#what in the world i do this too many times

[tonycries]

Sweetheart Online - G.S.

Synopsis. Isekai-ed into another world, or isekai-ed into your pants?! Gojo Satoru is in danger - in danger of losing his prized, otaku vírginíty, that is.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, otaku! Gojo, isekai, vírgínity loss (Gojo), chokíng, use of “ma’am”, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, begging, nerdy babbling, Gojo wears glasses, cúmming dry, first times, oraI (f + m), face-sítting, cúmming early, spítting, creampíes, cúmplay, p talking, cúmming in his pants, he goes féral, otaku vocab, truck-kun, anime nosebIeeds, Gojo is a LOSER, and so down bad for you, pet names, swearíng.

Word count. 8.8k

A/N. IT’S HEREEEEE-

“Har har. hilarious, Suguru-”

“You know m’not joking, Satoru.” Geto’s taking an infuriatingly long slurp! of his ramen from the other end of the line, and Gojo’s known the man long enough to realize that he’s doing it solely to irritate him. That bastard. “You’re a loser.”

Ah, he’s never wanted to throttle him more. 

Because- listen, Gojo Satoru might be many things. 

He might be the proud president of the campus otaku club, rumored to have never even held hands with a woman his entire life. Complete defamation, of course, Gojo has held hands with his mother as a child. Though…she might be the only one. 

He might be the most annoying tenant at his cramped Tokyo apartment, every inch of it covered with enough of your pretty figurines that he’s taken to sleeping on the couch recently. But you deserved only the best!

And he might currently be the sketchiest man trudging down the streets of Shibuya at 3AM; with a brand-spanking new, life-sized body pillow of you tucked safely underneath one arm.

But that didn’t mean Gojo was a loser. Probably. 

So what if he got strange looks from every unfortunate normie soul he happened to pass? It was limited edition, and he waited eight hours in line for it!

After all, a man with such a prized possession could surely and undoubtedly never be a-

“-oi- oi!” Self-proclaimed best friend, and universally-proclaimed pain in Gojo’s ass grumbles into the phone. 

Snapping out of his reverie, Gojo’s registering that he’s already at that familiar flickering stoplight. Fingers curling even tighter in their tender hold around your form, he saunters down the barren crossing. 

He needed to get home - and he needed to get home fast! A man needs quality time with his wife, after all. 

“Don’t tell me you fainted from her ah- what was it- ‘sheer beauty and unparalleled sex appeal’ again?”

“That was one time and you know it.” He’s hissing into the speaker- honestly, Geto’s probably just cranky that he didn’t get his grubby hands on one of these before he did - Gojo’s seen the other man’s plushie collection of you no matter how much he tries to hide it. “This time, I only got weak in the knees.”

There’s a snickering drawl, “Oh yeah? What wondrous self-control, o’ maestro of virgins.”

And the title is so utterly ridiculous that Gojo finds himself stuttering into a shocked stop right in the middle of the gloomy asphalt. A laugh bubbling up in his throat before he remembers that that particularly sweet nickname was directed at him. 

“You’re a virgin too!”

Scoffing, “Yeah, but I don’t act like it. You, on the other hand, are famed for having your first kiss with the common room tv the moment you first saw that video game character. People were making bets on whether you were going to die a virgin, Satoru. Hell- I bet, too!”

Dammit, when you put it like that it makes Geto sound downright respectable. 

“Actually, she’s more than a video game character, Sugu—” Times like this, he’s letting his words simper out into a whine. Full and well knowing how much it’ll grate against Geto’s eardrums - hah, take that ramen ASMR! Smugly, Gojo pushes up his thickly-rimmed glasses, “She’s the revered princess of a distant land, first in line to rule over the throne with a gentle yet firm hand. Scouring the seas for the perfect consort that will-”

“Are you quoting her Wikipedia-”

“I wrote her Wikipedia.” Gojo huffs indignantly, as if anyone could ever assume anything less. “Because to me, she’s- she’s…”

And, truly, nothing he recited with MLA citations could ever describe you.

Because if there’s one thing that Geto was right about, it’s the fact that Gojo’s been completely and utterly head-over-heels for you ever since he first glimpsed an ad for Sweetheart Online - the hottest, filthiest romance game to hit the industry in the last few years. Maybe ever. 

With one love interest - as if he needed any other - you, and your hand in marriage that Gojo had fought rival after unworthy rival to win 143 times already.

He finds himself wracking his brain for any word in the existing lexicon to describe the perfection that is you. Though, it seems that he doesn’t have to think too hard at all. 

Because before he can even imagine letting the first few syllables formulate on his tongue, there’s a deafening-

HONK!

Gojo turns, only to see the glaringly white headlights of a truck hurtling towards him at full-speed. 

And the first thing he thinks is oh, it kind of looks like the spotlight that dazzles on you 1 minute and 24 seconds into the game’s Coronation Event. The second thing he thinks is…fuck.

.

.

.

“-highness—looks rabid!”

“—that’s rude, but…”

“-oh dear, put your sword down, Itadori.”

Gojo takes a few bleary seconds to pat himself mentally on the back for deducing that he’s died and made his way to heaven. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what Yaga says - he really is a genius sometimes.

What else could the delicate paintings of cupids and clouds on the staggeringly tall ceiling abovehead mean? He didn’t think that the heavens above had a fancy for Baroque - but who was he to judge? 

Certainly not when it seemed like he was sprawled out on a painfully decadent bed. Sifting among layers and layers of delicate silk that almost swallowed him whole - oh, it was fit enough for his figurine collection of you. 

A sharp crick shoots along Gojo’s neck when he turns his eyes towards what seemed like a towering window, wincing at the large glowing ball of light washing warmly over him. If he squinted his eyes it almost looked like…the sun?

Surely, he wasn’t a ghost then.

It hadn’t even been daybreak once that semi-truck had run him over, and even if he was to haunt anyone then it would be to bug Geto into plastering his collection of your posters all over his gravestone. 

And the final piece of celestial evidence being a soft, soothing tone ringing in his ears and already becoming his favorite new song. Coming from the mouth of an angel peering down at him who looked - lo and behold - like your very spitting image. 

“Oh…” It comes out in a hoarse, scratchy gasp. All the air knocking out of his poor lungs once you inch in mere centimeters closer to his glassy view. He can’t help but reach up a trembly hand, “You’re even more beautiful in 3D.”

SMACK!

Gojo flinches when his hand gets knocked away unceremoniously by someone else’s- there were other people here? “You dare attempt to touch the princess? After revealing yourself in her chambers? I should call the guards right now-”

Now, he didn’t know much about the afterlife, but he was sure that demons weren’t allowed in heaven.

“It’s quite alright, Nobara.” The angel speaks up, and oh, it’s not even his name being said but Gojo already feels his heart leap a little and suddenly wishes it was. “Judging by the state of his clothes it seems he’s not from these parts. Maybe he’s lost?”

Gentle hands are suddenly bestowed upon his to softly pull him up, and before he can open his mouth to undoubtedly blurt out something stupid, there’s a ringing PING!

Jumping just about a foot off the bed, he’s scrambling to stand as a strangely robotic voice speaks from somewhere overhead, “Milestone: Touch a Girl reached. System activation successful! Congratulations, user [Satorulovesprincess]. Welcome to Sweetheart Online.”

If the group in front of him heard anything, then they didn’t show a sign. 

Very much the opposite of a thoroughly panicked Gojo, flailing his head towards the source of the noise until his eyes meet a holographic screen hovering just a few inches over his head.

As if something pulled right out of one of Geto’s favorite trashy sci-fi films - fuck being in heaven, he was probably still on those Shibuya streets hallucinating and causing an incident.. 

Gojo treks down a hand to pinch his forearm, just a little harder than necessary when the voice booms once more-

“Quite ingenious, user [Satorulovesprincess]. However, we assure you that what you are seeing is real.” The screen displays those exact words in time. “You have initiated the execution of the system, and are now bound to Sweetheart Online.”

“System- Sweetheart Online-” Great, he’s going mad. Running his hands through tousled locks of cloudy white, “Don’t tell me…don’t tell me this is like one of those shitty isekai anime.”

Oh god it all made sense - the truck, the system, the truck. And Gojo’s watched much more than enough cliché isekai anime with the otaku club to realize. 

But…a truck? Seriously? That’s embarrassingly overused. 

It’s like a pit of ice forms at the bottom of his stomach. He bet that no one but him could see the glaring screen right now. A fact he was especially glad for once the following words roll out-

“Following your sudden and extremely inexperienced death, Mission: No-Longer-Virgin has already started.”

Whispering to himself, “So this is where virgins go after death. Some sort of purgatory perhaps in which the last wishes of the virgin are materialized- although that doesn’t explain the presence of- wait-”

“Good luck, user: [Satorulovesprincess]. May your virginity collapse, and your sex life prosper!”

If Gojo didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that the disjointed voice sounded amused. 

But wait- no, it wanted Gojo to lose his virginity? His long-held, precious, maiden virginity? After twenty-something years, how crude that this ah- mission marrs his delicate body. Did the system think that he was some sort of harlot to-

“Are…are you okay, strange sir?”

Okay, maybe losing his virginity wasn’t all that bad.

Turning back around slowly, “I uh…”

And this wasn’t quite how Gojo imagined meeting you - glasses askew, hair rumpled, in the very same ratty hoodie and sweatpants he’d camped outside the anime store in - hell, he never thought he’d meet you in general. 

But then you smile, and Gojo falls onto his knees. Right then and there on the polished floor.

You were exactly as he’d seen on-screen. Brows quirking upwards just a slight cheeky degree the same way it did whenever his in-game avatar said something particularly smooth. Gorgeous. The silken skirts of your ball gown looking oh-so-soft to the touch but not as soft as you-

“Your highness, on top of being a madman, he drools at the sight of you!” A younger girl shrieks - Nobara Kugisaki, your trusty attendant, he remembers. Hastily wiping his lips, “Kindly consider having his skull impaled.”

There was nothing kindly about having his skull impaled, and Gojo’s already clutching his head when you chuckle. “Your name?”

Ah, he’s forgotten how to speak. Forgotten how to breathe. “G-Gojo Satoru- my princess- your highness.”

“Apologies, I’m not sure what foreign ambassador you are, but I do welcome you kindly to our kingdom.” You’re letting your eyes roam all over his still-kneeled body, and in them glittered something…dark. 

Sliding over your hand and oh! Gojo remembers this.

He’s drinking in that delicate floral scent of yours, dragging his plump mouth to meet the back of your hand in a lingering kiss. The very moment his lips touch you, Gojo feels lightheaded.

And only after pulling away does he realize exactly why-

“Ah! He’s bleeding!” The young man - your loyal knight, Itadori - yelps, and Gojo’s clapping over the warm wetness smearing over his lower face. A nosebleed? Really? Just from kissing your hand? God, Geto was right - he really is a loser. “Should I call the healers, your highness?”

“No we have him drawn and quartered for such an unseemly display-”

“Nobara, that’s quite alright.” You’re waving off, smooth marble floors resonating out sharp clacks! when you walk even closer. Close. Too close. Until you’re seated on the edge of the bed, “After all, it is my consort choosing ceremony. Isn’t that what you’re here for, Satoru?”

Gojo thinks he could faint at the way you say his name - and he almost does. 

Scrambling towards you, he’s fully kneeling at your feet now. You’re so beautiful - so real - that pearly beads of tears dot his fluttering lashes. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

He swears he hears you mumble cute under your breath. Now he could really faint–

“Oh? And I intend on fulfilling the wishes of my guest.” Speaking somewhere over his shoulder, “You two are dismissed. Lock the doors.”

Kugisaki is, unsurprisingly, the one to protest. “But- but, your highness he’s-” And, honestly, Gojo can recognize the raw expression of what the fuck in her voice. He doesn’t blame her one bit. Not when you tip his head up further to face yours and his nose twitches like he’s about to start nosebleeding all over again. “...pathetic.”

Ouch. Gojo was on the verge of spoiling the ending to her character’s backstory when you’re humming. “I like them pathetic, Nobara.” 

Did he mention you were an angel?

“So…” You’re luring him in, and just that heady lilt of your voice already makes his cottony grey sweatpants tight. Shit- wasn’t this the type of situation that he wrote secret fanfics about?

Barely hearing the creaky SLAM! of the double doors to your royal chamber. Clouded pants waft over your satisfied features, he’s peeking up at you over his large spectacles. Lolling closer and closer-

Mumbling, “Yes, my prin- oh!”

Gojo’s pouted strawberry-pink lips wobble cutely when the golden points of your heel dig into the fleshy mound of his thigh. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, “Y-your highness?”

“What’s this about a-” Watery eyes widening wordlessly when you’re sliding it all the way up, up, up along the shockingly curvaceous muscles to press right down on the straining inches of his fattened cock. Needy. Bulging. “-virginity loss mission-” Hard. “-Satoru?”

And Gojo doesn’t know what comes first - that sharp inhale at the realization, or him.

Fist flying up for him to sink his pretty pearly whites into when he’s biting back a whimper and cumming.

You could feel the way that Gojo’s sloppy mushroom tip was just bawling with every lazy grind up and down his sappy slit. 

Milking out the thick, goopy ribbons being sprinkled from his rounded mushroom tip. Volumes upon volumes. So much of it. That warm texture clinging against the flats of your shoe and puddling out mushy dark splotches into his sweatpants.

Shit. Shit shit shit - cumming just from that. All in front of the woman of his dreams. Part of him almost wants to apologize.

But the way your mouth curls into a sleazy grin makes Gojo’s heart race, every minute action only keeping his achy length even harder. 

He so can’t help himself from grabbing your calves to halt with a few twitchy fingers - only to be going against his own yearnings. Hips humping yours once like a fucking dog as his breath hitches, “You- you know?”

“Awww, of course I know, Toru. I can see the screen.” Fuck- he hopes you can’t feel the wet splat! of another buttery wad of cum being dolloped out generously from his depraved divot. Leaning in, “S’this the first time anyone else has ever made you cum?”

He knew you were teasing - he knew it. But that doesn’t stop Gojo from panting out a strained, “Yes.”

“Hmmm, well-” You’re tapping your chin in thought, despite already having made your decision. But it was just so fun to see this beautiful man shivering and pleading on his knees. “I don’t know where you transmigrated from but…I still am a benevolent ruler, after all.”

He gulps. Cupping one flushed side of his face, Gojo’s practically a steaming hot mess of putty in your hands. “And I can take care of that little virginity business for you.”

Croaking out, “P-please.”

“Hmmm, not good ‘nough.” You’re rovering down even further to press a slight smooch of pressure against his fatly filled-up balls. Thighs squeezing at just how big they were - breeder balls. “Is that how you speak to your princess?”

“No- no no no-” Gojo’s shaking his head so hard that it makes him a little dizzy, or maybe that was the way that you were fisting your determined digits into his faded hoodie. “Please…ma’am.”

“Much better.”

Before he can even blink, he’s being dragged upwards according to your every want and whim. Thrown onto the bouncy king-sized mattress with such strength- of course, he shouldn’t even be surprised. You are the future queen for a reason, after all. 

In fact, he’s never skipped a single cut scene that showed you training your battle skills-

“Now now, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?” Your voice drifts its way into his melty mind, words so sugary sweet that he could almost taste them. “At least gimme a lil’ kiss now-”

And it’s more than anything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

Muffling back a muted yes, Gojo’s surging upwards to clash his lips into yours. And oh shit, just-now realizing that he’s lost his first ever kiss. 

Then his second. His third. His fourth.

It’s messy. It’s hot. 

Tugging you even closer with a forearm around your waist. Gojo’s sloppy tongue is licking its way past your ravenous entrance, fucked-out bubbles of spittle pop up at the edges of his pursed lips when you’re breaking away-

“N-nooo-” He’s letting off a shuddering whine, chasing after you with a sluttily half-parted maw. “Gimme- wanna ‘nother kiss, princess.”

So greedy. The fat curve of your thumb positions itself on Gojo’s prettily dimpled chin, prying open his dewy lips even further. “Open that mouth f’me, Toru?”

He’s doing exactly what you’re saying before he even realizes it. The glistening muscle of his tongue splayed-out perfectly on display for you - for you to spit out a heavy mass of saliva right onto his pinkish tastebuds. 

Gojo moans at the contact - and you can feel it before he does. The subtle jolt of his weepy cockhead, before your languidly gyrating kneecap is dampened with another wiry slather of cum. Warm and wet. 

“Cumming again?” You coo, eyes darting between the ever-growing pool of a frosted mess between his long legs, and his face. Gojo looked so pretty like this - glasses sliding down his button nose, eyes shuttering with each heaving pant - gasp. Face flushed and slicked with a slight shimmer of sweat, stray locks of white curtain and stick to his reddened forehead. He looked so pretty. “Just from that?”

He’s squirming his depraved hips to smudge a faint glaze of seed down your mounds of flesh, one palm dancing upwards to stop himself from having a nosebleed all over again. “C-can’t help it…The average time of ejaculation for a man is five to seven minutes based on psychological factors and age. And as a healthy young man just because I-”

You’re shutting him up with a kiss, and Gojo almost wonders why more people don’t do this time - that is, until he remembers they’re not you.

“Sounds pretty serious.” You’re nodding, a mask of teasing graveness taking over your face. Swiftly shuffling down the seemingly endless expanse of the bed. Doughy fingerpads delicately hooking onto the hem of his drenched pants, “Better get a taste before you run out, then.”

Gojo lets out such a breathy pant at the implication, “N-no it won’t, considering the volume of the seminal vesicle and- ah!”

Whatever drunken rambling of his is cut very, very short as soon as you tug down those useless sweatpants and let Gojo’s red, painfully angry cock smack! against his abdomen with a wet smear.

He was so…big.

Such girthy, solid inches upon inches that twitched needily right before your very eyes. A rummaging, left-leaning curve being nestled above two pretty pink balls. 

Your mouth waters once you’re curling your fingers dexterously around his plump circumference, making his cerise cockhead waterfall out in another lazy sheen of pre. It’s honestly a bit of a strain to even get your fingertips meeting each other properly with his incredible size, and that just makes you want him more.

Gojo’s knitting his ivory brows nervously, “S-s’it okay?”

It’s more than okay.

And you’re about to show him that.

Cerulean irises crossing together until they were all heart-eyed when a saturated coating of your saliva tops his bloated tip like a layer of icing. Before he feels himself fall in fucking love just at the gummy peck of your mouth onto the rotund ends of his length.

“W-woahhh—” He’s breathing out, eyes locked lecherously right with yours when the steaming hot cavern of your mouth sinks in more and more and more- “This- what- fuuuck-”

And then you’re huffing out a slight chuckle through your nose, hitting his drenched base and making him keen. Slender hips of his lurch the perfect angle off the luxurious bed to bump his mountainous head against the very back of your throat. 

Gasping - begging. 

“You’re seriously gonna…take me?” Prattling through clenched teeth as you grace him with a few more flooding masses of spit. It makes him feel so used. Feel so good. “Like you- you’re gonna put me in your mouth?”

“No.” You’re snickering at the utterly crestfallen look on his face, full mouth downturned, puffed-up tip tinting an even more blasphemous red as if to tempt you. Your fingers tangle with his to claw at the crown of your head, “You’re gonna put yourself in my mouth.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Shit-” Gojo whispers - more to himself than anything. “You can do this- can- can do this- just suck on m’cock-” Rubbing out a translucent lipstain all over your ajar maw before plugging his proud girth inside. “Please- wanna know what it feels…”

Gojo can’t remember what he was saying. What he was thinking. 

Because just a few vulgar sucks of your tenderized mouth around his inflated cock and he’s drunk. Fuck dying by a truck, he was about to die just by this. 

Head lolling all the way back against the poofy pillows, white-hot bliss flashing behind his eyes and- when had he even closed them?

“Wh-why does it feel so–” he’s clenching his jaw, dredging out every single ounce of will in his being to peer at the heavenly - hah- sight below. “-so- good- c-can it feel so good- hngh- please-”

Gojo’s drawing up the hem of his hoodie to cover that brightly blossoming blush. So adorable. He even tasted sweet, like the best of salted caramel that made you infinitely want more. 

Your salacious tongue is repeatedly wetting down his lightning bolted veins. Up and down up and down up and down to draw little hearts on those bumpy lines. 

His sobbing cockhead mushing back into the velveteen walls of your mouth, and Gojo could cum just from the voluptuous curve being outlined into your cheek. He’s finding it almost fucking impossible to grunt out over the raw squelches! emanating from where you were making out with his throbbing cock, “Must be illegal- that’s it! It f-feels so good this must be- ngh- outlawed.”

You’ve rendered him stupid. And he’s so hot and heavy in your mouth, it makes your core stir up to think that you’re the first.

Every choked-up plea only resonates off of the numerous corners of your bedroom even louder once your fingers latch onto the gluttonous curve of his fattened balls. Squeezing-

“S-so dirty- so dirty, princess…” And part of Gojo doesn’t know why he’s letting his traitorous hands wander onto the back of your scalp. Doesn’t know why he’s plunging just a few more inches past your prettily-pouted lips - you were his princess and he was…not treating you like royalty.

The Gojo in this game had always been so smooth. So suave. Taking his sweet, sweet time to hold your hand and talk to you about the politics of your kingdom.

Right now he was curving his thick thighs to flex around your shoulder and feeding you every saccharine inch you could possibly swallow up. “Can you- can you take more? Take this biiiig fuckin’ cock?”

You’re being choked in a locked hold by his powerful legs, and you’ve never been wetter. Practically puddling out a syrupy pond on the sheets underneath you.

Tugging out the thick nub of his thumb to smear those honeyed splatters of his precum at the corners of your mouth, you can only grin as you let your sentence translate into thrumming vibrations. “Mhmm— Settling into it s-so well, aren’t ya, Tooooru?”

“F-fuck!” Gojo’s blushing tip glides shyly down the tight back of your throat, rovering all along each n’ every millimeter of space inside you. It only made your head bob faster to imagine how he would feel down there- “Don’t talk- don’t talk. Please don’t talk s’gonna make me…”

But you.

Oh, Gojo Satoru has read your character profile over 2489 times by now.

He’s memorized every factoid and morsel of knowledge there is to know about you - so of course, he should’ve known. Should’ve realized that babbling away those words would only make your sultry motions increase.

“Cum f’me like a good boy.”

And he does. 

You can only watch in awe when a pearlescent globule of cum gumdrops from his weepy orifice, one. Two. Three. Until Gojo was just drenching the entirety of your mouth with thickly viscous coatings of seed, until you were just drooling with a wadded mess of spittle and seed.

Salty flavor dripping down your tongue and flooding out. So much of it. Too much, Gojo was spurting out the thickest ribbons of creamy white as if he’d never cum before - and doesn’t plan to stop any time soon. 

More, more, more like it was the sound of your voice making him shiver. Making him whine like a zillion volts of electricity was running down his greedy spine. 

The moment you pull away, hefty oodles of cum hit Gojo’s toned abs with a wet splat! And your dear subject is wrangling out his hands towards you like he never wanted to let go.

“No- no! Please- please come back-” Crinkling tears trek their way down his dewy face, sensory pads of his fingers reaching out for you desperately, only for you to part away. “N-need your pretty mouth on me.”

You’re raising a brow, thumbing over his still-crying divot, “But don’tcha want something…else, Satoru?”

“Something- else?” He’s rasping out haltingly, head thoroughly swimming with nothing but you. Your heart glows with pride at the way he can barely form coherent sentences, “What…oh.”

But Gojo gets the idea soon enough when you’re hastily shedding away your outer robes. He fumblingly tries to help, of course, but the simple idea of helping a woman undress is too much for him - and he’s banished to simply watching you, one hand held underneath his nose in case of another…incident. 

Gown and undergarments hitting the floor, your gorgeous legs come to hike up, up, up- driveling mouth falling slack the moment they’re ending up rested on either side of his intoxicated head.

“Oh.” He wheezes intelligently up at your glistening cunt.

“Nothing else ta say?” Your heady purrs only make him blush, nuzzling his feverishly burning cheek against the spattered sheen of slick at your inner thigh. He’s making such a mess on purpose. Making himself a mess. 

“Well-” Gojo bats his long lashes up at you dangerously, clear planes of his glasses digging into the handsome apples of his cheeks. But he didn’t mind. Couldn’t even feel anything but the sweltering heat of your arousal. “-jus’ that- I want you to spit in my mouth, princess.”

And the very moment that sugar-coated sap, Gojo moans.

