#was just listening to here comes a thought. still good

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ʜ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Jason stepped into Wayne Manor, he looked more like a stray cat than a boy. When Bruce introduced him to you—you couldn’t help but notice the defiance in his eyes, like he expected you to reject him immediately. But instead of recoiling from his rough edges, you smiled and offered your hand. It was the first moment Jason felt truly seen.

Jason didn’t know what to do with kindness, especially not from someone who looked at him like he was worth something.

“You’re going to love it here,” you said warmly, still holding out your hand.

He didn’t take it, but he didn’t forget the gesture either. That moment rooted itself in him, and he clung to it in the months to come.

You were the first person to make him laugh in years. It started small—quiet chuckles he tried to hide—but eventually, you had him cackling so hard that tears streamed down his face.

You were unlike anyone Jason had ever met. While Bruce was the stern, brooding authority figure, you were warmth and understanding. You treated him like an equal, never pitying him for his past or scolding him for his sharp tongue. You’d sit with him during his training, patch him up after patrols, and listen to him vent about the unfairness of Gotham’s streets. Jason began to feel that you were the one good thing in his life—a tether to keep him grounded.

Even in those early days, Jason couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy whenever you spent time with others. Whether it was Dick dropping by the Manor or Bruce pulling you away for a mission, Jason would watch, his jaw clenched and fists tight. You were his sanctuary, and the thought of sharing you with anyone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

Jason always found reasons to keep you close. He insisted on sparring with you during training, claiming no one else could push him like you did. He memorized the way you moved, the sound of your laughter when you managed to pin him, and the way your eyes narrowed in concentration. He lived for those moments.

Whenever you went on patrol, Jason was there, watching your back like a hawk. At first, you thought he was just being protective, but over time, his behavior grew more intense. If a thug so much as glanced at you the wrong way, Jason’s fists would leave them unrecognizable. “They deserved it,” he’d mutter, his knuckles dripping with blood, his gaze softening only when it landed on you.

Jason began planting seeds of doubt about everyone around you. He’d point out flaws in Dick’s plans, subtly criticize Bruce’s parenting, and even question Alfred’s judgment, all to make you feel like he was the only one you could truly rely on.

When Jason died, it shattered you. The boy who had been your closest friend, your partner in everything, was gone. Bruce tried to comfort you, but nothing could fill the void Jason left behind.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, his first thought was of you.

You. The only light he’d ever known. The one thing that kept him tethered to humanity. And you hadn’t saved him.

His obsession became worse, this bitter, consuming need to make you pay for abandoning him—and to keep you. Jason spiraled, his love for you warping into something darker, something unrecognizable.

Jason stalks you now, though he doesn’t see it that way. He calls it watching over you. You’re his, and Gotham is dangerous, especially with the Bat family’s enemies constantly circling.

He knows everything: where you go, who you talk to, what makes you smile. The line between love and control blurs with each passing day.

Sometimes, he visits you in secret. You’ll come home to find your favorite meal waiting on the counter or a new book sitting on your bedside table. Other times, you’ll catch glimpses of him in the shadows—just a flicker of red and black before he’s gone.

And then there are the times he lets himself be seen. He’ll stand in the middle of your apartment, waiting for you to come home. His voice is low, almost dangerous, as he says, “You don’t lock your windows, princess. Someone could get hurt.”

You try to confront him, try to reason with him, but Jason isn’t the boy you knew. He’s sharper now, more unhinged.

“You think you can just forget me?” he growls, pinning you against the wall. “You think you can move on, live your life without me? That’s not how this works princess.”

Jason’s obsession manifests in unpredictable ways. One moment, he’s protective and tender, swearing to keep you safe at all costs. The next, he’s violent and possessive, tearing apart anyone who gets too close to you.

He’s killed for you, though he’d never admit it. That coworker who flirted with you too much? Dead in an alleyway. The stranger who catcalled you on the street? Beaten within an inch of their life.

“I’m doing this for you,” he says, his voice trembling with something raw and desperate. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you. I’ll take care of it.”

You try to push him away, but it only makes him cling harder. Jason doesn’t see the line between love and obsession. To him, it’s all the same.

Jason’s ultimate goal is simple: to have you. To keep you with him, away from the dangers of Gotham—and away from anyone else.

“I’m not asking, princess,” he says one night, dragging you into his arms. “I’m taking you. No one else gets to have you. Not Bruce, not Dick, not anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll burn this city to the ground before I let you go.”

And maybe, deep down, a part of you doesn’t want him to. Because for all his madness, Jason is still Jason—the boy who made you laugh, who understood your pain, who loved you in a way no one else ever could.

But at what cost?

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[indecisive-gm]

Well, I need to get myself to do some kind of writing. This one'll be in English, the next one in German

Deutsche Übersetzung: Nun, ich muss dazu bringen, ein bisschen zu schreiben. Dieses wird auf Englisch, das Nächste wird auf Deutsch.

Jamie woke up and looked around. The room was dark enough that she couldn't see anything. Her legs were asleep, but she could feel the cold metal of the chair on her arms and the rope tied around her wrists. What had happened? The last thing Jamie could remember, she had been on her way home from a trip to the store. Someone must have snuck up on her and abducted her. Maybe Ryla's advice about walking with other people at night in the city wasn't such a bad idea.

The lights turned on, blinding Jamie for a moment as her eyes adjusted. When she could see again, she recognized the face of the person coming in from the door.

"Roger!" she sighed. "It's you! How did you find me?"

Roger didn't speak. Not too unusual for him. He was polite--even pretty friendly once you got to know him--but he was quieter and often focused on getting to business. He immediately walked around behind Jamie's chair and started fiddling with the rope.

"Sooo, which one of them sent you to come get me?" Jamie jested. Roger glared in response. "Oh, I know you care. I was just messing with you!"

The knot in the rope tightened, and Roger took a step back. This wasn't right. Jamie knew Roger could tie and untie knots; he'd helped her tie her bike with a chain when she forgot the lock for it. It wasn't likely a joke either. Roger never had much of a sense of humor.

That's when another figure entered the room. Jamie didn't know him, and he didn't look friendly. He was followed by two other men, each with a gun visibly holstered. The man looked at Jamie and grinned. "You still got it in ya after all, Tim."

Roger grumbled, "Yes. did you think I didn't?"

"We had to be sure," the man in the suite responded. "What, with this running off and taking on a new name. We needed to be sure you were still part of the family." He stepped forward and put a hand of Roger's cheek. "We are, aren't we?"

Roger met eyes with Jamie. What was he going to do? Jamie had thought he was a nice person--even a good friend--up until now. When Ash's phone got a virus, it was Roger who fixed it and recovered the files. When Jackson fell down the stairs and broke her leg, it was Roger who had made a splint on the spot and instructed everyone on what to do to help her. When boys from one of the fraternities made lewd comments at Ryla, it was Roger who scared them off before things escalated. And when Jamie first came to the city, it was Roger who helped her get settled in in the group's shared apartment. After all this, was this really who he was?

Roger looked back to the man in the suit. "Of course."

The man chuckled and slapped Roger on the back. "Good to hear, my boy. I knew you were a smart one. Let's clean up here and go back home."

The men started to leave, and Roger followed. As the door was closing, Jamie heard the man speak again. "Timmy, you know better than to leave loose ends like this." The door shut, and Jamie couldn't clearly hear the rest of the conversation.

BANG! Gunshots erupted from the other side of the door. Jamie was too scared to scream. Silence followed, and blood pooled under the door.

After a minute or so, the door started to open again. Jamie closed her eyes and prepared herself for it to be over. Maybe Roger had held true for a final standoff, but that was over. And now her life would be over too.

She felt something tug at the rope on her wrists. "They shot my right arm. I'll need you to listen to my instructions to help get this rope off of you." It was Roger's voice!

"Roger! You're-"

"Alive, yes. Let's... not speak of this, ok?"

"But..." Jamie took a moment to think about what had happened. Roger's association with the mob would explain some of his skills, but it opened more questions. Where to even start?

Roger answered, "Ash and Jackson would just be scared if they found out, and Ryla has enough on her plate already. Besides," he gestured to the dead bodies just outside the door. "These guys won't be waking up any time soon, and the rest of the gang will be too shaken by the incident to come after me. There, now pull your left hand out."

Shaking the slight numbness from her left hand from where the ropes had decreased circulation, Jamie shook her head. "Fine, I'll try not to let them know." Looking over at the dead gunmen, Jamie said to Roger, "You're sure we shouldn't at least call the police?"

"And get myself arrested too? I'd rather not. Pull on that loop now. No, the other one."

The rope around Jamie's right hand fell loose to the ground, and she stood up. And immediately fell over. "Ow!"

"Yeah, careful. You've been sitting down for a while, and you took a pretty bad scrape when I knocked you out before."

Waiting a moment as she rubbed her legs and felt the prickle of feeling returning to them, Jamie thought about the situation. "Why wait until now?"

"What?"

"Why wait until now to kill those guys if you knew it was going to happen anyway? You didn't need to kidnap me like that!"

"I... wasn't sure what to do." Roger looked down in shame. "I thought I was free, so I was caught by surprise when they found me. I followed their orders up until now, hoping to avoid the worst." He looked up at Jamie. "But I'm not willing to do the worst to avoid the worst. I want to help people, and I want to be a good friend." They both stood in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry for what happened. It won't happen again."

Jamie looked around the room one last time. With the light and not having to fear for her life about the people in front of her, she could actually get a good look at everything, not that there was much to see. It was a small cellar room, almost like a closet. Just outside the door, she could see a water heater and a washer and drier. Fortunately, this wouldn't be the last room she would see. Roger almost killed her here, but things could have ended worse. Looking back at Roger, no longer entirely sure what to think of him, she offered, "Well, I guess we can go home now?"

"Ah, not just yet." He gestured to his right arm which had been shot and to the blood all over his jacket and pants. He walked past Jamie to the drying machine and took out a clean pair of pants. "If I could borrow that closet for a second."

Jamie waited a moment in the laundry room while Roger changed pants in the cellar closet. This wasn't what she had expected, but how much could she really blame Roger? He was in a bad situation and did what he could. He had been one of the kindest and most helpful people she had known up to now. Was she ready to throw that away?

Roger came out of the cellar closet in a fresh pair of pants and without his jacket. "I found this old gym bag in the corner of the room. It looks like it hasn't been used in a while, so I don't think the owner will miss it too much. It'll help hide the bloody clothes." With a t-shirt and fresh sweat pants, he looked more like himself--though the slightly bloody torn cloth wrapped around his arm was new.

No, Roger had helped everyone else when they needed it, Jamie wouldn't be giving up on her friend now. Roger had clearly been through a lot. He had definitely hurt people, but he was trying so hard to do better, and had become a reliable figure to look up to for others. This was a horrible day, but Roger had done what he could in the end, and Jamie couldn't fault him for that.

"Let's get you to a hospital for your arm."

"No," Roger replied. "I've dealt with this before. I'll survive."

"You've helped us, it's time I do something to return the favor. We can stop at home first to drop off your jacket and pants."

Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. … and she gives me all her trust and i’m abusing it right now.

06, CHAPTER SIX. SOMEBODY ELSE’S GIRL (MINE FIRST).

ju speaks. happy late thanksgiving if you celebrate! this is the quickest i’ve ever finished a chapter and i think it’s because i switched between their views, so it’s also a little long. but let me know your thoughts cauuuuse… it’s all mess from here. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos, sappy paige.

present day, june 2025.

practice had just ended, a longer one than usual might i add. most of the team had trickled out, grabbed their stuff and hit the showers. i lingered near the bench with maya, who had allegedly been here under some important circumstance, but i just think she wanted to see me. we haven’t hung out much recently.

she’d been talking my ear off about the game tomorrow, but i wasn’t fully listening. my focus? split—like always. out of the corner of my eye, nai walked in, hair tied back, a stack of papers in her hand. she didn’t look over here, probably didn’t even realize i was in the gym. what was she here for?

maya nudged me, temporarily snapping me out of it. “you hear me?” she asked, tilting her head.

“uh, yeah,” i lied, blinking as i turned back to her. “somethin’ about their zone defense, right?”

maya rolled her eyes. “you’re hopeless,” she said, but she was laughing.

i chuckled too, stroking a hand over my chin. my eyes drifted back to nai. she’d settled near the scorer’s table, flipping through the papers like whatever she was working on was life or death. she’s more locked in for the game than i am.

“yo, nai!” i called, my voice echoing through the quiet of the empty gym.

she glanced up, startled, her brows furrowing slightly before she turned her attention toward me. “what?” she asked. her tone was neutral, but not exactly inviting.

“come here for a sec,” i said, leaning back against the bench, spreading my legs out, my arms draped over the sides like i wasn’t hanging on her reaction. maya’s eyes followed over to me, her smirk growing, but she didn’t say a word.

nai hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she exhaled sharply, setting the papers down on the table. she walked over, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the court. she wasn’t in any rush, but the way her eyes stayed locked on me, i knew she was curious.

“what do you need, bueckers?” she asked, stopping just far enough to keep some space between us. her arms crossed over her chest, and i couldn’t help but notice the way her forearms flexed slightly with the movement.

“relax, i ain’t gonna bite,” i teased, tilting my head with a grin. “wanted to ask if you saw the film on the liberty’s screens. got it on my phone—figured you might have some notes since, you know, you’re always prepared.”

her eyes narrowed, but she’s definitely amused, biting back a smile. “you’re only asking me because you didn’t do your homework, huh?”

i shrugged, unbothered. “maybe.”

maya laughed beside me, chiming in, “at least she’s honest.”

nai rolled her eyes but stepped closer, her gaze flicking between me and maya. she held her hand out. “fine. show me the video.”

“thought you’d never ask,” i said, pulling out my phone. my thumb hovered over the screen as i unlocked it, my stomach flipping briefly as the lock screen flashed. thankfully, i’d changed it from the polaroids this morning, though the thought of it, thought of her, still made my chest tighten. in a good way.

i tapped the screen, pulling up the clip, and held it out to her. “here,” i said. “maya and i were just talking about it.” it’s a breakdown of their off-ball movement—mostly betnijah and sabrina setting those high screens.

nai leaned in slightly, her shoulder brushing mine as she took the phone. i parted my lips, forcing my focus onto the video.

“you weren’t talking about this,” she murmured, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she glanced at maya.

maya snickered, leaning forward to watch over nai’s shoulder. “caught us. but it’s relevant.”

i watched them both for a second, my eyes settling over nai longer than i should’ve let it. she was so close, close enough that her shampoo—something clean and floral—filled my nose.

her fingers tapped the screen as she rewound the clip. “see this?” she said, pointing to a sequence where sabrina set a screen to free betnijah for a backdoor cut. “they do this every time the ball swings weak-side. if you’re late, it’s an automatic bucket.”

“makes sense,” maya murmured, nodding along.

the video played on, but it was just noise to me. nai shifted again, and my eyes dropped to the curve of her jaw, the faint flush on her cheeks that was always there, down to the sliver of skin her button-up gave me a show of when she crouched down, her hips—

“paige,” nai said suddenly, snapping me out of my daze. God, i’ve been having a lot of those. it was a stern say of my name, and i blinked, realizing i hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“huh?” i asked.

she sighed, handing the phone back. “i said, they’re predictable, but you have to be locked in. no gambling—you’ll get caught overplaying on those screens.”

“oh. yeah, for sure,” i replied quickly, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “locked in. got it.” my hands found the hem of my shorts, fidgeting with the fabric just to do something.

maya raised a brow, glancing between us. “you good, paige?”

“always,” i replied, shooting her a grin as i scrunched my face up, like the question was absurd. i caught the knowing (or the i think i know) look she shot nai. i’m terrible at not being obvious.

nai shook her head, muttering something under her breath before heading back to the scorer’s table.

i need to talk to maya.

game day was different. they always started early for me, the arena was quieter than i liked, but now the whole team was here. sneakers squeaked against the polished court, basketballs bounced rhythmically, and the team’s warmup playlist blasted from the speakers. but me? i was posted up at the scorer’s table, laptop open and notes scattered around me, running through every last detail of game day operations.

or trying to, anyway. a slightly sweaty paige in her jersey just a few feet away from me was a very distracting sight.

next to me, maya leaned back in her chair, legs crossed over each other like she didn’t have a care in the world. she’d been going back and forth between scrolling on her phone and making snarky comments about my “game face,” which, according to her, was “way too intense for someone who isn’t even playing.”

“you know it’s not that serious, right?” she teased, snapping me out of my focus as she nudged my half-empty in-n-out cup closer to me.

“it is that serious,” i muttered, grabbing the cup without thinking and taking a sip. the straw gurgled, and i frowned, realizing there was barely a drop of my chocolate milkshake left.

maya grinned. “right. because if the scoreboard malfunctions, the world’s ending.”

i rolled my eyes, setting the cup down and returning to my notes. “not all of us can just show up to work and look pretty, maya.”

“first of all, i do a lot more than look pretty,” she shot back, feigning offense. “i contribute to team morale.”

i snorted, finally glancing her way. “uh-huh. is that what we’re calling it now?”

she kept her smile, leaning back in her chair. “yup. and speaking of morale… i gotta ask you something.”

i paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. maya’s tone had shifted—just slightly—but enough to make me wonder. “what’s up?”

she hesitated for half a second, which was already suspicious. maya didn’t do hesitation. “it’s about paige.”

my throat went dry, and i reached for the cup again, even though i knew it was empty. i needed something to do, anything to buy myself a second to think.

“what about her?”

