#wish i could tag her song this tag system....

[arosetolivefor]

[jobean12-blog]

Lovestruck

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Little do you know, after being in the wrong place at the wrong time- that you've gotten yourself on the radar of some very bad men. Thankfully, you now have the protection of one very good man (and Steve, also good) but when Javi first lays eyes on you he knows he wants so much more than just to protect you.

Author's Note: Again, I apologize for deleting this post a second time. The tags are just not cooperating. I really hope things work this time! Thank you again to those who gave me notes, hope you can enjoy again! No reason for more Javi other than I can't seem to get over him and I don't want to so yay! He's been on my mind extra lately. Wishing you all a very happy New Year filled with love, health and happiness! Thank you for all the support and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of tension and flirting, some soft sweetness too, Javi is forward but not in a bad way, he saves the day in more ways than one and might be in a little over his head (which he's not used to), fingering, smut (unprotected p in v- but just for fanfic folks lol)

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Keep staring like that and you’re gonna blow our cover man.”

Steve’s comment goes unnoticed as Javi continues to do just that. Stare.

You’re standing against the bar, drink in hand and talking with your friend, unaware of the pair of dark chocolate eyes glued to you.

“Hey,” Steve says again.

Javi tears his eyes away from you and pins Steve with a glare.

“What?”

Steve gives him an exasperated look. “You’re not supposed to fuck her. Just protect her.”

Javi grunts before finishing off his drink, his eyes sliding back to you as you saunter over to the juke box.

He’s been watching you for days now, his infatuation only growing the more he learns the little nuances of your body and the brightness of your smile. Barely conscious of his feet moving and Steve’s disgruntled objections, he starts toward you, unsure of his intention but at this point, unable to stop himself.

You shuffle through the songs on the screen, chewing your lip with indecision. His teeth sink into his own bottom lip in response, wishing it were yours. As he gets closer, your startled gaze flies up to meet his.

Lightning rockets through his system. If he thought you were beautiful in the photos and from across the room, it’s nothing compared to what he sees standing in front of him now.

He takes a step closer. Talking to women is like second nature to him, yet he finds himself stranded in silence, second-guessing everything that pops into his head.

And if he doesn’t speak soon, his closeness will begin to alarm you. Exactly the opposite of what he should be doing.

“I can’t let you do that,” he blurts out.

“Can’t let me do what, exactly?” you retort, turning to face him with a raised brow.

Your voice slides like silk across his skin and it takes him a minute to recapture his train of thought. He tilts his head toward the song on the screen of the juke box.

“Not that song.”

You smirk. “Elaborate.”

“Everyone picks that song. Aren’t you tired of it?”

You peek up at him, a laugh flirting around the edges of your mouth.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“Of course,” he replies. He tries not to stare at your lips. “I like to dance so for me, something like…”

He leans in and starts to scroll through the song list, his warmth and scent sweeping over you in a magnetic wave.

He stops on a song you don’t recognize but when it begins to play the beat is lively and makes you want to move.

Your eyes meet his once more, humor lurking in their depths. “I like it.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod and with a sultry smile over your shoulder you head back toward the bar and your friend, an extra sway to your hips that matches the music.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve says when Javi returns with a smug grin. “You could blow our cover.”

“How?” Javi asks before he motions for the bartender.

“I’m surprised you let a woman get to you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Are you just going to answer all my questions with more questions?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts with his last string of words and he waits as Javi just looks at him blankly.

When the song ends Javi turns his attention back to you and he finds you watching him. Without a second thought he walks over.

He smiles at your friend then asks you, “what did you think?”  

“I liked it,” you tell him. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“I should definitely play another one then. And you should dance with me.”

He catches your sharp intake of breath and realizes you might be waiting for a significant other. He feels a sharp jolt of jealousy that surprises him.

“Are you here with someone?” he asks.

Your brow quirks at his growled-out question, but you answer anyway.

“Just my friend here,” and you motion to Samantha.

Relief washes over his expression.

“So why not dance with me?”

“I’m here to spend time with Sam,” you explain, even though you can tell she wants you to go dance with him.

“She can hang out with Steve,” Javi says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder in Steve’s direction. “He’s loads of fun.”

“He’s cute,” Sam chimes in, giving Steve a little wave.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Javi says, earning a chuckle from both you and Sam.

“So, is that a yes?”

You look incredulous. “No. The only thing I know about you is that you like to dance.”