Eyes flickering shut at the taste of himself - the taste of you. A candied little tinge that he oh-so-badly needs more of - and without even a second of hesitation, he’s stuffing himself right there between your pretty legs. 

It doesn’t matter the rhythm. It doesn’t matter the rhyme. 

And Gojo doesn’t even know any - the very moment your puffy lips are meeting his kiss-bitten ones in a French kiss, he already knows that your cute cunt has taken him hostage.

Jaw clenching as he tries to memorize all those fanfics he guiltily read night after night, Gojo’s bumping up his cloudily condensed glasses further up his nose when he leaves one kiss. Two. “Ohhhh, your pussy tastes s-sooo good.”

And they each get messier and messier after the other. 

Letting the heaping dollops of your juices flood onto his roughened tastebuds, he’s letting his long tongue peek apart your gluey pussylips. Sliding the very tip up and down and round n’ round your slicked entrance. 

“The- the oh!” Gojo flinches just as your body arches even deeper once he pokes his fat muscle past your tight ring. Leaving such a slew of wet slurps with every drag, he was dirty. “-according to what I’ve read, th-the clitoris is found at the top of the vulva. It should be located where the hah- labia-”

His words cut off with what you swear sounds like a strangled whimper when you harshly fist your digits into his silken-soft strands and push.

And you don’t notice it at the time, hell, even Gojo doesn’t notice with just how ruined he was right about now. 

But the sole moment you’re manhandling him to your will makes his flushed crownhead geyser out a torrential of cum. 

Fountaining out waves and waves of seed that paint his hefty base with a frosted ring. Such thickened volumes for the nth time tonight. Just from the roughened way that you were pushing him to make out with your pretty pussy.

He wanted to be used.

“Used, huh?” You’re letting out a murky pant of laughter- fuck, did he say that out loud? “Wanna be u-used, Satoru- wanna keep that big mouth of yours hngh- full?”

He’s nodding. Nodding and nodding and nodding with every sloppy gyration that you bestow all down his features. Huffing and puffing through every gasping breath he manages to shudder in, he’s shooting out a good mass of saliva. “Yes- ride me. Ride me. Fucking ride my face. A-always wanted you to ride me- hngh- please.” 

And how could you deny him when he’s all begging like that?

Gluey ropes of spit and slick lacquer Gojo’s chin like a smooth polish, and he’s sticking against you like he was just as clingy. Jaw grinding against your kinetically moving pussy, the pointed edge of his nose weaves from between your leaky slit and ends up pressing right onto your clit-

“O-oh!” Your head tumbles backwards with an ever-tightening grip onto his sweat-dampened locks. “Yeah- right there–”

“Here? Here?” He sounds like he couldn’t quite believe it. The ravenous edge of his thumb curling right up your soppy slit and pinning down your hooded clit. Hard. “The glans clitoris r-right here. And I found it- I found it.” Breathing out a long whistle that makes your heated skin bristle with goosebumps, “I always wondered what would h-happen if I…”

You barely even have the time to react before you’re staring at the glisten of Gojo’s sharp canines sneaking up to your sensitive nub and biting.

And he didn’t expect this.

He didn’t expect it to be better than the fanfiction-

Because your generous cunt just cascades in another jet of sappy juices, glazing Gojo’s features sexily all the way from his dimpled grin up to his glasses. 

They’re dripping wet, waterlogged with treacly film of slick that forces him to gawk up at you from below with such a loving gaze. Just the way he’s peering up at you is enough to make your breaths hitch.

“Gonna- gonna write about this, y’know? H-hope you know that this changed my hah- fuckin’ life, my princess…my girl.” Gojo drawls out lazily, movements as slow as if he was slipping through molasses when he sinks the rounded tips of his cushy fingers into your slick-flooded entrance. “Gonna h-have you for breakfast- for ah- lunch…aaaand for dinner.”

With a pitchy whine, you’re tightening your hold onto his thick locks and mushing his face so close. Close enough that you could already feel the mushy pout of his lips and that lazy chuckle.

Only then do you realize that he’s doing this on purpose. Mouthing off until you’re making both his chilling frames and his regal nose clash at the target of your clit with every repeated swivel, each glissading snog of his tongue making you throb. 

Everywhere. Anywhere. Everywhere and anywhere that he could reach.

“Such a dirty boy, huh?” You muse, swearing that that only makes him even sloppier. “S’that what you are? Ngh- bet you’ve never tasted a p-pussy before, huh?”

“N-nooo- haven’t. But are they all so…fucking delicious?” And he’s lapping up every sensual ounce, not letting even a tiny speckle go to waste. Because Gojo Satoru was kissing your pretty pussy like he could only dream of those long, lonely nights. 

You were a fucking dream - his dream.

The full force of his desperation hitting you when Gojo’s letting his drunken head loll ever-so-slightly backwards to take a good, long admiring look at your cunt. And you wonder if he could even see with his glasses all sodden and filthy like that. 

You wonder if he even realized when he’s leaving a lingering swat! of his plush fingertips right onto the bullseye of your pulsing button, and then another few at your fleshy channel. 

And it was so unfair how he was pummeling your poor gummy walls with swipe after swipe of his eager fingerpads working your glutinous walls open. Probing his neatly manicured fingers perfectly into your most tender spots. “Like that?”

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re mewling at the tautly coiling build-up at your cunt. Further and further. You felt like you were about to snap. “-is- is this my first time or yours, Toru–”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” And Gojo’s palming his engulfing hands over the jiggling mounds of your ass to drag you like some ragdoll even deeper onto his sloppy maw. You’re forced to slap your hand onto the royal headboard to get at least some semblance of balance. “Jus’ want you- need you.”

Gawping up at you - he looks just as fucked-out as you feel. Blushing oh-so-innocently with his lecherous mouth slithering to steal a loud mwah! planted onto your salivating pussy. And then a final, weighty wad of spit. “Need me to be yours.” 

With a final, trembling shove of Gojo’s pretty face pliantly against your hot core, you’re cumming. Riding out your peak with stuttering rotations all over his lolled-out, bumpy tastebuds.

“Fuh-fuck!” You didn’t even care if you were getting his glasses messy at this point - he’d already made enough of a mess out of you. Embarrassingly so. “S’s-so good. Hah- gotta put your mouth to work more o-often, Satoru.”

And you can’t stop the way that your jaw parts into a soft oh! every time he pinches your bulbous clit at the very tip of every single one of your peaks. Right on time. More on sheer animal instinct than anything because Gojo’s still reeling from the fact that he made you cum.

He made you cum.

He made you cum.

He made you cum.

Babbling away just as stupidly as he had mere moments before, your orgasm is…magical. None of these haughty princes or dukes could ever compare to this. “S-such a good ngh- boy f’me.”

That is, until you feel Gojo tenderly curl his fingers around one of your stray ones to form a fist. Nudging it against one of yours in a…fistbump? 

“You have…no…fucking idea.” He’s letting out a drenching ptwah! of spittle, all the masses and rivulets of your sickeningly sweet juices sliding all the way down his tongue and pooling at the back of his throat. Like he always wanted your taste there.

And you’re still feeling the twinging tremors down your spine, flurries of stars bursting behind your hooded lids when he lets his sinfully long tongue slather your fluttering cunt with another hot kiss. 

Nose crinkling at how you’re stagnating your vigorous cadence, he bats his lashes up at your shocked stare - and you already know what his sapphire gaze is begging for before he even asks.

“Toru-”

“More.” Gojo interrupts you - and he knows he’ll beat himself up for it later. Maybe he’ll even…make it up to you. But for now, the only thing replaying on his cottony mind was just how perfect you looked cumming all over his mouth - even the specially-paid NSFW scenes didn’t go into this much detail. 

He was in heaven. 

You feel the humid brush of his tongue between your saturated pussylips, pleading. Begging. “Wan’ more- wanna taste you more, princess- please-”

And Gojo looks so fucking heartbroken the very moment those lips part with such a wet slurp! A low whine curdling at the back of his throat, his glossy lips curve downwards into a jutted-out pout.

He’s chasing after your pussy with absolutely no shame, greedy fingertips digging into the curve of your ass while he nudges you closer and closer. Stealing tiny kittenish licks, stealing longing whiffs just to smell the scent of your pussy.

“No- no- want- please-” He’s rambling away, half-lidded eyes widening with alarm. Like you were taking away his favorite dessert right from under his nose, and Gojo was not having it. 

But you knew a thing or two about ruling. 

And it’s with such smug satisfaction that you get to push down a wolfish Gojo so hard he collides back onto the mattress and bounces. 

Giggling - giggling, “S’this mean I get to…fuck you now?”

Oh, it’s spoken like a mantra. A true confession that he never even imagined would come out from those lips of his. 

You’re nodding, “Mhm— m’thinking that good boys get to hah- fuck me.” 

He’s ogling you right now when you meander between his milky legs just as you did before. Except, this time, you’re stopping right at the defined v-line of his sculptured hips. Darting thumb rubbing back and forth over the pooling streaks of cum from just before. 

“Did you cum without me ngh- again, Toru?” You’re teasing, and he almost feels so pathetic the way his mouth latches onto the curve of your sheened digits and sucks. “That’s not what a good-”

“I am I am-” Gojo insists, brows furrowing. He’s so unsure what to do, so unsure what to even think other than looping his arms around your waist to tug, tug, tug you ever-closer. It’ll never be enough. “Promise I’ll be a- ngh-”

Shit.

Your fingers shackle a tight grip around his pale, prespired neck. He looks so gorgeous squirming underneath you like this - squirming for more, that is. 

“Then you better promise to fuck me really good, Satoru.” Your whispers come out in a honeyed tone that wafts against his reddening ears. Maybe because of that, maybe because of the way your nails claw marks, you feel his plumpened head twitch. “Really good.”

His head lolls all the way into your grasp, he was done. Murmuring, “I’ll be a really, really good boy- ma’am.”

That did it.

And before Gojo knows it, you’re letting his syrupy mushroom tip slip in a few thick inches with ease. Geysers of his pre trickling out from between the tight stretch of your gluey hole, sinking in more and more.

Gojo’s mouth opens with a slow leak of drool with just how warm you were hugging him from the inside. Your candied walls so fucking clingy that he finds himself choking out a huff, planting two steadying hands on either side of your waist and pushing-

“Oh fuck- oh fuck.” His eyes grow adorable wide, stare perched right down where he was disappearing in and out of you in mindless, rapid ruts just to bully himself inside. “Th-this feels nothing like my P-Pocketpussy3000-”

“Toru…” Your words come out in a growl, crescent nail leaving neat indentations on his column of skin. 

“J-just feels so much better, my girl.” Gojo insists, something swirling deeply in his eyes that makes your heartbeat irregular. “You’re so…so warm and- and wet. That stupid rubber could never compare to the adventitia and musclaris and- and I’m really fucking you.”

He is. 

He was, at least until only a few vulgarly deep strokes probing in about halfway down his swollen shaft makes Gojo bump his ridged slit against one of those spots. The globe of Gojo’s proud cockhead leaves a hefted thud! that thunders pure bliss into your fuzzy head and makes you clench.

And it makes him cum. Again.

Wet spurts of warm seed splashing into each n’ every inch inside of you and filling you all the way up to the brim. There’s so many of his copious ribbons sloshing around inside of you, and it doesn’t even make Gojo’s tempo slow down.

It doesn’t even make him falter. 

“Sh-shiiiit-” He’s hissing, lower lip worried and fussed between his teeth until you were sure he’d be drawing blood. “Cumming—!”

Dipping down a few fingers to part your soppy lips, Gojo’s thrusts get more relentless when he catches his eyes on the steady waterfall of cum and slick seeping into his hoodie. Fucking the webbed mess deeper - but it only wrings out more pearly wads streaming down. 

Gojo’s voice wrenches out from the very back of his throat in a stubborn mewl, just about five octaves higher than you’re used to. “I came…inside.”

The one n’ only warning you get before he hooks an arm around the small of your back and flips the two of you over. Easily. 

Back sinking into the velvety bed-covering, your spine arches in a geometrical semicircle off the mattress as Gojo takes the blasphemous opportunity to bottom out. His meaty tip finally meets the target of your spongy cervix, breeder balls clashing stickily into the split end of your folds with a hulking thwack!

And you’re almost wondering at just how it was possible that Gojo - nervous, bumbling Gojo Satoru who’d never even held hands with a woman before - had the willpower and strength to overpower a seasoned fighter like you.

But that’s when he tugs his utterly sullied hoodie off and you’re rendered thoughtless. Mouth watering at the toned ridges and curves that bulged all over his Herculean body.

Gojo wasn’t just toned - he was fucking jacked.

And all yours for the taking.

Just your greedy stare is enough to wash his cheekbones with a scorching blush, as if he wasn’t near-nine inches deep inside you already. You gasp when his tongue pokes out to catch a few dripping splat! splat! splats! of your slick still dripping from his glasses. “I-I read in a director’s cut that you like men with abs so I…” 

And before you can even respond, his hips do all the talking for you. Striking your own with a deafening pap! of skin-on-skin, broad pecs heaving with a sharp inhale as if he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Wasn’t in control. 

Two of his doughy palms veer underneath your now-jittery thighs and hoist them up effortlessly to dangle over his shoulders. 

Gojo’s letting off a low grunt when his curvaceous knees slide wider across the pricey bedsheets. All the while mumbling, “N’ just because m’a hah- virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two. Like- I saw this thing ngh- o-online called a…” Bending you like a pliant lawnchair down, down, down- “-a mating press.”

Online? Mating press? You didn’t know what he was rambling on nonsensically about now, but maybe you could excuse that with the fact that he was stretching you out stupid. 

“What a pretty boy.” You’re managing out, fingers unsticking a few strands of pearly white plastering onto his forehead. “Now s-stop teasing and hngh- fuck me.”

Your words are jolting such a dark, primal part of his brain. Eyes hooded, teeth pulling back with a low whimper of ah! The bed sings out a protesting creak when Gojo’s hand comes slamming! down onto the poor frame. Spitting out, “I-I can’t stop…fuck- I can’t stop. Won’t-”

He’s pushing and pushing his ravenous hips in animalistic little humps, the cylindrical shape of his cock swabbing in sultry circles around your gooey insides. Already splitting you apart snugly to the brim, but still he’s drilling in for more.

“You hafta move, Satoru-” Even your most gentle tone is enough to make his strawberry divot sugarcoat you in a thickly viscous few spatters of pre.

And when he talks he sounds wild, “Do I- haaaah- do I really hafta move? Jus’ wanna lose my virginity like this. Wanna stay inside you forever and ever and ever.”

He was already pussydrunk.

And it’s so cute it makes your heart clench. All over six feet of him melting into you by now; head heatedly shoved against the crook of your neck, motions glissading a slip n’ slide of his sexily defined abs pinned to your front. Powerless. 

Gojo blinks up at you through thoroughly hazy eyes when you tilt his face back up to face yours, and the deep eye-contact makes him blush. 

“But I really, really wan’ you to hah- fuck me.” You pout, and you already know by the stutter in his labored breathing that you have him wrapped around your cute lil’ finger. Jostling your hips in a slight buck, “Look-she’s begging for ya already.”

Oh. 

“Is- is she really?” Gojo sighing out in surprise, eyes pondering down to where he was making your puffed-up pussy folds bulge. Slipping out a gasp before he’s clutching onto his nose to stop any more bleeding.

Your slobbering lips coated with a glimmer of his spit and cum, so very his that Gojo finds himself subconsciously nodding along to the sappy squelches bubbling from below. 

“Yes- yes you’re right–” Propelling a slow drag of his hips to sweep every hidden orifice of yours inside, “Oh! Ya got l-louder- so you agree-”

He’s hiking up your legs even further up his shoulders, interlocking them with one massively flexing bicep held behind his head. Eyes still locked below - only then do you realize that he’s not talking to you. 

And then again. And again. And again and again until Gojo was striking your poor cervix with repeated battering rams of his plump cock. Dense balls stinging against your ass with ringing thwacks. Spherical bruises of his circumference being indented over n’ over it’s like he doesn’t even realize. 

Didn’t even know he was doing anything other than wrenching out the most sinful noises from your goopy pussy. 

“Mhm- such a pretty ngh- pussy.” Spitting out the very word like it was embarrassing, two sizeable fingers latch around the plump peak of your clit. Transfixed. You wondered whether he even remembered his own name. “Such a pretty clit.”

“Fuck!” You’re halfway through sobbing when he sends shockwaves of pleasure all across your body. And even more so when one tilted drive of all his inches leaves a skidding skim down the area of your g-spot. “There- right there, Satoru-”

He’s gaping up at you as if suddenly snapped out of a hypnotic trance, only to fall into an all-new one. Disbelieving mouth parted slightly, he breathes, “I’m…fucking you. I’m actually- ohhh fuck m’fucking you- like really, truly. This isn’t a dream.” Like he just realized - and he just did. “M’giving you my cock- making you t-take alllll of it-”

Never in his life did he think anything could ever feel this good. He was never going back. He would never be the same. 

Your drooling pussy was molding around him so nicely, taking onto the very shape of his long shaft. Massaging every inflamed vein poking against your splashed walls, so warm with the leftover puddles of his own sticky cum.

 He’s worshipping you, tilting his head to place a heady trailway of wet kisses down each of your ankles. “M’yours so m’-” Then your calves, your tits, your collarbones, everywhere and anywhere-

“-m’gonna make feel h-hah good.” His nose scrunches with focus, a few fat ends of Gojo’s fingers come down from pinning your ankles to splay out on your tummy. All bloated with his thick outline that even through his fogged-up glasses, he swears he could see a bulge. “Need to find it- need to.”

Pound after pound being placed desperately onto everywhere he could reach inside of you. You can feel the baking hot swash of his sap coating you in a second skin. Each dab of his ballooned crownhead leaves behind a marking bead of buttery pre. 

And maybe it was the way you’re feeling the slow trickle of all his sappy torrentials inside you, but you’re gurgling out a little, “What- what are you-”

“The g-spot.” Gojo answers your messy blithers of syllables with a tender rub onto your clit. Though, he wasn’t too far behind himself, if the way his digits trembled told you anything. “It’s s-supposed to be somewhere in the hah- anterior vaginal wall, between your pretty hole and the urethra. Often said to be stimulated about a few inches ngh- up-” 

But this time, you’re the one cutting him off. With a rapid, deprived rut that bustles his left-leaning curve to head in a jackhammer precisely towards your bulging g-spot. 

And then you see white. 

Perhaps from the sheer shock of him leaving a good French kiss that tenderizes your sweetest hidden coves, perhaps from the way that the both of you are cumming. 

“Shit- shiiiit-” You’re perking your ass to smack against his in lewd little paps, half-formulated moans flooding your mouth with each delicious thrust being planted right onto that spot. Gojo’s fucking you through each of your edges, over and over until you feel yourself crashing back-to-back into not one, not two, but three orgasms. “Really did fuck me- hngh- ah-”

Before you even realize, you’re throwing your arms around Gojo’s rippling shoulder muscles to claw a few artistic lines of red. And he loves it- fuck, it makes him cum even harder. 

“S-spit in my mouth, ma’am.”

And when you do, he latches onto yours with a messy, messy open-mouthed makeout. Groaning around his second-favorite activity of sucking your cute tongue - his most favorite activity being fucking this depraved cunt of yours. 

Cumming and cumming until he physically can’t. Steady rivers of seed logging up whatever remnant space inside your snug cunt before he sputters out sheer nothingness. 

A shiver wracks through Gojo’s body with the way he was cumming dry. And once he spies down a few whipped globs of it spilling out to form a velvety ring around his base, he’s plugging your leaky entrance with a few free fingers.

Lapping up that trickling excess with a slow suck peering right into your eyes before he seals you with his jostling digits back up again.

“Love it- love it love it love it-” He’s letting loose with each spasm of parching cum overspilling your flooded insides, those ribbony meshes swirl all around his pumping cock and trickle down in a creamy stream. Coating his twitchy balls no matter how much he tries to make you milk up every ounce, so much of it. Hot. “Love it- love being your good boy- I love you.”

Gojo’s heart races when you only plant a cute peck onto his sheened glasses, and then another onto his mouth. Resting your sweaty head against his very own, “How would ya like to be my own royal consort, Toru?”

Ah, it was virtually a proposal. To stay by your side forever and ever and ever - the only thing he’s ever wanted, really.

And Gojo’s about to kiss your awaiting lips senseless as an answer- that is, he was about to before both your ears chime with an undeniable PING!

Before an agitating, gratingly familiar voice rings across your heady atmosphere, “Congratulations user: [Satorulovesprincess] on completing Mission: No-Longer-Virgin!” You’re wincing at the sterile glow of that screen once more. “Please await the new updates to the program Sweetheart Online.”

And you both barely even have time to register those words before there’s a thunderous creak! from the empty space of your royal bed.

Except…the bed wasn’t so empty anymore. 

Right with your heated proximity was a man - a beautiful man. All long legs, and inky hair that ran down to his slender waist, twinkling amethyst eyes rounded in the exact same shock that shone in Gojo’s right about now. 

“Suguru?”

“Satoru!” Before he’s tilting his head towards you, and perhaps most glaringly, the way that Gojo was still scouring deeply inside you. A delicate blush tints his - Suguru’s - high cheekbones, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end. “P-princess.”

And something about his tone made your cunt quiver - just in time for Geto to shuffle the tightening crotch of his pants. Something that Gojo noticed, if the way he was crushing you to his body even tighter said anything.

“Let me guess-” Gojo tilts his head, a sleazily drunken smirk curving the edges of his ruddied lips. “-the truck got you haaaah- don’ squeeze me like that, my girl– too?”

“It- it was ramen poisoning actually…” Geto’s deep baritone trails off, struggling to rip his eyes away from you as the screen flickers once more. 

“Sweetheart Online updates completed! Commencing Love Rival (Three’s Company) arc. User: [Sugulovesprincess] joined.”

A/N. MAN I love loserboy Gojo hehehe- hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WOULD YOU DO ANYTHING FOR ME?, BUY A BIG DIAMOND RING FOR ME?” ── .✦ ( how batboys act when they’re engaged w reader )

dollish note ౨ৎ: I lowkey crashed out over losing Americans on tiktok but this woke up to post on tumblr but hey, also can we talk about how trump used that as a pr stunt && thought we wouldn’t notice wtf like omgg the way many americans caught on, alsoo please leave some motivation for me because I just kinda lost motivation for this app after the tiktok thingy went down 🫠 tags: (batboys x engaged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Over the moon and not afraid to show it. Dick tells everyone the second you say yes. Alfred? He knows. Random stranger in the grocery store? The metro security guy?, Yep, they know too. He’s got that goofy, lovestruck grin plastered on his face 24/7.

Wedding planning enthusiast. You thought you’d do most of the planning? Wrong. Dick’s fully invested, showing you Pinterest boards of venues, color schemes, and “Do you think Nightwing blue (dollish note: I think ‘#3366CC’ perhaps?) would be tacky for the napkins?”

Gets sappy at random times. You’ll catch him staring at you with a dreamy look, and when you ask why, he just shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”, “Dick calm down you only proposed like 2 weeks ago.”

Brags to the Batfam constantly. “Guys, I’m going to be a husband! Can you believe it? Me! Richard Grayson!” Bruce pretends to be joyful a bit but he’s done hearing it for the 777x time but even he cracks a small smile when Dick won’t shut up about you.

Practices saying his vows in the mirror. You walked in on him once, and he was mortified. “Okay, but you didn’t hear the good part yet!”, “You literally finished the whole paper !!”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but it’s huge for him. He’ll play it cool at first, saying something like, “It’s just a ring, babe.” But deep down, he’s nervous, excited, and trying not to let it show.

Keeps the engagement low-key. Jason’s not one for flashy announcements or grand gestures. He wants this to be something special between you two, not the whole world.

Protective x10. Now that you’re officially going to be his spouse, Jason is extra watchful. He’s already looking into ways to keep you safe and makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his vigilante life.

Wants you to be 100% comfortable. He checks in with you constantly about the wedding plans. “We don’t have to do anything big, okay? Just say the word, and it’s done.” He’ll let you take the lead but secretly loves when you include him.

Teases you with the whole “fiancé” thing. “Hey, fiancée. Can you grab my coffee? Oh, did I mention you’re my fiancée now?” It’s his way of hiding how excited he really is.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Nervous wreck but totally in love. Tim overthinks everything after proposing. Did he pick the right ring? Did he say the right words? Is he even ready to be a husband? But every time he sees you smile, it calms him down.