“i’m just saying,” she starts, sitting up straight now. “you two are tight, right?” she asked, her head tilting as she studied me. “she talks to you a lot.”

tight? not exactly the word i’d use, but i nodded anyway. “yeah, i guess.”

maya leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “she’s just… hard to read sometimes, you know? one minute, she’s all chill, the next, she’s pulling away. i can’t tell if she’s playing hard to get or if she’s just like that.”

shit. of course maya was asking about paige. of course she’d come to me, thinking i had some kind of insight. of course maya was trying to lock her down. she was older, probably didn’t have time for whatever game paige was throwing. she wanted a relationship. i’m sure if she knew what paige and i’s relationship was like, she’d call us childish. i wouldn’t disagree.

i swallowed, nodding slowly as if i was carefully considering her words, but my brain was going a mile a minute. why’s she pulling away from you? probably because she was tangled up in my sheets just last night. i’m pretty sure a good number of her workout clothes are on my floor. the towel she’s been using the past couple of days hanging up in my bathroom. i forced the thought away, along with the guilt that came with it.

“i mean, yeah, she talks to me, but…” my voice trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence without giving myself away. “i think she’s just busy with the season,” i redirect.

maya raised an eyebrow, more to herself. “it seems like she’s got time for everyone else. it’s me she’s dodging.”

everyone else. me? what lies has paige been feeding her?

my stomach churned. i hated this. i hated that she was asking me these questions, hated that i didn’t have an honest answer for her. most of all, i hated that i could feel her suspicion growing with every passing second.

i forced a tight smile, my fingers idly fidgeting with the straw in my cup. “paige isn’t really the relationship type,” i said, hoping that would satisfy her.

maya laughed dryly, shaking her head. “yeah, i’m starting to figure that out. but damn, i like her, nai. she’s just—” she paused, letting out a small sigh. fuck. “she’s different.”

i couldn’t help it—the words slipped out before i could stop them. i wanted to know too. know if she makes her feel the same way. “different how?”

her eyes softened as she smiled a little. i knew she was looking at paige. i follow her eye line, and there she is. stretching while she bites back a laugh at her own joke. “i don’t know. she’s got that… thing. she’s fun, she’s confident, she makes you feel like you’re the only one she’s paying attention to when you’re with her.”

yeah, and that’s exactly the problem, i thought bitterly. because wasn’t just paying attention to maya. she wasn’t just fun and confident with maya.

i nodded again, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything else. “i get it.” and i did. i got it more than she knew.

“do you, though?” maya asked, her tone skeptical as she studied me again. “you’re not acting like someone who gets it.”

i forced a laugh. “i’m just tired,” i lied, standing up and grabbing my laptop. “long morning.”

maya just watched me for a moment, then nodded, leaning back in her chair again. “alright, well, if you hear anything…” she let the sentence hang in the air, her meaning clear.

i just gave her a noncommittal shrug, pretending to focus on packing up my stuff.

paige needs to talk to maya.

it’s our second game against the liberty. the team’s been stressed about it all morning, but i can’t say i feel the same. muffled voices and footsteps echoed in the locker room, but i couldn’t focus on any of it. not the game plan, not the liberty, not even fucking maya for christ’s sake.

the only thing i could focus on was nai, pinned against the row of lockers, her lips pressed feverishly against mine like the game had already started and she was playing to win. my jersey stuck to my skin, damp from warmups, but i didn’t care. my arms flexed as i braced them on either side of her, caging her in, every breath i took mingling with hers in the secluded space near the showers. nobody should be coming back here, catching us. it’s why i chose it.

“you,” i murmured against her lips, one hand sliding down to her hip and gripping it like it was my lifeline. my other hand wrapped gently around her neck, pulling her closer. “you’re drivin’ me crazy, nai. you know that?”

her laugh was breathless, her hands trailing up under the jersey she’d untucked, nails scraping against my stomach and making me shudder. “you started it,” she whispered, her lips brushing over mine, teasing me.

i didn’t answer, couldn’t. i just leaned in and kissed her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding in her mouth in a way that made me forget we were just minutes away from tip-off. she tasted like the cherry lip balm she always wore, and it was doing something to me, making my heart race faster than the pregame drills ever could.

she pulled back slightly, her breath hot against my cheek. “paige,” she murmured, a warning tone in her voice like we should stop. but her hands stayed right where they were, gripping the waistband of my shorts like she couldn’t let go.

“what?” i asked, furrowing my brows. my lips trailed down her jaw, then lower, brushing against the curve of her neck. “say it.”

“we shouldn’t—” she started, but i cut her off with another kiss, silencing whatever logic she was about to throw my way.

“don’t care,” i said, pulling back just enough to look at her. my thumb brushed against her cheek, over the faint blush forming from the warmth of the room. “i don’t care, nai. you gotta know that by now.”

her eyes searched mine, and for a second, i thought she was about to tell me to stop. but then her lips crashed into mine again, and i grinned cockily.

i couldn’t stop. i didn’t want to. she had this pull on me, always had, and every time we found our way back to each other like this, it only made it harder to let go.

i didn’t want to let go anymore.

i was thinking straight now—for the first time in a minute, actually thinking. she drove me crazy in every way possible, just like i’d said, but it wasn’t just that. it wasn’t just the way she kissed me or the way she looked at me like she’d love me like this in every lifetime. it was her, all of her. the fire, the attitude, the way she cared so much about the smallest things. the way she called me out when i was slacking but never let me fall too far. she wasn’t perfect, but damn, she was perfect for me.

i’d tried moving on, tried ignoring it, tried putting someone else in her place a million times before, but nothing worked. nobody was her. nobody ever could be.

and maybe that made me selfish. maybe it wasn’t fair to her, not when i kept coming back like this, asking for pieces of her without offering anything steady in return. but for once, i didn’t want to pretend.

her breath hitched as i kissed her deeper, tilting my head into it, and i felt my chest tighten. this wasn’t just hooking up. it wasn’t just history or habit or whatever excuse i used to tell myself. “i love you,” i breathed against her lips, my hand tightening around her hip. “i’m serious, nai. i love you. i don’t wanna keep sneakin’ around like this. i wanna be with you—for real.”

her eyes widened. she looked like she might push me away, laugh it off, tell me i was lying. but she didn’t. she just stared at me, her lips parted, her breath shaky.

“paige…” she started, her voice soft, uncertain as she brought her hands up to my shoulders.

i leaned my forehead against hers, my hands moving to cup her face. “nah, don’t ‘paige’ me,” i said, licking my lips, trying to find the right words. “you gotta let me say this. i want you, baby. only you. i’ll figure it out—i’ll make it work. just… let me.”

silence. her hands stayed on me, fingers brushing against the collar of my jersey. i looked into her eyes, and i knew i was laid bare. no bravado, no jokes, no quick quips to deflect. just me, standing there, begging without words. let me. please let me.

the sound of a buzzer echoed through the hallway, signaling it was time to hit the court. i didn’t move, didn’t pull away. not until she gave me an answer. not until i knew.

“you don’t get to do this now.”

“why not?”

“because it’s game day,” she countered, sternly mothering me in the way i loved, and the flash of vulnerability in her eyes nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. she was quiet for a moment too long, like she was wrestling with herself, with me, with us.

finally, she exhaled, her hands smoothing down my sides. “go win it, p. we’ll… talk later.”

the words were a promise and a deflection all at once, and we both knew it. my chest ached, but i nodded, biting back the urge to push for more, to beg for her to meet me where i was.

i stood there for a moment longer, just watching her, memorizing the way she looked at me—like she was caught somewhere between wanting me and pushing me away for the last time.

the sound of footsteps in the hallway broke the moment, and i sighed, dragging a hand over my face. leaning down, i pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the faint scent of her hair like it was enough to carry me through the next two hours.

“later,” i echoed, and i left the locker room without another word.

halftime ends, and the buzzer sounds, pulling me and everyone else back into the game. i’ve been occupied—timing, logistics, making sure everything’s in place for the team. it’s hectic, and i’ve barely had time to focus on the game itself. i catch paige, bouncing on the balls of her feet, all amped up as she waits to get checked in. i stretch my legs out on the bench, trying to shake off the restlessness that’s been following me around all day.

just get through the game. you can think about what this means after.

my thoughts are interrupted when i see maya making her way back from the tunnel. she strolls across the court, looking like she’s had a moment to herself, like she hasn’t been gone for the entire fifteen minutes of halftime. i barely even notice her approach until she’s right next to me, her posture a little different, almost like she’s holding something back.

i look up from my clipboard, following her as she sits down next to me. “hey, how was your half?” i ask.

“good. just needed a minute.”

she’s not making eye contact, and her voice carries this weird undertone, like she’s working through something in her head. i furrow my eyebrows, chuckling. “that’s weirdly ominous.”

she bites her lip. “sorry. i just wanted to apologize for being weird earlier.”

i glance at her, trying to gauge where her head’s at. “uh… it’s cool. you were just concerned.” the way she phrased it—the way she’s acting…

there’s a moment of silence before she speaks. “i just… i thought something was going on with you and paige.” she pauses, looking me dead in the eyes. she’s smiling a bit. “but she assured me there was nothing going on. said she wants to move forward with me.”

i blink, glancing at the court. i can’t look her in the eye. i’m back to busying myself with my clipboard. “she said that?” my voice feels flat, distant, like i’m hearing it through a fog.

this had to have been just now, right? my mind whirls for a second. she told maya that she wants to move forward with her? but then why did she tell me—me—in the locker room that she loved me? was maya just blowing her words out of proportion?

maya fidgets slightly, her fingers tapping against her leg as she looks away, grinning like this is some kind of revelation she’s been waiting for. “yeah,” she replies, eyes flickering back to my occupied ones. “i’m sorry for misreading it. all i needed to do was ask her!”

and then she laughs. she fucking laughs.

i chew on that for a moment. the sound of it feels like a slap to the face. it’s not a real laugh, not one that feels genuine or free. it’s almost… rehearsed, like she’s trying to convince herself—or me—that everything’s fine, that there’s nothing more to this. that paige just straightened it all out.

the frustration bubbles up inside me, but i keep it contained, gripping the edge of my clipboard like it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality. i don’t know what to say to that, or if i even can say anything. all i can think about is what happened in the locker room, how paige looked at me, how she said the words that felt like they meant everything but might have meant nothing at all.

she said she loved me. it was the first time i’d heard it from her in awhile where it felt like she actually meant it. and now maya’s telling me that paige is just moving forward with her? that she’s already decided?

suddenly the loudness of the gym is tuned out, and i can’t focus on anything. i start to open my mouth to excuse myself, but something catches my eye. my gaze trails down, taking in the rest of her appearance—her shirt a little wrinkled, her hair not quite as perfectly styled as usual. it hits me all at once, like a punch to the gut.

i force myself to look back at her face, trying to keep my expression steady. “maya,” i say slowly, voice quiet, “your jeans… are unzipped.”

she freezes, her eyes wide for a split second before she quickly pulls at the zipper, trying to cover it up. but the damage is done.

it was easier to deny before. easier if i hadn’t caught that small detail—the one she didn’t think i’d see.

“i’m gonna head out.”

[wildwestdean]

wish list

summary: dean shares his christmas wish with you

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 845

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, confessions, idiots in love

a/n: a short and sweet piece for day one of the Promt-Mas 2024 event in our lovely supernatural writers community; prompt 1 'all i want for christmas'

“What do you want for Christmas?” you asked, phone cradled to your ear. 

It was a simple question, one that had been asked many times before, yet it still made Dean stop in his tracks as he hesitated over his answer. 

“And don’t say pie,” you added playfully, pulling a chuckle from his lips. 

“Well, I can’t answer your question then, sweetheart,” he teased. 

“Oh, c’mon!” you groaned. “There has to be something you want.” 

Dean sighed, kicking his feet up on the table in the war room as he leaned back in his chair. He’s starting to feel like he never leaves this spot, sitting here like a sad puppy waiting for you to walk through the bunker door ever since you left two weeks ago, eager to help Jody and Donna work a case; a case that ended in the three of you taking a girls trip to some retreat in the mountains. 

He wanted you to come home. 

“Dean?” you called softly, pulling him from his thoughts when he took longer than usual to answer. 

“I don’t want anything,” he lied, shrugging his shoulders despite the fact you couldn’t see him. 

“Liar,” you laughed, easily picking up on his fib.

He couldn’t help but smile, the fuzzy feeling settling in his stomach once more at the realization of how well you know him. 

“What do you want?” he asked, hoping to flip the spotlight onto you. 

“Nuh-uh,” you tsked. “You’re not getting out of this so easily, Winchester.” 

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” he joked, voice laced with laughter. 

“I can be even worse!” you threatened with a laugh. “What if I guess? Will you tell me if I guess it?” 

“Sure, why not?” he agreed, mainly because he knew you’d never get it right. 

He listened with a grin as you rambled on, listing every possible thing that came to your mind for what he may want. Some were things that he himself didn’t even know he wanted, and while he did admit to them being good ideas, he remained adamant they weren’t his main wish; yet still refused to give an inch as to what that may be. 

“Would you stop being so stubborn?” you huffed in exasperation, knowing you should admit defeat but not wanting to; you were just as stubborn as him when it came down to it. 

“Why is it so important to you?” he asked with a laugh, finding your irritation over the situation rather endearing. 

“Because you’re important to me,” you told him. “I don’t want to get you just anything and call it a day. Yeah, I have some things for you already, but I want you to have something that’ll make you truly happy. Something special, y’know?” 

Dean fell silent after your explanation, your words bouncing around in his head as he tried to think of what to say, as he wondered how best to tell you. 

“Are you embarrassed to tell me or something? Because you should know by now that I’d never-” 

“Come home,” he said quietly, cutting off your speech. 

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you chuckled, not understanding what he was telling you. 

“No, I-” he started, taking a shaky breath. “That- that’s what I want.” 

“You… want me to come home?” you questioned, clearly confused. 

“I want you,” he admitted, his heart hammering against his ribcage so fiercely he wondered if you could hear it.

You fell so silent on the other end that he actually had to pull the phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Me?” you finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“You,” he confirmed, chuckling nervously. “You’re what makes me happy, sweet girl. Hell, there was a point that I thought I’d never be truly happy again… and then one day, you showed up. There’s nothing that’ll be more special to me than you, sweetheart."

“So… what you’re saying is that I don’t need to spend money on you this year?” you asked playfully, trying to cover up your nerves with a joke. 

He let out a laugh, feeling some of his nerves starting to settle. “I’m saying all I want for Christmas is you.” 

“Only for Christmas, though, right?” you wondered, and Dean could just about hear the grin you wore. 

“Well,” Dean said contemplatively. “I was thinking I might keep you for, say… rest of our lives?” 

“Are you seriously confessing your love with a phone call?” you asked with a giggle, feeling giddy beyond belief. 

“No,” he said casually. “I’ll wait until you’re finally home to really say those words.” 

“Oh, okay,” you replied in understanding. “Well, guess it’s a good thing I’m home, then.”

Before he could respond, the bunker door screeched open as you finally stepped inside, and he quickly met your gaze as you grinned down at him from the railing. He matched your grin, standing from the chair as he ended the call. 

“Well,” you called down to him, laughing with glee. “Don’t you have a confession to make?” 

taglist: @roseblue373, @redmaro86, @snowayumi, @iluvdeanwinchester, @winharry, @star-yawnznn, @jc-winchester

if you'd like to be added or removed from this list, please let me know!

[silverskyeline]

I've recently lost a pet, my cat, and greiving quite a bit. i was wondering if you could do a super fluffy wolverine fic of him just saying everythings gonna be ok, it sounds silly now im typing this lol <3

I love your fics btw!!!! :3

hey anon <3 i am so so sorry for your loss, i've been there and i know how hard it is. it's not silly at all!! i hope this fic is okay for you, ily and i hope you're looking after yourself! please take care!

ੈ♡˳ 'grief' - logan howlett x gn!reader

summary: logan wants to help comfort you, the way that you often comfort him. (930 words) tags: logan comforts you, fluffy, chaste kisses, gentle touches, very brief mention of grief, very brief mention of loss, established relationship.

logan's eyes flutter open, almost on instinct. when he glances to the side, his suspicions are confirmed - you've been awake for a while. he can tell by the way your eyes scan the ceiling above you, tracing patterns and cracks in the paint like they're highways you're speeding down to escape the thoughts in your head. he knows that look because he too often finds himself speeding down those same highways.

he turns, wrapping a thick arm around your waist to pull you closer, nuzzling his stubble into the base of your neck. he takes a deep breath, encouraging you to do the same. when your chest rises with his, he exhales deeply, pressing a soft kiss to your skin in praise.

"mornin', bub," he whispers, his voice soft, a tone he reserves only for you, even more so on days like these.

you rest your head upon the top of his in a silent reply, cheek nestling against his fluffy hair. you breathe in his scent, relishing in the way it's so familiar and grounding to you.

his arm squeezes around you, eyes flitting up to your face, taking in your weathered expression. he wishes he could take away those dark thoughts in your head, the feelings that weigh you down - but he knows it ain't that simple, been there himself way too many times to foolishly believe otherwise. logan thinks of all the times you've held him, your gentle reassurances, how easy it seems to come to you to offer that comfort.

he wants to do the same for you.

"it's gonna be okay," he hums, punctuating his words with delicate, chaste kisses to your neck, "i know it. . . it hurts right now, darlin', i know it does. it's. . . alright to hurt."

logan curses himself internally, he wasn't good at this shit - wanted to be as good as you were, saw how the words came naturally to you. meanwhile, he's flipping through every single word he's ever known and nothing feels right.