“What would you like to know about me?” he shoots back as he leans against the bar, looking more than comfortable.

“Nothing. I’m not dancing with you. In fact, how do I know you’re not some creep trying to abduct me.”

At your unintentionally keen words Javi gives up the battle with a smile. “I’ll get you dancing sweetheart.”

“We’ll see about that…”

“Javi,” he finishes and holds out his hand. “Javier Peña”

You hesitate a moment but then hold out your hand and give him your name-even though he already knows it.

“Pleasure,” he croons as he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

Warmth tingles up your arm and down your spine, rendering you speechless for a moment. Samantha pulls you from your stupor when she nudges you in the side.

“Enjoy your night ladies,” he says but not before looking you straight in the eye and adding, “I’ll be seeing you again.”

When Javi is back at Steve’s side he sighs.

“What happened? She tell you to fuck off?”

Javi practically rolls his eyes. “Not exactly.”

“Well, hope you didn’t freak her out too much because we have a job to do.”

As the night goes on you catch Javi looking your way more than once and you find it hard not to look back. He doesn’t approach you again though and the disappointment you feel is unexpected.

By eleven pm Sam is ready to go so you say goodbye and go to use the restroom before heading out. The night air is damp with impending rain, and you jog quickly to your car, hopping in and setting your bag down on the seat.

You put the key in the ignition and turn it. Nothing happens. No lights. No sound. Nothing.

“SHIT!” you shout and hit the steering wheel. Is it your battery? A faulty starter?

You’re just about to dial Sam when you hear a light rap at your window. You jump but quickly see that it’s Javi and let out a relieved breath.

You press the button to roll down the window.

“Problem?” he asks with a sideways smile.

“My car won’t start,” you sigh.

His lips turn downward. “Shit.”

“That’s what I said.”

“I can try to jump it if you want,” Javi offers.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Javi pulls his car up close and starts to fiddle around in the trunk for the cables. Once he has everything ready you meet him by the hood.

“How come you were out here anyway?” you ask, watching as his long fingers make easy work of the clamps and wires.

“Just a feeling,” he says nonchalantly.

After following his directions and trying to start your car again you realize it must be more than the battery and let out a string of curses.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Javi says. “I’ll give you a ride home and you can deal with in the daylight.”

“I can just call Samantha.”

“You can, but it’s after midnight,” Javi says, looking at his watch. “I’m already here.”

You study him. His strong jaw, the dark hair that falls boyishly over his forehead, and the way the open collar of his shirt frames his long neck, the tempting hint of collarbone peeking out just enough to make you want to kiss it.

“Ok,” you say without further thought.

He opens your door and helps you out then waits for you to lock it before he opens the passenger door to his car.

“What about Steve?” you ask suddenly.

“Steve?” Javi repeats. “Oh, yeah. He’s fine. Has his own car.”

When he pulls up to your building he frowns when you don’t wait for him to open your door. You ride up the elevator in silence, the atmosphere between you feels charged.

You’d been more than willing to go up to your apartment yourself, but Javi insisted on walking you.

So, when the elevator opens you breeze out and past him, taking quick steps to your door.

“This is me,” you say without turning around.

You unlock the door and open it, stepping inside and setting your bag down. When you turn, Javi is filling the doorway, one hand on his hip and the other casually resting above his head on the frame like he owns the place.

“I don’t live far. If you need anything…” He holds out a card, his name and number printed on it under the Police Department symbol.

“You’re a cop? You could have told me this earlier. I would have been less worried about you murdering me.”

“DEA agent,” he corrects. “And that was never my intention.”

Your eyes meet and you feel a frisson of heat at the intensity there.

“Well, thank you for the ride.”

“Anytime sweetheart. I’ll see you around.”

He throws you a wink and pushes away from the doorframe, his long legs taking him easily down the hall before he rounds the corner and disappears.

The next morning you drag yourself out of bed and get ready to go about your day. Your thoughts are mostly occupied by Javi, and you’re almost done with your coffee before your brain registers the rest of the night and how your car failed to start.

“Shit,” you grit out. “Ughhhh.”

You think about calling Javi and asking him to take you back to the bar to get your car but then you think it might be asking too much after what he did last night. Instead, you call Sam, who is happy to come get you.

Your car is just where you left it and so is an unmarked cop car, parked right next to yours.

Javi steps out into the sunshine, a sleek pair of aviators perched on his nose and a smile on his face.

“There you are sunshine. I was wondering when you’d be back to get your car.���

He walks close and nods a greeting to Samantha.