Keeps it practical. Tim doesn’t want a huge engagement party or a grand wedding. He’s more focused on what your future together will look like your shared goals, finances, and making sure you’re both on the same page.

Researches marriage like it’s a mission. He has books on successful relationships, listens to podcasts, and even makes a checklist for wedding planning. You find it adorable when he starts using color coded spreadsheets.

Loves when you call him your fiancé. The first time you said it, he blushed so hard he had to look away. Now he’s low-key obsessed with hearing it. “You don’t have to keep calling me that… but don’t stop either.”

Gets emotional when he thinks about the future. You once caught him staring at the engagement ring on your finger, looking teary-eyed. When you asked what was wrong, he said, “I just can’t believe you’re actually mine.” (I would’ve smacked the shit out of him for that, I don’t do romance 🙄💪)

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[bunny-jpeg]

mrs. colapinto

franco colapinto

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, loving!franco, curvy!reader, marriage, honeymoon, cowgirl position, clit teasing

no one knew who franco's sweetheart was. the argentinian driver had captured the world's heart, but who captured his heart? and oh, did you capture it. you were the air he breathed, the sun in the sky, a bright light in his soul. but, franco was protective of you. he didn't want to the world to poke and prod at you and your life. your education, your personality, your body.

france know that each inch was beautiful, every centimeter had been explored by his lips over the years. you were perfect, beyond perfect. he probably had your curves memorized like lines on a track. he could trace them with ease. so, he didn't need the input of fans or the press to determine if you were worth loving. franco knew that you were worth loving.

it was better that you could attend university in peace, that didn't mean that franco ignored you. he was texting you the second he could get his hands on his phone, you two were doing virtual dates when you were apart, and at the very least he could get you on facetime while you were snuggled in bed, on campus, or preparing (a late) dinner. it felt like the only time he could relax, while he was happy to have a shot at formula one. he missed the comfort of your small apartment, the home-cooked meals, how you'd ramble to him about your recent essay topic. to hear your voice. it was his personal heaven. every chance he could, he'd take photos of the cities he was in. he sent flowers every so often, and even got his hands on small souvenirs to send back home to you. you were on his mind during this sudden propelling into racing success.

if you couldn't go with him. then he'd simply bring the locations to you. as he once said to you, "anything for you, mrs. colapinto." then winked at you when your face went hot. he the laughed when you smacked him in the arms. it only made you face hot when franco mentioned marriage so casually. off handed comments to make you his bride. you knew you wanted to marry him, but everything felt too busy at the moment to take that next step. you didn't need him to feel the pressure of marriage on top of f1.

so it was a total shock when he proposed over a home-made dinner during a small break in the season. while you were about to enjoy the meal you made together, you caught sight of the small diamond in the ring. the way it caught the yellowing light of the dining area. you choked on your meal when he asked, "my love, will you marry me?" he put the velvet box down to hand you his water glass to help you swallow down the food, "i'm so sorry! i should've waited till after you ate!!" then when you stopped choking, you smiled between heavy breaths and he smiled too.

"franco." you said, you did get a little misty eyed when he rounded the table to put the ring on you. you kissed him deeply.

you two had your wedding during the off-season. it was a spur of a moment with few witnesses with dinner after. but word of the marriage wasn't kept quiet for long. people caught sight of you leaving the courthouse in white with franco in a suit. so you were franco's sweetheart, now his wife. everyone wanted to know who franco's little secret was. just a regular university student with no much of a social media presence. except for maybe a semi-active tubmlr, where many found out that you were a lewis hamilton fan. but other than that there was no personal information. but while you were on your honeymoon for the rest of the break, the press couldn't wait to get more information about you, and franco was more comfortable to formally introduce you. they juat had to be nice about it. you spent the break overseas and he happily kissed you in front of the cameras.

when you asked him what changed, he said, "you're my wife now! i want to show you off because if they are cruel, i can better stand up for you. protect you!" and then gave you what felt like a dozen kisses.

much of the honeymoon was spend in bed however, curled up in the rented apartment. the bed was soft and of course franco wanted to make you feel loved. to make love to his wife. hours spent against you. he loved when you rode him, the jolt of your body as you rolled your hips against him.

the heat got caught in your throat as you oved against him. you felt amazing as you made love- in all fairness, you sexual activity went from tender to rough fairly quickly.

"that's it, my love, my wife. you feel amazing, i am addicted to you." nothing else mattered in the bedroom except for your hips pressed against him and your hands on his chest. the feeling of you moving up and down on his cock with a needy want. his praise for you was heavy as you clenched around his cock, "beyond beautiful, my love. stunning. i knew i wanted to be with you the moment i met you. i love you, i love you."

"fuck, franco." you painted nails dug into his shoulders as you moved with all the force in your body.

his cock twitched inside of you, his words got filthier as the heat coursed through him quicker, "all mind, but you knew that. i'm so in love with you, there are zero words for it. never want or need anyone else. no, no, not when i have you. you're all mine just as i am yours." and met your pace. a sweet moan left his lips. you shifted against him and he only held onto you tighter. the headboard rocked against the wall a little. he wanted you all, and now as your husband, he could have it.

you didn't last much longer. you came first, then he did. and then, like a little devil, he teased your clit until you came once more. which made you tense up and kiss him deeply on the lips. you hissed, "fuck, honey."

"i know my love, you feel beautiful under my touch. as you should be." his voice laced with want and love, you were his and his only. you soon laid out with him in bed as the afternoon light shined through. he held you in his arms and you laid a hand on his chest. the diamond glimmered in the light as you laid curled up with your franco, your husband.

you stayed close to him, feeling his love as the two of you continued to enjoy your honeymoon together, some years in the making.

franco made a post the day after your honeymoon ended. with various photos throughout your relationship. you did however blush when you saw one of the photos, when you two were still teenagers, when right before when he moved to italy. there was you in his old racing helmet, you at his birthday party doing drunk karaoke together, and a finally a photo when you went to an art gallery together. an additional photo was posted of you on the bus with him to the williams headquarters. the caption read, "you have brought life into my world, let's always grow and love alongside each other. my beautiful, mrs. colapinto." <3

[ra-vio]

ravio I started drawing spring of last year

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader x batfamily

• -------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇♧ --------------------•

Author's note: I've been reading a lot of batfam x reader, and today I got this idea in my mind. I don't know if someone wrote something similar, and I apologize if so.

Warnings: English is not my first language, and it may contain grammar mistakes.

All in all, it's just a quick sketch I wanted to share with the world. I hope you will enjoy reading it. And I may write something more on this.

• -------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇♧ --------------------•

Joker's kid! reader, who hates his father, because he never cared, he sees you as his pawn, way to lure Batman in

Joker's kid! reader, who, without any connection to the real world, understands, that the way Jokers acts is just not right

Joker's kid! reader, who barely has any sanity and has so many mental issues, that they don't even know how to untangle their emotions or what they feel

Joker's kid! reader, who hopes that one day, Batman would put their dad into the prison for good. But this hope is crushed every time more with every Joker's escape from prison

Joker's kid! reader, who hoped that his mother would take them with her, but when she never did, was too busy with building her new life. After that, they started to think that they were too much of the burden

Joker's kid! reader, who has to hide in the corners of the crime alley, because they have nowhere to go until Joker breaks out and find them again. They are so scared, hungry, cold, but they know there is practically nothing they can do

Joker's kid! reader, who is afraid of Batman. They themselves saw how many times their father. Yet, they can't help but feel something light bubbling in their chest as they look at him.

Joker's kid! reader, Who is weirded out by how Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing act around batman, but they found themselves fascinated by it

Joker's kid! reader, who saw and decided to follow Batman out of desperation. They just wanted to this all end, and at least, Batman could do that, they saw her

Joker's kid! reader, who was scared by how long Batman was silent, how he stared at them. How he crouched down to their level. It felt like he was looking in their soul. Of course he knows who their are, he just never expected them to come to him. They may never know, but he was so relived to see that the this kid was not following their father.

Joker's kid! reader, who was shocked by how gentle Batman's voice sounded, how gently he put his hand on the shoulder, how he led them to his batmobile, how he gently buckled up their belt, how he put blanket on them (why would Batman have a spare blanket in the batmobile?).

Joker's kid! reader, who had to spend so much time in the medbay, not only because they were malnourished, but because they had so much health issues.

Joker's kid! reader, who is visited by Batman on many occasions, and were shocked by his care. Why he was so caring? Gentle? Was it a part of some elaborate scheme?

Joker's kid! reader, who had to learn identity of Batman and batfamily, because they would be moved to the manor. At one hand, it was a good change, but they were so scared.

Joker's kid! reader, who recives unpleasant glances from all the family: Dick looks at them like they are sick animal, Jason looks like their are a ticking bomb, Tim like they are remnants of his nightmares, Damian like they are disgusting criminal.

Joker's kid! reader, who think they all will hate them more because they keep breaking things (they just don't know how to use them). Alfred looks at them with such an intense gaze, that they couldn't help but shiver.

Joker's kid! reader, who looks at interactions between Bruce and wounders if this is how familiar is? Is it supposed to be warm like this? Is that care? Is that what happiness is?

Joker's kid! reader, who thinks that they are so out of place. They do not deserve this, not after what their father has done.

Joker's kid! reader, who just want to have be a part of family too

• -------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇♧ --------------------•

Thank you so much for reading! Please, feel free to share your opinions. I hope you have a good day!

[arjunasearth]

🙇🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️ i mean i watch all the hysteria about the tiktok ban going on . Yea, censorship is NOT necessarily a good thing- it depends, tho. have u forgotten how many othere social media platforms there are? And what ppl stand behind them, what amounts of money? I feel explicitly sorry for artists and musicians on tiktok who got randomly cut. I hope they find a way to shift their music nd art to another platform or (what would be the best) to their own website. The media does censorship all of the time and i dont see ppl whining as much as they do about shortvids on tiktok lol. Im def too old for tiktok anyway and never felt a call to use it. Oh and i see teens down here dressing as practically all teens on tiktok, like cut out dolls from magazines...truly scary. Copying sick trends and behaving like adults, wannabes that got a lil bit too lost in their smartphones. I hope for them to get at least some time off their screens. We live in a world where ppl are whining more about banning a platform than about what the platform actually did and how they continously stole data (not to name other platforms....). I wish more ppl would actually talk about what the company did or maybe some leaked docs whatsoever. It would be truly helpful to understand the motivations behind it.besides that, i saw so many vids being shared from tiktok on other platforms - it's ridiculous. I just wish ppl would talk more about the (media) companies and how alarmingly much of our data they possess.

ok i need people who are happy about the tiktok ban to understand your opinion should actually have nothing to do with the fact that it’s tiktok. like you can hate tiktok. but supporting the ban is supporting censorship, full stop.

like, i fucking hate twitter. it’s a hellhole. would i celebrate if it went bankrupt and shutdown? probably! would i celebrate if the GOVERNMENT BANNED IT? ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT. because the government SHOULD NOT be making decisions about how and what people are allowed to talk about on the internet. ever.

“i don’t like the precedent but im happy if it’s just tiktok” stfu and think for a second if they only ban tiktok and nothing else ever that’s still censorship

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters: part four

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part four word count: 15.8k

part four warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, dark themes, descriptions of past abuse (non-explicit), even MORE tragic backstories, a little sexiness

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

note/disclaimer: EVERYONE DOUBTED ME. I DOUBTED MYSELF. BUT DESPITE IT ALLLLLLL HERE IS PART FOUR!!!!!!! Enjoy my friends, and then tell me about it! As always, happy reading ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

When you wake up, it’s with a pounding headache and a deep wave of something that almost tastes like regret. 

Through the jumble of your sleep-addled mind, it takes you a few moments to locate the source of that uneasy feeling. But as soon as you do, it washes over you in a sweeping tide of sensation. 

Images, sounds, tastes. Feelings. 

You’re lying in your bed. Alone. But your mind isn’t convinced of it. 

For long, heavy moments, if you screw your eyes shut tightly enough, you’re somewhere else entirely. 

Notches of your spine pressed against the expanse of a wall. Long fingers, ones  that don’t belong to you, toying with the hem of your shirt. Tracing the skin beneath your ribs. 

Sighs that you swallow. Lips pressed against your own. Teeth. 

Desperate, heady, sordid.

A brief stinging sensation. The faint, metallic taste of blood. 

The breathy pleas that follow. 

All at once, all over again, you’re lost in it. Drowning in it. Consumed by it. 

It’s a ghost of the real thing, a mere shadow in comparison. But you’re aching with it just the same. 

Through the muddle in your mind, you barely remember getting home. 

Footsteps and movement and other mundane details are lost to memories of a much headier nature. 

Lips against yours in the cover of darkness outside your apartment door. Fervent whispers of words that sound like “Bad idea” and “Not tonight.”

But still. He followed you in. Or at least you think he did. There’s far too much room for error in the recesses of your clouded memory.

It feels real, though. The recollection of gentle fingers in your hair. Soothing this time. With the intent to calm, subdue. Creating distance from desperation instead of adding to it. 

The slow press of lips that you wish you had more time to become familiar with. Against your temple this time, the bridge of your nose, the swell of your cheekbone. 

And a final, quiet command. 

“Sleep,” he’d insisted. 

And you hadn’t wanted to, not really. But no matter how many encounters you’ve had with immortality, you’re still woefully confined to the constraints of your humanity. And exhaustion still has clutches you can’t escape. 

Eyelids flickering, unconsciousness sang to you like a siren song until you were unable to resist its lull any longer. 

And there had been no promises between the two of you, but waking up alone was not what you expected. 

It’s undeniable though, even as you sit up, sheets tangling around your hips. You’re still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They’re wrinkled – a result of fervent ministrations and a long night of sleep disturbed only by strikingly vivid dreams. 

But even though small remnants of his presence remain, your room is empty, save for you. 

Rolling your neck in a slow circle, you wince at the stiffness, the tinge of pain you feel as it crosses above your left shoulder. 

The rest of your body carries a similar heaviness. As you ease your way out of bed, your limbs feel tight, stiff, overworked. 

Still, you force your feet to carry you to the space outside your bedroom. If you’re honest, part of you is hoping that you’ll find him waiting for you there. But as your eyes trace over the expanse of your apartment, your stomach sinks with disappointment. 

Empty. Just like your bedroom. 

It’s not enough to make you panic. Not yet. There are a thousand possible explanations for his absence. Before you start to decide which one is most likely, a knock echoes against your front door. 

And it’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which you cross your living room. 

But you can’t swallow the immediate sense of relief you feel. Coupled with a sudden swoop that reaches all the way to the pit of your stomach. 

Because he’s here. He’s here and it’s real and the surge of butterflies is enough to have you forgetting any potential complications. 

You know he can hear your footsteps, can certainly tell that your heart has just begun to beat unnaturally fast, but you don’t care. Can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. 

You wonder if he feels it too, this magnetic pull. It clutches at your heart with a soft touch and pulls at your mind like nostalgia. As if you’re a girl with a crush, writing the details of your affection in the secrecy of a diary and doodling hearts along the border. 

You pause, hand on the doorknob. With your other hand, you flatten the top of your hair, self-consciously tucking a strand behind your ear. 

It defies logic. After all, any remaining mussing is of his doing. But still, you can’t suppress the desire to have him see you at your best. 

After one last deep breath, you twist the knob. A smile is already tugging at your lips, widening along with the door. 

But when it opens fully, your lips fall flat. It’s not Heeseung that stands on the other side. 

From where he lingers in the doorframe, Jake scratches at the back of his neck rather awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. 

“Jake?” Disappointment colors your voice in obvious strokes. You might feel bad about it if you weren’t so confused. 

“Hey, ___,” he returns. His exhale almost sounds like an apology and it has your stomach swooping again. This time in trepidation. Anxiety. “Can I come in?”

“Is he okay?” It’s probably rude, the way you ignore his question entirely. But suddenly, it’s all you can think of. Why is Jake here? Avoiding your gaze and already sounding regretful. 

“Heeseung’s fine,” Jake assures. Your brow furrows. He’s fine, but he’s not here. You can’t decide if that inspires relief or something far more unpleasant. 

The silence extends for a moment. Jake doesn’t offer any additional explanation. Instead, he requests again, “I have something to ask you, but it would probably be better in private.”

“Right,” you nod, forcing the unease in your gut away. “Would you like to come in?”

Jake smiles, a tight thing, before stepping inside wordlessly. When you shut the door behind him, you keep your back turned for a moment. Inhaling deeply, you try to regain a bit of control over your mounting emotions before turning to face him. 

Jake has already made his way to your couch. Instantly, you're reminded of when another guest of yours did the same. It’s almost enough to send you spiraling again.

Jake, unaware of your inner thoughts, doesn’t let you linger in them for long. Instead he motions to the seat opposite of him. “Come sit.”

You frown, still fraught with nerves. Jake sounds far too serious for this conversation to be anything but unpleasant. Following his request, you slide down into the chair across from him. 

Once you’re seated, he doesn’t waste any time. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got an errand for us today.”

Raising your brow, you wordlessly urge him to elaborate. 

Jake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, metal object. It takes a moment for you to recognize it, but once you do, your stomach only sinks further. 

It’s a key. The key. The same one you found last night. Along with someone whose absence is still very much unexplained. 

Jake looks at you, but your gaze is still trained on the object in his hand. “How do you feel about a return trip to New Haven?”

New Haven. You can hardly process his question, much less answer it. 

Because they were together. Heeseung gave the key to Jake. Intentionally passed it along to him. And despite all of the possible explanations, you can only fixate on one. 

He’s avoiding you.

You don't say anything, but Jake reads your expression all the same. Gently, he sets the key on the table between the two of you. Again, he sighs. It’s an apologetic sound, and you hate it.  

A beat passes. Two. He doesn’t beat around the bush. “Something happened between you two, didn’t it?”

You don’t answer. At least not with words. But the way your eyes widen is confirmation enough. 

“I—” You can’t decide if lying would serve you any good here. Ultimately, you decide to stick with the truth. You have too many unanswered questions to play any games. “How did you know?”

Jake smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “After five hundred years, you kind of just… know.” He pauses for a moment, weighing his words. And then he adds, “You don’t have to tell me, of course. But you can. If you want to.”

You can’t think of anything you’d rather do less. It’s illogical and frivolous and entirely human, but you’re embarrassed. The things that passed between the two of you hold weight in your mind. Significance. Importance. 

And now he’s deliberately avoiding you. You can’t help but feel slighted. Played. Used, even. Your voice is small when you ask, “Did he say anything?”

Jake shakes his head. “He’s been pretty silent. Even more so than usual.”

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t. But answers are still lingering far beyond your reach. Jake might not be privy to the details of your affection, but he does know Heeseung like the back of his hand. 

With a deep exhale, you push your pride to the side. 

“We…” you trail off, searching for the right words. Something that won’t feel too invasive, too intimate to share. “We had a… moment. And I thought— well,” you frown, suddenly unaware of your own expectations, “I guess I didn't know what I thought. But I didn’t expect him to avoid me.”

“Ah,” Jake enunciates carefully. “That would explain why he’s been so moody today.” He nods to himself, pausing briefly before adding, “It’s not because of you.”

You just give him a look, obviously disbelieving. 

“I mean, it’s not because of you specifically,” Jake clarifies. “It’s…  a bit difficult to explain. Heeseung is…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “guarded, as I’m sure you can tell. He’s quiet, reserved. He keeps a lot of himself locked up in his own head, and he ruminates on everything. Predicts a million terrible outcomes of every situation and fixates on them until he’s convinced himself that everything will end in flames.” 

“So a raging pessimist, essentially.”

“Maybe,” Jake pauses. “But I think that you have to consider his perspective, too. That’s the thing about immortality. It’s… lonely. Often unbearably so. We all deal with that in our own ways. Sunghoon and his bed are one extreme end of that. Heeseung’s the other.”

You frown. He’s skirting around the edges. Hinting at something without fully saying it and you’re tired of guessing. 

Jake sighs. “I won’t pretend to know everything that’s happened between you, but Heeseung’s not just acting irrationally.”

Your brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

“I…” This time it’s Jake that hesitates. A struggle plays out across his features, as if he can’t decide whether this story is one he should share. Finally, he exhales. “It’s not really my story to tell. But Jungwon had a similar situation, I guess you could say. We had only been changed for around twenty years when he met this girl. It was purely by chance. And it was completely innocent at first. She was an apprentice at the tailor shop in the town we were living in. A human one.”

Your stomach is sinking with every word. The story has barely begun, but you call tell from the tension in Jake’s expression that it doesn’t have a happy ending. 

“He never intended for anything to happen, but he met her once and then he kept going back. It wasn’t intentional, but things spiraled from there. Until he was in far too deep.”

Jake is sparing plenty of details, but even the vague picture he paints is enough to have the unpleasant feeling solidifying in your gut. 

“And there was nothing dramatic, really. No big fight or fall out.” Jake sighs. “But she got older. And he didn’t. For the time they had, they made each other happy. In a lot of ways, they were perfect for each other. Except for in the one way that mattered.”

His immortality. Her humanity. Jake doesn’t say it, but the truth is there all the same. 

“Their love fell apart in a quiet way. Slowly, steadily. Five years had passed, and Jungwon looked the same. She started getting suspicious. He was running out of excuses and had to cut contact just to keep us all safe.”

A part of your heart breaks for him, for the love that he lost, for the circumstances that were always going to dangle just outside of his reach. 

“He couldn’t help it, though. He kept tabs on her. And she did what every human does. She nursed her broken heart, and then she moved on. She fell in love and found a family. Including a daughter.

“But for Jungwon… It broke him. For almost two hundred years, he felt like a shell of himself. And we all watched it happen, but I think it hit Heeseung the hardest. Out of all of us, he was always the romantic, although you’d never guess that now.” 

Jake smiles wryly and the dread in your stomach hardens into a rock. 

“He might not have to hide what he is from you, but that will only buy you so much time.” Jake meets your eye, imploring you to understand. “No matter what happens between the two of you, you’ll always have something he doesn’t: the ability to move on. To forget. To find someone that fits into your life in all the right ways. He’ll never have that, no matter what he wants. No matter what he feels.”

Jake’s gaze settles on the side of your neck. The bite has already begun to fade, scar tissue covering what was once an angry red wound. 

“And he’s already led to you getting injured once. I can’t imagine the kind of guilt he’s probably feeling over that.”

You’re quick to protest. “But that wasn’t his fault—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jake shakes his head. “That’s how he sees it.”

Lips tightening, you search for holes to poke in his logic. “Isn’t it better to take that risk? You can’t avoid a chance at happiness just because you’re worried it will lead to sorrow in the future.”

“That’s a nice perspective,” Jake agrees. “But it’s a human one. If you want to understand him, you have to consider what it’s like for him. His regrets and sorrows aren’t like yours. They don’t have an end date. They’ll live forever, just like him.”

“But so will the good memories—”

“No.” Jake shakes his head. “They won’t. Time will warp them, eat at them, until the good memories hurt just as bad as the awful ones. Maybe even worse.”

You flinch as if you’ve been scolded. Jake’s features soften. “I don’t expect you to understand. And I know he doesn’t either. He doesn’t expect your understanding or patience or forgiveness. He wouldn’t ask that of you, because he knows it’s not fair. Because he knows that it’s different for you.”

It’s selfless. It’s considerate.

You hate it regardless.  

Carefully, Jake adds a final suggestion, “For you and him, for the sake of your own peace, it might be best for you to do the same.”

His words settle heavily into the air. 

Do the same. It’s vague enough to be open to interpretation, but no matter how you warp it, there’s always one striking similarity. 

Jake is encouraging you to move on, to forget about last night and everything that led to it. To let memories fade and moments die before they can grow into anything stronger. 

And in the grand scheme of things, even in your limited mortal lifespan, it really hasn’t been that long. The first time you saw Heeseung was only a handful of months ago, and the taste of his name was bitter on your tongue for the majority of it. 

There have been so many versions of him. A rival classmate. A pesky annoyance. A savior. A guardian. A lover. 

A vampire. 

You don’t know him. Not really. You’ve seen parts of him, and the remaining pieces feel like something that would be all too easy to want. To love, even. 

And maybe Jake is right. He has the advantage of perspective. He’s seen history unfold and recognizes the patterns. He’s terrified that tragedy will repeat itself. 

But it doesn’t make it any easier – the thought of letting him go. 

Your feelings might be mortal. Your days may be limited, but that doesn’t make them any less significant. 