"you don't need to hurt alone, though," he continues, swallowing the doubt he holds in his abilities, "you know i'm here. . ." lifting his head, he looks into your eyes, "you know i got you."

your eyes meet and you can tell he means it, really means it. he's trying hard, trying so hard. an honest crooked smile curls on his lips, one that's all logan, and it threatens a smile on your lips too.

you take a moment to feel him beside you, to get lost in the peacefulness that his company allows so naturally. his heartbeat is calm yet firm against your arm that finds itself pressed against his chest, the gentle 'thump thump' lulling you.

"that grief you got in your chest," he presses a large palm against your torso as though he can feel it - and in a way he can, you're connected enough emotionally that he can often tell what you're really feeling before you know it yourself, finding clues in the way your shoulders tense or the subtle tremble in your hands, "you can share it with me, y'know."

the palm on your chest travels upwards to cup your cheek, brushing a calloused thumb across your soft skin, "listen to me, everythin' is gonna be okay, you hear me?" his tone turns firm, but still loving, "i've lost enough people to know how fuckin' hard it is, it eats away at you, feels like you're chokin' on words unspoken or things you coulda' done or things you didn't do but. . . in the end, you loved 'em. they knew that."

the words hit you, emphasised by the delicate tone of his voice. you bask in the comfort he provides.

logan leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there a moment in the hopes that somehow it helps his words sink in. "i know i ain't good at this kinda thing, darlin' - but. . ." he pulls back, vulnerability etched on his face as his eyes link with yours, "i just. . . i guess what i'm tryin' to say is i'm. . . here for you."

and you know he is, sometimes it's hard to believe. logan, the wolverine, a man who once kept everyone at arm's length and vowed never to let anyone in again is here now, in bed, with you, comforting you with thoughtful words and soft touches.

you know he means what he says, because displaying softness is not something that comes easy to him, it's not something he allows himself to be around others. but with you? it's different.

"let's make you some breakfast, huh?" he peppers soothing kisses across your face, over your forehead, down along the slope of your nose, across your cheeks. . . hoping to elicit a smile, something that tells him he's breaking through that tough exterior you've built to keep yourself in that dark place.

and it works, because a ghost of a smile tugs at your lips.

logan smiles in silent victory, finally pressing a kiss to your lips before sitting up, taking your hand in his, "c'mon, let me spoil you today."

you reluctantly ease out of bed, following him - because you know he's right, everything will be okay. the fog will clear, little by little, navigating your way to sunny skies in time. and though the grief remains, it morphs. instead of reminding you of what you've lost, it reminds you of the good it gifted you, and the good that you too, shared with them.

[captain039]

PART 5 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, sexual, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain

Previous part <-

Time rolled by easily for once. Mornings were suddenly your favourite time, Viktor always had tea ready for you on the counter, giving you a soft good morning and gentle kiss to the cheek or head when you’d come out of your room half asleep. Lately, he’d been coming home late and leaving early barely getting more than two hours of sleep. It worried you and your thoughts would spiral out of control. You figured Viktor wasn’t an overly affectionate man, soft subtle things more than grand gestures, but this? Maybe you should’ve expected it he’s married to his work trying to crack hextech or whatever he worked on, always trying to crack a code or having theories conjuring. You lay on your bed staring at the ceiling hand resting on your stomach one behind your head. It was midnight by now and you were too lost in a spiral of overthinking. Hardly having any experience with men and your expectations built off books you found yourself stuck in your fantasies and perfect romance and the cold harsh kiss of reality. He was just busy. You curl up rolling onto your side. Those sweet mornings and sweet touches were paradise, his confession left you with warmth but you didn’t have a verbal confirmation that he wanted a relationship, was this a talking period? Learning each other, but you knew him…didn’t you?

The door creaks open and you curl in on yourself impossibly more wondering if he’d just stumble to his bed, quite literally you figured he sleptwalk here. A soft call of your name makes you tense all the lights are off save for the sliver of moonlight seeping in through the window. You listen to the sound of his cane and steps stopping at your doorway. You act asleep hoping he’d leave but it’s easy to see you’re not. You listen to his steps get closer before the bed dips with a sigh from his lips as he sits. He just sits for a moment and the silence is deafening, you want to turn and snap at him to piss him off but you sigh instead.

“Jayce says hello,” he says quietly and you want to scoff.

“We’ve made a breakthrough with the hexcore” You listen to him shuffle a bit behind you before he stills again. You don’t answer him staring at the darkened wall.

“That’s good” you mutter in response and you listen to his soft sigh of relief.

“I must admit I am not good with-“ he trails off with another sigh.

“Can- can I hold you?” His voice is quite barely above a whisper. You don’t answer verbally you shuffle closer to the wall though and you listen to the sound of a brace coming off the soft thud of his cane being leant against your bedside table and the creak of your bed as he lies down. You tense a bit as he slowly shuffles closer his arm resting over your waist his breath fanning your neck his knees hitting the back of yours. You want to bury your face in the pillow his body so different to yours. His slender bony frame compared to your plush form, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable though, the warmth of his breath the warmth of his body his slender fingers tracing over your hand before he intertwines your hands. You take a shaky breath and close your eyes.

Morning comes, and you awake first with the unfamiliar warmth against your back making you hyper-aware. You open your eyes, you’re surprised you didn’t move throughout the night, you always end up tangled in your blankets. Viktors pressed himself closer or you pressed yourself back to him you don’t know. His breath is closer you feel his nose in your hair his legs are tangled with yours and you worry that you’re going to hurt his leg. His chest is to your back, you can faintly feel his heartbeat slow and steady against your slowly rising one. You notice his hand still clutching yours over your waist. You also notice his hips right against yours and something-

Viktor groans softly and you tense at the sound, it sounds so raw and strange from him, that you find yourself wanting to hear it again. You act asleep figuring he’s waking up as his hand gently squeezes yours.

“Good morning” he whispers his accent coming through thick and you curse him silently of course he knows you’re awake.

“Morning,” you say softly his hips grinding against yours, you wonder if he realised he did it. He hums low in his throat it almost sounds like a purr as he comes out of his morning haze. He tenses a bit then and you don’t move either.

“I- I’m sorry” he says embarrassment clear in his voice as he goes to move away. You hold his hand tightly though so he can’t fully retreat. You can feel his frown as he relaxes back a little his hips not touching yours.

“It’s- a- normal reaction in the morning” Science you sound like a fool, he laughs softly though and your cheeks heat.

“I admit it hasn’t happened in a while,” he says quietly against your head and you frown. It makes sense though he usually sleeps at the lab or gets two hours of sleep.

“Well you always sleep at the lab, or don’t,” you say trying to sound casual but failing.

“Nor was I pressed against you,” he says a huskiness in his voice that surprises you, it makes his accent thicker, his breath feels warmer on your neck and you feel your stomach do a little clench of excitement. You lay there for a moment feeling Viktor's thumb gently stroke over your fingers.

“Progress day is coming up” he says suddenly and you frown for a moment, you’d forgotten about it.

“It is,” you say.

“Are you and Jayce doing some grand reveal?” You ask your previous heated thoughts dying.

“Jayce is” he corrects and a smile laces your lips, you remember the last progress day. Jayce had tried so hard to get Viktor to interact and socialise to show Jayce wasn’t the only one doing the work but Viktor had simply given short answers and small smiles before going to hide in the lab. You remember that night, you’d follow him back to the lab and he’d begin to explain to you the hexcore, you didn’t understand anything of what he said but listened to his voice.

“Would- would you like to go?” He asks and you finally roll over. Viktor frowns when you do but he realises you’re just rolling over to face him, he lets go of your hand before taking it again resting it in between you both his golden eyes looking at yours.

“Of course, It’s yours and Jayces special time of recognition” You smile and you see the faint red in his cheeks.

“I meant together” he repeats and you frown, you all went together last year why would this year be different?

“As my plus one” he says a little harder and it finally clicks when he says it.

“You are oblivious” he mutters a smile on his lips and you glare at him.

“I am not, I was confused! We all went together last year I didn’t see why this year would be different” you huff at him making him chuckle his face leaning in closer his lips pressing between your eyebrows.

“That doesn’t make up for it” you say seeing his smile continue to play at his lips as he stays leant in.

“Allow me to continue,” he says in that husky tone again. He kisses your cheeks, your nose, over your eyes before he descends to your mouth. Your lips part and your breaths mix before he kisses you with a new gentleness. It’s soft, barely a press of lips, gentle, a share of breath. He takes the hand he’s holding to rest it on his neck before he moves to your cheek. He tilts your head and presses closer his lips pressing harder against yours. The small noise that leaves your lips isn’t one you allow as you cup his neck and tug him closer. He lifts his upper half a little, kissing you deeper as he guides your head to follow his. Your hand moves to grip his shoulders to ground yourself as he moves closer forcing you to roll onto your back his body half on yours. You moan and suck in a quick breath when he leans back slightly to move, he takes an opportunity though, his tongue sliding in your mouth easily stealing your breath again. He’s lying on you now, one of his legs between yours. He’s too good at this you think as his hand trails down your neck his slender but long fingers trailing over your pulse point before holding your neck. It makes you gasp out and he leans back for a moment his eyes opening a new intensity you’ve never seen before swirling in them. He gives a gentle squeeze and your body responds, a heartbeat skipped, your stomach clenching, your breath catching. He studies you for a moment watching you, watching your reactions before kissing you again. You feel him move again his knee pressing against your clothed heat. You’re wearing pj shorts and underwear and you think you’ve soaked right through both. You move without thinking your hips moving so you get some sweet friction, the pressure on your throat and core leaves you even more breathless and it feels too much. Viktor pulls back and you suck in air greedily hips stilling. You’re in a flushed state of shock and euphoria, your mind taking a moment to catch up. You blink a few times to focus on Viktor who continues to study you. You feel his hardness against your hip cheeks probably going redder before your logic kicks in.

“Your leg-“ you say rushed and worried but you see his good leg bent pressing against your clothes core, his bad leg still straight.

“You are…” he trails off and you realise he probably didn’t even hear your worry with how intensely he’s looking over your face. You grow embarrassed you’ve never been confident in your looks, you figure your double chin is present, you doubt it’s a good look. His brows furrow in a frown.

“Why do you have that look?” He asks voice quiet and still a little breathless.

“Nothing” you mumble avoiding his eyes and his frown deepens his hand moving from your neck to your cheek.

“You do not see how exquisite you truly are” his voice is soft thick with his accent, raw unrefined, something in his gaze is deep and swirling.

Next part ->

[jiubilant]

"Close your eyes," says Drevis Neloren, his mild voice echoing through the small lecture-hall. He steps around the lectern. "Don't open them. Sit where you are, please, as still as you can."

Fifteen first-years, sitting sprawled or cross-legged on the floor, stare back at him. Unfortunate, thinks Drevis, that they'd dismembered half the benches for firewood last year—and unjust that the halls with surviving seats have been snatched up, for two semesters now, by Sergius. He resolves to take the matter up with Mirabelle. If he remembers.

"Eyes," he says again, milder still. "Every one of you—you too, er, whatsit. In the back. Thank you." He clears his throat. "Now, then."

He's given this speech more times than he can recollect—at the Conclave, first, and now in Winterhold's cold and barren halls. He always pauses here. His students shiver and shift. For a deliberate moment, he lets them sit and listen to the room: the hum of the magelights, their breathing, the muffled wail of the wind outside. That which is sensible. That which is real.

"What do you suppose," he says at last, with a smile they cannot see, "is the deadliest school of magic?"

He's met with the blushing silence of a roomful of clever youths—clever indeed, or they might have enrolled at the Conclave—reluctant to risk a less-than-clever answer. Whatsit-In-The-Back, a stout young man with a farmhand's suntanned nape, is the first to contribute a guess. "Destruction."

A few other first-years titter on instinct. Drevis clears his throat again, sternly, to silence them. "What's your name?"

The boy's face is flaming—but his peers, eyes still shut, can't see it. He answers with convincing nonchalance. "Onmund."

"Onmund," Drevis murmurs. "I'll forget a few times, Onmund, I'm sorry. Would you elaborate, please?"

"You can kill a man with a thunderbolt," says Onmund, committing with commendable stubbornness to his course; a useful quality in a mage, Drevis thinks. The boy will probably do well. "You can't kill him with an—an enchantment, or an illusion."

"You can't?"

"Enchantments are cast on things." Onmund's still a bit pink. "Not men. And illusions aren't real. So—destruction."

"Thank you, Onmund," says Drevis. A few young mouths open in protest. Before anyone can counter the claim in favor of dremoras unbound, or souls trapped, or apocryphal relatives transmuted into rice-pudding, he changes tack. "How many of you have cast an illusion? A shadow to startle your friend? Fall of stars for your little sister?"

A flurry of hands go up.

"Phantasms," says Drevis, shaking his head. "Tricks of the light, achieved through its transformation. Alteration, in other words, not illusion." As the hands sink, abashed, he smiles. "Are you all quite comfortable?"

Nods all around.

"Fortunate, isn't it," says Drevis, smiling still, "that we met in a room furnished with benches?"

He’s given this speech more times than he can recollect. It’s disconcerting, even so, to watch his students nod again.

"Open your eyes,” he says.

Fifteen first-years, sitting sprawled or cross-legged on the floor, blink down at the tiled stone. Then they stare. A few jerk backward or sideways, startled, and catch themselves with their hands.

He’ll never again cast on them without their knowledge—but it had to be done, just the once. They’ll never forget.

"An illusionist," he says, his voice echoing in the stunned silence of the room, "can make you find him charming. A good illusionist can induce you to believe that he's your childhood friend, or your mother, or the owner of your coinpurse. A master illusionist can convince you that you're a bird"—he pauses for the nervous laughter that he knows, through long experience, will come—"and compel you, consequently, to take flight from a balcony."

The laughter stops.

"You will not learn, this semester, to cast an illusion," says Drevis. "You will learn to ward your thoughts against suggestion, and compulsion, and to break even the strongest spell that seeks to steer you wrong. And for the first time in your lives," he adds, unsmiling, "you’ll know that you can trust your own mind—”

* * *

“—vis,” shouts a voice in his face. “Drevis. Drevis!”

Drevis Neloren, with an apologetic smile, reaches to brace himself on the lectern. He leans on empty air. Someone catches him, staggers, sinks with him into the snow.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I forget what I was—where was I?” His ears ring. Snowflakes sting his face. His brow, after a moment’s baffled thought, furrows. “Where am—”

“Did it work?” A hand, rough and urgent, shakes him. “Drevis! Did you hit him?”

Drevis curls his hands, raking up two burning fistfuls of snow. Clarity seeps into him with the cold. He’s on the ground, he understands with slow bewilderment, in the College courtyard, and the Eye—

“He’s—Ancano,” he gasps at whoever’s holding him, “he’s still drawing from the Eye, I couldn’t reach—I thought—”

His head throbs as though it might burst. He grinds a sob of pain between his teeth.

“All right,” the gruff, familiar voice grumbles overhead. The hands that had caught him—thin and coarse, nails gnawed to the quick—half-lift him out of the snow. “Worth a try. Take a moment.”

He’s never liked Enthir, thinks Drevis, lolling his head on his colleague’s knee. It pricks his professional pride that he’s never seen through the man until today.

“Savos?” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut. Searing spots like magefire dance across the dark.

“Uh—” Enthir sighs through his teeth. “Someone covered him up.”

He crooks his fingers in a shivering sign of prayer, willing himself not to be sick. The falling snow cools his brow. “I’ll—I’ll try again. In a moment.”

“Did your brain melt out your ears?” snaps Enthir, sounding more like himself. He calls across the quadrangle, raising his voice above the cries of prentices and gulls. “No mindspeech in this! No seemings, no sendings!”

A shout of assent echoes back. Drevis grits his teeth and sits up. He watches the quadrangle spin. He watches Faralda bend to confer with Mirabelle, who’s sitting white-faced and bruised on a chunk of fallen masonry, then stride out to call the milling, crying crowd of students to order: prentices, to Tolfdir! To me, adepts! Masters, to me!

Something sours in Enthir’s face. He stands.

“Don’t tell the bosun,” he says under his breath, nodding to Faralda, “but I think it’s high time to abandon ship.”

The snow gnaws Drevis’s hands. He feels beneath it, for a moment, the cool stone of the lecture-hall floor.

[romanarose]

Safe With Me

Eddie Brock x fem!reader (Some Venom x reader)

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Summary: You open up to Eddie about being sexually assaulted. He takes care of it.

Warnings: mentions of past sexual violence. Actually literal violence lol but its okay because he's a bad guy. talking about how hard it is to report and victim blaming.

dividers by @kodaswrld

************

Eddie held you close on the couch, letting you tell you're story the way you wanted to. You sat straddled on his lap, resting your head on his shoulder because you said this made you feel extra safe. Like he was all around you. Sometimes, if things were extra rough, venom would come out like a blanket of sorts around you, wrapping you up in his warmth. Today, you thought it might be overwhelming.

Eddie knew something had happened to you, the way you were skiddish when you first started dating. And not that he was complaining, but it was a little odd to wait 2 months to have sex. Still, that was your choice and you were worth waiting.

He wasn't an idiot, he could read the signs in your behavior, so he made sure you're first time together was filled with the most explicate consent you could dream of, and was always conscious of your non-verbal ques in bed. Eddie liked to think he was always the kind of guy to pay attention to that, but with you, he was extra certain.

As he got to know you, you made passing references of a bad past, and he let you know he was ready to listen when you were ready to talk, but you were a private person and wanted to wait. You and him talked about exes, and nothing stood out.

Finally, a few months in, you and him were having a movie night. Rewatching your favorite Disney princess movie Eddie was nice enough to indulge you in and Venom was thoroughly enjoying, when you pause it.

"Can I talk to you?"

At first Eddie thought you were about to dump him, but when you looked at him with sad eyes, he knew it was something more serious.