You stand there like a fish out of water, your mouth hanging open in shock.

“What are you doing here?” you finally ask.

He shrugs with a devious grin. “Working.”

“The bar is closed.”

Ignoring your comment he continues with, “you have someone to fix this?”

“You mean like a mechanic?”

“Yeah sweetheart.”

“I was just going to call the closest shop.”

He shakes his head, clearly not liking your idea. “I got a guy. Come on.”                 

Samantha leaves you with Javi and he takes you to the shop, helping you settle everything and getting you a good price.

“I hope it doesn’t take too long to fix,” you sigh. “But thank you for helping me out.”

“Anytime gorgeous…now how about that dance?”

“You’re still hung up on that?”

He raises his brows with a tilt of his head, his smile devious.

“Fine, but how am I getting back to the bar tonight. No car. Remember.”

“I’ll pick you up. Seven.”

With that he pulls up to your place and practically jumps out of the car before it stops, rushing around the hood to get your door before you can open it.

You step out and he reaches over you to shut it, trapping you against the car.

“Thanks again,” you whisper as you lean into him.

He dips his head, but you can’t see his eyes, so you reach up to pull the sunglasses off his face. He smiles, lifting his eyes from your mouth to meet your gaze.

You hang them on his shirt, the collar open like it always seems to be, and smooth your hand down his chest. He watches you intently, one hand sliding off the car to settle on your waist. He tugs you forward, lining your body up with his using his other hand to cup your cheek and brush a calloused thumb across your soft skin.

“I told you sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Anytime.”

With one final glance at your lips he slowly moves away and you’re thankful for the strong metal of the car at your back, keeping you upright.

With a steadying breath you peel yourself away and head toward your building, looking over your shoulder to find him leaning against the car, long legs crossed at the ankle and his arms crossed along his chest.

His glasses are still hanging from his shirt, and his hair is slightly messy from the breeze. Your eyes linger and he smiles, pointing his long finger in your direction when he says, “you’re mine tonight.”

The knock at your door makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Be right there,” you shout.

You open the door and his hot gaze sweeps over you from head to toe.

“Hi Javi…”

Before the words are completely out of your mouth, he has you spun around and backed against the wall.

“Did you get all dressed up for me sweetheart?”

Biting your lip, you nod, loving the way your answer makes his eyelids lower; his breath quicken.

He dips his head and runs his nose along your neck with a deep inhale, then places a soft kiss just under your ear. His lips move across your cheek and stop just above your mouth.

“Ready to dance?”

Your knees nearly buckle underneath you, but his weight keeps you upright and you manage a nod.

The bar is crowded but you and Javi find yourself an open space at the bar and order drinks. He stays close. A hand always at your back or on your waist and when he sits on the stool, placing his feet on the bottom bar, he pulls you between his spread legs.

Your hands land on his thighs and you dig your nails in.

He growls into your ear and smooths his hand up your spine, grabbing the back of your neck to drag your face closer.

Right when you think he’s going to kiss you, he stands and pulls you toward the juke box, scrolling through the songs until he finds the one he wants. He presses play and holds his hand out.

You place your fingers in his palm, and he closes his hand around yours. With an ease that steals your breath he tucks you against him as the music starts, slow and sultry. The way he moves his hips so sensually borders on inappropriate, but you can’t find it in you to care.

Instead, you lose yourself in the way he moves and the way he feels. It’s the best kind of foreplay and when the song ends you cling to him, wishing the music could go on forever.

You tuck your head against his chest, but he presses two fingers under your chin, lifting your face to his. He’s grinning, and the way it exaggerates the lines around his eyes and softens the angles of his face makes a flutter erupt in your stomach.

A haze of electricity settles around you and you’re unable to look away. His eyes drop to your mouth and his warm breath fans your cheek as he bends, brushing his lips lightly across yours.

His moustache is soft but still tickles your skin and you want nothing more than to feel it along every inch of your body. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, and you whisper his name just before your lips meet.

But then his mouth is gone, and a rush of cool air fills the space between your bodies.

“Steve,” you say with confusion.

Steve stands next to you with a tight grip on Javi’s arm.

“We have to go. Now,” Steve says.

“Javi?” Your stomach is fluttering for a whole different reason now, nervousness and fear taking over.

“I’m sorry sunshine,” he says, wrapping you up in his arms. “I need you to go home. Right now.”

“But…” you start, clinging to him.