Amidst all the uncertainty, you know one thing for sure. It’s not a conversation with Jake that will give you any kind of closure, that will lead to any final decision. 

You need to talk to him. To Heeseung. Need to hear his thoughts and fears and desires in his own words. Need him to listen to yours. 

You’re not sure how to go about it. If he’s hellbent on avoiding you, there’s little you can do. 

But there must be something. Some way of getting to him. 

Before you have long to linger on it, another knock sounds against your door. It’s much sharper, more urgent than Jake’s was. 

Immediately, your eyes flicker to the vampire across from you, widening in surprise. 

Jake just sighs, shaking his head slightly. “I apologize in advance.”

Although slightly cryptic, it’s confirmation that whoever is on the other side poses no threat. Slowly, you stand, making your way back to your front door. 

Opening it, you find five overeager faces crowded in your doorframe. 

“Morning, ___,” Sunoo beams. “Hope you slept well.”

 “I don’t know,” Niki whispers, “Those look like some pretty serious dark circles.”

“Dude,” Sunghoon elbows him. “You can’t just say that.”

“Yeah,” Jay nods. “That’s super rude.” Turning to you, he gives you a wide smile. “You look great, ___. Not tired at all.”

In the center of them all, Jungwon just sighs. “Sorry to intrude like this.” Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck. “Is there any chance you could invite us in?”

Two minutes later, the sight that greets you would be enough to make you laugh out loud if the surrounding circumstances weren’t so dire. 

Your couch is far too small for the five vampires crowded onto it, elbows flying into ribs every time someone adjusts too far in one direction. Next to the chaos, Jungwon leans against the arm of the couch, eyes trained on you. 

His gaze feels assessing, almost. As if he’s trying to decipher the events of the previous day. Under his scrutiny, you do your best not to flush. 

From his seat at the far end on the couch, Jake’s lips pull into a flat line as another scooch sends him squished up even further against the armrest. “What are you all doing here?”

Jay smiles, nodding at you. “We came to check on our favorite human, of course.” 

“We heard you even snuck into your evil professor’s secret lair.” Sunghoon adds, nodding appreciatively. “Badass.”

“Plus we had to get out of the house.” Niki grimaces. “Heeseung is still in one of his moods.”

Despite yourself, you can’t quite help the expression that crosses your features as soon as his name is mentioned. 

As if that weren’t mortifying enough on its own, of course all six of them pick up on it. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Sunghoon waves his hand dismissively, entirely unaware of why you’re so affected by the sound of his name. “Being in a mood is just a regular Tuesday for Heeseung.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jay shudders, clutching at his neck. “When I mentioned that Jake was planning to go with ___ to New Haven so she could go back into the secret evil jail, I thought he was actually gonna throttle me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so–”

“Anyway,” Jungwon interjects. He might not have been privy to your conversation with Jake, but he is a bit better at picking up on the subtleties. “We did want to form a plan for your return to New Haven. I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but since you and Jake were already here, we thought this might be the best place for all of us to talk.”

Jungwon’s words barely register. He’s there. Heeseung is at their shared home. Of course he is. It makes sense. It’s the most likely place for him to be. 

But he’s there. They’ve all seen him. Talked to him. And now they’ve come here without him. 

“Right,” you nod, forcing a tight smile. “Well, we have the key from the professor’s university office now. And we don’t know for sure, but it just might open the chest I found last time at New Haven. As soon as we know that the professor is away from the building, I think we need to return and try to open it as soon as possible.” 

The thought of going back into that place fills you with a distinct sort of dread, but you need answers. You all do. 

Jungwon nods thoughtfully. “We can do that. We’ll get eyes on him first and establish a warning system for you and Jake.” Reaching into his back, he pulls out a pair of walkie talkies. “Heeseung also mentioned that there’s no cell service down there. The two of you can use these so that you’re not going in blind.”

Reaching forward, you take them from his outstretched hand. “These will be perfect,” you agree. 

“And ___,” Jungwon adds, suddenly serious. “Thank you. Truly. We know that none of this has been easy.” Five heads nod in near perfect unison. “But what you’re doing will save lives. There was another attack last night–”

“What?” You can’t mask your shock.

“A few miles outside of the city,” Jungwon confirms, lips pulled in a tight line. “In an area we hadn’t been patrolling. There were two victims.” Jungwon pauses, his words weighing heavy in the air. “High school students.” 

High school students. In recent weeks, death has become a familiar theme. But youth has it feeling brand new. You suddenly feel like crying. 

High school students. Kids. Children with their whole lives ahead of them. Dreams and plans and goals for the future. All lost in one tragic, horrific moment. 

Your heart hurts for their families, their classmates, their teachers. So many lives affected, changed, darkened. 

Teenagers whose worries should have extended only to homework and exams and finding a date for the prom. Not becoming headline news in an ongoing series of tragedies. 

Wait –

Headlines. News. 

Frantically, your eyes flick towards the clock on your counter. Last night really did do a number on you. You slept well past mid morning. If your clock is accurate, it’s dangerous close to one in the afternoon. Ignoring the fact that you can’t remember the last time you slept so late, you return to the more urgent matter at hand. 

Panicked, you turn to Jungwon. “We might have another problem. I’m supposed to have my first article for Professor Kim written in the next two hours. I don’t know if I–”

Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s already done.”

“What?” A confused frown pulls at your lips. “What do you mean? I haven’t written anything yet.”

Reaching for the bag he set down by his feet, Jungwon pulls out a small stack of papers. “He gave these to me this morning before we left,” he explains before handing them to you. 

Wordlessly, you reach out, accepting them. 

Fingers shaking slightly, your eyes trace the first handful of lines. 

It’s jarring – there’s no other way to describe it. 

You have no idea how he’s done it, but reading Heeseung’s writing feels a bit like looking into a mirror. It’s unsettling, just how easily he seems to be able to emulate you in his writing. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you wrote this yourself. 

Everything is perfect, down to the last detail. Words you’ve been scolded by past professors for overusing are scattered throughout. Unique turns of phrases that are hallmarks of your style are intricately weaved between paragraphs.

And it only solidifies your determination.  

You have to see him. You have to.    

Writing has always felt like an extension of your soul, a physical manifestation of your very being. And anyone that can capture you this intimately, this intricately, is not someone you can just forget. 

Jungwon, unaware of your inner turmoil, must mistake your silence for scrutiny. “Is it okay?” He asks, an edge of concern in his voice. “We still have some time, so if there’s anything you need to change–” 

“No, it’s…” you trail off, unsure how to describe the writing in front of you. “It’s exactly what I would have written. 

“Oh,” Jungwon nods. “Okay. Well… Good, then. I have the digital copy too. I’ll send it to you and you can pass it along to the professor.”

You nod, a bit numbly, still shaken by what you’ve just read, still brimming with the urge to confront Heeseung about it.  

Logically, you know that your visit to New Haven can’t be delayed for something as selfish as this. People, lives, an entire city, are hinging on answers you might find hidden there, after all. But as soon as you’ve finished, you know what you’ll do next. 

You decide, in your living room, surrounded by a group of six immortal beings, that it doesn’t matter if Heeseung has senses and skills for evasion that far outmatch yours. You will find a way to see him, to talk to him. You have to. 

But then your gaze shifts, lands back on Jungwon. There’s a slight frown that pulls at his lips as he talks to the others, assigning patrol duties and discussing potential complications for your upcoming mission. 

The longer your gaze lingers, the more you see it. The unmistakable weariness. Telltale signs of exhaustion. Jungwon might have lost the physical need for sleep, but the exhaustion that clings to him comes from a different source. And it runs deep. 

All at once, you can’t help but wonder what Jungwon was like, all those centuries ago. Before he met her. The human girl Jake told you about less than an hour ago. You wonder if he still thinks of her now. You know he must. 

You wonder if it hurts just as bad, if the sting is just as sharp every time. And that sends your thoughts spinning to a different, far more dangerous place. 

In five hundred years, when the only memories of you that remain are left in these seven boys, you want them to remember you with fondness. The kind that aches with affection instead of regret. 

If Heeseung wants to prevent an inevitable heartbreak, then you suppose you can’t blame him for it. But to you, his avoidance is cowardice. Distance won’t undo what’s already passed between you. 

If he wants space, then so be it. You have a key in your hands and pressing matters to attend to. Heeseung will only stay hidden so long, and it’s best to do what you can in the meantime. 

You owe it to them, to him, to everyone whose lives have been touched by recent tragedies, to do everything in your power to change the trajectory of current events. 

So, with a new determination, you push Heeseung a little more firmly into the back corner of your mind, tucking all of the loose edges and pressing thoughts into a neat, tidy box to be revisited later. 

Pulling out your phone, you open the digital version of the article Heeseung has written under your name. You give it one more once over, and it’s just as uncannily you as before. 

Tucking away every feeling that inspires for later, you turn back to Jake.

“So,” you venture, eyeing him as he turns the key over between his fingers. “Are you ready to do this?”

…..

New Haven feels only slightly less ominous in full daylight. Although the remnants of winter still cling to the air like a bad omen you can’t quite shake, sunlight streams through the clouds with the steadiness of a sure thing. 

At your side, Jake appears equally uncertain. 

“Your professor has interesting taste.” It’s a joke, something meant to lighten the mood, but you hear the wariness all the same. 

“Wait until you see the inside.”

Jake picks the lock with nearly as much ease as Heeseung had the night prior, and then the two of you are inside. 

Despite his initial uncertainties, Jake handles the looming hallways and odd shadows of the publishing house rather well. Knowing that the other boys have eyes on your professor and are protecting you from afar helps to abate some of the anxiety, even if you still have to force away a handful of unpleasant memories that threaten to rise. 

When the two of you reach Professor Kim’s office, you don’t bother to hesitate. By now, you know what you’ll find on the other side of the door. 

Jake, however, does give a double take at the massive painting you and Heeseung put back into place just one short night ago. 

Gauging his reaction in your periphery, you decide to play dumb. 

“Is something wrong?”

Jake just takes another long look at the painting of the open field, filled with flowers. He tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you think he rather resembles a curious puppy. 

“No.” Jake shakes his head. “Sorry, I just…” He takes one final look at the painting. “That painting just looked weirdly familiar for a minute.”

“Celedis, right?” You turn to face the vampire. “I thought the same thing, but Heeseung said it’s slightly different. Something about the flowers.”

At that, Jake doesn’t bother to mask his shock. “He told you about Celedis?”

“Showed me, actually. You know,” you reach your arm out towards him. “With the whole physical contact astral projection thing.”

You’re about to ask Jake to help you move the painting, but he’s still stuck in the details you’ve just revealed. 

Jaw nearly slack, he asks, “He showed you Celedis?”

“Yeah,” you frown. You didn’t realize this was new information. “I thought you knew. Back at your house, after I was attacked. He told me – er, showed me – about you guys.”

Remembering the water tower, you add, “And he’s used it, his ability, I mean, to show me other things about his past.” A memory surfaces, one of a young boy sneaking pastries from a medieval kitchen. Your heart gives a sudden lurch. “About Celedis.”

“Fuck, Heeseung.” Jake swears under his breath, but you hear it all the same. 

“Was he not supposed to?” Despite your current feelings of frustration towards Heeseung, your intentions aren’t to get him in trouble or create any sort of rift between him and the others. Suddenly, you’re scrambling to backtrack. “It was really only a couple of things to help me understand, I promise. He would never compromise your safety or–”

“It’s not that.” Jake shakes his head, interrupting. “Heeseung just… his ability isn’t one he uses often.”

At that, your brow furrows. That strikes you as odd. All things considered, it seems like a rather useful gift that should have found several practical applications over the past five hundred odd years. “Why not?” you ask. 

“It’s not…” Jake trails off, hesitating. Trying to decide how much he should share. “It’s not exactly something he takes pleasure in doing.”

Your brow creases further. That only leaves you with more questions than answers. You can’t remember him being particularly bothered either of the times he exercised his ability with you. “What do you mean?”

Again, Jake hesitates. His teeth worry at his bottom lip like that will prevent words from spilling out. “It’s not really my story to tell.”

“What story?” The corners of your lips pull downwards. “I don’t understand.”

For a moment, Jake just takes a long look at you. And then he sighs. “Heeseung explained Celedis to you?”

You nod.

“Including our origin story?” Jake pauses. “Our families?”

Again, you nod. “You were all nobles.”

Jake hums in agreement. “Yeah, we were. After peace was forged, the kingdom had to reorganize itself a bit. Our families were allies now, partners instead of enemies. Eventually, it was decided that each of our families would spearhead one sector of rulership, if you will.” Pausing for a moment, Jake gauges your reaction from his periphery. He asks, “Did he tell you about this?”

Deciding honesty will serve you best here, you shake your head. 

Much to your gratefulness, Jake just sighs again. “My family primarily dealt with the management of food resources. My father tracked annual crop production, rainfall, resources allocation, things like that.”

“Okay…” you nod, trailing off. The picture he paints is a logical one, but you don’t see a connection to Heeseung’s strange supernatural ability yet. 

Jake continues, “Heeseung’s father, on the other hand, always had a knack for strategy. It was decided that his family would be the de facto head of defense and protection of the kingdom. We were allies, but there was still worry that enemies from outside Celedis’ borders might arise. Although, his father’s methods were always a bit more… aggressive than you’d expect in peacetime.”

Frowning, it's hard to imagine. You suppose that hter may be sides to Heeseung you haven’t yet seen, but it’s difficult to think of him as anything but patient. Gentle. Hearing that his father was the complete opposite doesn’t sit well with you. Quietly, you wait for Jake to continue. 

“Even though we kept aging until we were twenty-one, our abilities manifested when we were just kids. And Heeseung, at ten years old, did what any child would do when he suddenly realized he could project his consciousness through touch.” Jake sighs again. “He told his mother.”

The memory comes rushing back unbidden. Heeseung isn’t here to project any visions, but all of a sudden, you feel like you’re back in that field anyway. Watching silently, helpless, as a tiny version of Heeseung accidentally makes his friend ill after his ability manifests for the first time. All over again, your heart hurts for him. Too small to understand what was happening, too frightened to do anything but seek consultation from his mother. 

“His father, of course,” Jake says, “eventually found out, too. And like any great strategist, he saw this newfound ability first and foremost as a tool. Heeseung wasn’t just a heir anymore. He was a weapon. And he was brought along to things no ten-year-old should have to see. War meetings, strategy sessions. Prisoner interrogations.” Jake’s eyes drop to the floor. “Torture, mutilation, executions. He was made to watch all of it.”

The small gasp you let out is involuntary. 

Jake’s eyes find you again. “And then, afterwards, he was forced to relive it, over and over and over. His hand on top of his father’s, so that the kingdom’s leader of defense could analyze every detail. Construct the perfect strategies, devise the best methods for extracting information, for making others bend to his iron will.”

Your stomach rolls with a fresh wave of nausea. 

Jake finishes with, “I’ve known Heeseung for five hundred years, and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s ever utilized his ability with me. Every single one of them has been out of sheer necessity.”

And explaining Celedis to you, sharing pieces of his long lost childhood, are decidedly not. The gravity of it all sinks in with full force, and you suddenly feel as if your knees might buckle under the weight of it all. 

You have to see him. You ache with it now, the overwhelming urge to just say fuck it and run until your feet have carried you all the way to their shared home. Until your fist connects with the outside of his bedroom door and the only barriers that exist between the two of you are easily breakable. 

But Jake has a key in his pocket, and you have the fate of a city resting in the liminal space between you. Selfish desires, no matter how strong, will have to wait. 

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, searching for the right words. “Thank you. For telling me, I mean. For trusting me.” 

Jake nods. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is. Even Jungwon, although he might never admit it out loud. It’s been a while since we’ve spent so much time around a human. They’re all really fond of you, you know.” Jake grins, something just a bit devious entering his eyes. “It drives Heeseung insane.”

“Well,” you return, “For what it’s worth, I’m quite fond of you all, too. Definitely my seven favorite vampires.”

“Aw,” Jake brings a hand to his heart. “You’re too kind. I’m honored, truly.”

Turning back towards the painting, it’s a sobering reminder of why you’re here, what you still need to do. Looking towards Jake at your side, you request, “Help me move this?”

Nodding, a refound sense of determination enters his gaze. “Let’s do it.” 

Painting aside and key in your hand, you find yourself once again face to face with the small opening that separates Professor Kim’s office from that horrifying dungeon of a room that sits just below it. 

Jake hands you a walkie talkie, and you eye it warily for a moment. “We’re sure these things work?’

“Positive,” Jake nods. “We tested them this morning. Oh, and I brought you this, too.” Reaching out, he hands you a headlamp. “He mentioned that it’s pretty dark down there.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Clipping the walkie talkie onto your belt loop, you take the light from Jake, securing the headband around your temple. Even though the gravity of the situation isn’t lost on you, you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous. Giving your front pocket a final tap, you confirm that the key is tucked away safely. “Well,” you turn back to Jake, “see you on the other side.”

“Good luck,” he nods. “And if anything, and I do mean anything, feels off, use that to talk to me, okay?” He just his chin at the walkie talkie at your waist. 

“I will,” you promise. 

And then, with just one final glance over your shoulder, you’re suspended into darkness just as surely as the previous night. For a moment, you consider igniting your headlamp. But you decide against it rather quickly. It’s probably best that you don’t see just how far beneath you the ground is. 

This time, thankfully, your decent feels much shorter. With some of the uncertainty stripped away, your feet are touching solid ground before you know it. 

Once you’re firmly planted, you reach for the light on your forehead. 

It ignites, shooting a strong beam of light straight out in front of you. 

Again, you fight the shiver that traces the length of your spine. It is quite cold down here, with a certain dampness that permeates into your bones, but that’s not why you shudder. 

WIth light revealing their secrets, the cells that line the passage are even more ominous. Dark, rusted iron lies in wait on either side of you. 

Handcuffs, chains, spare pieces of metal you’re sure you don’t want to know the purpose for, line your path as you force your feet forward. Even if you wanted to take a closer look, that’s not why you’re here today. Mission in mind, you continue down the long, dark path towards the opening where you know you’ll find the chest.  

Finally, after a few long minutes, you’re face-to-face with the locked chest again. The desk is still there, too, undisturbed. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach into your pocket, retrieving the key from Professor Kim’s university office. Forcing away any other lingering memories of the previous night that threaten to rise, you bring the key to the lock. 

Your hands are shaking. The cold, the fear, the anticipation. They all settle heavy in your bones and leave you with tremors you can’t quite stop. 

“C’mon,” you whisper out loud to the darkness, with no one but you and the faint sound of dripping water to hear. “Come on.”

Finally, the key aligns just right. 

Despite the tremble in your fingers, despite the improbability that this key even matches this lock, it slides in with ease. 

And when you turn it to the right, you hear a telltale click. 

In your shaking grip, the lock falls open. Sliding the key back into your pocket, you pull the lock out of the loop of the front of the chest. Setting it down at your feet, you take one deep inhale. 

And then, with hands that still tremble, you push the heavy lid of the chest open. 

You’re not sure what you expect. Something horrific, maybe. Some damning evidence of evildoing. Something soaked in blood, something so explicitly terrible that there’s no guesswork to be done. 

But the chest contains only two things. 

The first is a massive stash of what you assume must be distilled moonflower. Organized neatly into rows upon rows of tiny small vials that look terribly similar to the contraption he used to shoot you in the neck the first time you came to the publishing house.

This, in and of itself, feels like a revelation. According to Heeseung, moonflower is rare. And knowledge on proper distillation processes is even more obsolete. To have this much of it distilled and on hand… it must mean something. 

The chest is nearly overflowing with the small vials, save for a small space, just in the middle, where a book sits nestled amongst the moonflower. 

A book that looks nearly identical to one you’ve seen before. To one that still sits forgotten in the bottom drawer of the dresser next to your bed. 

Hands still unsteady, you reach for it. 

At first glance, it’s an exact copy of the strange book you found in the university library all those weeks ago. But as you lean closer, you notice one key difference. The title. 

The one you found tucked away on a library shelf was called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality. 

But it must be part of a set, an anthology of sorts. 

Because the book between your shaking fingers stares back at you with the title Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction. 

Book in your hands, you realize you have a dilemma. The volume is far too thick to take pictures of every page, but removing it from the chest to bring with you feels risky. 

At least this time, you think as you reach for the walkie talkie at your waist, you don’t have to make all of your decisions alone. 

Pressing the button on the side, you speak into the receiver. “Hey Jake, you there?”

A handful of seconds pass before his response filters through. It’s crackly but perfectly audible. “I’m here. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I found something. A book. It’s pretty hefty. I won’t be able to take pictures of all of the pages. Do you think I should bring it with me or just take a few photos and leave it here?”

“It was in the chest?” Jake asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I think it might be too risky to bring with me.”

“I agree,” Jake confirms. “Just take a few pictures, and then get out of there.”

“Will do,” you agree. “See you soon.” You secure the walkie talkie back on your belt loop. 

Setting the book down on the cold ground, you sink to your knees in front of it. Reaching for your phone, the first picture youtube is of the front cover.  

Deciding that they’ll want evidence of the moonflower as well, you reach up to angle your camera towards the open chest. 

And then you return to the book. Opening it to the first page, the similarities are uncanny to the one you found in the library before. The font, the slight discoloration, the ink smudges lost to time. It’s too overwhelming to just be a series of unlikely coincidences. It must be connected to the other Sacred Monsters. 

Taking quick photos as you flip through the pages, you force yourself not to linger, no matter how much curiosity eats away at you. You’ll have time to review the pages later, you tell yourself. Right now, the best course of action is to get in and out as quickly as you can. 

Still, a handful of phrases and words jump out at you as you photograph the pages. 

Moonflower distillation…

Degeneration…

Test subjects…

Nightshade…

And finally, just as you’re drawing to the end of the book, a phrase catches your eye. 

The Kingdom of Celedis. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, body going cold.

He knows. You’re not sure how much. You're not sure exactly what. You have no idea why. But your professor has a book locked away in a secret underground prison beneath his publishing house. A book that mentions a kingdom lost to time, forgotten by everyone, preserved only in the minds of seven immortal beings. 

Professor Kim knows. And somehow, that’s more terrifying than anything else contained in this dark, decrepit place. 

Taking a photo of the final page in the book, you let it fall shut once again. Placing it back in the chest just as meticulously as you found it, you close the lid again and slide the padlock through the hold. 

The key goes in just as easily this time, locks as easily as it opened. Despite the obvious age of everything else in this place, the lock has no signs of rust, no hint of disuse. 

It’s been opened regularly, you assume. And likely by your professor. 

As that realization begins to settle, the walkie talkie on your hip gives another disconcerting crackle. Immediately, your heart leaps into your throat, mind spinning with the worst possibilities. 

You’re at the very end of the passage. It will take you at least ten minutes to be back in the office and another three to be out of the publishing house. More than that if you account for the potential of your professor’s heightened senses. 

After a moment of extended silence, Jake’s voice filters through. 

“Everything still okay down there?”

Your mind swims with relief, but your pulse doesn’t slow. 

Bringing the device to your mouth, you press the button on the side. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just finished. I’ll be back up soon.”

Another beat of silence passes. And then, “Glad to hear it. I’ll be here.”

But you can’t help but confirm, “They still have eyes on Professor Kim?”

Jake answers quickly, “Yeah. Sunghoon and Niki have eyes on him. He hasn’t left his house.”

Tucking the key back into your pocket, you begin the journey back, your quick footsteps echoing against wet stone. “Good. See you soon.”

Down the narrow passageway, your phone feels leaden in your pocket, weighed down with evidence you’re not sure how to parse. You want to be out of here as quickly as you can, back in your apartment where you can compare the two books. Where you can show them to the others. 

Thankfully, again, the way out feels shorter. Despite the ache in your muscles as you pull your body up the ladder, time passes quickly as you ascend back to the publishing house. 

True to his word, Jake waits for you just outside of the narrow entrance. He reaches out a hand to help pull you back into the small room. 

Giving you a quick once over, he frowns. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You practically have. Celedis. But this isn’t the place. 

You shake your head and tell him as much. “Not here.”

Despite the brevity of your words, Jake understands. Instead of pressing you further, he helps you slide the mural back into position, once again covering the opening to the room below. 

Giving the painting a final look, you’re sure of it now. It is Celedis. It has to be. Even if some of the details are slightly wrong. 

But your head is spinning and your thoughts are jumbled and you can’t be the only one with the weight of so many revelations weighing on your mind. 

As the two of you make your way back down the hallway towards the front door of New Haven, Jake tells you, “We’ll reconvene at our place. We can go over everything there.”