You sniffle against his wet sleeve. "That's it, I guess..." You said as you finish telling the story. "I know, *sniff* i should've reported it but... I dunno this was when 50 Shades was coming out and I was afraid he'd say I just liked it r-rough..." A fresh little bought of tears come, and Eddie is quick to rub your back in comfort.

"Ah, shit, hey now... I know it ain't like that..." He presses a gentle kiss to your hair. "We believe you, baby. Trust me, I'm not tryna scare no one away from reporting, but man... it can be fucking brutal."

You nod against him. "And, and I was just barely having sex, you know? The idea of a stranger doing the rape kit, having to tell a hundred different people what happened knowing they don't believe me... and I couldn't really prove I'd said no... and god, having to tell my parents?!?! I couldn't do it Eddie! i just couldn't do it!"

"Shhhh, shhhh... it's okay, I know, I know... you made the best choice for yourself."

You sit up, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. "Now I see colleges have this thing, well, some of them, the You Have Options Program where you can report and choose the level. Like if you want to report but not press charges, or you aren't sure if you want to press charges but they can gather evidence... or maybe you just want something on record incase they offend again, you know?"

"That's good, that's real good baby. i think they'll help a lot of people." As a journalist, Eddie had reported on many rape cases, or times people had tried to cover up sexual abuse of different kinds. he'd seen many young girls crying, expressing the same feelings you had. He knew better than to say 'it's not your fault' even if he still had the urge. Instead, he thumbed away a tear as you looked down at him. "We believe you, we don't think any differently of you, okay? We're here to help you."

You smile at him, fondness in your eyes. "Thanks for listening, Edide. And Venom." You lean down and give him a chaste kiss on his plush lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The next day...

Eddie is furiously typing on his laptop while you're at work.

"Okay, so she said college, he went to college with her."

Venom excitedly shouts out the name of your old school, happy he remembered, but Eddie shook his head, frustrated. "That's a big fucking school buddy, we need to narrow this down." he pulled up school records. "She said they were in theater, right?"

"YES! AND HE WAS IN HER SPANSIH CLASS!"

"Right! Fuck yeah! and she took Spanish her freshman year because she wanted to 'get it out of the way'. Okay I can narrow down the year, look up students who took Spanish that semester... then i just gott pull up the theater pamphlet... she said he was an actor... alright, now we just gotta cross reference the names of people who acted in that production with spanish class students..."

10 minutes later they had a match.

Pulling him up, he matched the description of the student to a T. He would have a senior at the time, same hair, skin tone, facial features...

"Now, we just gotta find him."

That didn't take long either. Eddie was able to find everything he needed. His job, his home address, everything was right there.

That night, he gave you a little kiss on the forehead as he left for the night. He told you he had something to investigate for work, and you didn't ask any questions.

"And you're sure you don't wanna come over after you're done?" You give him a pout. He hated to leave you alone, everything you'd trusted him with made him just want to watch over you all the time... but who knew how messy this would get?

"I might be out late baby, i don't wanna wake yuh at 4 am. I'll bring you lunch tomorrow, how 'bout that?"

that makes you smile. Food usually did.

"Okay. Lunch tomorrow it is."

The house was way too nice for someone like him, someone who hurt innocent younger girls. He was a corporate executive too, and Eddie was sickened to find he'd had a string of bad luck keeping assistants and interns, no doubt preying on more vulnerable young girls, using his power to keep them complacent. Men like that never changed. He wasn't gonna feel bad.

The light turned on the the living kitchen, revealing where Eddie sat drinking his expensive whiskey.

"Your security is shit, man."

He looked shocked, dropping his briefcase and freezing in fear. Eddie figured its not often he's the powerless one. He was going to let him cook in his adrenalin.

"Whatever you want, you can have it."

But Eddie just shook his head, standing up. "I don't want nothing here but you."

"i have-"

Eddie interrupted him with your name, "Remember her? Freshman girl you raped in college? Or does that not narrow it down enough?"

He chuckled nervously, raising his hands and backing up. "Listen man, you her husband? i don't know what she told you, but i swear to god she wanted it."

"Shut the hell up."

"Begged me for it!"

"Oh yeah? That why she had a black eye and a busted lip after?"

"Hey," he shrugged, trying to play it cool like he wasn't about to dash for the door. "What can I say, she liked it rou-" His words turned into a scream as Venom took over the body, biting off his head before he could say another word about you.

Eddie's face popped from behind the goo. "Venom! i had a whole speech planned!"

"TOO LATE! I was tired of him talking!"

He rolled his eyes but hey, what could he do about it now? Nothing. At least the asshole was dead, couldn't hurt anymore women.

The next day, at lunch time...

Baby <3: Meet me at my place, I went home early.

Eddie Boo: Everything okay?

Baby <3: Just come please?

When Eddie let himself into you're apartment to find you sitting on the couch with your arms crossed, eyes wet.

"baby, are you oke-"

"Do you want to explain to me why, a few days after I tell you I was raped, he ends up dead with his head ripped off?"

Eddie blinked. "Uhhhh.... coincidence?"

You stand, walking over to him. "Venom, got anything to say to me?"

Venoms head popped out behind Eddie. "WE ARE NOT SORRY AND HE TASTED DELICIOUS!"

"Venom!" You gently flick him. "Eddie, why would you do that?"

"Ahhh, come on baby, you know he deserved it! I'm not gonna apoligize for killing a rapist, and i don't feel bad!"

Eddie watched your face soften, lip quivering a bit. "I know. I know he deserved it I just... it's just a lot, right now..."

"Ohhh baby...." Eddie took you into his arms as you began to cry again. "Do you feel guilty? Is that it? Cause this was all me, nothing to do with you."

You sob into his strong chest. "I can't believe you love me this much."

His heart almost broke at that. "Of course I do! baby, don't you know we'd do anything for you? We'd break a guys finger off for look'n at yuh wrong, of course we'd kill for you."

Eddie scooped you up, carrying you over to the couch where he sat you down on his lap. "You're gonna be safe with us, always. You know that don't you? We're always gonna protect you. never gonna have to worry about anything again."

"LETHAL PROTECTOR!"

You chuckle in his arms, and Eddie holds you close. "Yeah, the lethal protector. No ones ever gonna hurt you like that again."

OKAY THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING EDDIE/VENOM

Eddie will be a part of the team in my very gay series The Prodigals and maybe has gay sex with marc spector who knows! yet to be determined. but there will be a lot of gay sex. logan and wade, logan and scott, scott and kurt. It will be 99% gay.

Anyway!!!! thanks for reading!!!! i love fics were rapists die so I thought eddie was appropriate! I saw venom for the first time at the start of the month, literally watched one and two the day before i went to see three in theaters. CRIED

if anyone has any good eddie series, something quality im looking for a masterpiece here! eddie/venom is 100% welcome! so is gay shit.

If you are new to my blog just coming in from this fic, I mostly write Logan Howlett, and oscar isaac/pedro pascal characters. Mostly fem! reader but i like to dabble in other stuff, like trans readers or trans characters, lots of gay shit.

Anyway, hi if you're new!

Have a great day!

I wrote this after already writing a chapter of rooms on fire, and after doing a bunch of homework AND battling bronchitis soooooo plz be patient my writing isnt the best in the first place, i type and spell very badly.

[rhapsodynew]

#memorial day

On November 29, 2001, the "silent Beatle" left this world. In memory of George Harrison, let's recall some interesting facts from his life.

George Harrison: A nostalgic and instructive interview.

Interview with Crawdaddy magazine

Question: “Were you nervous before the Beatles debuted in 1964 on the Ed Sullivan show?”

GEORGE: “Sullivan's show was funny because I didn't attend the rehearsal. I got sick during the flight during my first trip to the States. The band also played a lot of songs at rehearsals for sound engineers, they kept coming into the control room and checking the sound. And finally, when they found a balance between instruments and vocals, they noted it on the mixing console, and then everyone went to lunch. Then we came back to record the show on tape, and the cleaners had already been here and erased all the marks from the remote. In those days, the sound was somehow handled carelessly. Amplifiers, for example, were placed to the side of the stage so that it would not spoil the frame, you know.”

• After the Beatles' first visit to the USA, they became the most famous people on the planet - an inside look

“For the Beatles at that time, it was a great help: if someone ran out of press conferences, there was always someone else with a smart answer. There was always a reasonable balance, so no one could ever really pin us down.”

George Harrison is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (2004)

“For the first time, the most depressing moment came for me during the ‘White Album’. The problem was with making a double album because it takes so long.”

The Beatles were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (1988)

Q: “Why did you make a double?”

GEORGE: “I think it was because there were so many songs, but it was a period that started a little bit negatively. It was a bit difficult, but we got through it and everything was fine. We finally finished working on the album, and everyone was happy because the tracks were not bad. There were just too many restrictions based on the fact that we had been together for so long. Everyone was kind of imprisoned. It was unpleasant.”

“The problem was that John and Paul had been writing songs together for so long that it was difficult - primarily because they had so many tunes and they automatically thought their songs should be a priority. As for me, I always had to wait for them to record ten of their own songs before they even listened to one of mine.”

“‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ we were recording one night and there was such a lack of enthusiasm. So I came home very disappointed because I knew the song was good. The next day, I brought Eric Clapton with me. He was really nervous. I told: ‘Just come and play in the session, then I can sing and play the acoustic guitar.’”

“Paul always helped when you first performed his ten songs, and then when he started performing one of my songs, he helped. It was stupid. In fact, it was very selfish. Sometimes Paul would make us perform these really sugary songs. I mean, God forbid, ‘Maxwell's Silver Hammer’ was so cloying. After a while we worked on it well, but when Paul came up with an idea or arrangement… But Paul is still really writing for a 14-year-old audience right now.”

“I remember coming from California and shooting this piece for a film about Ravi Shankar's life called ‘Raga’, and I had a sitar. And we stayed in New York and checked into a hotel, and Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton were both in the same hotel. And that was the last time I really played the sitar like that. We hung out so much at that time, and Eric gave me a fantastic Les Paul guitar that he plays at that concert.”

“I helped so much with all the arrangements. Although there were a lot of tracks where I played the bass. Paul played lead guitar in ‘Taxman’, and he played guitar - the best part - in ‘Drive My Car’.”

Q: “Did you play the bass?”

GEORGE: “No, I didn't play. What did Paul usually do if he wrote a song? He would learn all his parts, and then he would come into the studio and say, ‘Do this.’ He would never have given you the opportunity to take the initiative. But on ‘Drive My Car,’ I just played a line that's really kind of a lick off of ‘Respect’ - you know, the Otis Redding version - and I played that line on guitar, and Paul recorded it with me on bass.”

Q: “Which Beatles album are you still listening to?”

GEORGE: “I loved when we worked on ‘Rubber Soul’, ‘Revolver'. There was something good in each album, and they developed. There were albums that, from my point of view, were no good, like ‘Yellow Submarine’.”

“We put all the songs together in album form - now I'm talking about English albums, because in the States, as we later discovered, for every two albums we had, they (Capitol) made three... because we included fourteen tracks in the album, and we also had singles that were not included in albums at that time. And they put in singles, took out a bunch of tracks, changed the order, and then made new compilations, like ‘Yesterday And Today’ - just terrible compilations.”

Q: “Was it difficult with the rest of the band when you started getting into Indian music?”

GEORGE: “Not really. They weren't really that interested. When I first met Ravi (Shankar), he played a private concert right at my house, and he came with Alla Rakha, and John and Ringo came to listen. I remember Ringo didn't want to know anything about tabla because it just seemed so far away from him.”

Q: “The whole Beatles image has been cleaned up and smoothed, which is always credited to Brian Epstein.”

GEORGE:

“In the Hamburg days, we had to play for a long time and burn out to the fullest, jump around the stage, foam at the mouth and do anything.”

Q: “Have you received any feedback from John or Ringo or anyone else-congratulations?”

GEORGE:

“I remember John was very negative at the time, but I was away, and he came to my house, and my friend lived there, who was also John's friend. He saw the album cover and said, ‘He must be pretty damn bad to have released three records. And look at the front photo, he looks like an asthmatic Leon Russell.’ There was a lot of negativity. You know... Ringo played on almost the entire album. I don't care about that. To hell with all this-we've been through this before. I felt that no matter what happened, whether it was a failure or a success, I would act on my own, just to get some peace of mind.”

Q: ”They say he was...”

GEORGE:

“Well, you know, John has experienced more negative events than I have with the Maharishi. Now I see much more clearly what happened, and a lot of it was due to ignorance. Maharishi was great, and I admire him, as well as Prabhupada, for being able, despite all the ridicule, to just keep moving forward. And now more and more people - especially in the United States - are following the teachings. And in the 60s, they laughed at us and said it was stupid. All those people influenced me, and I tried to get the most out of them without getting a spiritual twist of the guts.”

George's favorite color was purple. The musician loved Formula 1 racing, egg sandwiches, watched the TV show "Monty Python's Flying Circus", and his favorite movie was "The Producers" (1968) by Mel Brooks.

For most of his career and life, George considered his birthday to be February 25th, 1943. Many books about The Beatles and Harrison indicate this date. However, shortly before his death, George said that, in fact, he was born on February 24. The family document shows that the musician was born on February 24 at 23-50

George officially joined The Quarrymen on February 6, 1958, when he was 14 years old. During a tour of Scotland in 1960, the musician briefly changed his name to "Carl Harrison" (in honor of his idol, Carl Perkins).

George became the author of a slang word that entered English dictionaries. In the movie "The Evening of a Hard Day" (1964), he used the word grotty to describe some items of clothing. Grotty (from the word grotesque — grotesque) became a popular slang word of the 1960s era. It is still used today, although much less often than before

Harrison was "the best actor from The Beatles." At least, according to Richard Lester, the director of the films "Hard Day's Evening" and "Help!". Richard called George the most capable actor of the Liverpool four. According to the director, in the "Evening of a Difficult Day" the guitarist was the highlight of every scene he participated in.

George was the first "Beatle" whose solo composition reached the highest position in the national charts — this achievement was achieved by My Sweet Lord in December 1970

A versatile musician, George played 26 different instruments. Any Beatles fan knows about his talents in playing guitar and sitar, but Harrison has also achieved considerable success in studying instruments such as conga, African drum, xylophone, violin, harmonica, marimba, metallophone, ukulele, sarangi.

Harrison once spent $4 million "to watch a movie." When the Monty Python comic group began to have problems financing their film The Life of Brian, George actually mortgaged his house to help the artists with money. He said he did it simply because he "wanted to see the movie." According to Monty Python contributor Eric Idle, this is still the largest amount anyone has paid for the opportunity to watch a movie.

As we all know, George died in 2001, the cause of death was a malignant brain tumor. His mother, Louise, died prematurely due to the same disease in 1970. George wrote the song Deep Blue in her honor. The musician's father, Harold Harrison, died of cancer in 1978, on the night of his death, George and his wife Olivia woke up and both saw the color blue. Afterwards, they testified that they had seen Harold's ghost smiling at them.

"We could save the world with our love."

"The world is a birthday cake. Take a piece, but don't be greedy.".....

[earlycuntsets]

06/11/2004 equal music interview with gerard by danielle moskowitz

"When Warner Brothers/Reprise invited me to come talk with Gerard from My Chemical Romance about their new album at their record release show, how could I have refused?

The show was in their home state of NJ, packed with 1300 cheering fans. What made the show even cooler for me was featured artist, Nightmare of You was on the bill too! (NOY is still currently unsigned and have been playing with My Chem. Good for them!) I love when Equal Music bands get together!

Is their latest apart of a trilogy? Front man Gerard explains. He also reveals what why it didn't turn out to be the concept record they had planned it to be and what are they doing in Tokyo with The Beastie Boys? (Original interview from Oct. 31, 2003 follows this latest one from June)

DM: When we spoke last you guys were shopping for a producer. Who did you wind up working with and why?

Gerard: We wound up working with Howard Benson. A big reason was because he contacted us which is always very exciting. He was very enthusiastic about the project. It's not so much that he got what world we came from because he's worked with bands like P.O.D. and Blindside which is a completely different universe but he got what we were trying to do with the music and so we connected on a lot of levels.

DM: How was this experience different from working with Alex (Eyeball Records) and Geoff (Thursday [Island/Def Jam]) front man?

Gerard: That whole experience was hanging with friends and having a really fun time. There wasn't a lot of money or pressure. But then this experience didn't have that much pressure either which was weird. It was very a positive experience that had a really good flow. But yeah it was very different.

DM: You said in October that while you were finishing the first record you knew what you wanted the second one to be called (which is their latest, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge) and at the time since you knew the name for the second one you had an idea for what you wanted the third record to be called, although there's not going to be a trilogy so how do you know? Where's the connection with that?

Gerard: It's the kind of connection where you kind of always have a sense of what you're band is doing and where it's headed. I think we have a good idea of kind of like what the first record should be.It should be fast and dirty and cheap. Then the second one you really up the ante and really go for it with this one. The third one you try to explore new avenues. We ended up doing a lot of that on this record. We actually ended up being way more experiemantal than we thought we were going to be. It sounded good to us so we said let's keep doing it.

DM: To jump ahead, do you know what the next one's going to be called?

Gerard: From this experience I learned I shouldn't do that anymore because it locks you into something. And this record wound up being half a concept record because so much happened in our lives that when it came time to write lyrics I found out that it was less ficiton and more fact. So it's a very loose concept record. I want to see what happens for the third one and actually not plan anything out. I think that will be interesting because- it's not that we're calculated but we always kind of know where we're headed and kind of vibe on it. For the next one I kind of don't want to have that.