“Please,” he begs. “Just trust me. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”

“I don’t have a car,” you sputter out.

“Here,” he says and reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his keys before dropping them into your hand. “Right home ok?”

“Ok,” you say while nodding your head vigorously. “But I don’t understand…”

“I know,” he says, grabbing your face with his hands. “I promise I’ll explain later.”

He stares at you, clearly torn between wanting to kiss you and having to leave. You make the decision for him and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering long enough that when you pull away his eyes are still closed.

“Be careful,” you whisper.

“You too,” he says before jogging off with Steve, but not without looking back one last time.

Back at your apartment you wait and pace the floor. There isn’t much more you can do and it’s driving you nuts.

By the time you hear the knock on your door it’s past midnight and you’ve fallen asleep on the couch. You wake with a start and stand on shaky legs. Thankfully, you have enough sense to check the peephole before opening the door.

On the other side stands Javi. His leather jacket hangs open and his hair is messy and hanging loosely in front of his forehead. He looks tired but otherwise ok.

“It’s me sweetheart,” he says quietly.

Your door flies open, and you throw yourself at him. He catches you and lets out a huffed laugh that quickly dies off when you slide down his body and move back, a clear invitation.

 His eyes rake down your body, lingering on the way your dress is rumpled and sitting high on your hips, exposing the soft skin of your legs. With an audible swallow he takes a step inside, and you shut the door with a definitive slam.

“Are you ok?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

You can’t blink away from his steady gaze and your blood seems to vibrate. After a calming breath you point to the couch.

“I want to know what’s going on.”

He moves past you and takes your hand in his, tugging you toward the couch before he sits. You stand at the edge, waiting.

His head drops and he presses the palm of his hand to his forehead.

“I…you already know I’m a DEA agent.”

You nod.

“And Steve and I work together…we’ve been trying to bust this drug trafficking group for a while now and somehow you got on their list…”

“List?” you repeat, feeling your palms sweat.

He stands again and takes a tentative step closer.

“Yeah, wrong place wrong time type of thing and it got you on their radar. We got tipped off from one of our informants and Steve and I were put in place for protection.”

“So, all the flirting, the dancing…you’re only here because you’re protecting me? Not because…”

He holds up a hand to stop you.

“No sweetheart,” he says. “Well, I mean yes initially that’s all it was but then I saw you and like a dick couldn’t stay away and…I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

He looks up at you with pleading brown eyes.

“Actually, that’s a lie. I wanted to take you home from the moment I first saw you and it took everything in me not to.”

You can see he’s starting to ramble, and you soften at the way he seems desperate to make you understand.

“I promise this has nothing to do with work…I want to be here…”

“Javi.”

“And you’re safe. I promise that too. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Javi.”

He opens his mouth to speak again but you press a firm finger to his lips. He goes silent and with your gentle push falls to the couch again.

Slowly, you climb over him, settling in his lap on top of his thighs. He stares at you, eyes shadowed, and adjusts his posture to set two large hands on your waist, warm and strong.

You lean in but he meets you halfway, crashing his lips to yours. His mouth is soft but commanding and he tilts his head, coming at you better somehow, and deeper, his lips parting, one hand wrapping around your hip to pull you flush against him, the other sliding up your neck, cupping your face.

You’re undone by the way his breath shakes against your lips and the quiet groans he strangles down when you sweep your tongue across his.

You roll your hips against him, but instead of bringing relief it only makes you wilder. His mouth chases your kiss, swallowing the sound you make when he rocks up, the thick line of his cock pressing exactly where you need him.

His hand roams up your back, around your ribs, cupping your breast while the other drags you down again, pinning you to his body. You’re rewarded with another groan, and another when you grind against him.

He doesn’t stop you as you reach for his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders before going for his shirt, one by one undoing the buttons until you feel the warmth of his skin along your palms.

His mouth is on your neck, his fingers curling around the strap of your dress, dragging it down your shoulder and lower, until your bra goes with it, and you’re bare to his mouth. He sucks and kisses and your fingers find purchase in his soft hair, pulling and tugging when he continues and his lips close around your nipple in a delicate bite.

With soft grunts into your skin, he encourages you to pull harder, moving with the gesture to where you want him. Rough and desperate hands sneak under your dress to slide your panties down.

“Sweetheart?” he asks into your neck, and you nod, because frankly, he has permission to do whatever he wants.