You shake your head. “Tell everyone to meet at my apartment instead.” 

“What?” A flicker of confusion creases his brow as his head tilts to the side. “Why?”

“It’ll make sense soon, I promise,” you tell him. “There’s something there I need to show you. All of you.”

Jake glances at you, but he doesn’t question you further. His earlier words echo in your mind. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is.”

At your side, he pulls out his phone as you pull the door to New Haven shut behind you. “Jungwon,” you hear him say. “Change of plans. We’ll meet at her apartment instead.” 

Again, the questions must be short lived, and Jake is ending the conversation just as quickly as it started. 

…..

When you arrive back at your apartment, Jungwon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki are waiting for you in the parking lot. 

Stepping out of the driver’s seat, Jake nods at Jungwon. Then, after glancing around, he asks, “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“Keeping an eye on the professor,” Jungwon answers. “We thought it would be best to have at least one of us tailing him still.”

Jake nods. 

Jungwon turns to you. “I take it you found something. And there’s something here at your apartment you want us to see?”

You nod. “Yeah. A… well, a book. Two books, actually,” you amend. “Let’s go up,” you nod at the staircase, “and I can show you.”

Jungwon hesitates for a moment. A meaningful glance that you can’t quite decipher passes between the five of them. 

“Okay,” he finally acquiesces. “Lead the way.”

Phone heavy in your pocket, you climb the two flights of stairs with the five of them trailing behind you. The distance they put between you is slightly odd, but you don’t have much space left in your mind to think much of it. 

That is, until you reach your doorstep. And find it already occupied. 

“Heeseung,” you breathe. A force of habit more than anything. 

He’s already looking at you. Heard your conversation in the parking lot and your footsteps on the stairs and your heartbeat in your chest. He knew the exact moment you would round the corner and the number of breaths it would take you to reach him. 

His dark eyes reflect afternoon sunlight in a way that looks all too much like stars, and you have no idea what to do with any of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as if his words are anything more than a bandaid on a bullet wound, as if the five boys behind you can’t hear the words that pass between you. 

And you’ve been stewing in it since this morning, thinking of all the ways you could beg him, plead with him, convince him to let whatever lies between the two of you to blossom, to grow wings. 

But now, with his eyes on you and the fate of a city in the pocket of your jeans, words fail you. 

Finally, your lips part. “I have something to show you.” And now you’re the one putting up walls, building barriers. For now, he’s not a boy that kissed you until your head was spinning and you couldn’t make right from left. He’s a vampire, and the two of you have a job to do. 

Your hurt, your desires, your wounded pride still sit heavy in your gut. 

But you owe it to him – this boy that was born a prince and sharpened into a weapon and cursed with a blessing he never asked for – to bring an end to this particular bout of suffering. 

To let the tragic kingdom of his youth rest once and for all, even if you have to reopen wounds in the process. 

Across from you, Heeseung only nods. 

Stepping to the side, he lets you be the one to open the door. He doesn’t need to linger outside; he’s already been invited in, more than once. But he does anyway. He waits for your words, for your approval, and then he follows you inside. Behind him, the other five exchange long, sideways glances. 

Just like this morning, the sight of the six of them crammed on your small couch is almost enough to inspire a smile. Under any other circumstances, you’d be laughing out loud. Now, however, you just give a long exhale. 

“They key worked,” you begin. “It opened the chest.”

Five hundred years, and they all have yet to perfect their patience. 

“And?” Jay is practically tripping over himself to get the question out. 

“It was full of distilled moonflower,” you tell them. Vials like the one the professor used to inject me in the neck. Hundreds of them.”

“What?” Sunoo gasps.

“How?” Niki frowns. 

“Moonflower is rare,” Jake shakes his head. “There’s no way he could have that much of it.”

“Well, he must know some secret place where it grows or something,” you suggest. “Because he does.”

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not only a matter of knowing where it grows. Moonflower is a magical substance, and magic is finite. It simply doesn’t grow in abundance. In order for someone to have a stash that large…”

“He’s been collecting it,” Heeseung finishes. “For a long, long time.”

“He’s been a vampire for twenty years,” you remind them. “Maybe he’s been collecting it just as long.”

Again, Jungwon shakes his head. “Hundreds of vials isn’t something that can be achieved in twenty years. Hundreds of vials is hundreds of years.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” You frown, wheels in your brain beginning to spin. 

“There are two possibilities,” Jake says. “Either your professor is lying about how old he is…”

“Or he’s not the only one that’s been collecting and distilling moonflower,” Jay finishes. 

Sunoo shakes his head. “We haven’t seen any evidence of him working with others.”

“Either way,” Niki frowns, “Something's not quite right.”

“The moonflower.” Jungwon looks at you again. “Was it the only thing in the chest?”

You shake your head. “No. There was also a book.”

“Right.” Jake nods. “The one you took pictures of.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I left it in the chest, obviously, but I took photos of the pages. I didn’t have a chance to look too closely while I was there, but I think it talks about…” you trail off for a moment, eyes flickering to Heeseung, despite yourself. “I think it talks about Celedis.”

“Celedis?” Jake balks. 

“That’s impossible.” Jay shakes his head. 

But Jungwon just looks at you. “Earlier in the parking lot, you said you had two books to show us.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I do. I was in the university library a few weeks ago, and I found this book. It was about vampires, but it was… I don’t know. It was strange. It wasn’t vitriolic or propaganda. It was almost like a diary. The reason I wanted you all to come here is because I checked it out. I have it here, in my bedroom. But the weirdest part is the title.”

“The title?” Sunoo prompts. 

“It’s called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality. And the book I found in the chest today, it looked really similar. And it was called Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction.”

A beat of silence passes. Another. 

“That,” Niki finally says, “Doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

Standing, you nod. “I don’t think so either.” Walking to your bedroom, you open the bottom drawer of your dresser. With the events of the past weeks, part of you expects the book to have vanished mysteriously. To have been nothing but a figment of your overactive imagination. 

Despite your musings, Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality lies undisturbed just as you left it. With careful hands, you pull it out of your dresser and bring it back to the living room, setting it on the coffee table in front of the boys. 

“This is the book from the library?” Jungwon asks. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “And I don’t have a printer or anything, but I’ll send you the photos I took of the book from the chest today.”

Scrolling through the files you send him, Jungwon pauses on the cover, glancing between it and the book on the coffee table. “I see what you mean. These must be related.”

Reaching for the book, Jay flips open the front cover, frowning. “There’s no author or publication date.”

“I know,” you agree. “It’s all so odd. It wasn’t even in the library system,” you add, remembering that night at the library. “The librarian had to manually check it out to me.”

“Jesus,” Sunoo grimaces, glancing at some of the pages over Jay’s shoulder. “This is super depressing.”

“Yeah,” Jay nods. “I see what you mean. This is definitely about vampires, but it’s nothing like other human-written vampire literature. 

Next to them, Jungwon scrolls through the images you’ve sent him, enlarging photos to read pieces of text. With each and every passing image, his frown grows deeper and deeper. 

“We have a problem,” Jungwon finally says. Looking back at the photo, he amends, “Several, actually.” 

You assume he must have drawn the same conclusion as you. “He must know about Celedis, right? The professor, I mean.”

“Yes,” Jungwon confirms. “I’m sure he does.”

“But how?” Jay presses.

“I don’t know.” Jungwon’s mouth pulls into a grim line. “But that’s not all.”

“This page,” He holds up his phone. “It’s a guide. Explaining in excruciating detail how to harvest, store, and distill moonflower. It also discusses its side effects. On humans and vampires.”

Scrolling to the next photo, he adds, “It looks like they studied these side effects. Through experimentation. Most of these pages are entries. Data. Experiments.” Looking at all of you, he lets the weight of that sink in for a moment. “Whoever wrote this book tested moonflower and its effects. On humans and vampires.”

“What?” Jake frowns. “The professor tested moonflower on vampires?”

“Not the professor, necessarily,” Jungwon shakes his head. “But yes, whoever wrote this book must have.”

“The cells,” you breathe, a sickening realization beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. “The cells beneath New Haven. It wasn’t just a jail.”

“It was a lab,” Heeseung finishes, locking eyes with you. 

Jungwon holds up another photo. “I think you’re right. Look at this.” You all squint as he enlarges the photo. There’s a date at the top – September 13, 1942. And next to it, a number V029.

Beneath it are a series of notes too small to make out from where you sit. Jungwon reads them, “Dosage: 8 milliliters. Injection site: Lower throat, right side. Time of effect: 2 minutes, 19 seconds. 

“V029 continues to exhibit strange behaviors under the influence of Moonflower. Although dosages have varied, the results remain consistent. Today, she spoke again about “Celedis.” When prompted with the addition of pain, she requested drawing paper. Upon refusal, she would not speak. A second dosage was administered (6ml) and further infliction of pain was utilized. V029 did not respond audibly to any given prompt or stimuli.”

“Celedis,” Jake echoes. “One of his… test subjects,” he spits with vitriol, “was the one to mention Celedis.”

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Jay points out. “It doesn’t matter if his test subjects were vampires. We’re the only ones that know about Celedis. Every other vampire in existence is a descendant of the eighth son. None of them should have any idea that Celedis ever existed.” 

“And we don’t know that these were the Professor’s test subjects,” Niki points out, echoing Jungwon’s earlier words. The page is dated for 1942. If he is telling the truth about when he was turned, he wasn’t even alive yet.”

“There must be some way to corroborate that,” you frown. “He said that he was turned the same night his entire family was massacred. Obviously, it wouldn’t have been reported as a vampire attack, but there should be something about it. Some kind of public record of their deaths, at least.”

Heeseung nods, pulling out his phone. “I’ll see if I can find anything.”

“Um,” Sunoo interjects, holding up the original Sacred Monsters book, the one you brought home from the library. “We might have another problem.”

Six pairs of eyes turn to look at him. 

“Most of these entries just seem like personal writing, like you said,” Sunoo nods at you. “But this section towards the end, here…” He trails off for a moment. “It’s called Blood Moon Ritual.”

“What?” Six voices echo in unison. 

“ There’s only one entry,” Sunoo continues, frowning. “And it doesn't really make sense. It’s a poem, like the others,” Sunoo explains. “Here, I’ll read it.

“The Origins of Immortality

That which was lost can be gained. 

The requirements are the same. 

That which was gained can be lost.

The sacrifice goes unchanged. 

Every life can end.

Every life can endure.

Fate is always determined

By what the wish is for.”

For a moment, your living room is silent. 

Jay breaks it by asking, “What the fresh hell does that mean?”

“Literature majors,” Niki glances between you and Heeseung. “Either of you want to pipe in on this one?”

“I mean,” you start, “without context, it kind of just sounds like a bunch of nonsense.” 

Before you can turn the words around in your mind again, Heeseung speaks up from where he sits. “I think I found something,” he says, holding up his phone. 

“Really?” You ask, just at the same time as Jay presses, “What?”

“There is a record from,” he double checks the date, “almost exactly twenty years ago. It’s anonymous, but it gives ages. A nine-year-old child and her forty-three year-old mother. The official cause of death is listed as an animal mauling.”

“That matches, then. That’s exactly what the professor told me.”

“There’s more, though,” Heeseung frowns. 

“More?” Your brow creases. 

“Another death.” Heeseung matches your gaze. “The child’s great grandfather, age ninety-one. And the location of death… Didn’t Professor Kim tell you that he was visiting family outside of the city?”

You nod. “He said it happened in a remote cabin. A group of nomadic vampires attacked them there.” 

Heeseung shakes his head. “The location listed here is the city. This city.”

Your frown deepens. Heeseung sticks the final nail in the coffin. “Their bodies were discovered near a row of abandoned buildings where there have been past instances of mountain lion activity. It’s on the far side of the city. Just a few blocks away from New Haven.”

You echo his words. “His family died near New Haven?” It’s odd, the way the truth seems to mingle with lies. The way your professor seems to have chosen strange pieces of the story to be dishonest about. “Why would he tell the truth about his family dying from a vampire attack twenty years ago but lie about where it happened? And not mention a grandfather?”

“I don’t know,” Heeseung says. The reality of just how much you have yet to uncover begins to settle uncomfortably in the air. Every discovery seems like it only leads to ten more mysteries to solve, another dozen dead ends. 

“I’m still stuck on Celedis,” Jay says. “We need some way to figure out who this person was and how they knew Celedis. We need–”

“We need the whole book,” you finish. 

It’s not a question or a matter of opinion. It’s the obvious conclusion to be drawn. 

Jungwon nods. “Sunghoon should still have eyes on the Professor. I’ll confirm that he’s still home, and then we can–”

“Are you insane?” Heeseung isn’t looking at his phone anymore. His search for more information on the tragic deaths of Professor Kim’s family are forgotten for the moment. “She was just there twice, and you want her to go back again? Now?”

“Heeseung…” Jake warns, taking care to guard his tone. 

“I know it’s not ideal,” Jungwon tries to placate him, “But that book has answers that we need. Right now, all we can do is speculate. If your professor has a massive stash of distilled moonflower and knows about Celedis, who knows what else he might have access to? What else he might know? People are still dying, and he’s connected to it all somehow. I’m sure of it.”

“I know that,” Heeseung bites, visibly frustrated. “But why does she have to be the one to–”

“And how exactly are you planning to get one of us down there?” Jungwon sighs, running an open palm over his features. “I don’t want to argue with you, but unless you have a plan for getting Professor Kim to invite you into his secret vampire torture chamber, ___ is the only one of us that can get this book.”

“It’s okay,” you finally interject. Something about the two of them arguing over your fate while you sit and watch doesn’t quite sit right with you. More than that, something about him always speaking over you, acting as if it’s all in your best interest, while also not bothering to give you the time of day, is all too reminiscent of the other decisions he’s made on his own. 

Still, you choose to be gentle. “I debated with Jake, actually, about whether I should bring the whole book or not. We thought this would be safer for now, but I knew it was a possibility that I would have to go back for it. I was prepared for this.”

Heeseung looks like he wants to say more, like he wants to argue, but something in your expression has his words dying on his lips. 

“I’ll get ready,” you nod. Retreating to your bedroom, you add, “Just give me a minute to grab my jacket.”

In all honesty, your jacket is the least of your concerns. Because despite your resolve, despite the will that you’ve forced yourself to steel, Heeseung is right. 

Even at a distance, he can still read you like the back of his hand. Like an open book with nothing but pages for him to peruse at his pleasure. 

The thought of going back to New Haven, of going back into that cold, dark, empty expanse of horror sends your mind spiraling. Walking into the bathroom adjoined to your bedroom, you place both hands on the counter on opposite sides of the sink. It’s an attempt, a feeble one, maybe, at grounding yourself. 

Forcing your gaze upwards, you match your own eye in the mirror. A million emotions are reflected back at you. Determination, weariness, resolve, fear. 

You’re scared. No matter what you tell them, no matter what you tell yourself, you feel it. Swimming in your mind, nestling in your bones. A terror rooted so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever get it out. 

You don’t want to go to New Haven. You don’t want to descend down that ladder. You don’t want to risk your life or your comfort or your sanity. You don’t want to have feelings for an immortal being that needs blood to survive. 

But reality doesn’t bend to the whims of frightened girls, and ignoring the things that scare you won’t make them go away. 

Bravery, you think, as you watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s not just reserved for moments that feel grand in scale. It’s also here, in places like this. Where there’s nothing but you, your reflection, and all of the things you wish you could avoid waiting for you just outside the door. 

So with a final inhale, you force your features into something neutral, something that at least five of the boys waiting for you outside will believe. And then you walk back to your bedroom, making sure to pull your jacket over your shoulders before stepping back out into the living room. 

Jake stands from his seat on the couch when you enter the room again. Heeseung avoids your gaze. 

“You ready?” Jake asks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you nod, forcing a false sense of cavalier lightness into your tone. 

“Good thing I left the headlamp in the car,” Jake jokes, pulling on his shoes. 

“And the walkie talkies,” you agree. 

Despite yourself, you can’t quite stop your eyes from wandering back towards your living room one last time. 

Jungwon is dictating new assignments while the others listen attentively. Well, three of them anyway. 

Heeseung just sits there, his eyes still trained on the ground. 

You’re sure he can feel it, the way your gaze settles on the side of his face, traces his profile and then does it again. But no matter how long your gaze lingers, he won’t return it. 

And maybe this is it, you think. Maybe you’ll just have to make peace with the fact that all you’ll ever get from him are closed doors and avoided eye contact. 

He’s had his teeth in your neck and your blood on his lips, and despite it all, the only thing he has for you now is a cold shoulder disguised as concern. 

And if this self flagellation is some kind of atonement, an apology for a crime he’s convinced himself he’s committed, then that, you think, is where his true selfishness lies. 

He can call it altruism and immortal wisdom all he wants. But caring for you from a distance will never be something you thank him for. 

It’s not a declaration you can make in front of an audience, so with a final sigh, you turn towards your front door and follow Jake’s retreating figure from it. 

As it so happens, you can be selfish too. You pretend you don’t feel Heeseung’s eyes on your back the entire way out. 

However, you must not be as good at disguising your fear as you thought, because Jake is nothing but apologies while the two of you walk side by side down the stairs. 

“I really am sorry,” he breathes into frigid air. The warmth of his breath creates a visible cloud. “I shouldn’t have told you to just leave the book there, but I was worried–”

“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head. “I thought it would be best to leave the book, too. And it’s okay, really. I’ll be just fine.”

“Still,” he reiterates. “I’m sorry that it has to be you. It can’t be fun going down there all alone. And especially since we know what it was used for now…”

Your lips flatten. “Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Sorry,” He laughs, apologizing again. “You’re right. No more gloomy talk. We’ll just get you in and out as fast as we can, and we can worry about the rest of it later.” 

“Works for me.” You force a tight smile, reaching for the car door. If it’s any consolation, you’re glad that it’s Jake you’re with. His presence is steady, carries a certain kind of lightness that helps to chase away some of the lingering storm clouds, even if just for a moment. 

But just as you move to slide into the passenger seat, you hear the telltale sound of footsteps on pavement over your shoulder. They’re rapid, loud. Whoever it is, they’re running. 

Turning over your shoulder, your brow creases in confusion when your eyes land on Heeseung. Again, it’s not you he’s looking at. 

Heesung is talking to Jake when he says, “Change of plans. Jungwon wants you down by the river.”

“What?” Jake frowns. “But what about–”

“I’ve got her.” Heeseung’s words cut through the air like an arrow, pierce through your uncertainties like a knife. 

“I…” Jake trails off. He’s looking at you, not Heeseung when he asks, “You sure?”

“Go,” you nod. “I’m sure Jungwon has his reasons.” It’s flimsy reasoning, and between the three of you, no one is convinced that Jungwon is responsible for this change. 

But they’re switching places all the same. Jake gives you one final glance over his shoulder, and you swear you see him shake his head before he heads back up the stairs to where the other boys still sit in your apartment.

And Heeseung still won’t look at you, even as he walks around to the other side of the car and slides into it, sitting only a handful of inches away from you. 

It’s a reflection of this morning, an echo of earlier as the car turns out of your apartment parking lot and sets course for New Haven. Only this time, it’s Heeseung in the driver’s seat, not Jake. 

The silence between the two of you extends for long minutes, nothing but the gentle hum of the car heater to fill the empty air. 

Finally, with nothing but road ahead of you, Heeseung exhales a long sigh. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You say the word, and I’ll turn this car around. We can go back to your apartment or to my place or somewhere else entirely. I’ll get you on a plane out of the country, if that’s what you want.”

You raise a brow. His meager attempts at kindness have started to lose their shine. “And the book?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “Fuck that stupid book.” 

Easy to say, maybe. But both of you know it’s not true. Besides, “I don’t want to leave the country.”

“Really?” You can’t tell if he’s serious when he adds, “I hear that Costa Rica is lovely this time of year.”

“I’m sure it is,” you concede. If he wants to skirt around admissions, you’ll run headfirst into them. “But I’d be worried about you.”

Heeseung only sighs. “I can take care of myself.”

���That’s not what I mean.” You’re sure he knows it, but being difficult on purpose isn’t new to either of you. “And we’ve had this argument before. My mind hasn’t changed, and clearly yours hasn’t either. If you get to decide how to live your life without any input from me, then I expect the same courtesy from you.”

“It’s different,” he insists. Now, at least, he’s talking. Even if it’s only to beg for a bit of your understanding. “I’ve already lived a life. Too many lives. Five hundred years worth of life with no sign of any end coming soon.”

You have to disagree. “Have you, though? You know, when people talk about having lived a life, they’re not just talking about years. They’re talking about family, friendships, community. Achievements, accomplishments.” The last word dangles from your lips. Oh, fuck it. “Love.”

Next to you, Heeseung is silent. You press on, “I understand that you’ve made up your mind. That with all your five hundred years of immortal wisdom, you’ve decided you get to make decisions for the both of us. But you know what else is a normal part of life? Kissing someone and regretting it. You can just avoid me at parties, you know. You don’t have to threaten to send me to Costa Rica.”

“It wasn’t a threat–”

But you’re not done. “I liked it, by the way. In case you were wondering. I don’t care if you regret it.” Your pride feels like something forgotten, discarded long ago. Maybe it’s a facade or false bravado, but you find it easy to bare your secrets here in the passenger seat. “I liked it when you kissed me. I liked the way it felt when you put your hands on me. I liked the way you lost control with my blood in your mouth. I went home and I laid in bed and I thought about it. All alone in my bedroom, with my hands on my skin everywhere you touched me while I pretended like it was you. I dreamed about you. I woke up thinking about you.”

Heeseung whispers your name. A warning, a plea. He might as well be shouting in your ear. 

“You can avoid eye contact and pretend it never happened all that you want. I’m not going to. In fact, I’m probably going to think about it again tonight. Do what you want. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you, and I’m not going to avoid New Haven,” Your chest is heaving now. Between words, it’s easy to forget that you need to breathe, too. “And I’m not running away to fucking Costa Rica.”

“You think I enjoy this?” Heeseung’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel. “You think I like having this… this war in my brain? This constant struggle? You think I’m playing with you? Toying with your feelings because I can’t make up my mind?” He shakes his head and sends your thoughts scattering. “I’m not. You used to glare at me across the lecture hall, and it would be the highlight of my day. I looked forward to every assignment Professor Kim gave us, because it meant I’d have another chance to read something you’d written. I’ve been alive for five hundred years, and I don’t think I’ve ever found anything that makes me feel the way your words do. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone else could take what I was feeling and put it into words.”

That gives you pause. He… thought about you? Even then? He read your writing?

“And it didn’t stop there. I used to go home from class imagining, praying that I could be like every other person in that stupid class. That I could be just another kid in my twenties worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. That I could waste my afternoons staring at the pretty girl in my literature course that couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day. Fantasizing about asking her to study with me at a coffee shop or share a workroom in the library.”

Your eyes are wide now, and they’re trained directly on him. Heeseung is still looking out at the road in front. 

“You think I don’t think about you too? That I want to pretend none of it ever happened? You’re wrong. All I do is think about you, and all I do is want. But they’re things I can’t have, things I can’t be. I wish I could fall asleep dreaming about you. I wish I could wake up with you on my mind and know that I only have so many days to do something about it.”

He shakes his head, as if that will clear the errant thoughts that have clearly begun to consume him.

“But I can’t. I can’t sleep. I can’t shut off my brain, even for a second. All I do is think. All I do is remember. You think I didn't like it? You think I didn’t go home with the feeling of your skin on my hands and the taste of your blood in my mouth? You think I don’t spend every waking hour with the sound of you whimpering burned into my mind? I’ve wanted things before, but never like this. I made peace with myself a long time ago. I know what I am and I understand that ultimately, my existence is a burden to this world. I’ve learned to stop wishing for impossible things. But every time I look at you, I just… I just want.”

Your voice is small. You don’t know how to respond to any of it. “It’s okay to want things.”

“It’s not.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Not when they’re impossible. Not when it will only bring pain to the people I care about. I don’t want to be someone you avoid at a party. I don’t want to watch you move on with your life when this inevitably ends. But all of those things you talked about earlier, all of those parts that make up a life – friendship, family, community. I can’t give you any of that.”

It’s hard to hear. It hurts to see how visibly upset he is about all of it. 

“It doesn’t matter if I live for another five hundred years or a thousand years or until the end of time itself. I already know I’ll spend all of it thinking about you.  I’ve made peace with it before, and I’ll learn to do it again, but I can’t take your life from you. And even if I wanted to, I can’t watch you grow to resent me for it.”