DM: What kind of mood do you feel like the new album has?

Gerard: I just started listening to it as a piece now, not just bits here and there it's really about loss. The first record was more about pain, misery and agression and violence. Although the lyrics can be disturbing at points, it's really about loss. In the end that's what it wound up being more about instead of some story. You can pick it out of at least four or five of the songs. Even the performances that everyone gives too makes it feel like it's really about loss.

DM: Do you feel like it's dark?

Gerard: Yeah. It's already been called that by a lot of people. We got a parental advisory without even having more than one curse in it. I think it's dark but I think it's a lot more positive than the first record.

DM: Yeah, I remember you saying that you felt the ups were going to be more up and the downs more down.

Gerard: Yeah and they really ended up being like that. But, there's definitely more moments of positivity and celebration than on the first record.

DM: What are some of difference of working with an indie and working with a major?

Gerard: This record was really painless so I can't truthfully answer that as a band that's in our position. We are really rare case of-- it was very similar to the first record where we did exactly what we wanted and luckily because they knew who we were when they signed us that's exactly what they wanted. There wasn't much of a difference other than the fact that there was obviously a lot more deadlines and a lot more pressure to get things done on time. That was the big difference but that was actually it.

DM: You're going to Tokyo soon for Summer Sonic Fest. You must be excited.

Gerard:Yeah, it's awesome, we get to play with The Beastie Boys and I've never seen them.

DM: What's going on for you guys for the rest of the year?

Gerard: Pretty much straight touring till the record cycle is over. It's usually about eighteen months from the time you start a record until you're done touring on it and should be starting a new one. There's already stuff I really want to write. I want to start immediately. As soon as we finished this I wanted to just do another. We're very much a live band but at the same time you get in the studio and you remember you're very much all songwriters and we had forgotten that part of us. I'm still in that head fix where I want to write more songs.

DM: Maybe you can still do that while you're on the road.

Gerard: Yeah, we plan to do it on Warped Tour. It will be our first time really on a bus so we're going to have more space and we'll be comfortable. Right ater that we're going back to a van so Warped Tour is really going to be the time that we write.

danielle moskowitz october 31, 2003 (2nd interview below)

Juxtaposing raw vocals and a punk edge against riffs suddenly gone melodic, My Chemical Romance takes you from upbeat drumming in one measure to a moment where you find yourself lost in slow, somber guitars the next. Listen closely as their vocalist Gerard reveals glimpses of himself through his brutally honest lyrics that hold traces of darkness around them.

DM: The bands success seems to have come very quickly. How long were you a band before signing to Eyeball Records?

Gerard: Let’s see—January is when we started playing as a band. We signed around our third or fourth show. It’s been quick since the beginning.

DM: What were you doing with your lives before the band took off?

Gerard: I was doing animation in the city [New York]. I was actually doing toy design in Hoboken [New Jersey], and Frankie was going to school, Mikey was going to school, Otter was a mechanic, and Ray was delivering film I believe and interning and stuff like that for film. We all just weren’t happy doing what we were doing, ya know?

DM: Geoff from the band Thursday and Alex from Eyeball [Records] I know played a big part in the recording of your last CD.

Gerard: Yeah, definitely.

DM: Are they going to be playing any part on your CD that will be coming out?

Gerard: I don’t think so. Sometimes you want to use the same people sometimes you want to see what would happen with other people. I’m sure they’ll hear it and we’ll ask their opinions.

DM: So they’re not going to help produce?

Gerard: Nah.

DM: What made you guys decide that a major was the next best move?

Gerard: It was one of those things where everything else was moving really fast but we had been able to keep up with it, ya know? We had been able to keep up with the shows that we were getting which were like going from playing basements to playing in front of 10,000 people with Jimmy Eat World. So it went from that to that, and it seemed like a very natural progression. And although a lot of people think it seemed quick, all that talk and all that nonsense was happening before our record even came out. It was like, we basically not fought them off, but said hey we’re going to be a band and do that, ya know? And then when we’re ready…Actually it was a lot longer process than most bands that are getting signed today.

DM: What made Reprise the best label for you guys?

Gerard: It was the best company. They were very familiar with us. We had a lot of fans at the company before we had signed. We had a lot of people helping out before we had signed.

DM: And they understand where you guys wanted to go musically, as a band?

Gerard: Yeah, exactly. That was the big thing. They knew where we wanted to go, they knew how we wanted to do things, and they were going to let us do it our way. Very low pressure type thing. Just kind of let us be us and you distribute us.

DM: When is the new album due out?

Gerard: We’re hoping it will come out in about in about spring. We’re going to record in January. We don’t have a producer yet. We’re looking at a few people and they’re looking at us. So it’s kind of that whole game right now.

DM: Do you have a title yet?

Gerard: Yeah, it’s called Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. And it was a title that… we pretty much known the title for the first record before it was finished and as soon as we were done with that I kind of knew what I wanted the title to be for the second. So it’s kind of in the process where I kind of know what I want the third to be too.

DM: Is it a trilogy type thing?

Gerard: No. This one’s different from the last and it’s more fictitious, but it’s still heartfelt. And it’s more of a concept record than the last one, where the last one was more of an autobiography. But the next one’s more of a concept album about a person; the next one after that I don’t what know what it will be.

DM: While you guys have been on tour you’ve been playing new songs live and they seem to be heavier. Would you say that is the direction you guys are going in?

Gerard: Well, yeah. The heavier stuffs heavier. The heavy stuff we did before is definitely heavier now. Those same elements are there; we’re just spending a little more time on the heavy stuff. But at the same time I think there’s way more melody. Maybe not in the stuff we’re playing out live, but it’s more violently happy. But it’s also very ironically bleak ya know, as far as tone goes.

DM: Track seven on your CD [I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] is called Skylines and Turnstiles. Is it true that it was inspired by September 11?

Gerard: Yeah, and in fact that event happening was a big thing about why we started the band because, I was on my to a meeting with Cartoon Network and then that happened and I was like what the fuck am I doing with my life.

DM: You saw it happen? You were in the city?

Gerard: Yeah, I was in Hoboken, on the way there. I was right across the river and I was on my way in right around that, very close to that area, but more around Canal, and I was like what the fuck am I doing?

DM: It made you feel like life’s too short and you need to go for what you want?

Gerard: Yeah, yeah exactly. Like obviously life is way too short, you don’t know when your numbers coming and I also felt like I wasn’t making a difference at all, ya know what I mean?

DM: There are a couple theories circulating about your repeated mention of vampires in your lyrics. Can you clear that up?

Gerard: It’s a metaphor for being in your twenties and getting sucked into that singles, alcoholic nightlife culture, ya know what I mean? It’s interesting, because you’ll find that a lot of bands use the supernatural as a gimmick, and that’s really all it is, it’s just like horror punk, and that’s all it is. We’re not really into vampires. I like to wear black, but…

Contact Danielle@equalmusic.com for more about My Chemical Romance. Check them out on select Warped Tour Dates later this year

[howlingday]

hey, remember my accidental villain jaune au? the one where he was a shonen anime villain and pyrrha was the hero but jaune had no idea what was going on actually? I'm curious what a scene of that would look like written by you. would you mind giving us a taste?

Hm... I guess I can give it a shot. Show you how I'd make this series if I thought of it.

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

"So, uh, what's your name?"

"My name?" He chuckled. "What is a name when the deed is more worth remembering?" Jaune had practiced this line time and time again. His weeks in drama club, acting classes, and practicing in front of the mirror made certain his performance was perfect. Maybe if this girl was really impressed, she'd want to hang out with him more.

"Uh, yeah, I guess?" She giggled. "So you want to be remembered as Vomit Boy for the rest of the school-year?"

ABORT! ABORT! ABORT! THE MISSION HAS FAILED! NEW MISSION OBJECTIVE: DON'T CRY IN FRONT OF THE COOL GIRL!

"Ah... No..." Jaune felt his body go rigid. His face must've been beet-red from this embarrassment. "Uh, my name is Jaune. Jaune Arc." He lifted his shaking fingers and shifted them into shaking finger-guns. "Sh-Short, sweet, and rolls off the tongue. The- The ladies l-love it~!"

She snorted. "Do they really?"

"Uh... They do. Or, they will..." Jaune could just die.

"Well, I'm Ruby. Ruby Rose." She raised her fingers into less shaky finger-guns. "And I'm also a Shadow Masque fan~!"

"Oh, that's good..."

"What were you trying to accomplish by doing that, anyways?"

"I was... trying to look in front of you."

"Aw... You don't have to do that." Ruby put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't?" Jaune replied, hope brewing in his eyes.

"You already threw up on my sister's shoe. There's no coming back from that." Jaune slumped forward, exhausted. As he did, a thin slab of metal wobbled from his side. "Hey, what's that?"

"What's what?" Jaune looked up, noticing Ruby eyeing his weapon. "Oh! This is my sword." He clicked it open, extending the sides into a kite shield. "Oh, and uh, shield, too."

"Wow..." Ruby gazed in awe. "It's so retro!"

"Yeah, I borrowed it from my-" Jaune blinked. "Ret- Retro?"

"Yeah, you don't see a lot of classic weapons these days."

"W-Well, it's not that retro!" Jaune clicked his shield, compacting it into a sheath. "See?! It's easier to carry now!"

"But wouldn't it still be just as heavy?"

"Y... Yeah..." She giggled. "Well, what makes your weapon so state-of-the-art?"

"Well, I wouldn't call her state-of-the-art, but..." Ruby whipped out her weapon, as Jaune watched helplessly as it mecha-shifted into a massive scythe almost twice his size! "...Crescent Rose gets the job done~."

Jaune fell to his knees. He was going to throw up. He was going to throw up right here, in front of this younger student with the cooler weapon than he could have ever dreamed of. He could honestly cry if not for one thing he still had on his side... IMPROV!

He chuckled. "An impressive class of weapon, Miss Rose~." She blushed. "I look forward to seeing her in action." He leaned in close. "And yourself, too~."

"Oh, stop~!" She squirmed at the compliment. There was an announcement on the PA system. She shook her thoughts clear. "Uh, we should probably make our way to the auditorium, right?"

"Yeah, we should." Jaune dropped the act, regaining his composure. "Uh, lead the way!"

"I thought you were leading the way?" Ruby asked. The two stared at one another before they both slumped with a sigh. "Let's find a map."

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

"Why, hello there, my dears~."

"Huh?"

"Hello~!"

"I couldn't help but overhear you two talking about forming a team." Jaune smiled a devilish smile. "May I perhaps join you in this endeavor?"

"The only endeavor is listening to you talk." The young woman in white muttered under her breath.

"Well, I think I'd rather just let fate decide who's on what team." The young woman in bronze answered.

"You mean the same fate that brought me to you?" He gave a bow, his hand crossing over her chest as he dipped low, not looking up once. "Jaune Arc, future huntsman."

"My, aren't you confident?"

"Too confident." Weiss huffed. "Jaune, is it?"

"It is." He looked up, offering his hand to her, palm up. "And you are~?"

"Annoyed, actually." She said with flared nostrils. "But if you must know my name, it's Weiss Schnee." She gestured to her friend. "And do you know her name?"

"No, but I would like to~." The unknown girl giggled at his words, while Weiss only got angrier.

"Oh, stop~!"

"Yes, please, stop! This is Pyrrha Nikos!"

"A pleasure, Miss Nikos."

"Please, call me Pyrrha!"

"I'm sorry, I don't think you heard me." Weiss retracted. "This is THE Pyrrha Nikos!"

"The one and only, of course." Jaune kept laying on the charm, making her blush. It quickly stopped when Weiss grabbed his nose and tugged it down. "OW!"

"Pyrrha Nikos! Regional Champion of Mistral! Top graduate of Sanctum! THAT Pyrrha Nikos!"

Jaune stepped back, rubbing his nose. "Uh... Sorry. None of that rings a bell. Should I know you?"

"Have you been living under a rock?!" Weiss nearly screeched. "She's on the face of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes!" Jaune gasped, and Weiss let out a sigh of exasperation. "Finally..."

"Oh, that was you! I thought you looked familiar!" Jaune lifted his chest-plate to reveal the bunny hoodie beneath. "I ate, like, fifty boxes to get this thing!"

"Oh, I... bet they were scrumptious..."

"Not really." Jaune admitted, bringing his armor down. "They tasted like cardboard to be honest."

"Yeah, they did..." Pyrrha reminisced on less happy days.

"Well, Pyrrha," Jaune offered his hand to her, "I'd be more than happy to see a woman of your skill on my team."

"How about a demonstration?" Weiss asked, looking to Weiss. She nodded to Jaune, and the celebrity sighed.

"I'm really sorry about this." Pyrrha said as she stood up.

"Sorry about WHOA!" Jaune was now pinned to the wall of the locker-room, held aloft by Pyrrha's spear. She reached up and yanked it out, apologizing as she passed.

"So, this is Dork Masque, huh?" A girl asked as she passed by, Ruby close behind.

"Don't be mean, Yang!" She looked back to Jaune. "Uh, see you later, Jaune."

He sighed. "Yeah... See ya."

He stood up and brushed himself off. Reaching behind him, he felt the hole in the hood of his one victory in life. He took a deep breath and shuffled to the exit as he sighed. Hopefully there won't be worse understanding like this. Thinking back on it, though, this dark persona he'd fashioned from Dark Masque seemed to be working. Maybe he could play around with it for just a little bit longer. He'd have to come up with a cooler name, though. Something like...

DARK ARC

...except, y'know, less lame.

[delulustateofmind]

Long Distance III - Don't Go

Sometimes you just can't say goodbye

Gojo x Reader

Blurb, Part One, Part Two, Part Three

CW: ANGST/FLUFF- I've been too kind on the last few with the fluff. Satoru crying, switching to Japanese and English.

WC: 7.7k (Holy...shit I think this might be up there with my longest)

A/n: I did do less Japanese this time to kind of showcase that his English is getting more confident. I don't know if there is going to be another part or not. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them! (I might do an epilogue, who knows)

You sat on Satoru’s couch, listening as he paced back and forth across the sleek living room, his voice sharp as he spoke in rapid-fire Japanese on the phone. His frustration was palpable, each clipped word bouncing off the spacious walls of the penthouse.

Your gaze drifted over the room for what felt like the tenth time since you’d arrived. A penthouse in Shibuya. A penthouse. You didn’t know much about professor salaries, but the last time you checked, astrophysics didn’t exactly pay this well.

Satoru ran a hand through his already-messy white hair, ruffling it further until it stuck up in every direction. He cast you an apologetic glance, his blue eyes still managing to sparkle despite his irritation. Your lips twitched into a shy smile as your eyes flicked to your luggage sitting near the door.

Apparently, the hotel had overbooked and lost your reservation. And now, here you were—in Satoru’s impossibly fancy apartment.

You sighed softly, turning toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a breathtaking view of Tokyo’s skyline. The sun was just beginning to set, the city’s dazzling lights coming alive in the distance.

Behind you, Satoru muttered something under his breath in Japanese, and then you heard the couch creak as he flopped down beside you.

One thing you’d learned in Chicago was that Satoru had no concept of personal space. Before you could so much as glance at him, he leaned his head against your shoulder, his silver hair brushing lightly against your neck.

“Smells nice,” he murmured, the words half in Japanese, half in English. Then, just as quickly, he sat up, burying his face in his hands with a groan.

“This was supposed to be perfect,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “I can always stay at a hotel nearby,” you offered hesitantly, “or maybe one of those capsule hotels?”

That earned you a sharp look from Satoru, his lips tugging into a pout that was as dramatic as it was annoyed.

“Not safe, Y/N,” he said with a slight whine, his English faltering as he pointed at you for emphasis. “You stay here. My place is better. Safe.”

His tone was final, like there was no room for argument, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his overprotective streak. “Okay, okay. No capsule hotels.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a heavy sigh, his eyes flicking to yours with a faint grin. “You’ll like it here. My place… very comfortable.”

As the tension in the room began to ease, you found yourself smiling, the surreal absurdity of the situation starting to settle in.

Satoru sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair as he sat back against the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His pout deepened, and he glanced sideways at you, his brows furrowed in thought.

“でも、本当に大丈夫？(But, is this really okay?)” he asked, his tone quieter than usual. “I mean… you, here, with me?”

You tilted your head at him, confused. “Why wouldn’t it be? You’re my friend, Satoru. And it’s not like I had anywhere else to go tonight.”

His lips twitched, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained serious. “Friend, huh?” he muttered under his breath in Japanese before switching to English. “But… I’m still a man, you know. 男だし。(I am still a man.)”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden admission. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Ah…何て言えばいいか分からない…(I don’t know how to say it…),” he mumbled, his voice muffled. Then he peeked up at you, his blue eyes uncharacteristically hesitant. “You… staying here. It’s… how to say… difficult? For me?”

You frowned, your heart starting to race. “Difficult? Why?”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing dramatically and flopping backward against the couch again. “Because you’re… you,” he said, switching to Japanese for the last part. “君が…君だから。”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked again, your voice more flustered this time.

“It means,” he said, pausing to search for the right words, “that I… ああもう! (Ah, forget it!)” He waved his hand in frustration and sat up straight, his expression more serious now.

“Look,” he continued in a mix of English and Japanese. “I… care about you, okay? Like, a lot. More than… ah…普通の友達。(Just a normal friend.) So, having you here, in my home, so close…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair again as his ears turned pink. “It’s hard.”

Your breath caught, his words sinking in slower than they should have. “Satoru…”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, waving you off. “I’m being weird, right? Strange? What’s the word? Uh… creepy?”

“You’re not creepy,” you said softly, your voice steadier now despite your racing heart.