Long fingers wrap imposingly around your thighs and his palm slides back up, teasingly slow, his kiss still rough, and then his fingertips graze over you, slippery and hot for him. His mouth goes soft and overcome against yours before he pulls away a fraction, watching your face as he fucks you with one finger, and then two, achingly slow.

And you stare at his mouth, the way it shapes the groaned curses and then tilts upward in a smug grin when he presses a thumb to your clit, and you let out a low moan.

Under your impatient fingers, his pants are soon loose and down his hips and you slide yourself over him, coating him and teasing you both until you’re a fevered mess, kisses sloppy and biting, the head of him pressing into you.

It’s a slow, perfect torture. His focus is on your expression and the sounds you’re making. But then it goes from careful to starving the second he’s all the way inside you. His grip on you is bruising, the sharp, rhythmic gasps he makes making you feel out of control.

He stares down between your bodies, slowing to watch, moving to touch you, his thumb stroking.

“That’s it gorgeous,” he murmurs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You want to hold back, make it last forever, but it’s too good. The pleasure hits you in a wave, his name falling from your parted lips and your body clenching around him until he captures your mouth and finishes with a lewd groan, slowing and holding you against his chest.

Your face falls to his sweaty neck and your fingers curl around his open shirt. After catching your breath, he gently brings your face to his, pressing his lips softly to the corner of your mouth and then running the pad of his thumb across your lower lip.

He lifts you off him, reaching for the tissues on the side table and helping you clean up. His actions are careful and gentle and once you’re settled he takes the blanket off the couch and drapes it over you before he wraps you in his arms and lays down.

You tuck yourself closer and kiss his neck.

“Javi?” you whisper.

“Yeah sunshine.”

“Will you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, kissing your cheek.

His lips tease along your jaw and you shift to give him better access, feeling his cock stir against your stomach. When his mouth reaches your ear he tugs on the soft flesh, running a hand along the curve of your spine to pull you closer and whisper, “I didn’t even get to use my tongue on you. I hate not knowing how you taste.”

Your little gasp makes him smile and his kisses continue.

“But lucky for me,” he murmurs with a brush of his lips, “we have all night.”

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 extra entry

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M STILL NOT DONE WITH EP. 4, TRULY A DEMONIC 30 MINUTES OF TV

but @onceuponalegendbg pointed out that I skpped the girls chatting around the fire and that is inexcusable. In my defense the video skipped on its own when I opened it but STILL there is no justification. Alice my love forgive me.

okay I love everyone's body language here. tag yourself which sapphic are you?

Jen in episode 2: "Like I care about that dusty, warty, snaggletoothed community." Her identity is so important to her! And the intersectionality between witchcraft and herbalism!

lilia is so impressed

and this is what I mean by support system - all the girls here are covenless, they had no one to help them through the hardest part of their life, no one who would listen, support, give advice. people simply NEED community.

alice is so small. I wish I was there to hug her

and more parallels between alice and agatha. not being able to save the people they loved made them angry. what does it say about a mother that she couldn't protect her own child? what does it say about a daughter, and a protection witch at that, that she couldn't save her mother? they had no agency, they were helpless in front of tragedy. and like agatha got mad at rio, alice got mad at lorna for ostensibly wasting time with songs and amulets instead of seeking help. anger became a defense mechanism, a way to find blame when there wasn't anyone to blame, to feel in control when there was nothing anyone could have done.

HER TEARY LITTLE FACE when lilia points out she's no longer angry, just sad. the way she whispers 'you're right'. sweet alice, you deserved the world.

I'll say this about ali ahn's performance, it's not flashy and it gets overlooked among all the powerhouses acting alongside her. but she's building something quiet and steady that really gets to you in the end, like a bittersweet weight on your stomach

lilia is being so so gentle with alice, encouraging her to sit with her pain while she's safe with people who love her. no, all the anger in the world won't bring lorna back, and it's okay that it's not okay.

jen is not as overtly emotional, but she has other love languages

lilia is ranting again and I love love love her for it.

and then there's this freak

no but really, even if rio's existence goes way beyond human experiences and she cannot exactly share like the others, she's just happy to be there, you know? genuinely glad to be included, interested and fascinated by what they all have to say

this is just patti's and aubrey's irl dynamic let's be real

thank you writers and costumes and aubrey for creating this delightful little weirdo just for me, as a treat

the first entry for episode 5 will be up later today!

go to episode 5 part 1

[artificialroux]

anise and creep by radiohead…. because i’m writing for anlora!!!!! tagging my sweetie pie @logansdogmotif because ofc i am…