In front of you, the road appears endless. With sunlight reflecting in the rearview mirror, the day is dying, and your hopes are going with it. 

“When I tell you that I’ll send you to Costa Rica if that’s what you want, it’s not because I’m trying to get rid of you. It’s because I want you to make the choices that are best for you. Not for me, not for the boys, not even for this city. I don’t expect you to take me up on it. Your moral compass will be the death of me, I’m sure. But the offer will always be there.”

Your emotions feel frivolous. Your desires feel petulant. Still, you can’t help but counter, “And what if I resent you now? For not even giving this a chance?”

Heeseung smiles, a wry thing that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then I’ll take comfort in knowing you have a whole life ahead of you to get over it.”

It’s a stalemate that has the car stumbling back into silence, even as your head spins. He noticed you, he thought about you, long before you ever thought you were even a blip on his radar. 

He read your words and connected to them. As a writer, it feels as if he’s admitted to seeing your soul and finding it beautiful. As a human, it makes you want to fall in love, despite all of the ways he’s thoroughly and entirely erased that possibility. 

You’re not sure how long you sit in the quiet, mind reeling. It can’t be more than a handful of minutes, though, before the scenery around you begins to take a familiar shape. You’re close. 

Early evening has just begun to close in. Around you, shadows are growing longer, street lights flickering on as the last rays of sunlight fade from the day. 

Still a few blocks away, Heeseung pulls into an empty parking lot. 

You frown. “Surely we can get a little closer than this?” It’s seamless, how well the two of you slip into your roles. You have a job to do. In the face of that reality, it’s as if the past twenty minutes don’t exist at all. The only evidence is the lingering tension that simmers in the air. 

“It’s not that.” Heeseung pulls his phone out, frowning at the screen. “Sunghoon’s not responding.”

“What?” Your eyes widen. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Heeseung assures you. “He was responding to Jungwon just fifteen minutes ago. But that means we haven’t heard from anyone with eyes on the professor since then.” Weighing his options mentally, Heeseung finally suggests, “Why don’t we drive by New Haven first? We can make sure everything looks okay. If Sunghoon still hasn’t responded by then, we can make a decision.” 

“Okay,” you nod. 

Back on the road, it takes you less than five minutes to reach the publishing house. Immediately, you can tell that something is wrong. 

“There’s a car,” you whisper, even though you’re still inside the safety of the car, still driving down the road. “There’s a car parked out front.” 

“I see it.” Heeseung’s lips pull into a tight line. 

“I think it’s his car.” Your eyes widen. “The professor’s.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung confirms. “I think so too.”

“Why is he here now?” You wonder. “Didn’t you say Sunghoon had eyes on him at his house just fifteen minutes ago?”

“Something’s not right,” Heeseung agrees. “I’m going to turn around. We’ll head to the house and figure things out there.” He maintains an even tone, but you can sense the hint of panic in his voice, the slight tremble as he turns the car around and starts to head in the opposite direction. 

“Sunghoon…” You trail off. 

“Try calling him.” Heeseung passes you his phone, jaw tight. 

Taking Heeseung’s phone from his outstretched hand, you press the call button. The phone rings. In the quiet, each shrill ring sounds like thunder, burns like terror. 

“He’s not answering.” Your voice is quiet as you state the obvious. The call drops from lack of response. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung swears beneath his breath. But then he reasons, “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just occupied at the moment or–”

The sound of a ringtone suddenly fills the car. 

“Is that him?” A wave of relief washes over his features. But it’s premature. 

“No,” you shake your head, frowning at the dark expanse of Heeseung’s screen. “It’s my phone. Hold on.” Digging it out of your pocket, the caller ID only makes the dread in the pit of your stomach intensify further. 

Again, your phone rings, the sound cutting through the car like a knife. 

“Who is it?” Heeseung asks. “Your heart just jumped like crazy.”

“It’s Professor Kim.” Your words are barely a whisper. 

“What?” Despite the task at hand, Heeseung takes his eyes off of the road and turns to you. 

“I should answer it, right?” You frown, fingers trembling. “He’s probably just following up on the draft I submitted earlier.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince – Heeseung or yourself. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung repeats. “I… yeah, you should answer.”

“Okay, just,” you sit up a little straighter, as if your professor can somehow see you. “Just don’t make any sounds.”

Sliding your thumb across your screen, you accept the call. 

“Hello? Professor Kim?”

“Hello,” he greets from the other end. Oily slick as always, but there’s something ragged in his voice, too. As if he’s recently exerted himself. At the very least, he doesn’t leave you wondering for long. “I had a chance to review your article.”

“Oh,” you reply, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “What did you think?”

“Outstanding work,” he praises. “Truly. You are one of the most gifted students I’ve ever come across.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d beam with the praise. Now, your anxiety only heightens. Twists knots in the pit of your stomach. “I… I appreciate that, professor. It means a lot coming from you.”

“I’d like to discuss my suggestions for edits, of course.”

“Right,” you nod. “Could I call you back? I don’t have my computer at the moment, and–”

“I’d like to discuss with you in person, actually.”

“Oh,” you force neutrality into your voice, even as your heart gives a sudden lurch. “Okay. I’m available tomorrow, if there’s a time–”

Again, he interrupts you. “I would like to speak with you tonight. And I have something to show you. It’s quite urgent, I’m afraid.”

“Tonight?” You echo. And ‘something to show you’? At your side, Heeseung stiffens. “It’s a bit late. I’m not sure…”

“With the recent deaths in mind, I’m sure you understand that time is of the essence. The sooner we can publish your work, the sooner the victims can be avenged.”

You turn to Heeseung, a question in your eyes. Matching his gaze, you see the way his head begins to shake. His silent disapproval of the idea. But then he stops, sighs. 

In the driver’s seat, next to you, Heeseung silently mouths three words. 

It’s your choice. 

It almost makes you want to cry. His small adjustment. His trust in your ability to choose for yourself. 

Into the receiver, you ask, “Where should I meet you?”

“The publishing office,” your professor responds, approval in his voice. “How soon can you be here?”

Mentally constructing an alibi, you settle with, “I’m not too far away, actually. Probably twenty minutes. Maybe a little longer.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you shortly.”

The line clicks dead. 

“I don’t like this,” Heeseung’s voice is dripping in unease. 

Yours is no better. “I don’t either, but it’s all part of earning his trust, right?”

“He said he had something to show you. I don’t like all of the possibilities that could entail.”

“I’m sure it’s just something to do with the article,” you try to reason. “He’s probably prepared it as a mock publication or something and thinks I’ll be thrilled to see my writing in an official format.”

Under any other circumstances, you would be.

On the topic of your article, you’re reminded that the words in question aren’t actually yours at all. If this car is a place for revelations, you decide to add one more to the list. 

“How did you do it, by the way?” Your gaze traces Heeseung’s side profile where he looks out at the road ahead. “How did you write that article just like I would have?”

Heeseung just sighs. “I told you,” his voice is low, quiet, “your writing means a lot to me. I’ve spent a lot of time with it. I suppose that made it easy to emulate.”

“Well, thank you.”

“For stalking your writing?” Heeseung teases. 

“For reading it,” you correct. “For taking the time to understand it.” To understand me. 

“You act like it was torture for me.”

“Well, I do remember you calling one of my pieces ‘nauseatingly vitriolic.’” It feels like a lifetime ago, that evening in the writing workshop. 

“That was one piece,” Heeseung defends. “And it wasn’t really you.”

“No,” you agree, “it wasn’t.”

Heeseung glances at you, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine it too. A world where he’s just Heeseung and you’re just you. 

Two humans that met by chance, worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. Arguing over semantics and vying for attention from their professor. Stealing glances across the lecture hall that start to linger just a little too long. Meeting outside of class and pretending it’s nothing more than a terrible coincidence every time, even if you never fail to slide down into the seat next to his. 

Stealing kisses outside of your professor’s office. Sharing a cup of warm tea at a sporting event both of you are only pretending to understand. Falling in love. 

Simple moments. Quiet moments. Human moments. 

Heeseung reminds you just how far away that version of reality is when he asks, “Should I turn around, then? It’s already been five minutes.” His voice is quiet, like there’s a fantasy he doesn’t want to disturb, too. 

You shake your head. “Take a right at the next light, and drop me off at the bus stop. There’s a group of cafes a couple stops down that are popular with students. If he asks, I’ll say I was at one of them when he called.”

Heeseung doesn’t bother to protest. He follows your directions until the two of you are parked on the curb of the bus stop. Bidding him goodbye, you step out from the passenger seat. “I’ll meet you back here,” you tell him. “I’ll take the bus this far, just to be safe.”

“Okay,” he agrees, “but message me before that. As soon as you can.”

“I will,” you promise. The moment lingers for seconds longer, a million words and promises and declarations dying on both of your lips. You sever them all with the shutting of the car door. 

Heeseung doesn’t drive away, not until the bus arrives. And even then, you swear it’s his car you get fleeting glimpses of in the rearview mirror. 

But a handful of minutes later, Heeseung and his car are nowhere to be seen as you exit at the stop closest to New Haven. With the absence of the sun, there’s a biting chill in the air. Grateful for your jacket, you pull it a bit tighter around your body, suppressing a shudder. 

Glancing down at your phone, you send one final message before taking your last few steps towards the publishing house. 

Going in now. 

Heeseung responds in milliseconds. 

Be safe. 

Raising a fist, it feels a bit odd to knock on the same door you’ve broken into twice in the past twenty-four hours. The irony doesn’t have long to linger. Professor Kim is quick to answer the door and even quicker to usher you inside. 

Tonight, he looks every bit the well-kept professor you grew used to in your classes. With a creaseless button down tucked into dress pants, he might as well be back at the front of the lecture hall.

“Thank you,” he reiterates as he leads you down the hallway. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice.” 

“Of course,” you nod, trying to look as enthusiastic as he wants you to be. “The gravity of the situation is not lost on me. I’m excited to review your edits and get my article published as soon as possible.” 

“Right,” he nods, a bit apologetically. “You’ll have to forgive me, then, but I have something rather important to show you first.”

That makes your brow crease in confusion. Is what he’s showing you not related to your writing?

“What is it?”

Your professor just shakes his head. “I’m afraid words won’t do this justice. Follow me.” 

Beckoning you forward, he leads you to the same room you were poisoned in the first time you visited New Haven. Suppressing a shudder at the memory, you force your footsteps forward, even as your senses start to scream at you in protest. 

Pausing at the door, he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “You’ll be pleased to know that I believe I may have been wrong about Lee Heeseung.”

That sends ice spinning through your veins. You don’t like the sound of Heeseung’s name in his mouth, hate the idea that he’s been so fixated on him. “What do you mean? Wrong in what way?”

“See for yourself,” your professor grins. And then, he opens the door. 

The room is as dim as it was the last time you were here, but this time, your professor is quick to turn on the overhead light. 

But the absence of darkness only reveals a horror much worse than anything you imagined the darkness concealing.  

Because on the opposite side of the room, hunched in the corner, there is a figure illuminated under the harsh fluorescent overhead lighting. 

His system is infused with so much moonflower essence that he can hardly do so much as lift his head. But when he finally finds the strength to do so, you make direct eye contact with Park Sunghoon.  

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: Hello my loves! I am so happy to finally be able to share this with you all. I know I mentioned before that part of the reason it took so long was because of some recent changes in my life outside of tumblr, but if I'm honest, part of it too was that I was just having a really hard time continuing this story in a way that felt like it did justice to the first three parts.

There are so many moving pieces and things going on, and I really want to make this story come to life in the best way possible. Thank you for being patient with me while I agonized over that internally lol. I hope that this part was worth the wait. Love u all ♡♡♡

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you’re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

(Quick note!!! If you want to be added to the tag list, I absolutely will but when you request that, can you pleeeeease let me know if you want to be on my general tag list or just the specific fic you're commenting on. ❤️)

Tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @ilove-tswizzle

[huggywuggysuppy]

once you finish Empires S1 i'd like to hear your thoughts about esmp1!gem. she's genuinely one of my favorite characters to analyse because she is so nuanced and interesting in so many ways anywhere you look at her. her twisted determination to achieve peace at ANY cost, her rigid thinking and neurodivergency, her relation with symbols like her tower or the end and the moon, or her genuine wish to be a good person and so many other things. there's so much that is impossible to grasp at first (<- <- me, lesbian who is really normal about her favorite gem)

She's right.

Essentially, Gem understands the role a wizard PLAYS in a story. She's never the cause of something, but she sure amplifies both the problems and the solutions. She's morally gray, she's playing both sides, but nobody ever challenges her on that because of course Gem's helping the heroes too -- they need artifacts! She's a plot device, a questgiver, a weapon. She's the voice of reason, the straight man in any comedy duo, yet makes the same questionable decisions as anyone. She's experimenting, she's out of her comfort zone, she's having the time of her life. Wizard Gem is, ultimately, a real wizard.

That's the short answer anyhow. Longer analysis, well, I'm so glad you asked. I can't talk about character without diving into the content creator metanarrative (feature not a bug) so let's get into the noodles! What about Wizard Gem makes her so fantastic?

Wizard Gem is a catalyst.

From the beginning, Gem is mixing up dynamics and forcing new inspiration by opposing what's static. The way the rest of the Wither Rose Alliance sort of? Molds? Around her. How Sausage and fWhip are beefing until the day she alliances with Pearl and suddenly the four are besties. How she adds moral nuance to the villain side, both by mixing relations with the hero side, and just by insisting the Wither Rose are seeking peace, really, they're trying their best! This stops things from being so cut and dry and basic. Instead of Xornoth's vain forces against the heroic bumbling fish people (with the plant and animal empires in between), there's all sorts of messiness and drama. And Gem's aware of this, of how she's changing things, and so the effect is amplified.

On a CC level, even her origins are experimental. Gem was originally planning a more naturey plant wizard, but since Shubble, Katherine, AND Pearl, were plant based (& arguably Joey too) she adapted into amethyst and rocks. And it turned out amazing! That foundation of experimenting made it easier to take larger risks both content and character wise. All the empires folk enjoyed the lore centric storytelling: only getting deeper into it through the season, but Gem especially paved the way for embracing rp and outfits and items and fun.

But back to C! As the Wither Rose alliance progresses, terrorizing the server included, Gem maintains her peace loving stance. Taking on the role as fWhip's (and later Sausage)'s PR managers is genuinely so important to me. She never really stops them from doing bad things, but she's always discouraging them and talking them down one or two degrees. Ultimately loyal to her alliance, she's also taking responsibility for the consequences. Helping out Jimmy behind the scenes to lessen the blow, both for him but also herself.

At her core, Wizard Gem wants peace.

For herself and friends at least. Unfortunately, the Crystal Cliffs aren't in a bubble, so she keeps having to save the world anyway. She dreads conflict at best and fears it at worst. Her concerns are her kingdom, her neighbors, whatever magic / building she's invested in right now, and maybe a light shenanigan here or there. She'll help fWhip get out of trouble because they really do love each other, he's always helping her out too in his own ways (ex: making her stuff,) and she'll protect the realm so the problems stay far away from their doorsteps. When things do eventually fall into her lap, she definitely deals with them. Just... not 100%. Enough that they stop breaking the peace for now.

Let's be honest, Wizard Gem is firmly in denial. She's down for burying the corruption and letting it claim whole towers of her base. Often she'll just accept whatever another player brings to her: buying Scott and Katherines plush, whatever weird scams Lizzie tries on her, etc. When Scott gives her the Elsa curse, she hangs out in the nether, takes Shrub’s dodgy Xornoth cure, and stubbornly "it's fine"-s her way through avoiding a real solution until fWhip drags her to Katherine. It's telling that her (short-lived) corrupted evil version is more confident, while others become hyper or angry. This isn't laziness: it's fear. She doesn't want to step on any toes and start any conflicts. You can see it in how she talks to Jimmy and fWhip: giving them what they need not to win, but to end things.

This is how Gem maintains the story role of a wizard: she's always trying to stop things, so she's never starting new things, only making them better or worse. But how does Gem get away with it? She's simultaneously one of the most invested players in the lore, yet playing a character who'd rather be anywhere else. That dichotomy is entertaining, sure, but there's something else here.

Wizard Gem is loyal, curious, and moral. Just... not obviously.

Gem is unfathomably loyal. While she plays both sides, she's always standing alongside her allies in battle and all her actions are ensuring they're safe. She may be exasperated, yet treats her immediate alliance members with kindness. How fWhip drags her into things, but he never asks her to, it's always Gem CHOOSING to follow him because what else is she gonna do? Let him do it himself? How Sausage makes her laugh with his absurdity, even when they're fighting. How she's always a little uncomfortable, even in her great empire, except in the quiet simple moments with her allies between schemes.

(Still can’t believe roseblings isn’t canon. Like fWhip’s line about how he blew up relations with Scott because he messed with Gem, "it's okay fWhip I'm fine now," their tones, ohhhh devious work. They don't need to be canon, nonfamilial platonic relationships and all that, but STILL. I'm only human.)

Gem's also invested in magic and learning more about it, and she learns to trust and share that with others. The Crystal Cliffs Academy demonstrates growth: from solving problems herself when they’re too big to ignore, to actually addressing things at the source. Explicitly, the goal is to strengthen other empires magic knowledge so less crises happen. That’s preventative instead of reactionary. Even choosing the Ocean Queen as her first student is intentional: not an ally, causes a lot of medium scale ruckuses, in text Gem sensed her using transformation magic that wasn’t hers and wanted to guide Lizzie towards at least controlling it. Start of season Gem would’ve just kept handling any crises herself.

Essentially, Gem is trying SO HARD to be good. As anon said, she has a sort of rigid thinking (again, fun contrast between CC experimental and C rigidity) that creates this fantastic mix where she's staying true to the Wither Rose because she loves them and wants to keep them safe as their friend, but also trying to act for the greater good as a wizard, even though she'd rather focus on her own things. It's not a stable point of view, and is constantly challenged, creating the amazing series of events that we get to see unfold.

Also, Wizard Gem is straight up cool.

Regarding imagery, Wizard Gem has a distinct style that’s so fun to build and draw and write about. She's magical and otherworldly (dragons, the end) but also ethereal and magnificent on a human scale (towers, the moon.) Amethyst itself is inherently unique: something about forming deep under pressure, growing slow and beautiful, sought after as thrones and paths alike. These aesthetics have infinite storytelling potential, and look cute doing it.

And all these things are carried into Gem’s imagery as a whole! Losing her eye to and getting corrupted by the end portal in Life Series, building dragons and towers and villages all across her mc worlds, often using the moon in builds like her hc10 lighthouse. She’s solidly the moon in shinyduo sun/moon dynamic (while they both employ sun/moon all the time, Pearl builds and lores solidly more sun, let alone their comedy dynamic.) Even the struggle between embracing/chasing excellence versus holding herself back out of fear: that's Gem in every world! Emp1 is combining a lot of Gem's themes into one single character. And turns out she's really awesome!

This character wholeness lets Gem maintain her signature exasperated excellence over the other players. Like PVP prowess and building skill, she's an expert here too, and delightful to watch and interact with. Wizard Gem is amplifying everything, trying to keep her loved ones safe, learning that she needs to make peace herself, all while staying true to her beautiful masterful self.

Finally, CC!Gem is delighted to roleplay like this.

Every time she turns to the camera to give disclaimers and talk about her character, there's an infectious joy and "I can't believe this is my job." She often compares it to D&D, which ohh the parasocial brainrot is taking so normally, but also there's an unapologeticness to it. If you don't like her character / the roleplay / etc, stop watching, whatever, this is fun for the rest of us. Her and other CCs have talked about the crippling pushback from playing antagonistic characters -- and there's no shortage of that in emp1, she has to put disclaimers on the RP portions! But unlike Life Series where she's constantly fighting demons (it's own post, really) Wizard Gem is having too much fun to care. I think that's why emp1 hits different, at least for us Gem girlies. She's taking this seriously, and she's having the time of her life.

I originally posted about Worldhopper/Watcher Gem because that adds an extra layer of spice to her in all series, but it's still really awesome by itself. Summoning the dragons from ANOTHER WORLD? Hello?? Don't think I missed her using the nether portal to change skins either. Giggling during convos with Xornoth, undaunted by the Empires Crown, the list goes on. One day someone will assemble all her characters into the same room to compare notes and that someone will either be me or Geminitay herself.

In short, Empires S1 Gem is a Wizard. She's a catalyst, she ultimately wants peace, she's loyal curious and moral, she's straight up cool, and she's having fun. And isn't that just the most magical joy of all?

Anyway, accepting empires fic recommendations in reblogs / directly into my inbox. What a privilege to get to watch so much great art. Thank you for reading!

[smolbeanie1221]

Age dreamer here! Also possibly probably regressor too but I never exactly know what age I feel like, soooo confusion

Now ima vent about that a bit. I grew up in an unconventional way, my dad was sick my entire childhood and he was the center of my world my everything. Anyways I had to grow up fast in some ways, like logically I guess, but in other ways, I stayed as young as I could. I played with toys and stuffed animals until 6-7th grade, so 11-12 years old. A lot longer than most of my peers. Then middle school and high school happened, and coming up with story ideas replaced my pretend games with stuffed animals. Then when Covid happened my freshman year of college, my mental health crashed super hard and I was dissociating on and off for a long freaking time. During that time, I discovered the Lion King fandom and I immediately hyperfixated on that. I started getting sucked into other fandoms too, but Lion King is always my default. The fandoms and universes I hyperfixate on are pretty much always the same books and movies and shows I loved from ages 8-18ish. Covid happened when I was 18, and then I started dissociating for so long that I feel as though I didn’t really “age” at all during the time I was dissociating. I escaped back into fantasy worlds, not with stuffed animals and toys this time, but with characters from Lion King and Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron and Twilight and Divergent and Tinker Bell and Supernatural and Percy Jackson and the Buddies puppies movies and so many others. When I was turning 20, it felt so unreal to me, and it still does feel so unreal to me that I’m 23 now, but turning 20 felt so wrong because, what do you mean I was no longer a teenager?? I didn’t necessarily want to relive my teenage years, but I couldn’t say I was technically a teenager anymore?? Turning 20 years old to me meant full fledged adult, and I hated that thought. And I still feel so weird when I think about the fact that I’m 23 years old now. I don’t feel like an adult at all, I mean I function and live well enough in the adult world, but I don’t feel like I’m actually an adult. And… shit as I’m typing this I’m realizing the term I recently started paying more attention to, permaregressor… huh I think that actually does describe me a lot more than I initially thought. So… I think it might be accurate to say that I’m permaregressed to 15–18ish, and I age dream to go into a younger headspace?? Huh that’s… actually sounding pretty freaking accurate. I’m still not sure but… I think it makes sense??

Please interact with this post if you're a trans or gender non-conforming age regressor/age dreamer so that we can all see we're valid members of our community who aren't alone!

🩵🩷🤍🩵🩷 💛🤍💜🖤 💜🤍💚

[mari-lair]

Let's talk about Nene and how she find power in other people.

Nene gets overwhelmed easily and is very insecure, not just about her body but about her power, and smarts too.

When she thought Hanako may like her she wasn't sure about her judgement, but when Aoi who never even met hanako said 'oh yeah, he likes you~' she became far more confident.

Aoi must have been her reassurance for most of Nene's school life, so much so that when Aoi tells her "he might confess to you in the confession tree <3" Nene acts like that's the truth and spend the rest of the chapter giggily waiting for it.

She is right that Hanako have a crush on her, but when he start hiding behind excuses, she believes it right away. She never consider that his excuses and his feelings can both be true, she trust what he says more than her own judgement

When she started getting involved with the supernatural she start getting more and more doubts about herself. Her issues growing from the simple 'do they find me cute? can i get a boyfriend?' to questions about what is right and how much power she have.

She have a crisis when she learns Hanako used to be a living student, with a real life, who killed a real person. She become so helpless by this realization that she can't look at him in the eye.

Reality is so overwhelming, that she keep running away from Hanako.

There is no "Hanako is my friend anyways! His life doesn't matter what matter is the now!! Let's gooo!!" self talk in the garden. She want to hide. To give up.

Kou is the one that come to her side and reassure Nene that her feelings are valid, that not knowing what to is alright. That there is nothing wrong with being overwhelmed and doing all you can do, even when 'all you can do' isn't much.

They find strenght in each other.

Throught the entire manga Kou is there to cheer Nene up or to back up her plans. They are in this together.

