pages closed before much is filled in.

The room was dark, save for the dim light from your stained window. Somehow that made Wednesday feels tense. She doesn't like this. She doesn't like you. Not in this state. 

"What did you come here for?"

Your voice was hoarse. You must've been crying.

"I wanted to talk."

Her voice was frail. She felt weak. 

You kept your distance from Wednesday. Like you were scared of her, revolted of her. And you should be. After all, she'd hurt you.

Say it. It's now or never. 

"I'm sorry."

You can hear the strain in her voice—like she had to shoot her ego down with a silver bullet. Like it was hard for her to even say she was sorry. To show that she's apologetic.

"You should be."

And Wednesday can see the agony, the rage in your features. Your chest was heaving while you pressed your lips into a thin line. You were trying to keep your cool, to not scream at her; her words, her actions, the foolishness that comes with it.

You looked like you'd been robbed of your vitality, your strength. And the sight ripped a giant hole in Wednesday's heart. How could she hurt you that badly? You give her honey, and she feeds you poison. Wednesday feels a terrible weight pressing her shoulders; thick fog enfolds her mind.

You were her light. Her flame. But now it's flickering, and Wednesday fears herself getting plunged into darkness. The kind she has grown abhorring.

And though Wednesday's little black heart wrenched and twisted at the coldness in your voice, she couldn't bring herself to show it. Show how much it hurts her. Because she knows she deserves every sting and burns that blazes her entire being now; you must've suffered through worse. 

"I know," Wednesday feels like her skull was about to bust open, "and I..." She couldn't find her words, and it was killing her. It was unfair that she'd put herself into this position, a conversation she couldn't finish. A sentence she can't end.

"You what, Wednesday? I don't have all night."

Run. Or stab your heart and pull the blade out. Do something.

But she did neither. She did nothing. Wednesday only stands there, her body slumped in defeat. 

Defeat, she couldn't admit it. Succumbing to it would mean losing herself. Losing you. Did she already lose you?

Wednesday lets out a shaky breath, her fingers messing with the hem of her black shirt. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she speaks, "I feel things," and she stole a quick glance your way, "for you."

Was that enough for you to understand?

"What things, Wednesday? Because I thought we felt things before, and you said those things weren't true."

You were pricking needles to her skin; the truth carried in your words slitting open wounds in her mind. Was this what you felt the last time you were with her in this room? Oh, death. Even death wouldn't bring her the sweet relief from this torment.

"I don't know." 

You scoff into the room at that. "Of course, you don't."

Wednesday feels herself shrinking in place. She feels small, and she wants to give up. But even that feels wrong. She doesn't know what to do.

Just say anything. Choke yourself if you have to. Jump off the balcony after all this is over. But right now, talk.

"I feel things," Wednesday tries again, "things that aren't clear, aren't simple." She looks up to see you staring at the wall, unable to face her or her words. Maybe that would make this easier.

"Things I've found in countless pieces of literature, books, and poems. In music, in rhythm, in harmony. In people, in their homes, and in their voices."

Wednesday doesn't know where she's headed with all this. But she knows she has to speak, however confusing and debilitating it might be. Her feet staggered front a few inches.

"I'm scared. Because I thought I've been here before." And you look at her now, really look. Vulnerable. She looks like she's about to crumble if you speak a word.

So you don't. You listen.

"I'm scared. Because the last time I was here, I was wrong." Wednesday felt her vision blurring, and she almost didn't care. Almost.

"Because I don't know what I'm feeling, and though I have a sneaking suspicion of what it is-" she paused, her eyes scanning your face, searching for any trace of judgment on it, "-I'm afraid I would be wrong."

You take a step in Wednesday's direction. It felt like the right thing to do.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you," a tear rolled down the raven's freckle-painted cheek.

"I'll hurt me."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Wednesday knew she was one word away from combusting in tears. It feels hot. The blaze consumed her body, her mind. It threatens her to crumble, to sink, to wither. 

And so she did. She had said it all; her fears, her deepest secrets to the only person she cared about. You. 

Her weakness, now you hold the key to her doom. If you wanted to, you could kill her. And she'd let you. Wednesday feels her knees buckle and fail her, body landing with a thud on your floor.

You rush to Wednesday's side, hands coming to clutch her body. Now you're both set on fire. The tears did nothing. It was just there, staining both of your clothes now.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," you hug Wednesday like there's no tomorrow, like this was the last time you'll feel her close to you, "I understand now."

She's in pain. She's in agony. She hurt you because she thought you would hurt her.

But you would never.

What sounded like hiccups turns into painful wails; Wednesday's cries tear through the thick, stifling air, slowly dispersing it as you join her. Your hand patted her back tentatively in fear that the act would break her even more.

But she pushes herself to you, burying her head in the crooks of your neck. You can feel her tears drop and wet your side as she screams openly to your shirt, the sound of it muffled.

It feels messy, like you both are melting into each other. Your bodies are drenched in sweat, but neither of you wants to let go. 

You want her. She wants you. 

The doubt was gone.

You press your foreheads together, and Wednesday still has her eyes closed. It's red and puffy, and you're sure yours are too. She looks terrible. And pretty.

You forgive the pain because she has let you in. 

Her breathing starts to even out, and you can feel her muscles relaxing. You're both in the eye of the storm; there was only peace, quiet, and silence.

Then, familiar melodies played. The song you heard coming from outside your window earlier that evening. The same song you cried to alone—just moments ago.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

You take Wednesday's hand in yours. It feels warm.

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

She shifts in her seat, intertwining her fingers with yours.

While you're far away and dreaming

You lift her hand and kiss her knuckles.

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

She opens her eyes.

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Wednesday is now looking at you. 

Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Her gaze was kind, though bittersweet.

Don't want to close my eyes

You hum to the tune.

I don't want to fall asleep

She listens.

'Cause I'd miss you baby

You smiled.

And I don't want to miss a thing

She whispers the words to you.

At that moment, it felt perfect. Two broken fools, sitting on hard cold wooden floors. It was messy, but it was right. You belong together.

"I held that damned boom box above my head not because I wanted to," Wednesday rasps, "Enid forced me, just so you know."

Giggles burst from your lungs. A red coat now paints Wednesday's cheeks. 

"I didn't know you did that." You smiled at her; it was soft and teasing.

"Shut up. I hate you."

Wednesday grasps your hand tightly as if she's afraid you'll pull back; her gaze doesn't dare to falter from yours. 

"I love you too," and you see the corner of Wednesday's lips twitch, "I really do."

A mutual understanding. An exhale of relief.

"Promise?"

You press your lips to hers; it's soft and gentle, dizzying and passionate. It was light as a feather, sweet as cotton candy. It was strong like waves, burning like an inferno. You've become one and the same; servants of Aphrodite. It was a pledge, an oath—though unspoken—that you'll never leave her side, never betray her. 

The shade, the scarlet, the tricks, the echoes. 

"Promise."

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|A/n2|: Thank you so much for going through this mini journey with me, I poured my heart out for this one, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing it.