(i don’t care if it hurts/i wanna have control) this lyric being anise’s connections to the games itself. months before being reaped, anise had gotten married to the man whom her sister was supposed to marry before her death, forced into the mold of her sister who is completely opposite of anise. where her sister is gentle, anise is anything but—or at least she pretends to be, concealing the kindness with the needs to be different and defiant. she feels as if she isn’t able to be herself with anyone and the games are, as tragic as it is, her only outlet—her escape from the world she was forced into. she sees being reaped as gaining control back over her life, building an image for herself which is eventually turnt into something else, an attempt to duplicate velora’s existence since the marketing of an underdog from district 1 went so well last time.

(i want a perfect body/i want a perfect soul) this lyric reminds me of anise’s connection to the capitol! she, despite her clear distaste for snow and the people within the capitol, wishes to be loved. she wants to be the capitol’s darling for the sake of being loved, even if the version that is loved isn’t her. they cover her scars and despite how she feels about it, she doesn’t attempt to fight back because she dislikes them just as much. and if they believe this part of her is unattractive, then it is. she wants to be perfect, and even if that means being rid of the things thay make herself her, she’s willing to do it.

(i want you to notice/when i’m not around) okay so. anlora mentioned. anise deep down adores velora, beneath the jealousy, there’s something unconditional about the way she loves her mentor. after they sleep together and velora does everything to deny it, anise feels this intense pang of rejection. she’d never had many close connections like the one she has with velora and on top of her desperation to be loved, being cast aside by someone who she thought could love her without change—hurts.

(you’re so fuckin’ special/i wish i was special) ok so i’m actually currently writing something for this lyric.. but imagine this as anise talking to velora. throwing out harsh insults because she feels rejected and the only way her brain nows how to handle it is making velora feel the way she felt. even then, she can’t keep the trembling out of her voice—she wants to believe she means every word she’s saying but she knows she doesn’t, and velora knows just as well.

UGH THIS IS SO GORGEOUS OH MY GODDD!!!! your writing is so so elegant and everything flows so SMOOTHLY!!!

the song lyrics all fit freakishly well!!! i love the little writing excerpt at the bottom ... the toxic wlw jealousy fueled love and passion??? velora being jealous of anise because she is her own person! she doesn't try to be a pretend fragile girl like she did, which she respects but also tries to change to keep anise safe and marketable for her games..it's her only form of love she can broadcast and give to anise as she sends her to her death!

she's so happy when she returns alive, only to find their relationship fractured as anise is married to another man, and the envy building up between them has just gotten more and more intense, twisting into a hatred and love all in one!!

anise who is unable to understand that velora is a victim of the system just as much as her! UGH i love them.

[kae-eee]

charming sibling yap session bc im obsessed

apple forced daring to have playground weddings with her but she never let it get to the kiss

she said that that part should be saved for when he wakes her up

i think raven has had at least a little crush on darling sometime before dexter

darling absolutely had a crush on cerise

i also think darling may have romanticized the idea of apple but never did really like her

daring and rosabella qpr??

i understand him as aroace but her as straight so is that a thing she can do? idk

heres where the real yapping starts

darling really and truly resented her brothers at some level for such a long time

daring much more so than dexter

imagine living your whole life watching two brothers constantly being trained for everything that you want to do and be in life

one of them, your twin who you share everything but a “purpose” with, doesn’t even want it

you’d probably give anything to take his generic prince charming destiny

he’d probably like to switch with you too.

it’s not his fault and you would never hate him for it, but it’s gotta hurt.

your other brother seems to really love his destiny of saving princesses and slaying dragons, and being the most handsome prince in ever after, mostly because he loves himself and that’s all he really is

he couldn’t give a shit about loving or caring for his princess, but you would.

you would pick flowers for your princess, sing her songs and fight for her honor, not just your own

you would be a better prince than he could ever be

you really can’t hate him for that either, he was born into it and you weren’t, it’s not his fault.

when it’s time for his destiny to play out you sit back and watch and still kind of wish it was you even though you’ve found a purpose in being the white knight

blah blah blah dappling kiss goes on

now it’s his turn to resent you and wish he was you because you took his purpose, his destiny, really his life away

but it’s not your fault either.