He glanced at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, though your cheeks burned. “I mean, I get it… kind of. But you don’t have to worry. I trust you.”

Satoru blinked at you, and for a moment, his usual teasing grin faltered. His gaze softened, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Finally, he let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the couch as a small, wry smile tugged at his mouth.

“You’re too trusting,” he muttered, his voice low. Then, in Japanese, he added, “君が思ってるよりもっと。俺がどれだけ君に落ちてるか分からないでしょう。(More than you think. You have no idea how hard I’ve fallen for you.)”

“What was that?” you asked, catching his tone but not the meaning.

“Nothing!” he said quickly, straightening up and forcing a grin. “Just saying… you’re stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking,” you shot back, though your heart was still pounding.

He laughed, the sound a little too loud to be natural, and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. You stay. But—” He turned to face you, his expression more serious again. “If it gets… too much, you tell me, okay? I’ll sleep somewhere else. I don’t want to…” He trailed off, searching for the words again. “What’s the word? Cross line? Break… uh… rules?”

“I’ll tell you,” you promised, smiling despite your nerves. “But you’re overthinking this, Satoru. It’s just one night.”

He nodded, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his lingering awkwardness. “Right. One night. Just… one.”

As the night wore on, you tried to push the conversation out of your mind, but Satoru’s words—and the way he’d looked at you—kept replaying in your head.

When it was finally time to settle in for the night, he stood in the hallway, awkwardly gesturing toward the guest room. “Bed’s there. You sleep. I, uh…” He scratched his neck, his gaze flicking anywhere but at you. “I stay here. Couch is fine. Perfectly fine.”

“You’re really not going to sleep in your own bed?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he said, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you repeated, laughing softly.

“For me,” he muttered under his breath, switching back to Japanese.

You stared at him for a moment, the pieces slowly clicking into place. Your chest tightened, and you quickly looked away, not trusting yourself to say anything without your voice giving you away.

“Goodnight, Satoru,” you said finally, your voice softer than usual.

“おやすみ、Y/N,” he replied, his tone equally quiet.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but lean against it for a moment, your heart racing as his words echoed in your mind.

I care about you, okay? Like, a lot.

Little did you know, Satoru was still standing on the other side of the door, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself in Japanese.

“バカだな、俺。(I’m such an idiot.)”

The smell of coffee lingered in the air as sunlight streamed through the massive windows of Satoru’s apartment. You had just finished your shower, wrapping yourself tightly in one of the fluffy white towels he’d lent you. Your hair was still dripping slightly as you stepped out of the bathroom, hoping to make a quick dash to the guest room before running into anyone.

Of course, luck wasn’t on your side.

The door to the apartment swung open just as you stepped into the hallway, and Satoru walked in, a gym bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his fitted workout shirt clung to him in a way that made you immediately regret leaving the safety of the bathroom.

He froze mid-step when he saw you, his pale blue eyes widening as they flickered from your face to the towel wrapped around you.

“Oh,” he said, switching to Japanese instinctively. “あの…(Um…)”

You stood there, rooted in place, your face growing impossibly warm. “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d be back so soon!”

“I—I didn’t think you’d—uh…” His English faltered as he struggled to piece together a sentence. “I came back early. Gym close… uh, towel! You…” His hand shot up to cover his eyes, though the way his fingers splayed slightly made it less than effective. “ごめん! ごめん! (Sorry! Sorry!)”

You clutched the towel tighter, trying to will the heat away from your face. “It’s fine! I’m going to my room!”

He took a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to give you space. “Right! Yes. Room. Good idea!” He turned his head, his voice dropping to a mutter in Japanese. “落ち着け、五条悟。(Calm down, Gojo Satoru.)”

You dashed into the guest room, shutting the door behind you with a quiet groan. Great. Just great. That wasn’t awkward at all.

By the time you emerged, fully dressed and slightly less mortified, Satoru was in the kitchen, his hair damp from what you assumed was a lightning-quick shower of his own. He was pouring coffee into two mugs, his movements unusually quiet.

“Good morning,” you said cautiously, your face still a little warm.

“Morning!” he said, his usual grin plastered across his face, though the faint pink on his ears betrayed his earlier embarrassment. “Coffee? I made some. Very good. You’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” you said, sliding onto one of the barstools.

He placed a mug in front of you, leaning on the counter as he watched you take a sip. “Better now?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced at him, confused. “Better?”

“You looked…” He hesitated, searching for the right word in English. “Uh… embarrassed? Before?”

Your cheeks heated again, and you quickly looked away. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Me too,” he said with a laugh, though his tone was tinged with nervousness. He switched to Japanese, his words coming more easily. “でも、正直言って…少しドキドキした。(Honestly… it made my heart race a little.)”

You choked on your coffee, your eyes snapping to his as he grinned sheepishly. “What?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly, waving his hands in front of him like he could physically erase what he’d said. “Forget it! Stupid joke! Bad English!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your heart pounding as you tried to figure out if he was serious or if his words had just slipped out in the heat of the moment. Either way, your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t quite meet his gaze for more than a few seconds.

“So!” he said, clapping his hands together in a sudden burst of energy, his voice a little too loud. “Today, we go to bunch of places! We eat breakfast at my favorite cafe… and then we walk. A lot. I show you the university I work at! Very impressive.”

“The university?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course!” he said, leaning forward on the counter, his blue eyes sparkling again as he regained his usual confidence. “You see my office. Very cool. Best professor office in the whole building. And I give you tour!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “You’re really proud of your office, huh?”

“Not just the office,” he said, tilting his head with a teasing grin. “The whole thing. Students love me. I’m very popular, you know.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

“Good!” he said, standing up straight and grabbing his phone. “Now, we go eat. I pick best breakfast spot. Trust me, you’ll love it. But… you ready?”

“Almost,” you said, glancing down at your still-damp hair. “I should probably finish drying this.”

He gestured toward you with a dramatic flourish, his grin wide. “Take your time! I wait. Very patient.”

Patient? Yeah, right. You shook your head as you disappeared back into the bathroom to finish drying your hair. Satoru wasn’t exactly the patient type—not with his energy or how often he seemed to invade your personal space without a second thought.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder how someone like him—charming, funny, and total boyfriend material—was even single.

When you finally emerged, he was already at the door, holding it open for you like a perfect gentleman. Or at least, that’s what you thought until he casually reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“You hold my hand, okay?” he said, his tone almost offhand as if it was no big deal. “Busy streets.”

You blinked down at your joined hands, your cheeks warming. “Uh… okay.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you swore you caught the faintest tinge of red at the tips of his ears as he turned away, leading you toward the elevator. His grip was firm but careful, and he didn’t let go even as you stepped out onto the busy streets of Shibuya.

The cafe he chose was tucked away from the bustling main streets, a cozy spot that smelled of fresh bread and coffee the moment you stepped inside.

“Mmm, everything here is good,” he said confidently, gesturing to the menu as you both sat down at a small table near the window. “Pancakes are best!”

You glanced at the menu, noticing immediately that there was no English. The pictures helped, but you hesitated, your Japanese still a work in progress.

“No English menu,” he added, tapping the table with a satisfied grin. “But you can ask me. Anything. I translate for you.”

“Why do you sound so proud of that?” you teased, earning a laugh from him as he leaned back in his chair.

“I am very helpful,” he said, his grin widening. Then, his phone buzzed, and his expression shifted slightly as he checked his emails.

You watched him for a moment, noting how serious he looked when his attention was on the screen. He wasn’t the carefree, teasing Satoru you’d grown used to seeing—here, he seemed… important.

“Are you just a professor?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you as you scanned the menu, trying to decipher the items from the pictures and your limited knowledge of Japanese.

“Hmm?” He glanced up at you, setting his phone down as he leaned forward. “Mmm, yes… and no.” He shrugged, his tone lighter now. “I’m supposed to take over my family business soon.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting the menu down. “Family business?”

He nodded, his grin softening slightly. “Big deal. Very annoying. Too much responsibility.”

“Then why do it?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Because it’s… important. To them.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten, but before you could ask more, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Have to be married, though.”

That caught you off guard. “Married?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, taking a sip of his coffee like it was no big deal. “Part of the deal. No marriage, no… inheritance, I guess.”

You blinked at him, your brain racing. “Wait, so you’re… looking for someone?”

His lips quirked into a small, mischievous smile as he leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Why? You interested?”

Your face went red immediately. “I didn’t say that!”

He laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Relax! Joke, joke. You’re too cute when you get embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” you said quickly, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Sure, sure,” he said, still grinning as he leaned forward again. “But really, I don’t think about it much. Right now… I’m happy. Here. With you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His blue eyes held yours, soft and warm, and you had to look away, focusing back on the menu to avoid the growing flutter in your chest.

“Pancakes,” you mumbled, your voice quieter now. “I’ll have the pancakes.”

Satoru chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Good choice. See? I knew you’d trust me.”

As he called over the waiter to place your orders, you couldn’t help sneaking another glance at him, your mind swirling with thoughts of what he’d just said. Married. Satoru. How does that even fit together?

But the moment passed quickly, his easy smile and lighthearted jokes pulling you back into the present. And as you sipped your coffee, you found yourself thinking that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind being here with him a little longer.

The day passed in a blur of activity. True to his word, Satoru took you to his favorite places in Tokyo, showing you hidden gems you would never have found. From a tiny shrine tucked between buildings to a bustling street market filled with tempting food stalls, every stop felt more magical with him by your side.

At one point, he stopped to take a photo of you in front of a lantern-lined alley, insisting, “Memory! Very important!”

“You just want a new photo for your phone,” you teased as he held up his camera.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin wide. “But still cute, right?”

By the time the sun set, painting the city in hues of orange and pink, you were exhausted but happy. Satoru led you to a quiet park overlooking the skyline, where the two of you sat on a bench, sharing a bottle of water as the city lights began to twinkle below.

“You had fun today?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, glancing at him with a small smile. “Yeah. A lot of fun. Thanks, Satoru.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back and looking out at the view. His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked almost… shy. “I’m glad.”

And as the quiet stretched between you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing you were—how this day felt like something out of a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

As the day began to wind down, Satoru’s energy remained as...boundless as ever. Seriously, how does he do it?

“For the final stop,” he announced proudly, hands in his pockets as he led you through yet another bustling Tokyo street, “we go somewhere very special. My second home.”

“Second home?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced back at you, his grin wide. “The university. You’ll see! I give you very special tour. Labs, classrooms, my office… very cool. You’ll be impressed.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm. “If you say so.”

The university campus was sprawling, with modern buildings mixed seamlessly with traditional Japanese architecture. Satoru walked you through it all, pointing out everything from his favorite vending machines to the quiet corners he claimed were the best for napping.

“This is where I teach,” he said as he led you into one of the classrooms. It was a sleek lecture hall, equipped with the latest technology. He hopped onto the desk at the front of the room, grinning down at you. “Pretty nice, huh?”

“You sit there like that when you’re teaching?” you teased, gesturing to his relaxed posture.

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “The students love it. I make science fun.”

“Of course you do,” you said, laughing as you playfully pushed him off.

Next, he took you to the labs, which were pristine and filled with high-tech equipment that made your head spin.

“This is where the real magic happens,” he said, gesturing broadly as he explained what some of the equipment was used for. His voice grew more serious as he talked about his research, his passion evident in every word.

You found yourself staring at him, not just listening to what he was saying but also noticing how his eyes lit up when he spoke about his work. He wasn’t just charming or playful—he was brilliant.

Finally, he led you to his office.

“This,” he said dramatically, pushing open the door, “is my kingdom.”

The room was neat and organized, with shelves lined with books, journals, and small trinkets. A large window offered a stunning view of the campus, and his desk was adorned with a few personal touches—a photo of him with what you assumed were his colleagues- one of which he seemed rather close to a man with long dark hair, a small model of a rocket, and a mug with a sarcastic science joke printed on it.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the walls, where several framed awards and certificates were displayed.

“You weren’t kidding,” you said softly, stepping closer to get a better look. “You really are impressive.”

Satoru, who had been leaning against the doorframe with his usual grin, straightened slightly at your words. “You think so?” he asked, his voice unusually quiet.

You turned to him, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, look at this. Awards, degrees… You’ve done so much.”

He scratched the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Ah, it’s not a big deal. Just… work?”

“It is a big deal,” you insisted, smiling at him. “You’re really amazing, Satoru.”

He stared at you for a moment, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more vulnerable. “You really think that?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice sincere.

His grin returned, though it was softer now. “Well, I’m glad you think so. But…” He stepped closer, his blue eyes holding yours. He almost said something...but stopped tucking a hand into his pants pocket.

“Anyway!” he said suddenly, breaking the moment as he stepped back with a laugh, his ears tinged pink. “Enough about me. Let’s go! Dinner next! I show you another great spot.”

You blinked, the sudden shift leaving you momentarily dazed. “Uh… yeah. Sure.”

As you followed him out of the office, your thoughts raced. No matter how much he joked or teased, there was something unspoken between you—a warmth that lingered in the air, making every moment with him feel more significant than you wanted to admit.

“Actually… since I’m staying at your place for more than one night… why don’t I cook you dinner?”

Satoru froze mid-step, turning to look at you like you’d just suggested something outrageous. His usual grin faltered, his cheeks tinging pink as he muttered under his breath in Japanese, “ほんとに？(Really?)”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening into something almost shy. “You… cook for me? ありがとう。(Thank you.)”

The grocery store was a mix of playful banter and quiet touches.

Satoru’s hands lingered as the two of you walked through the aisles, occasionally brushing yours as he reached for items. Every now and then, he’d grab something off the shelf with an exaggerated flourish, holding it up as if it were a prize.

“This one,” he’d say in English, grinning like a kid. “Good choice, right?”

When it came time to pay, you insisted on covering the bill, refusing to let him even pull out his wallet.

“No way,” you said firmly, holding your ground.

“But I am host!” he whined, leaning his head against yours dramatically. “You can’t… uh, break tradition.”

“What tradition?” you teased, nudging him away.

“My tradition,” he muttered in Japanese, his tone half-serious. “君は頑固だね。(You’re stubborn.)”

Back at the apartment, the atmosphere shifted into something quieter, warmer.

The faint hum of your voice filled the kitchen as you worked, preparing one of your favorite comfort meals. Satoru sat at the dining table nearby, a stack of papers in front of him as he graded with a red pen. Occasionally, he’d glance up to watch you, his blue eyes soft as he listened to you hum.

At one point, without looking up from his papers, he spoke in Japanese, his tone low and thoughtful.

“君は僕の人生に光をもたらす。(You know, you bring so much light into my life.)”

You glanced at him briefly, thinking he was just talking to himself, and continued chopping vegetables.

He paused, his pen hovering over the paper, before continuing, his voice quieter now.

“僕は結婚しなければならないんだ。(I’m supposed to be getting married.)”

That made you stop. Your hands stilled as you turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the papers in front of him.

“Before you came here, before Chicago,” he continued, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, “I went on one hundred and fifty-two dates.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?” you murmured, the word slipping out without thinking.

He looked up then, his eyes meeting yours. “People my family thought were… ‘worthy.’” He switched to English briefly, his tone flat. “Rich. Beautiful. Perfect. All fake.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind racing as you tried to process his words.

“That night,” he said softly, his gaze distant now, “when you joined that server… I had just come back from another terrible date. Some woman only interested in money. Power.” He paused, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. “You see, in Japan, everybody knows who I am. But you… didn’t.”

His voice softened further, and he switched back to Japanese, the words carrying a raw honesty that made your chest ache.

“それが僕に特別な何かを感じさせた。(That made me feel… something special.)”

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the counter as you tried to steady yourself.

“When you texted me, ‘I paid the town rent! Welcome back!’” he said, switching seamlessly to English, his grin returning briefly. “It was stupid. Funny. But I needed that. Someone to play with. And then…” His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “I started to fall for you.”

Your breath caught, your heart pounding as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

“I lied,” he admitted, his tone quiet and unsteady. “No conference in Chicago. I… I needed to see you. It was physically hurting me, wondering if I was falling for you or just… the idea of you.”

You stared at him, the words sinking in like stones.

“And now…” He gestured toward the room, his hand falling back to his lap as he looked at you with a raw, vulnerable expression. “This. You cooking. Me here. It feels so… domestic. Like it could be real.”

“Satoru,” you started, your voice trembling.

But he pressed on, his gaze locking onto yours, his next words spoken entirely in Japanese, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“僕は君に帰ってほしくない。(I don’t want you to go back.)” His voice cracked slightly as he added, “自分勝手になりたい。君を引き止めたい。(I want to be selfish. I want to keep you here.)”

Your chest felt tight, your breath shallow as Satoru’s words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. “僕にも夢があるんだよ。(Can’t you see? I have dreams too.)”

The faint sizzle of the stove was the only sound filling the room as you tried to steady your trembling hands, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You turned back to the pan, desperate to focus on something tangible, something that wouldn’t pull you deeper into the whirlwind of emotions his words had stirred.

“I…” you began, your voice faltering, the weight of everything catching in your throat.

Suddenly, you heard the scrape of his chair as he stood, his movements quiet but deliberate. A warmth radiated behind you, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine before you felt it—his arms wrapping carefully around your waist, his chest pressing gently against your back.

You froze, your breath hitching as he nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and the tension in the air seemed to thrum louder.

In Japanese, his voice came low and trembling, each word slipping out as if it pained him to speak.

“もし君に結婚を申し込んだら、答えてくれる？(If I asked you to marry me, would you?)”

Your pulse quickened, but he didn’t stop, his voice cracking slightly as he continued.

“君の人生を捨てて、ここに移ってくれる？(Would you give up your life and move here?)”