Break the fake world? Rescue Hanako? Go to the Red House cause a kid is crying?? That's a Nene and Kou plan. That's their team effort. They got each other's back! They can do it!

Even when the idea isn't that good, Kou constantly cheer her, rewarding Nene for trying instead of giving up.

Most of the time Hanako is with Kou cheering her up, albeit not as upfront, being his indirect and 'haha just kidding i would die if i was vulnerable!' self.

Regardless, Nene got support through every step of this new and scary supernatural world!

Or at least... most of the time. Let's go over the instances where times were tough and Nene didn't have Kou and Hanako by her side. The times when she become her most vulnerable and insecure. She ceases to be "Your overwhelming grass type and beloved heroine Yashiro Nene!" and becomes Nene, the insecure high school girl.

When she learned about her death she was lost and confused, she didn't try to imply she could conquer death, she couldn't do anythnig, so she asked for guidance.

When she was given no real answer, just cryptic orders to stay in her caje forever cause hanako will 'solve everything', Nene was even more lost. And she was alone. No one to talk to in her time of need, no one to cheer her up.

We have no panels of her trying to break her window of wiggle between her caje bars because she isn't determined, she was devastated. So she cried and cried and tried to comfort herself

ONLY AFTER who knows how many doodles and time to process her feelings does her hopelessness turn into anger for Hanako and determination to change her situation.

She only fully enter "I will fight this! I can do it!! I won't do what Hanako want!!" mode after Mei visits her with a friendly dispossition and comforts her, giving her sweets to soothe her heart and give her energy.

Nene say her tears are false here, a mere ploy to make Mei lower her guard!! But it is rotted in real sadness.

The fire she gained after doodling her friends in the real world only spread into an inferno of determination when she is told she is deeply loved, that Hanako would sacrifice everything for her sake. That love is why this was made in the first place.

This world want to protect her, not kill her. Her hapiness is cheerished. And she isn't happy. She haven't loss the real world yet, she can still change things.

She was already determined to change things, but she doubles down on it, she gain more confidence and becomes bolder. She will kick and scream and try her best to win! Is amazing. She is sweating but she know what she is doing is right so she will do it!!

Throught the manga, as the time passes she start to stand up for herself more, she tries harder, she takes any opportunity she can to do something and believe in herself. She stop seeking superficial attention to feel worth.

Take her play of Oz for exemple, she want to be dorothy, the big role that is worthy of a beautiful dress and all the spotlight! Despite all her development and traumas she still cares that she was given a unimpressed role, that she 'isn't worthy' of the main role

But instead of being unable to focus on anything else except how bad her role is and how uncute it makes her, as the Nene from the start of the manga would, she get the strenght to move pass it and have fun, keeping her head high because she won't be alone.

Hanako will be there for her.

Hanako is one of her biggest strenghts, and when he is gone she is hit hard.

Her first instinct is to seek someone to talk too.

And when she can't, she falls. There is nothing she can do, her friends are already dead, and just like her own death, she doesn't know how to solve it.

Even when she feels better, going out to the arcade instead of being trapped alone in her room, the moment she remembers that she can't talk to her friends, that they are gone, she relapses again, sapped of all of her strenght.

She is 15, she can't handle this.

Her major sorces of comfort is still her close friends, which is normal, but she does gain strenght from other people.

Enters Teru and Akane.

Akane is one of the characters that push her to act when things are at their most hopeless, but unlike Kou and Aoi he isn't her cheerleader, he never coddles her. If she ask for reassurance that she is beautiful, or useful, or doing the right thing, he will either not give her that or straight up say "I dissagree".

Akane is not a source of hope for Nene, his belief in her is not nearly as strong as Kous or Hanako or Aoi's belief in her. Just as Nene's believe in herself isn't very strong in hopeless situations.

He never sugarcoats tragedy, in fact he consistently drag her back to how bleak things are. Ignore the arcade, don't distract yourself: Face reality.

He is open about his misery.

It mostly feel like he is processing his own feelings when he rants to Nene, but the end message is clear "I hate this, i want to try to change it. You want to, don't you?" which is exactly how Nene feels.

They are hopeless but they're not alone in this hopelessness. Despite Nene never working up with Akane during the rescue arc. This served as a reality check, which serves to process her feelings better.

Reality does sucks, there is no clear solution, she is unhappy, she does want to change things, she hates crying and being helpless while her friends are dead/suffering. So she eat a sugary sweet to comfort herself and she chin up.

Akane never says "you can do it, you are stronger than you think!" he sucks at comforting, I love him but oh god he sucks. But the message he gives her is till important "You have to do it." "You have to try anyways or you'll stay helpless."

Teru is the savior, Nene already idolized him from the start, but he is the one that showed them a way to rescue Aoi too. He is amazing. He can do the impossible!

Now let's jump to the new timeline.

Kou, her buddy, her biggest cheerleader, doesn't know her. It hit hards and she was so so happy to have him back!!

But just as quickly as she gets to see her buddy, Kou is gone, this is just a shell trying to lure her to death, the real one is dead at the bottom of a wheel.

She doesn't have the time to process that, because Hanako, her big source of comfort, doesn't exist. Amane, who she had watched be brutally slashed by Teru, have been possessed and wants to kill her and all her friends instead of protecting her.

Teru, this invincible guy (Nene wasn't present when No.6 took Teru down, so for her he is unbeatable) that made saving Aoi possible, is the first one down.

Everyone is doing what they can, so Nene does too, she want to help her friends, she can't let them be in danger! While Aoi takes charge, she doesn't allow herself to be too shocked and focus on destroying the tentacle attacking Akane.

But she is still terrified.

The last thing she want to do is to be alone. But she have too. Once more, Akane doesn't sugarcoat the situation, he says "This reality, it sucks, and if you want to change it, you have to act! Go!"

But this time he is left behind too. Nene is completely and utterly alone.

She has the weight of the world on her shoulders as she run through the city for who knows how long, but she is terrified and she doesn't have Akane to be terrified with her, just the weight of his words and the faint hope that they'll meet her in the big clock to keep her going.

She is doing something so so big, she need to talk to someone first, she need strenght. She need people.

So she seek them. And no one answers.

She crumbles, she becomes small. There is no heroine to be seem, just a teen girl in shambles after losing every. single. person that used to give her strenght.

That's why Tsuchigomori was needed.

Let her cry. Let her process the situation with a comforting sweet to gather the strenght to do what she must.

[phosphns]

MILAN , chris s.

🫐. you take chris around milan, enjoying a cute night in the sweet italian atmosphere.

warns. bf!chris x italian!reader | established relationship, fluff, cursing, kissing, pet names [babe, pretty], some italian sentences, flirty comments, no use of y/n

The Prada fashion show had been nothing short of breathtaking.

When Chris asked you to go with them at the show, you were beyond excited. Not just because the show would have taken place in your hometown, but also because you’d always loved fashion. You couldn’t believe you were really going to attend a Prada event, so it all felt like a dream when you actually stood in the first line, examining every outfit with heart-shaped eyes.

Chris stood beside you, his hand wrapped securely around your waist. He looked so cool in that black suit, but you could tell that he wasn’t used to this world. His brothers, Nick and Matt, were nearby, doing some comments about the designs now and then and trying to sneak pictures of the show that they would have posted later.

“You okay?” Chris leaned in close, his voice soft in your ear. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the air of sophistication around you.

“I’m better than okay,” you replied with a smile, your Italian accent giving your english words a unique charm that he adored. “This doesn’t even feel real.”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curving into a grin. “It’s wild, right? I didn’t think we’d actually get invited to something like this.”

You nod, your gaze not leaving the runway, too focused on the way models walked or held the precious bags.

After the show wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, Nick and Matt said their goodbyes, leaving you and Chris alone. The night was still young, and the streets of Milan were alive with lights, laughter, and the allure of adventure

Chris took your hand, pulling you away from the crowd of paparazzi and fans surrounding the fashion show area, leading you to a quieter spot.

As soon as you were alone, you wrapped your arms around his neck, caressing the back of his head while his hands moved to your hips. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You smiled, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes. You nodded. “You have no idea how much,” you said, before connecting your lips with his in a sweet kiss that expressed all your happiness and gratitude.

“Thank you,” you added after pulling away. He gave a confused little smile. “For what?” he asked, his fingers running up and down your sides in a reassuring but very sensual way.

“For giving me the chance to come,” you answered, looking up at him. It was true; you were extremely grateful to have been invited, but above all, you were proud of him. In such a short time, he had managed to get so far, doing it all on his own, with his brothers. You were thankful to be with someone like him.

He smiled sincerely, then his smile turned into a knowing smirk, and he added mischievously, “You have no idea how many more times I’ll give you that chance.” You gave him a playful tap to reprimand him.

“Can’t you be serious for five seconds?” you scolded, trying to hold back a grin. “Not when I’m around you, pretty,” he replied, making you blush.

You decided to pull away, taking his hand. “I want to show you something,” you said, stopping the first available taxi. Chris didn’t say anything, getting into the car after you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned forward, murmuring the destination to the driver in Italian, so Chris couldn’t understand.

Once back in your seat, the dark-haired guy wasted no time asking where you were taking him. “Wait and see,” you replied simply, leaving him in suspense. He playfully huffed, but didn’t say anything else, partly because he wanted to play along, and partly because he wanted to enjoy the view outside the window: Milan by night was enchanting, whether seen through the eyes of a local or a tourist. The lights, the life, the sounds, never failed to amaze you

Finally, the taxi stopped, and after paying, you both got out. In front of you was the square, illuminated by the lights of the street lamps and the reflections from the lively bars filled with people. Some stopped for a drink, others greeted each other with laughter and chatter.

Chris looked up, his eyes widening when he saw the cathedral. Its gothic facade seemed even more impressive under the dark sky. “Holy shit,” the guy exclaimed, looking at the building in all its beauty.

“Pretty, right?” you asked, standing beside him in front of the majestic cathedral. He nodded, but after a moment, his expression shifted slightly as he turned to look you in the eyes. “It’s almost as beautiful as you,” he whispered, getting closer to you. His low voice carried a teasing tone.

You turned to look at him too, rolling your eyes playfully. “Stop being cheesy.” He laughed and shrugged. “What? It’s true,” he replied, though his tone made it clear he was just messing around. Before you could respond, he turned suddenly and looked around.

“Hey, excuse me, could you take a picture for us?” he asked a passerby, who happily agreed. You looked at Chris, confused, not understanding what he had in mind. You watched as he handed his phone to the man with the camera app open. Then he came back to you and grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him for the umpteenth time that night.

Once again, he didn’t give you time to react, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you slowly and sensually, as if in that square full of people, you were the only ones who mattered. It was just the two of you, and time seemed to slow down.

When you pulled away, you let out a chuckle. “That was definitely corny,” you whispered, our faces still close. He winked at you and took the phone back from the stranger after thanking him.

“Okay, maybe a little,” he said.

Chris gave you a soft tap before wrapping his arm around your waist and dragging you to a nearby bench. The two of you sat down, and you rested your head on his shoulder while he opened the photo app to check out the shots.

“Babe, we need to post these, you look so sexy,” he said, placing a hand on your thigh while adding the photo to his favorites. “Mhmh, sure” you replied, making him smirk, clearly proud of his choice.

“So,” he began, “teach me something in italian. You know, to make me sound cooler.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile at his silly idea, but you didn’t refuse. “Are you trying to impress the locals?” you teased him.

“Of course, I want to show off my italian skills,” he replied with an obvious, cocky tone. “Alright then,” you said, giving him an amused glance. “Sei un coglione di prima categoria, ma sfortunatamente ti amo lo stesso.”

The brunette blinked a few times, as if trying to register the sentence, which sounded so odd to him. “Wait, I caught a ‘ti amo,’ right?” he said, his expression amused but also a little curious. You looked at him, returning his usual smirk. “You only got that part,” you replied, pretending to mock him.

“I got it! Woah, I’m basically fluent now,” he exclaimed, leaning back on the bench and taking a long, satisfied breath.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

He shot you a teasing glance. “Yeah, and yet you publicly said, I quote, ti amo.”

yaps. “milano we love you” we all say in unison. ALSO requests are open, so feel free to request anything!

wc. 1.2k

[machveil]

continuing my Immune!König post because I love a good zombie apocalypse au🎀✨we get angsty, teehee

Immune!König who fears for your safety and becomes a wreck as days turn into weeks. after finding out he was immune in the first few days, the nasty bite to his forearm disinfected and wrapped, he’s been keeping you locked up. he’s constantly paranoid, skeptical about leaving you alone, stressed over not providing enough for you. while he hasn’t turned he still carries the virus. he fears accidentally hurting you, god forbid, turning you, refusing to let you touch his skin. devastated by his own precautions, eyebrows knit as he watches you from an arm’s length away

Immune!König who curses the virus, who blames himself for being attacked in the first place - he should have seen it coming, should have prevented anything from coming near— if he hadn’t been bitten he could still kiss you, he could still share from the same cup as you, could kiss your scrapes like they’d magically heal. his saliva undoubtedly carries the virus, it eats at him that he can’t feel your lips against his. it eats away at his heart, makes his lungs feel restricted as he sobs. he won’t let you wipe away his tears, fear clawing up his throat that one salty drop will have you thrashing and mindless. he won’t let you hug him, too worried somehow, irrational and angry, you’ll be taken away from him and it’ll be his fault

Immune!König who stresses over kissing through his balaclava and mask a month into the outbreak. nauseous after it happens, sick with regret that, even through two layers of fabric, he’s somehow endangered you because he was selfish. for the first time in months he feels your hands on him, rubbing his back as he curls in on himself. “König, I’m okay— it’s okay.”, hushed words whispered to him as he sniffles and weeps, mourning someone who’s still alive. it was okay, but it still plays on his mind - a different world where it wasn’t, where he infected you and couldn’t do anything. for the first time since his childhood, he truly feels helpless

Immune!König who looks in the mirror and sees a monster. a gurgling, brutish creature hiding beneath his skin, coursing through his veins. what if he isn’t immune? what if he does turn? some days he locks you up in a bedroom, all the food and water he’s collected pushed into a corner, your soft pleading for him to let you out falling on deaf ears. you’re better off confined, trapped with warm blankets and books he’s scavenged. sleepless nights tallying as he stands watching the front door. he could leave. chest tight, he turns to join you in the bedroom because he can’t. for every reason he can make up, his heart can’t handle the pain of leaving you alone. he doesn’t join you in bed, refuses to let you sleep on the floor with him. a beast shouldn’t lay with an engel, his darling little Schatzi

Immune!König who stands next to your sleeping form during the dead of night, tired blue eyes gazing down at you. he’d give anything to cradle you against him, unable to bring himself to even sit down on the edge of the mattress. König stares. he misses holding your hands, his face flush and red with frustration. angry at the world, devastated at his situation, but never upset with you. the thought of being displeased with you has his stomach churn alone, none of this is your fault. no matter how many times he replays the memory in his head, he’d shove you out of danger every time, even if it meant getting bit in the process

[prettycopperpennies]

They React To You Voting X

GN! Reader Oneshots including

x Thanos/Choi Su Bong/Player 230, x Lee Myung-gi/Player 333, x Kang Dae-ho/Player 388

Description: After making an ally in the first game it is now time to vote, but how will your ally think of you voting X? (this can either be read as a stand alone oneshot or as a second part to this previous post).

Warnings: None

Thanos/Choi Su Bong/Player 230

As the significantly smaller group of people walked back to the room after the first game Thanos, seemingly officially an ally, stuck by your side. His lips moved silently as he rapped to himself, not noticing how shell shocked you were. As soon as you sat on one of the metal steps, you could feel your body fold into yourself. You could not believe what just happened out there.

“I think we were one of the first across,” Thanos bragged to you as he sat down next to you.

You didn’t answer, not really hearing him as he spoke to you. He noticed your wide eyes fixed on the ground in front of you with a far off look. He leaned over towards you, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Hey, are you good?” he asked, dipping his head in an attempt to meet your eyes with his own.

His close proximity pulled you out of your own world, but it did nothing to ease the worries rushing through you. He couldn’t stop his expression from mirroring your own as your head turned towards him. He frowned when he realized how upset you were. 

His finger went to his cross as he said, “You know, if you’re nervous one of these could help yo-”

He was interrupted by pink guards entering the room and everyone gasping and ducking away from the armed triangle workers, you among them. Thanos leaned forward in interest, simultaneously blocking you from the eyeline of the guards as you shrunk back further in fear. They assured the players they weren’t here to “eliminate” anyone else at that moment, nor were they the ones collecting on everyone’s debt. Instead they were here to announce the results of the game.

Thanos’ eyes doubled in size as he watched the stacks of money drop into the piggy bank. You felt your stomach doing somersaults, not nearly as enraptured by the view as the lanky, purple-haired man beside you.

“See? Don’t stress. We didn’t do that game for nothing,” Thanos said in a futile attempt to comfort you.

“That’s not the problem, Thanos,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, not willing to understand what you were trying to get across.

“But I’m watching out for you,” he assured you, “So there is nothing to worry about. You don’t need to worry about them-”

He pointed a ringed finger towards the guards before continuing.

“Or any of them.”

He pointed towards the group of players looking up at the piggy bank.

“And now we don’t have to worry-”

His eyes drifted back up to the ceiling where the piles of cash were suspended.

“About money either.”

The guards started to speak, explaining a vote was going to be held between the players. They were offering a choice: stay or go. As the two of you stood up and waited for your number to be called you knew exactly what you wanted, and with a sinking feeling you knew what the player next to you wanted too.

“We should vote the same, yeah? Since we’re allies?” Thanos said, turning to you. Apparently, he was thinking the very same thing as you.

“Um,” you said, your shyness overpowering you.

You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks as he flung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in a little.

“Vote O and I’ll tell you a secret,” he said with a smile, trying to tempt you over to his side.

“A secret?” you asked, doubting someone this outgoing and seemingly open really had that many secrets. Less than an hour ago he was openly taking drugs right in front of you.

“It’s a good one,” he whispered, ducking down close to you so you could hear him over the din of people moving around. His number was called and he gave your shoulder a squeeze before leaving you to vote O. He turned back, giving you a cocky wink, before joining the other O’s.

You felt your heart pound as your own number was called. You knew how Thanos wanted you to vote, and he wasn’t the only one. There were a lot of players voting O, but you hoped maybe the tides would turn. One game was enough for you.

Thanos gave a defeated huff as you voted X. He watched you walk to the other side of the room, waiting for you to glance over to him. But you avoided his eyes, instead watching the votes slowly grow on the board. He desperately tried to catch your gaze, wanting to talk to you. But unfortunately for him, you two had to keep to your sides as the vote crept on.

The vote was over and the O’s had won. You walked over to the bed you had woken up in earlier this day. You had a sinking feeling you would be stuck here longer than you thought, and unfortunately you had just gotten rid of your one ally. You were just laying down when someone spoke up in the bed next to you.

“So do you not care about any of us?” the player asked, glaring at you from the mattress they sat on.

“What?” you asked worriedly as you sat back up.

“Some of us have some serious debt, you know. And here all you X’s are,  not really caring what kind of world you are putting us back into if these games end and we don’t make enough money,” they snarled.

“No I- I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I just think place this isn’t safe either, and I don’t want anyone getting hu-”

“It gets a little hard and you just run away, is that it?” they asked.

“Back off,” a deep voice said, and soon Thanos was walking up the steps, getting between you and the player accusing you. They took in his tall stature and decided to listen, getting up with a scoff before walking away. Thanos watched with a glare as they retreated. As soon as they left he placed his hand on the top of the bed frame before leaning down to your eye level.

“They’re right, you know,” he told you, his signature cocky smirk absent from his face.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“The life waiting for me out there isn’t exactly a happy one,” he explained.

“We could die in here. Any life is better than none,” you said, desperately hoping your one ally could see your side.

He shook his head with a sigh before speaking up again, “Agree to disagree.”

“Is that your secret?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Thanos felt his heart thud as you looked at him with worry. Nobody cared about him quite like this before, and you were basically a stranger. He decided he couldn’t leave someone as sweet as you to the wolves, no matter how you voted.

“Nah,” he said, a small smirk turning a corner of his mouth.

You noticed that half smile, hoping against hope maybe the two of you could still stick together for the games even though you didn’t agree.

“So, what is your secret?” you asked.

 You absentmindedly leaned forward, your curiosity taking over. Thanos felt his heartbeat quicken once again as you shrunk the distance between the two of you. He wasn’t used to being so nervous around a girl like this. He found the nerves somehow bolstered his ego and he decided to mirror you, leaning towards you till the two of you were only inches apart. As he moved, you finally realized just how close the two of you had become. You blushed as his lips broke into a full smile.

“Don’t you wish you knew,” he said, then with a click of his tongue continued on, “Too bad you won’t hear it. At least this time.”

With that he reached a hand out, tapping a finger twice against the red patch on your jacket. Clearly, he was not above bribery.

Lee Myung-gi/Player 333

As everyone filtered back into the main room after the first game you finally realized just how exhausted all the stress had left you feeling. You were ready to lay down and just crash, but as you approached your bed you realized all your “neighbors” hadn’t made it through. You felt tears start to prick at your eyes as you looked at your singular state. 

Myung-gi hadn’t walked in with you, but he had kept an eye out for you since the first game ended. He watched you crawl into your bed, also noticing the emptiness of the other beds around you just as you had. He saw you suddenly ducking your head to your chest. He subconsciously leaned forward from where he sat, watching your hand occasionally wipe across your cheek. 

He sighed to himself, as if he should have expected this. It didn't help that even before the first game he had decided you were one of the more fragile players. 

You were cursing the lack of privacy in this place, trying to hide the tears slipping down your cheeks the best you could. Apparently, you weren’t doing a very good job of it because soon someone was standing beside your bed. You looked up, spotting Myung-gi looking down at you.

He felt a little twinge of worry as your red rimmed eyes looked back into his, “Are you okay, y/n?”

“Of course,” you said, hurriedly trying to wipe the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. 

Myung-gi glanced around the room, trying to gauge if anyone else was noticing your crying. He was a little paranoid that someone might think of you as vulnerable if they saw and would come after you in the next game (ignoring the fact it was the very reason he decided to offer himself as your ally). You noticed him looking around and did the same. You tried to quell the tears, but you just couldn't seem to calm down.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. 

He offered his hand towards you. You took it, and he gently pulled you off the bed and onto the step beside it. He stepped in front of you, blocking you from the view of the rest of the room.

“Just take a beat,’ he suggested.

You nodded, taking a few deep breaths. You felt your nerves start to calm, although you weren’t sure it was the calm breathing. Your anxiety quieted as Myung-gi kept you away from prying eyes. 

After a few moments those damned tears finally stopped. Myung-gi sat down beside you, smiling to himself when he heard you try to steady your breath; it was still hitching in your throat every so often after all the crying.

“Sorry. It was all those empty beds, and then I started to feel all alone, and-”

As you tried to explain, your voice wavered. You were just about to start crying again when Myung-gi spoke up, “You know, there’s an empty space below my bunk.”

You gave him a hopeful look, not confident enough to invite yourself to take up the bed (even though it was clearly what he had been insinuating).

He waited a few moments for you to say something, but he realized after a bit you weren’t going to speak up, and so he continued, “It might be better for you to hang out there instead of by yourself here.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a flood of relief.

“We’re allies, we’ve got to stick together,” he said with a casual shrug, but he couldn’t stop his chest from puffing up a little when you gave him a smile.

A group of pink guards entered the room, putting an end to your conversation. Myung-gi stood up once again, keeping you behind him as the jumpsuited group approached people. Soon people were begging the guards to give them a chance to pay off their debts, getting in front of them on their knees.

 Your own anxiety took over, and you moved to join them. Begging for forgiveness seemed better to you than just waiting for them to end you instead. As soon as you stood up Myung-gi grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Hang on,” he said, his focus on the guards who seemed to be trying to talk over the crying players.

Soon they explained they were simply here to share the effects of the game, and to conduct a vote. You were watching the money fall into the piggy bank, but Myung-gi was thinking about the aforementioned vote. He knew as he watched those bills fill up the clear container it would not be enough.

You made a move to stand and join everyone else gathering to vote when Myung-gi took a knee in front of where you sat, stopping you from getting up just yet. He grabbed both your hands in his, keeping steady eye contact with you.

“How are you going to vote?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“What do you mean? Don’t you want to go home?” you asked, surprised he even needed to ask.