end of that spiel

not a single one of them is cisgender i just know it

i don’t think that darling really has any feelings for apple

my reason behind this is that huntlynn are clearly in love, but they aren’t destined true lovers

so clearly your destined true love and your hearts desires don’t have to agree

anyway the destiny system is bullshit and im an applebeauty/darling x anyone else really truther

maybe dexters destiny was prince siegfried

i know the go to fandom headcannon is that he’s ashlynns prince but i feel like siegfried fits him more

correct me if im wrong ive never read swan lake

i really love a good transfemme daring headcannon

once someone tagged my post saying we should call her dearest or something else i cant remember but it was cute as hell

but just think about transfemme daring seriously for a second

daring canonically has so little identity outside of being snow whites prince charming

she has insane expectations placed on her (older sister core) to be the bravest, kindest, most handsome prince in ever after

shes obsessed with mirrors

but deep down she really does hate how she looks

after epic winter i think she would start to figure herself out and even post transition she wouldn’t let herself become that vain again

i sort of think dexter would be into dancing

he has fully recorded and edited videos of him doing a dance routine but is too scared to post it

[hangmanbradshaw]

getting to know mutuals!

tagged by the amazing @halestrom and @ghostlykiss <3

what's the origin of your blog title? 'bradshaw, as I live and breathe' 'hangman...you look...good' :) (also after they get married, Jake definitely is known as hangman bradshaw with their friends around the navy lmao, they have a reputation)

otp(s) + shipname(s): jake & bradley, hangster. The others have kinda faded out, but still into buck & Eddie, buddie and Charles & erik from xmen. (shout outs to my original loves- robin & starfire from teen titans and sharpay/gabriella from hsm lmao)

favourite colour: forest green, light pink, and grey

song stuck in your head: two right now- first rodeo by kelsea ballerini (seeing her this week again & it's on a fic playlist I'm working on) and National Anthem by Lana Del Rey

weirdest habit/trait: I'm an exceptionally picky eater and I used to call everyone by their middle name in college, it accidentally stuck for a few people and became their name in our friend group oopsies

hobbies: writing, running, hiking/camping, traveling, embroidery, watching a ridiculous amount of movies, sports, learning anything & everything

if you work, what's your profession? HR at a University healthcare system

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? writing tbh

something you're good at: weirdly good at crane machines and I can name every US President in order lmao (I was a poli sci major who used to compete in gov competitions and Model UN and now hates politics) (also I like to *hope* I'm halfway decent at writing and story-crafting)

something you hate: lack of empathy, bad driving

something you collect: I am a hoarder like a little dragon with my momentos- keychains, postcards from trips, t-shirts, physical media (DVDs, blurays, CDs, vinyls, etc), ticket stubs from anything & everything including movies, flights, concerts, etc, brochures and maps from museums/places I visit, fandom stuff for my fixations

something you forget: everything. I have a terrible memory for most things.

what's your love language: I have a really hard time with this (we love therapy) but I guess acts of service?

favourite movie/show: this is so hard- Criminal Minds, Star Wars, TGM, The Mummy, Jurassic Park, Twister & Twisters, Hit Man, Independence Day, Scream, Ready Or Not, Scooby Doo

favourite food: pizza or bbq

favourite animal: ALL OF THEM (but I guess dolphins, dogs, penguins, sea turtles, birds, squirrels, fireflies)

what were you like as a child: shy, outdoorsy, independent, silly, deeply introspective

favourite subject at school: history/government & lit

least favourite subject: math all the way

what's your best character trait? Very independent/extremely resilient, and I hope I'm friendly/welcoming/someone people can lean on

what's your worst character trait? again very independent lmao to probably an unhealthy level (again- therapy!), people please too much, TERRIBLE texter/responder a lot of the time

if you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? some kind of good luck for my mom/bro/my family. we've had a hard go of it, and I just really wish I could be the one to make life easier for everyone. But I'm very thankful for what I have considering where we've been.

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? any ancestor that I know nothing about (It's crazy to think about the stories of all the people who resulted in us being here- the full lives they lived, loving, hating, being sad, angry, having dreams. I just wish I knew more about them)

Tagging (I know some of y'all have been tagged but including anyway) @rcgersromanoff @phisworld14 @tornadeoqueen @coins-that-never-land @acetonitril @lucyybradford and anyone else tag me <3

[aprillikesthings]

@birdsquirrel left these tags on their reblog of my reblog of this post

YEAH honestly I love congregational singing in church, and I really think that humans lost something when we seemed to decide that only "good" singers should sing where people might hear them.