You felt his arms tighten ever so slightly around you, his vulnerability pressing against your heart like a weight.

“そんなにわがままを言ってもいい？(Can I be that selfish to ask that of you?)”

Even though your grasp of Japanese wasn’t perfect, the emotion in his words was unmistakable. You didn’t need to understand every word to feel the raw desperation behind them.

And then you felt it—soft, warm tears that brushed against your neck.

Your chest ached at the realization. Someone so confident, so effortlessly charming, was crumbling in your arms.

“Satoru…” you said softly, your voice as gentle as you could manage. You placed the spatula down, turning the stove off as you carefully rested your hands over his. “Are you…?”

His grip didn’t loosen, and he didn’t lift his head. Instead, he whispered, his voice trembling, “Just… let me stay like this. A little longer… yes?”

Your heart clenched, and you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay,” you whispered.

For a while, the two of you stood there, enveloped in a quiet intimacy that felt far too fragile to break. His breathing slowed, and the tension in his arms softened, though he didn’t let go.

“I lied again,” he murmured finally, his voice still muffled against your shoulder.

“About what?” you asked, your own voice quiet, as if afraid to shatter the moment.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “When I said this was selfish… I meant it.” He hesitated, switching back to Japanese. “でも君に嘘をつくことはできない。(But I can’t lie to you.)”

His hands lingered at your waist as his lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “I’m falling for you, Y/N. Actually… no. I already fell.”

Your breath caught, the words sinking in as your gaze held his.

“I thought I could just…” He trailed off, laughing weakly. “Keep it inside. Be cool. But I can’t. You make it impossible.”

You swallowed, your throat felt dry, unsure how to respond, your emotions swirling too fast to catch.

Satoru seemed to notice your hesitation, his hand brushing against your cheek gently. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice soft. “Not now. I just… needed to tell you.”

The air felt heavier as his words lingered between you. Finally, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair and forcing a grin. “Dinner smells good,” he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still held traces of vulnerability. “We eat, yeah? Before it burns?”

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat as you turned back to the stove, feeling the weight of his confession settle deep in your chest.

Dinner passed quietly, the usual playful banter replaced with soft glances and unspoken thoughts. Satoru tried his best to act normal, throwing in the occasional joke or complimenting your cooking, but you could feel the shift in the air—something had changed.

When the plates were cleared, and the kitchen was tidied, he lingered near the window, staring out at the city lights.

“You know,” he said suddenly, his voice carrying a faint smile. “I used to think I had everything. Money, success, whatever. But now… it feels empty without you.”

You froze, the vulnerability in his words once again taking you by surprise.

He turned to you, his blue eyes soft but steady. “I meant what I said earlier. About wanting you to stay. But…” He chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to force you. I just want you to know… you’re welcome here. Always.”

“Satoru… I…” You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Of course you hesitated—this handsome, wonderful human was being so raw, so honest, and you had no idea how to match that level of vulnerability. “I’ve never dated before, so… I don’t know how to react.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. His blue eyes widened slightly, shock flashing across his face. “You…?”

You shook your head quickly, your cheeks burning. “I mean, I’ve never been in a relationship. Ever.” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, avoiding his gaze as your heart pounded. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or do. This is all so new to me, and you’re just…” You gestured toward him vaguely. “You’re so you.”

His lips parted slightly, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “I know that’s probably weird to hear. I mean, look at you—you’ve probably had… a lot of experience.”

He blinked, and then, to your surprise, a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “A lot of…?” He switched to Japanese, muttering under his breath, “そんな風に見えるのか…(Do I really seem like that?)”

When you gave him a questioning look, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Okay, maybe I’ve had a few… dates,” he admitted, his voice hesitant, as though he was treading carefully. “But they didn’t mean anything. Not like this.”

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked up at him. “This?”

He nodded, stepping closer. “You. This… connection we have. It’s not like anything I’ve felt before.” His voice softened as he switched back to Japanese, his tone more earnest. “君といると、本当に生きていると感じる。(When I’m with you, I really feel alive.)”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his words, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through every defense you had. Tears threatened to spill as you stared at him, your chest tight and your thoughts swirling.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice trembling slightly. “Can I… can I hold you tonight? You have the rest of the week left here, and if…” He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes searching yours. “If anything, I’d want us to act like a couple. Even just for now. I want to know everything about you. I want you to be engraved in me because when you leave… I already know it’s going to hurt.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping as he muttered in Japanese, “行かないでほしい。(I don’t want you to leave.)”

The weight of his confession hung between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know it’s selfish,” he said, stepping closer, his hands twitching slightly as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “But I can’t help it. You’ve already taken over my thoughts. My dreams. And I—I don’t want to regret not telling you.”

It felt like you both kept going in circles.

Your chest felt impossibly tight, your heart pounding as the world seemed to blur around the edges. All you could see was him—the way his usually playful expression had softened, the vulnerability in his eyes, and the way his lips trembled ever so slightly as he waited for your response.

“You can kiss me,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “And you can hold me tonight.”

His breath hitched, his blue eyes widening slightly as he looked at you, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to push you—”

“I’m sure,” you said, stepping closer until you were just inches away from him. “I want this too.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours one last time for any sign of doubt. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his hands lifting to cup your face gently as if you were something delicate, precious.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft, tentative—like he was afraid of crossing some invisible line. But as the kiss deepened, the hesitation melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through you like fire.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered in Japanese, “君は本当に特別だ。(You’re truly special.)”

You didn’t have the words to respond, your emotions too overwhelming to articulate, so you just nodded, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

Later that night, the two of you sat on the couch, the city lights casting a warm glow through the windows. Satoru’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you close as you rested your head against his shoulder.

“This feels… nice,” he murmured, his voice soft as his fingers traced idle patterns along your arm.

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “It does.”

“I don’t want this week to end,” he admitted, his eyes flickering with something vulnerable again. “I don’t want you to end.”

You placed your hand over his, squeezing gently. “I don’t want this to end either. But…”

He tensed slightly at the word, his gaze sharpening as he looked at you. “But?”

“I don’t know how this works,” you said honestly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to leave and not feel like I’m leaving part of myself here with you.”

His grip on you tightened slightly, and he switched back to Japanese, his words quiet but resolute. “僕が君のところに行くよ。(Then I’ll come to you.)”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“I’ll come to you,” he repeated in English, his voice steady. “If you can’t stay… I’ll visit. As much as I can. Or maybe…” He hesitated, his lips curving into a small, hopeful smile. “Maybe you’ll come back here. For me.”

The idea made your heart flutter, the thought of him waiting for you, of building something that spanned the distance between you.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “Good. Because I’m not letting this end. Not yet.”

As the week unfolded, Satoru made sure to fill every moment with something, as if he was trying to show you that Japan could be your home.

He brought you to his family estate in Kyoto, a sprawling property steeped in history and tradition. As he guided you through the serene gardens and ornate halls, his playful demeanor softened, his pride in his heritage evident in the way he explained every detail.

“This,” he said, gesturing to a centuries-old stone lantern, “is where I used to hide when I was a kid. My mom would call for me, and I’d pretend I couldn’t hear her.”

“You sound like a handful,” you teased, earning a sheepish grin.

“I’m still a handful,” he admitted, nudging your shoulder. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

In Okinawa, he took you to the famous Churaumi Aquarium, where you marveled at the massive whale sharks gliding gracefully through the water.

“They’re amazing,” you whispered, your face pressed close to the glass.

“They are,” he agreed, though his gaze wasn’t on the tank but on you.

When you turned to look at him, you caught the softness in his expression, and your cheeks warmed. “Satoru, stop staring. You’re going to miss the sharks.”

“Hmm.” He tilted his head, a teasing grin spreading across his lips. “I think I like my view better.”

He even took you to Disneyland, insisting on matching outfits—a pair of silly Mickey and Minnie sweatshirts that he picked out with way too much enthusiasm.

“You know people are staring, right?” you said as you walked through the park hand in hand.

“Let them,” he said, grinning as he adjusted the ears on your headband. “We look good. Best couple in the park.”

Each moment had been perfect, almost too perfect, and now, as you stood in the airport, the weight of goodbye threatened to crush you.

Satoru walked with you to the security gate, carrying your bag in silence. His usual grin was gone, replaced by an expression of heartbreak that you’d never seen on him before. His steps were slow, deliberate, as though dragging out every second could somehow delay the inevitable.

When you reached the gate, you turned to him, the lump in your throat growing unbearable as you saw the raw emotion swirling in his pale blue eyes.

“Well,” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it light, “this is it, huh?”

But Satoru didn’t laugh, didn’t tease you like he usually would. Instead, he dropped your bag by his feet and stepped forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to merge your soul with his.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please… stay.”

You froze, your chest aching as you felt him bury his face in the curve of your neck. The warmth of his breath against your skin, the dampness of his tears soaking into your shirt—it was too much.

“Satoru,” you said softly, your own tears starting to spill, “you know I can’t.”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and trembling. “I don’t care about anything else. I just want you here.”

Your hands clutched the back of his hoodie, holding him as tightly as he held you, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

“I don’t want to leave either,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and the sight of his tear-streaked face shattered what little composure you had left. His usually bright eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his lower lip trembling as he struggled to hold himself together.

“I can’t do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t say goodbye to you.”

You reached up to cup his face, your thumbs gently brushing away his tears. “You’re not saying goodbye,” you said, though the words felt like they were ripping you apart. “This isn’t goodbye, Satoru. I’ll come back. I promise.”

He shook his head, his hands tightening on your waist as if anchoring himself to you. “It’s not enough,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t want promises. I don’t want ‘someday.’ I just want you.”

Your tears spilled over, your vision blurring as you leaned your forehead against his. “I want you too,” you said, your voice trembling. “More than anything.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, clinging to each other like the world might fall apart if you let go.

Then you felt it—his hand slipping into his pocket. Before you could process what was happening, he took your left hand in his, his movements trembling but purposeful.

When he slid a delicate ring onto your finger, the perfect fit, your breath caught in your chest.

“Satoru,” you whispered, your heart pounding, “what are you doing?”

“Marry me,” he said, his voice raw and pleading. His blue eyes locked onto yours, shimmering with tears. “Not now, not tomorrow. Just… someday. Marry me. Please.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out as he continued, his voice cracking as he stumbled through the words.

“In Minecraft, we’ll put our beds together,” he said, a watery smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll get married in Stardew Valley, I'll buy the stupid ring recipe. I’ll move next to you in Animal Crossing—or I’ll just live in a stupid tent near your house. I don’t care how. I just… I want you to be mine.”

Tears blurred your vision, and you felt like the world had tilted on its axis. Gojo Satoru, confident, brilliant, and larger than life, was standing here in front of you, completely vulnerable, begging for you to stay.

“I…” Your voice broke as you looked down at the ring, delicate and simple yet impossibly perfect. “You’re making this so hard, Satoru.”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips trembling. “But I can’t stop. Not when it’s you. Please, just… think about it. Think about us.”

You nodded, your chest heaving with emotion as you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“I’ll come back,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. “I promise. And we’ll figure this out. I swear.”

When you pulled back, he placed a trembling hand on your cheek, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll wait,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “For as long as it takes. I’ll wait.”

With one last shaky inhale, you stepped back, your hand lingering in his before you forced yourself to turn away.

“Y/N,” he called after you, his voice trembling, and you stopped, looking back at him through tear-filled eyes.

He stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body shaking as he tried to keep it together. “Don’t forget me,” he said, his voice raw and desperate.

Your heart shattered at his words, and you nodded, unable to find the strength to speak. With a final, shaky smile, you turned and walked through the gate, your tears falling freely now as the distance between you grew.

But just before you disappeared into the crowd, you glanced back one last time.

Satoru was still standing there, his tear-streaked face illuminated by the harsh airport lights. 

You blew him a kiss and he grabbed it. A smile gracing his lips before he wiped his tears. 

This wasn’t goodbye, but it felt like it. 

[eowynstwin]

I've come to the last thing I'd like to talk about, and unlike the rest it's something I've already made progress working through. I want to try keep this subject brief, because 1) it's taken a LOT out of me to get through all this and 2) even so, it's helped, and I'm ready to move on. I just don't want to leave anything important to me unaddressed.

So, I mentioned that when I returned to this blog, it felt like everyone had moved on from the Myka issue. I didn't see the same kind of support when I came back as I did when I left—and maybe it seems presumptive of me, but I had been expecting it. There was precedent, after all.

And I'll be honest—it took pretty much all the wind out of my sails. It kind of felt like it didn't matter if I was here or not—like, outside of the Myka issue, I hadn't actually made enough of an impression on anyone, with my own work or my support for others', for them to really care if I came back. Which, considering how many people were there for me when I left, I believed I had. That belief felt pretty misplaced after that. And to put it mildly, that did not feel good.

At the same time—and I've already talked about this in the past, so I don't want to retread old ground too much—I noticed a drop in engagement with the new work I posted. I understand now that that involved a lot of factors—my long absence, the change in my url, general fandom trends—but because it happened around the same time as my return, it compounded that feeling of my irrelevance.

So as I’ve been writing this whole time, and posting, I’ve lived with this undercurrent of god I hope this is good enough for them to care about me again. I felt like I had never actually been good enough for anyone to think of me outside of the Myka incident. I couldn't enjoy my own work without thinking none of this was ever good enough. I got to the point where I couldn't enjoy other people's work without thinking everyone likes them, but they don't like me.

Now, obviously this is unhealthy. It's also patently untrue, as demonstrated by the support I and my work have been given in the months following my return.

A part of me kind of cringes to discuss this at all, because it feels unfair to the people who've offered that support—I don't want anyone to feel like I haven't appreciated it, because I have. But I lay all this out to lead to the conclusion I've come to, which I want to share, because it feels like the gateway into finally leaving Myka, and all of these things I've been feeling, behind for good.

I've talked to friends since then, gotten context, and I've evaluated my tenure as a whole in this community in effort to understand.

The thing at the core of this issue is that my confidence was shaken. Both by the incident itself, and everything that followed it.

While it was happening, I was under a microscope, and found inadequate. I couldn't talk about it, because that would only make things worse for me. When I came back, I felt like I was still under the microscope, and I still couldn't talk about it—and in addition, it seemed like I had earn my place here again.

Feeling like that has made it really, really hard to enjoy being here. But I know that feeling isn't entirely rational. And if I don't want to feel that way anymore, I have to let myself say the things I need to say and make the things I want to make, and I have to let myself enjoy doing it.

I want to be here. Despite everything, I still belong here, even if I don't feel like I do. I've been so afraid to talk about Myka all this time, really, because I didn't think any of you wanted to hear about it. I thought it would drive you away.

But I've talked about it now. And you've all listened. So that means I'm allowed feel confident about everything else.

Thank you.

[fandom-reader]

Listen, that will be a long one but listening to this song on repeat makes me THINK!!!

I came back and brought the crown with me / The king's den

At some point Jinx will come back to Piltover, I know it. But she won't be back to seek redemption or forgiveness from the people she knew, she won't be looking for healing her wounds or closure of her past.

Once Jinx comes back, she knows she doesn't need her sister approval she was looking for for such a long time. She doesn't need her acceptance or forgiveness or Vi telling her that all is good now and they can be sisters again.

Never learned to raise my hand, Was too busy raising hell / Everything I know I am / You should go and save yourself /Thought you had my number huh / Congratulations you played yourself

She knows she's not Powder anymore as Powder died for good with Isha. She may be less crazy, voices now calmer and quieter as they used to. They are still there even if she learned how not to trust them completely or to not listen to them all the time. Sometimes she still does though.

She accepts that everything that happened to her in her life made her Jinx and she will always be Jinx. It can mean something bad, or good, everything or nothing at all, but most importantly it makes her her.

I've been in court with the spirit beside me since I was a baby / Just getting chaotic / Y'all made me a product for causing the chaos / Right here where they raised me

After all, she is chaos.

She meets with Ekko. They fight, obviously. He already mourned her death, has to learn to live without her, blaming himself sometimes that he could do more to keep her alive. And it's not easy to get past that even if he's happy to see her again.

She may not understand it completely, but she tries, and fails, and tries again. It's not easy, but taking small steps, they can make it work. Sometimes she still does not believe that he can accept her the way it is, but then he proves her otherwise. He shows here how the city changed. At some walls she can still see faded blue.

I don't believe that after Arcane's final war upper and under city will become one at all, sharing and caring for each other. As you can fight together against one enemy but it doesn't mean you're friends, and after it's done, you go seperate ways again.

And I know that Zaun people will throw a party to greet Jinx back, some of them joining just to make sure that rumours are true. And I can see her dancing freely in a bar, jumping and throwing head around to the sound of this song (which makes me want to do the same, with the amount of energy it gives me, not being able to stay still), enjoying herself to the fullest, not minding anyone else's opinion. Ekko watches her, with a warm smile on his face, giving her all the space.

Sure, some of the people are eyeing her, suspicious, some of them want to kill her, or punish her, or make her pay for the past. But she doesn't care. And then they will understand that there's no point in that.

Because she is, after all, the queen of Zaun. And Ekko is the king.

[sweettlovinnmclovin]

As long as I have you | N.C 🩵

Back story ; In this situation, you're caught in a blend of professional ambition and personal emotions, which is natural when dealing with the intricacies of relationships, especially in the same industry. You've clearly worked hard to get to this point in your career, and the role you're excited about is something you've put your heart and effort into. But now you're facing a delicate situation with your ex, Nicholas, and his new girlfriend, both of whom are involved in the same project.

2 weeks have passed and you have yet to receive a call from production

your phone rings and you immediately answer .