“Of course I do, but…” he said, trailing off as he tried to find a way to put it. He gave your hands a squeeze as he spoke up again, trying to convey how serious he was, “Listen, I know that looks like a lot of money, but when it’s divided among everyone it won’t amount to barely anything.”

“I don’t care,” you said, tears once again pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“We’ve got each other, right? With an ally we’ve got an advantage compared to everyone else. We can easily make it through one more game,” he said to you, trying to convince you. 

You nervously chewed the inside of your cheek, now feeling much more unsure of what you should do in this next moment. He noticed you starting to waver and spoke up one more time, pulling you in slightly as he did.

“I’ve got you. I promise,” he said, speaking much quieter as if what he said was only meant for you to hear, despite there not being anyone else by you.

“All players please come onto the floor,” a guard said from their spot in the front of the room, looking over in the direction of the two of you.

Myung-gi let go of your hands with a tense sigh before letting you start down the steps in front of him. As the two of you waited for your own numbers to be called his eyes continued to flick over to you, trying to read your expression.

You were called up first, and you couldn’t bear to look over at Myung-gi before walking down the path between the small groupings of O voters and X voters. Myung-gi felt his shoulders drop a little as the tally changed. You had voted X. Your own shoulders dropped just the same as his when just a few minutes later he voted O. You both somehow managed to disappoint the other.

As the voting concluded, you fell into a quiet despair. You couldn't believe the O’s had won. You walked dejectedly to your empty bunk, wanting to just sleep your sinking feeling off. You were stopped in your tracks by your previous ally.

“I thought you might change your mind,” Myung-gi admitted.

“I thought you’d change yours too,” you said. Once again, those stupid waterworks started up and a few tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes.

Myung-gi felt a wave of guilt as he watched you start to cry. He knew this time it was partly his fault, and he found himself hating being the reason you were upset. He had to stop himself from reaching out and wiping the tears off your cheek. Instead, he just stood in front of you, desperately trying to think of some way to make it all better.

“I just want to go home, Myung-gi,” you said, your voice cracking a little as you tried to keep your composure.

“I’ll make sure you get home,” he said without thinking, making promises he couldn't keep. Anything to get you to stop hurting.

“Then why did you vote X?” you asked helplessly.

“I told you, I can’t go just yet. That’s not enough,” he said, pointing up to the barely filled piggy bank.

“Fine,” you said with a sniff, side stepping around him.

He followed you like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, wracked with guilt.

“It’s not like I want to stay here,” he said, trying to explain.

You stopped and turned on your heels, coming face to face with him. You fixed him with a glare, but with your tear stained cheeks and naturally soft demeanor you couldn’t quite pull off being intimidating.

“But apparently you don’t want to leave either,” you said.

As unintimidating as you were, Myung-gi still felt a wave of shame. He couldn’t bear to keep looking into your red-rimmed eyes and instead let you walk away. As you both went to your separate sides of the room, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting over to you.

You had laid down, pulling the covers over your head at a futile attempt of some privacy. Anxiety poked at him as you laid there, not even bothering to get up to eat. At lights out Myung-gi stayed up, his nerves not letting him sleep knowing you were by yourself, completely vulnerable. Instead, he stayed up all night, watching over you from across the room, making sure nothing happened to you. He meant what he said, he was getting you home.

Kang Dae-ho/Player 388

Dae-ho clearly wanted you as an ally, sticking beside you since the first game. The two of you were more than a little shocked with the events that had just played out. The two of you were sitting on one of the many steps among the bunk beds, trying to process everything. Dae-ho glanced over to you, noticing you subconsciously pulling at a loose thread on your sleeve. He reached out, his fingers just barely grazing across your hand.

The gesture managed to focus the anxious thoughts clouding your brain, and finally you stopped picking at the thread. You looked over to Dae-ho, who was giving you a comforting smile.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment, not sure how to answer that. You found yourself getting pulled back into your mind, terrifying images flashing through your brain. Dae-ho noticed your eyes start to glaze over. He shifted his foot, nudging at your own foot. You blinked, once again finding yourself having to be pulled out of your own thoughts.

“Sorry. I just… I don’t know. I guess I’m okay. Or maybe… Not?” you asked, trying so hard to find the words.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a solemn nod.

The two of you fell into another silence, unsure of what to say to each other. Dae-ho noticed Player 456 sitting and talking to another player. He sat up a little straighter, trying to get a better look.

“That’s the player who knew what was going to happen, right?” he asked, nodding with his head in the player’s direction.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said.

Dae-ho seemed lost in thought for a few moments before speaking up again.

“What if we join him and his friend?” he said, sounding a little excited at the prospect of growing your group of two.

You felt your nerves rise up at the suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea. Actually, you knew it was a really good one. But you were never good at making friends. Your shy nature always seemed to ruin every social interaction you had ever tried for, not including the interaction between you and the man sitting next to you at that very moment (but that was only thanks to him). You thought of all the ways you could mess up when talking to possible new allies, fidgeting once again with the new string as you did.

Dae-ho watched you attentively, easily reading the stress in your expression. He moved a little closer, his shoulder gently bumping into yours. As soon as you turned towards him, he gave you a reassuring smile. You tried your best to smile back, but in truth you were worried about ruining his shot at getting more allies.

“Maybe, you should go by yourself,” you said.

As soon as he heard your suggestion his smile fell. You couldn’t stand to see him look so dejected, and you cast your eyes to the ground.

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a little nod. He moved back away from you, giving you space. He chastised himself in his head, thinking he must have clearly misread the situation.

“I will just mess it up for you,” you admitted.

Talking so frankly about your shortcomings left you feeling so embarrassed. You were glad you had already turned your head to keep your eyes facing the ground. That meant, at the very least, he couldn’t see the blush painting your cheeks. 

Dae-ho took a moment, letting your admission sink in. He started to laugh a little, in spite of himself. You looked up with confusion, and he cut his laughter short after seeing how red your cheeks were.

“Wait, oh, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, and without thinking he reached his hand out and brushed it across your flushed cheeks.

That gesture did calm your nerves a little, but did nothing to quell your blush.

“I just thought… I thought you were just trying to get rid of me,” he admitted with another laugh.

Your eyes widened as you spoke up, “No! I didn’t want to get rid of you! Honestly, I was giving you the choice to get rid of me, because I- Oh, god.”

You covered your face with your hands out of frustration with yourself.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not planning on taking you up on that offer,” he said.

“I’m just going to mess everything up for you, trust me,” you muttered through your fingers.

“No, you’re not,” he said with a light hearted scoff.

“No, really. You need allies, and I-”

“I’m not leaving you behind! Besides, I’m not sure how you think you come off, but you’re actually pretty,” he just barely stopped himself from saying cute and instead said, “uh, charming.”

“Really?” you said, finally removing your hands from your face.

His breath hitched in his throat as he looked into your eyes, your cheeks still a little pink as your embarrassment slowly eased up. He could swear kindness was literally radiating off of you. To him, you glowed.

He was barely able to find his voice, taken completely by both the beauty on the inside and out. He was only able to answer with a quiet, simple, “Yeah.”

“Thanks,” you said with a grateful smile, “That’s really sweet of you.”

Before either of you could say another word the pink guards filtered into the rooms. Dae-ho instinctively put his arm out across you, protecting you just like he had in that first game. But soon you both realized they weren’t here to hurt you. They were only here to announce the results of the first game. 

You both turned your heads upwards to watch the money fall into the empty piggy bank. You couldn’t keep watching the money fall, knowing exactly what it represented. It was stomach churning, so when the guards announced a vote you knew exactly what vote you were casting.

“A vote?” Dae-ho said, sounding as hopeful as you felt. You both were practically sprinting down to the floor, not able to get the vote started soon enough.

Dae-ho leaned over to you as everyone chattered, milling around as they discussed what they were going to vote, “Let’s go home.”

You both pressed X, and Dae-ho found you among the group after he voted. He stood beside you, smiling once again. But it was a little more nervous than before. You felt your own anxiety peaking as the tally ticked up and up. You held your breath, so nervous to admit the X’s may not win.

“Why are people voting O?” you asked, not comprehending why anyone wanted to stay.

“I don’t know, but it’ll be okay,” Dae-ho answered, trying his best to reassure you.

“You sure?” you asked, more than willing to believe him despite the very real dangers you and him were both stuck in.

“Absolutely,” he told you with a definitive nod.

You both turned back to watch the vote continue on. As another player voted O, your hand subconsciously shot out and grabbed Dae-ho’s. He immediately gave your hand a gentle squeeze, knowing just how you felt. He held your hand through the entire vote, occasionally rubbing his thumb in a comforting circle whenever another O vote was cast.

You were crestfallen when you lost the vote, not at all sure what to do. Dae-ho was about to say something when you spoke up first.

“We need to talk to those other players,” you said, trying to muster a determination you never had when making friends.

You were filled with nerves, not at all giving a vibe of confidence, but Dae-ho was still impressed with you. He simply nodded, and not wanting to throw you off, he silently followed as you headed towards Player 456’s corner. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you square your shoulders as you got closer. Despite not being able to see your expression, he knew you were trying to keep up your momentary confidence.

He also followed you, although with some confusion, when you suddenly made a hard right turn a few steps away from Player 456 and his friend. Instead you quickly climbed up to the bunk bed above them.

You cast your eyes down a little as Dae-ho followed suit. You both ended up sitting on a high up bed, you with very hot cheeks and him patiently for you to explain what had happened.

“I chickened out,” you admitted.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he agreed. 

You looked up to see him grinning at you, and a wave of relief washed over you when you realized he wasn’t upset.

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to them,” he said with an untroubled shrug. Suddenly the guards were entering again, this time with food. Dae-ho’s eyebrows raised and he spoke again, “Right after lunch.”

[igotanidea]

Bound by business: Jason Todd x reader

Summary: Jason x information dealer reader. He only came for the info, but one thing led to another, a bit of whiskey and some teasing and - .... And she's a self made gotham.boss bitch falling for no one...

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, dirty talk, p in v, teasing, angst

A/N : Been a while since I wrote smut and a story this long. Let me down gently. XD

***

It was dark and the rain was heavy, doing nothing to hide Jason’s irritation as he speeded on his motorcycle to the bad side of Gotham if there was any good side of Gotham in the first place.

Once having reached his destination, he took his helmet off letting rain wet his ruffled hair and started banging on the door.

His contact in the criminal world had been hard lately and he had no idea why, but the reasons behind the sudden change in the attitude were far from his interest.

HE and Y/N had a long history, went way back to the times when he was Robin and she was a good girl, both memories seeming like a fucking grotesque now.

“Y/N! Open the fuck up!”

“The hell Jason?!”

The door opened but she made no move to invite him inside despite the downpour on the outside. Instead she settled on watching him shake the water off like a dog, deriving some sadistic pleasure from the fact he could barely see with his hair stuck to his forehead and falling into his eyes.  

“The gun shipment. Tonight. I need details. Time, place, figures involved.

“Well hello to you too, Jason. I’ve been fine thanks for asking.” She scoffed and then smirked.

“I don’t have time for this shit-“

“Right, right, of course. I probably should thank you for not putting a gun to my head right away, right?”

“That is to be rectified at any moment now.” He reached towards his holster.

“Don’t be stupid, Jason. You know you only get this far with things because of me. You don’t want to lose an ally, do you?”

“You’re just an information dealer. Plenty of those in Gotham.”

“Mhm. Sure. And how many of them are as skilled as I am?”

He scoffed, pushing right past her, casually shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the couch.

“Yeah by all means, ruin my furniture. Drink?” she asked, heading towards the cabinet

“Whiskey. Neat.”

“Wow, someone finally developed some standards. What gives?”

Jason scoffed again.

“Standards, my ass. It’s at your expense so why would I hold back?”

“I might hold you accountable to that in the future. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

The glasses clinked and for a moment they both sipped their drinks in silence which gave Jason a second to actually look at her. She was a badass, that was what he knew. But every time he came around to her place, which was not really happening that often, she was almost innocent. Ironically. No make up, comfy clothes, just hoodie and yoga pants. He had seen women try harder to look I-woke-up-like-this.

Y/N was just being comfortable. 

“What’s with the look Jace?” she smirked from under the rim of her glass, her eyes piercing into him.

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About why you are suddenly not giving me shit.”

“It’s been a long day if you must know. Long and hard day. My shit giving attitude and my humor might be a little off. ”

“Huh!” he huffed dismissively “hard day? You want to hear about a hard day? The one involving guns and fights? And being stabbed with a knife? Twice?“

“We all have our own definition of a hard day, you fool. You deal with bullets, I deal with people.”

“So you’re basically saying that people are worse than guns? Seriously? Damn, girl you got some audacity there.” He half-laughed, taking another sip of the whiskey and swirling the beverage “so, spill. Which one of your usual charming assholes got under your skin?”

“Luckily someone I do not have any respect for.”

“You have respect for no one, sunshine. But please, do tell. Did you kick him in the groin or punched him in the face?”

“Something like that.” She smirked, clearly so full of herself.

“Please tell me you at least broke his nose.”

“I did no permanent damage, that's all I can say.”

“Meaning you did something painful, but not crippling.” He nodded. He was actually learning to use the same method. Putting a gun to people's heads and shooting them dead was not very useful while searching for info. But then again, he had Y/N for that latter purpose. “Black eye? Twisted arm?”

“I thought you came here about the gun shipment info?” she finally sat on the couch and turned to face him with a hint of tease in her eyes.

“I did. But should it stop me from having a little polite conversation with my favorite partner in crime?” Jason leaned back on the coach with a sly smile

“Mh! I call bullshit.”

“How’s your hand doing?”

The question took her by surprise. Right, the hand, of course he knew about it. She got injured during one of her quests last week and has been dealing with the consequences ever since.

“I’m handling.”

“Uh!” Jason raised his hand stopping her in the middle of the sentence “Let me translate: it hurts like hell but you won’t admit it.” Y/N would never confront her pain – neither physical nor emotional. And yes, he was doing the same but it was easier to notice it in someone else than in himself. “So, given the state of that limb you must have got to that asshole pretty hard. Good job, I’ll give you that. It’s not every day I get to hear about your violent tendencies….” He chuckled and sipped the last of his drink, putting the glass back on the table, his eyes fixed on hers with a mischief in them.

“Oh you know damn well about my violent tendencies…”

“Damn right I do. And don’t I just love every fucking one of them…” his voice dropped an octave as he leaned forward, never dropping the gaze.  “Nothing sexier than a woman who can handle herself…”

“Oh yeah?” she allowed him the sudden closeness, clearly enjoying the blooming game “never took you for a guy who loved being manhandled..”

“Oh I am not. But I’m a sucker for watching someone deserving of it experiencing that treatment.” Jason's gaze moved down her body appreciatively, lingering on the swell of her breast under the hoodie and the curve of her hips accentuated by that stupid leggings. He knew she had curves under all those clothes. “It’s a fucking turn on.” He added in a husky tone. 

“Is it now…?” she hummed moving a little closer on the couch, her own drink landing on the table as well as she placed palms on his thighs, using it to lean even more forwards, leaving less than an inch between their faces.

“Fuck yeah it is…” his breath caught in his throat a little at the unexpected but not unwelcomed touch. “Seeing you lay someone down with those gorgeous hands of yours….” He licked his lips.

“Mhm… keep talking…” Y/N switched positions, now sitting on his lap, straddling him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and he instinctively grabbed onto her hips.  Gods, he was a man and suddenly realized how long it’s been since he had a one night stand, too busy with work.

But this?

This was getting dangerous and deep down he knew that once started, wouldn’t end up easily.

This was not going to be just scratching an itch like it usually was. This would hurt a lot and mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea.

But he couldn’t stop, the primal part of his brain already awakened by the closeness of her body, her almost gentle caresses and the soft, sweet yet seductive tone he had never heard before but she had mastered to perfection.

“I said…” she leaned to his ear “keep talking…”

“Fucks…” he groaned staring at her with undisguised lust “the though of you getting dirty… rough….”

“Uh-huh…” she hummed and started grinding on him. Slowly, almost torturously, causing Jason to take a sharp inhale of breath, but quickly composing himself.

“You always fight like that, princess?” his hands wandered from her hips to her ass, squeezing the ample flesh, pulling her closer to the bulge in his pants.

“Only for the special ones.”

 “Special ones, huh?” he held her hips tighter guiding her movements “Like when you want to prove a point? Or-“

“Or. Definitely or.”

She threw her head back, exposing her neck, giving him not-so-subtle hints.

“Or when you want to send a message?” he willingly moved his lips down her skin, sucking on the pulse points, earning a little, delicious moan and hand tangling in his hair. “A message that you’re taken?”

“Am I taken? Can’t remember…” she pulled back, taking off her hoodie and discarding her bra.

“Fuck yeah, you’re taken.” His lips moved lower, kissing her collarbone and cleavage.

“Good to know…” she made a quick movement to pull and toss his shirt somewhere in the room intensifying her movements on his ever growing tent “I think the gun shipment changed the location…”

“You fucking tease.” Jason hissed, changing the positions so she was trapped beneath his body. “Eight inches. Semi-automatic. Brand new and ready for action.”

“Well don’t I love being at a gunpoint…” her hand found a way to his groin, starting to palm the bulge, enjoying the way she seemed to still be in control, even with him on top.

“Oh yeah? A gun to your head?” he groaned, barely controlling himself.

“Maybe not to my head…”

Y/N wriggled on the bed, rolling on her belly for a moment to reach for the condom in the nightstand and that moment was enough for Jason to get hypnotized by that bounding piece of ass.

“I really hope the biggest size will fit you—”

“Fuck, I’ll stuff you so full you won’t walk for a week.”

He pushed her legs open with his knee, doing a quick job of rolling the latex on his length, teasing her clit with a few featherlight touches, loving how she seemed to beg for more with every squirm and entered her in one deep thrust.

“Big enough for you?” he bit her earlobe licking the shell right after, his voice low.  

“I – mmm… shit…”

“Have you ever had this big?” The thrusts were long and hard and deliciously painful at first before turning into a series of perfectly aimed and ideally paced movements that made her gasp from pleasure. “Answer the question, princess.”

“I – ah! Ah, shit!” nails of the right hand dug into the mattress hard enough to make holes, the other hand reaching for the pillow, quickly pressing it between her head and the headboard to prevent the potential concussion. He was not a semi-automatic gun machine. More like a rifle, never shooting blanks. Thank fucks, she was prepared in many ways and started taking pills a few weeks prior. Not that it was her plan or anything. 

“What was that?” he rocked faster and harder, pulling all the way back only to slam right back inside. “Too much for you, slut?”

“Make me come! Make me fucking come to give me incentive to answer that stupid question!”

“Seems to me like I’m fucking your brains out. Is that right, pretty? Am I fucking you stupid?”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah… you’re so fucked, baby.” He was now hitting her cervix with such a speed and strength as if his life was depending on it. “Fucked by no. One. Else. But. The. Red. Hood.“ Each word was punctuated by a deep movement and if someone asked she would swear it was reaching her stomach. Or maybe she just ate something bad.

“It’s an – ohhh! – oh shit!” she gasped, unable to finish the sentence for a moment. “It’s an honor for you to have me like this….” There was no way she was going to let him win and really fuck her stupid.

“Oh I know… But no one else is big and strong enough for you” he circled her clit, bending head to suck her nipple, leaving a wet trail from one breast to another “now, come for me… come baby…”

She bit her lips so hard that a blood appeared on the bottom one, quickly licking it off, turning Jason wild. He was a sucker for blood. Not only the shooting kind, clearly.

“Yeah…. Yeah…oh! Oh!”

She could feel his pace faltering a little as he was so close to his own climax.

And used it against him, hitting right into the momentum, somehow managing to end up on top of him again, hands on his chest, breasts bouncing, ass slapping on his cock as she rocked up and down, still in control.

“Fuck! Y/n!”

“Yeah, yeah that’s right, moan my name as you come Jason Todd. Red Hood. Whatever. Scream my name.”

“You- where did you learn how to take cock like that—”

“You wouldn’t like the answer. Now come on!” It was immensely hard to keep herself from diving into the sea of release but she knew how to get what she wanted. Years of effing experience in this fucked up place.  

His hands were on her ass, squeezing mercilessly, almost to the point of pain as he finally reached the stars.

Only then she allowed herself to let go as well. Winning, yet again, falling on top of him like a marathon runner who scored a gold medal even if there were truly no losers in this game of love. At least not in terms of the body.

“Damn… you’re heavy…” he hissed, wrapping arms around her, trapping her on top of him, nuzzling nose into her hair. She was right with him, next to him, so warm and soft and tender, making him feel so good, so nice, so liberated.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy my fat ass bouncing on you.”

“Too tired to even try to pretend.” He whispered, trying to kiss her softly, but much to his surprise, she rolled off him, swiftly avoiding his grip, grabbed the hoodie from the floor and stood up fixing her hair, letting it fall down her back like a h/c waterfall.

“Well this was nice.” Her tone was flat, unamused and the warmth in his chest turned into icy cold right away.

“Wait… what? But-“

“I’m gonna go piss now. Can’t risk any STIs. Those hurt like hell, not to mention it’s kind of embarrassing explaining to my Ob-gyn why I wasn’t careful again. I swear one more time and she’ll drop me as a patient.”

Was this a joke to her!?

“But-“ he stuttered looking at her with wide eyes. This was not what he expected at all and there were like a million questions in his head.  “Y/n-“

“I’ll be right back, but hey – hygiene right? You should get yourself cleaned too” she grabbed the towel from the rack and threw it on him, effectively flattening his still semi-hard cock and his appetite and energy for another round.

“But –“

“This is serious shit Jason! Gotta stay healthy if we’re to repeat it.”

She winked suggestively, rushing to the bathroom, leaving a little crack in the door, so he could faintly hear her peeing.

What was wrong with this girl!?

This must have been just some stupid nightmare, a product of his tired, messed up, beaten brain--

“So. You wanted to talk about something?” she was back about a minute later. “hey, you still didn’t clean up?”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” she touched her right buttock and hissed at the contact with a scratch his hands left on the skin.

“This no-nonsense attitude!”

“What else do you want me to do?” she tilted her head, looking at him quizzically

 “Oh I don’t know!” he finally lost his patience, feeling too vulnerable and too emotional for his own liking, feeling the compelling need to cover himself. Both physically and emotionally. “Normally people like to – oh, I don’t know – talk after sex? Maybe cuddle a little? But you’re just like oh, hey, it was a nice fuck, thanks for letting me use you, dressing and washing up like a freaking germophobe!” he got tangled in his pants, hardly preventing himself from tripping which would be even more condescending.

“Jason-“

“I’m being serious here Y/N!”

‘You called me slut.” She deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

‘I called you – ok, fine! Fine I called you slut. Is that why you’re suddenly icing me out?”

“No.”

“No!? That’s it? That’s all you got? I can’t fucking believe it!” he punched the wall leaving a little dent, but the broken pride clearly did not affect Y/N.

“Could you please calm down and stop depriving me of my deposit on this place? I’d appreciate it.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable!”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so emotional about it Jason.” It might have been a mirage but from Jason’s perspective it looked like Y/N literally rolled her eyes!

“We had sex!”

“Yes? and?” She hesitated giving him a chance to explain further but he was just standing there with eyes wide and mouth open. “Oh come on, this was just an itch, right? We’re bound by business, not pleasure. You don’t mix two explosives like us. It’s just unwise. We’re both adults, sex is not always about deeper feelings-”

She was still talking but he could hardly hear anything with the way blood was humming in his ears, successfully blocking any other bullshit coming out of her mouth (thankfully for Jason though).

Bound by business.

Mixing explosives.

Unwise.

Unwise!

Fucking unwise!?

“Jason?” she smiled softly, as if nothing happened, bending down and searching his eyes. “That gun shipment of yours? It happens in an hour at the docks and everything is orchestrated by Black Mask. I would take some backup if I were you, it might get ugly.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Without any further words he walked outside, feeling defeated like never before and the nail to the coffin was the sound of the door being locked right after him.

He should have known better that a girl who climbed this high in the criminal underworld would be fucked up in some way.

But how can one prepare for the reality of the broken heart?

Back up his ass. He was about to turn his newly found pain into rage and kill each and every one of Sionis’ men himself.

The moon was about to turn bloody that night….

And the worst part?

She was still his information dealer. The best in Gotham, regardless of what he might have said before.

And he was still going to work with her.

Do you know that warning : don’t drink and drive or better : don’t drink and text?

Yep.

Another one should be the warning of developing feelings for your literal partner in crime. 

@lettucel0ver @oohyasumi @apple---cider---vinegar