“ Congrats you made it , we start next week please get in contact with your costars Nicholas and Victoria to set up a date to go over the script and practice on your own times. Listen y/n it’s very important you guys get this down, my team will email each of you the script.”

“ yes of course , thank you so much “ you end the call.

You sighed and thought to yourself

here goes nothing you say as you scroll through your contacts list “ Nick” it’s been over a year since you last talked or even texted me but you keep in mind this is for “ work “.

You decided to text him just to play it safe

“Good afternoon Nicholas this is y/n , I’m reaching out to you and Victoria to discuss a time and date to go over the script and practice whenever you guys are free”.

“ Hey that’s great give me one sec let me ask my girl real quick “

“My girl “ ouch that hurts

“ yea no worries just get back to me when ever you can”

“ yeah I’ll text you , thank you for reaching out to Victoria and I we appreciate it”

You read the text over and over again “ my girl”

You lock your phone and get up and clean your place up and after take shower to freshen up.

As you are showering you can’t help but to overthink, you question if he loves her , how serious are they , does she know you guys have a past ?

you ignore these thoughts and step out the shower , you put on a casual outfit yet comfy, minimal

Makeup just enough to help you look presentable.

You get a notification from nick

“ hey turns out Victoria only has couple of lines she’s prefers to go over these lines by herself , if you have time today we can meet up and go over the script”

“ no worries , would you like to come over my place I can send you my address “

“ yeah that’s fine “

You send over your address and finish tidying up and light up a candle, you set your iPad on the couch to go over the script together.

15 minutes later Nicholas arrives to your house

“ welcome , come in “ you say as you open the door for him

he looks around your house , smiles when he recognizes your furniture and pictures frames

“ very welcoming and cozy , very familiar “ he says as he settles in , resting his iPad on your coffee table

You notice it’s the iPad you gifted him for Christmas , wow he still has the iPad I gifted him you thought to yourself.

“ thank you , you know me” you smile and sit down beside him

“ so let’s get into it , can we talk about how our characters seems to have a pretty good sex life literally scene after scene they going at it like rabbits “ he chuckles

“ yeah i was going to ask if that’s okay with Victoria you know with us acting out these scenes i mean after all it does involve a lot of sex scenes and kis-

“ she doesn’t know “ he blurts out

“ what do you mean didn’t she get emailed the scrip-“ how strange you thought to yourself how wouldn’t she know I mean she had to know when auditioning

“No that’s not what I mean , she doesn’t know we ever dated “ he interrupts

“ oh , you never brought it up “ you murmur

“ can we just stick to the script and get it over with “ his mood completely changed, his eyebrows furrow together and he’s no longer smiling nor making jokes about the scenes.

Shit did I make him upset you thought to yourself

“ Im sorry I didn’t know she wasn’t aware I won’t bring it up an-

“ no I’m sorry , I should be the one apologizing I’m sorry I didn’t mean to but let’s just forget about it can we do that please “

You stop questioning him , after all she’s seemed like she was professional and was an actor herself and would understand this was in the script right ?

You jump right into the script after hours and hours you start to actually act it out as much as you wanted to avoid the kissing scene it was pointless because you had to do it one way or another

“ okay so then in this scene you cut me off by kissing me”you motion both of your hands together as if they are making out “then we end up hooking up and then after the sex we are cud-"

“ I’m sorry I keep interrupting but is there a reason you are talking about the scene instead of acting it out “ he ask with a confused look on his face

“ I just thought we should wait until we are on set you know that way it’s not weird” you respond

“ I doubt it , I mean it can’t be less weird then right now , you are literally making your hands make out “ he chuckles

“ fine “

You say your lines and lean towards him closing any gap

“ nick this is where you lean and kiss me “

“ oh like this , he motions his hands mocking you “ and chuckles

You roll your eyes in response

“ okay okay fine no more playing around let’s be serious “ he says trying not to laugh

“ nick “

“ okay take it from the top , ready “

You start by saying your lines and he does the same , you lean forward closing the gap once again and he does the same

You can feel your face hot and flushed yet you do what the script says and grab the collar of his shirt and leaned in to kiss him , he kisses you back and groan into the kiss as you close your eyes you can’t help but start to remember the times you would have rough sex and how kinky he was but so were you.

You get the urge to clench his hair pulling it softly as he sucks your bottom lip. He grabs you and sits you on his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist .

you roll your hips against him and grind on top of him slowly as he caresses your back and drawing small circles with his finger tips on your lower back and slowly trying to remove your top, leaving you exposed.

You start to feel him get aroused and you pull away

“ we should stop “you sigh

“ we are just doing what the script says “ he groans and bury his face into your breast sucking them and flicking his tongue against your nipple and gripping on to your waist tightly

“ Nick please “ you whimper “

this wasn’t in the script but you couldn’t stop him it felt to good to stop now

“ I’ve missed you , I’ve missed this so much “ he whispers and continues to fondle your breast and leaving small love bites.

“ you missed me ? “ you tease by rolling your hips against him

“yes baby I missed you so much “ he groans

You can feel his cock getting hard and firm

You get off his lap and get in your knees

“ did you miss my pretty little mouth “ you murmur

“ you have no idea baby” he growls and you can hear his breath hitch when he says it

“ i missed this pretty dick too “ you groan and start to unzip you his jeans and remove his briefs down to his knees and you take his shaft begin to stroke it and flicking your tongue against his pink tip licking the pre cum off his cock before taking it all.

You stroke his shaft with one hand before using both hands and continue to suck , gripping with your mouth and using your tongue occasionally to tease him and taking his cock out and slapping it lightly on your tongue causing his cock to twitch, you knew he was close but just the sight of him almost at his peak made your pussy throb

“ f-uck baby I’m so close “ he moans

“ be a good boy and cum in my mouth” you growl , he does as you say and you swallow it

You missed his taste , his touch and how needy he can get and most of all how good he made you feel .

You get up and remove your jeans along with your thong leaving you exposed

You can see how this has an effect on him the moment you see his cock glistening, you lick the precum off once again and get on top

“ do you miss this pussy “ you groan

“ yes baby , can I please touch you “ he whimpers

“ no not ye-“

“ please I need to be inside of it , I miss it so much please let me show you how bad I’ve missed it” he says eagerly

“ I said not yet , don’t be needy “ you growl

“ I’m tired of the teasing “ he whines

You lower yourself and sink down on his cock making it easier to slip it in.

Once His cock is inside you both gasp and moan , your walls clench around his cock as you ride him slowly and picking up the pace once you adjusted to his size

“ I’ve missed this dick so much “ you cry

he holds your waist tight as you ride him and when you look up you kiss him and suck on his tongue , he groans each time you kiss him and moans Into your mouth when you pick up the pace , you feel yourself close and your walls clench to his cock tighter. You dig your nails into his back and continue to ride him faster and moaning into his ear , as you throw your head back and glaze over at him you see him biting his lip and he places a firm hand over your neck chocking you , you grab his other hand and place it on your cheek “ slap me “ he does as you say and you feel the sting and a rush of heat however this turned you on and you loved when he was rough with you .

You continue to moan louder until they sounded hoarse due to him choking you and you moaning loudly

“ I’m so close baby, can I cum “ you whine

“ let it go baby , cum all over me” he groans as he grabs your hips and starts move his hips fucking you back

You cream all over his cock but he continues to thrust himself into you harder and faster

“ babyy- I can’t take it, I’m gon-“ you cry as your breath gets heavier and more hitched and continue to moan louder with each thrust

At this point you are speechless and only moans coming out of you

“ what happened baby cat got your tongue “ he smirks

And picks up the pace making you cum all over his cock again but he doesn’t stop he continues to thrust harder and faster, this time you squirt

“ fuck you feel so good baby “

“ your so fucking wet”

“ best pussy I’ve had “ he growls and continues to praise you

You tumble over , chest heaving and he grabs your waist and started to leave wet kisses on your back , you can’t help but arch your back to his touch.

“ I can’t get enough of you “ he groans

You can’t help but bring up his gf and say

“ nick is she better than me ? “

“ does she make you feel this good “ he doesn’t answer at first so you grab his shaft and press your ass against him and start to throw it back , causing him to bury himself into you and dropping a kiss to your back, you get shivers and your eyes roll back .

As good as he made you feel rn you wanted to know

“ answer me Nick , does she make you feel this good “ you spat

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls it causing you to gasp and moan once he starts to thrust himself into you harder.

you felt him twitching inside as your pussy clenched on to his cock

He slaps your ass and puts his thumb over your anus and continues to spank you

You moan to his touch, you feel it sting yet it feels good.

“ I said best pussy I had didn’t I “ he growls

“Show me you love this pussy daddy “ you moan

He continues to thrust harder and faster and groaning “ who’s dick is it baby “ he growls ,

“ mine baby it’s all mine “ you cry out as he grabs your arms putting them behind you and causing you to moan louder and louder you press your head down and muffle your moans into the pillow unable to grip the sofa, you feel his cock twitch and know he’s close but he continues to thrust , slamming harder until he slows down his rhythm and reaches his peak and cums inside of you , he pulls out and watches his cum come out of your pussy and cleans you up after and kisses your cheek

“ I must confess y/n , Victoria and I been broken up for a week now, when you contacted me I wasn’t sure if you had someone and when we started to go over the script I could sense how nervous you were and were trying to avoid even touching me, I really do miss you and you don’t have to give me an answer now but I would like for us to try again”

“ why didn’t you tell me “ you blurt out

“ we just weren’t working out I realized I still had feelings for you and knowing you would have to work with me everyday I just knew the feelings I had for you were stronger and we’re gonna grow stronger each day , I love you y/n and I’m sorry for hurting you in the past I promise you if you let me, I will be better for you “ he says as he reached over your hand and kisses it repeated and even your wrist up to your arm and collarbone, cheek and till he’s close to your lips and gives you a peck

“Plus seeing you jealous made me realize you might feel the same way. “

You can’t help but to feel relived you’re glad he’s single and available, nobody cheated.

“ Nick I love you too , I don’t want to lose you again but if we are going to work on us again let’s take it’s slow”.

“ whatever you want baby as long as I have you “ he kisses you and deepens the kiss by sucking the tip of your tongue & the rest of the night you spend showing each other how much you loved each other , went over the script and made love again.

The end

P.S

I don’t think cheating is okay at all , also if the story is wack I’m so sowwyyyy okay it’s like my second time writing a smut 😔 but thank you for the love on my first smut I appreciate it

I was seeing the likes over thanksgiving and I was like

[ireneanon]

Comfort

Red Velvet Irene x fem reader

Irene’s solo debut was coming closer and closer and while she felt confident in herself (the whole theme of the comeback), she couldn’t help but to constantly feel like there was something missing every time she looked at it.

The dorm was silent, after making small talk, Wendy decided to let Irene work and went to sleep, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the furniture. Irene sat at the dining table, her laptop glowing softly in front of her. She had been staring at the schedule for what felt like hours, her thoughts swirling with doubt and frustration. The comeback preparations were well underway, but something about it felt off to her. Was it the choreography? The concept? The songs? She couldn’t pinpoint it, and the uncertainty was driving her insane.

Her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a message from you, “how’s everything going, Joohyun? need a break?” Irene’s lips curved into a small smile, but it quickly faded as she typed back a short reply, “I’m fine, Just busy.”

“Busy” was an understatement, Irene thought, running a hand through her hair. The weight of not only the fans but her own expectations felt heavier with every passing day. The fans, the company, her members, were all counting on her to deliver perfection. Her phone buzzed again.

“I know that ‘I’m okay’ means you’re not okay. talk to me, Joohyun.”

Irene sighed, staring at the message. She knew you weren’t one to give up easily, especially when it came to her, she loved that about you. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to brush you off again or admit the truth. Before she could decide, another message popped up.

“you don’t have to worry in silence, im always here for you, you know that.”

That simple line unraveled something inside her. Irene bit her lip, trying to suppress the tears threatening to fall. After a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “It’s a lot y/n. The comeback, the pressure… I don’t feel like it’s good enough”

The response was almost immediate. “do you need me to come over? or I’ll stay here, whatever you need”

For the first time this long, long night, Irene felt a small sense of relief.

Irene stared at your message for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly over the keyboard. She hesitated before typing, “You don’t have to come over. I’ll be fine. Just… stay with me here for a bit?”

The typing bubble appeared immediately, and within seconds, another reply came through. “of course. I’m not going anywhere, I’m here as long as you need me”.

A soft smile tugged at Irene’s lips, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. Setting her phone down, she took a deep breath. It felt comforting to know that even from afar, you were there, patient, understanding, and always ready to listen. She typed again, still worried about being a burden.

“I feel like I’m not enough, like I can’t meet everyone’s expectations.”

You replied just as quickly as before. “Joohyun, you’re more than enough. you’ve been working so hard, and it shows. this comeback isn’t for your fans, it’s for you, trust yourself, it’s okay to feel this way. it doesn’t make you any less talented”

Irene rested her head on the table, reading the message over and over. She wanted to believe it, but the weight of her doubts made it so hard. Her phone buzzed again.

“you’ve been working so hard and carrying so much doubt on yourself. let me help, even if it’s just by listening. tell me everything that’s on your mind”

Seeing the sincerity in those words made her chest tighten. She knows you believe in her, you’ve always been vocal about that. With trembling hands, she began to type, pouring out the thoughts she’d kept bottled up. She told you all about the sleepless nights, the rehearsals that never felt perfect enough, the nagging fear of letting everyone down.

And you, like always, responded to every single one of her fears with words of comfort and reassurance.

As Irene shared her worries, a warmth began to spread through her, a comforting feeling of being truly seen and understood. With every word she typed, she felt more vulnerable, but it was comforting, your presence, even through text, was comforting. And as the minutes passed, the room seemed a little less daunting, the shadows a little less heavy.

“you’re not alone, Joohyun. Not now, not ever. And I’m so proud of you, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

Irene’s heart swelled, feeling the love, comfort and reassurance she desperately craved from you. She wanted to respond, to thank you for reminding her of the strength she has that she so forgets, but she didn’t have to. The next message that you sent appeared on her screen, a simple, yet heartfelt offer: “let me take care of you tonight, let me remind you of how amazing you are.”

Her chest ached with the intensity of the emotion she felt. Without thinking, she pressed her face into her hands and let out a shaky laugh that felt like a weight being lifted. She wiped at her eyes before typing, “I’d like that. More than anything.”

A few moments passed before the phone lit up again, this time with a photo attachment. It was a picture of you in your car with a smile, holding up a bouquet of her favorite flower, and a bag from the convenience store. The message attached reading: “Get ready, Joohyun 😈”

Irene couldn’t help but laugh a little at your use of emojis, the first genuine smile of the day. The thought of you coming over and wrapping her in your familiar arms, whispering words of comfort in her ear, filling her with a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days.

Just as she was about to stand up to prepare for your arrival, a knock at the door startled her. Irene’s heart skipped a beat as she glanced at her phone—no text, no warning. She rushed to wipe the last of her tears away and quickly looked in the mirror to fix her hair, she finally took a deep breath before walking over and opening the door.

There stood her y/n, a playful smile on your face, holding up the flowers with one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. Your eyes softening when they meet Irene, looking a little more vulnerable than usual. Without a word, you stepped forward and pulled Irene into a tight embrace.

“I’m here” you whispered, your voice soft and full of certainty.

Irene’s eyes welled up again, but this time with a warmth that spread through her like sunshine. She clung to you, letting the tension finally melt away, piece by piece.

“Thank you for coming” she whispered, feeling safe and seen.

“Always,” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

The room was silent except for the quiet rustle of the snacks you brought. You pull away just enough to look at Irene, eyes full of concern and affection. Irene took a shaky breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Do you want to talk about it, baby?” you ask, sitting down next to her. Irene nods slowly, feeling the knot of worry in her chest loosen just a bit. She glanced at the snacks—her favorite, a mix of sweet and salty—and let out a small laugh.

“You know me too well,” Irene said, her voice softer than before.

“Of course I do” you say with a smug look. “Now, tell me what’s really going on.”

Irene hesitated, the weight of her fears threatening to rush back, but the look in your eyes told her that she could share this, that she didn’t have to bear it alone anymore.

“It’s the comeback,” Irene admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m doing enough, if it’s good enough. I keep thinking, ‘what if I let the members down?’, ‘What if I disappoint the fans?’, ‘What if you don’t like it’….The pressure is just… overwhelming.”

You reached out, placing a hand on her hand, “Joohyun, you’re incredible. You’ve worked so hard for this, and I’ve seen it everyday. The late nights, the rehearsals, the dedication—you’re it giving more than anyone could ask for. it’s only natural to feel like this. It’s okay to be scared. It doesn’t mean you’re not enough.”

Irene looked up, eyes soft and glistening. The warmth in your’s gaze reassured her, made her feel safe in a way that nothing else had in weeks. It was hard to accept that she didn’t have to bear this alone, that someone else could share the weight, even just by being there.

“You really think so?” Irene asked, her voice unsure.

“Absolutely,” you respond, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And if you need a reminder, I’ll be here to tell you every day, every hour, even every minute if I have to.”

Irene felt her heart swell at the promise. She leaned into your embrace again, this time letting herself relax into the comfort of your presence. It felt like the heaviness was finally starting to lift, even if just a little, she knew you’d be there every step of the way.

“Thank you,” Irene whispered again, this time with more conviction. “For being here, for reminding me… that I’m not alone.”

“You’re never alone, Joohyun. Not as long as I’m here.”

For the first time in days, Irene let herself believe that everything was going to be okay. With you by her side, the daunting challenge of her solo debut didn’t seem so impossible anymore. There would still be struggles, moments of doubt and fear, but now she knew she didn’t have to face them alone.

And just for that, she was more grateful than she could ever put into words.