And okay so I love Hildegard of Bingen, who lived in the 1100's, and she's famous for having written a BUNCH of music (among...so, so many other things holy shit)

And the recordings that I like best, and which are meant to be as close as possible to what they would've sounded like at the time, are by Sequentia, right?

But .....Sequentia is all GOOD singers.

Hildegard wrote those hymns for the nuns in her own abbey. Who were not, I don't believe, chosen for their singing ability.

And don't get me wrong, singing the same songs day in and day out for years on end does improve your ability to stay on pitch a great deal.

But there's still no way the Sequentia recordings sound the same as the nuns in her abbey did!

And I kind of wish I could find a far more amateurish recording, sometimes?

They're still worth listening to, and to my delight someone on spotify put together a playlist that's just all of Sequentia's recordings of Hildegard's music. (It's just over nine hours long! She wrote SO MUCH MUSIC.)

I will say though: While it's likely none of them will sound like the hymns you grew up with, if you like people singing hymns with GUSTO who are not necessarily good singers, there are many recordings of shape note singing! What's ironic is that the shape note system was invented to try to teach people how to sight-read hymns, but over the years it developed into its own very specific style of singing. On top of that, the harmonies used are sometimes odd/off to modern ears, and the tenors often have the tune.

For instance, here is a recording of a bluegrass cover of the shape-note arrangement of the hymn Sweet Prospect (....which I love, SO MUCH)(links are all gonna be to youtube), but it's all men, so:

Here is a professional singing group of women singing it a capella, again, in the shape note arrangement

And here is an American shape note convention singing it in 2015--because this is at an actual "sing," they sing the whole tune through reciting the adapted solfege syllables of the notes before singing it with the words of the hymn:

And this is the sheet music they're going from (open in new tab to make it clearer obv):

(Also: shape note singing is, going by the websites/youtube videos I saw, popular in Ireland and Germany??? Which is amazing considering up until like twenty years ago it was only done in the American South/Appalachia anymore.)

[birdofcauthon14]

All That Remains: Preview No. 2

You know what time it is: progress report on my upcoming power-load of cringe!

Tagging for science and appreciation for their enabling, if they so wish to regard my works: @lavenderdaisychain @whentheresidentsareevil

All That Remains.

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. November 11, 2025. Day One. 6:45 A.M.

As the closing notes of Moskau by Dschinghis Khan gave way to Waterloo, the first famous song of the band whose music had kept her sane for the better part of her entire life, Ylva Elise Thorn jogged down the three steps of a small concrete staircase and turned onto the next sidewalk on her way to a new beginning.

Pittsburgh, it had to be said, was not - as the saying went - on Ylva's initial bingo card when she had been considering the move. At the time, all she knew was that Boston had ceased being an option and that, because if it, the cabin outside of Nashua also had to go unless she could find something in New Hampshire instead. That had almost become the goal - until the job opening which had brought her here.

A bit of wiggling. A touch of maneuvering. A new cabin, this one across the river from Aliquippa, Pennsylvania. And now…

Newness. The wondrous terror of newness, that eternal fuel for those seeking another chance and that eternal bane of autistic people.

Newness, and Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital. Ylva was given to understand that its emergency department was known as the Pitt to those who worked within its walls. It was part of a strategic collection of things she had been told on her preliminary visit to the hospital on Friday, where the administrator of PTMH - a fussy woman named Gloria, who Ylva suspected of covertly running for political office - had provided her the layout of the hospital, the emergency department, and the staff with whom she would be working.

Broadly, at least. One never knew others until one was amongst them. Ylva knew that of old, from her old life at St. Francis Memorial Hospital and lives even before that, but understanding it had been a more recent endeavor powered by loneliness and the patient determination of the woman who was now her best friend.

Well. That and the efforts of - others.

Some with her.

Some not.

Waterloo! I was defeated, you won the war, sang Agnetha and Frida in Ylva's earbuds, and she followed the concrete city pathways deeper into Pittsburgh, further up and further in toward her new post. Ylva might have admitted to herself, at some point, that she was not quite sure if she was capable of going through with such a dramatic shift in her circumstances were it not for her support system, but such an admission would have been a lie. The truth was that she knew she would not have made such a move, no matter the good there was in it or the fresh opening for moving on, were it not for those around her.

Well…mostly one of those around her. A voice which was always loud and enthusiastic and sometimes obnoxious enough as to defy words. A voice which had reminded her of all the things which had happened to her - to both of them - in Boston, and what letting go of the ghosts of those things might mean for her.

How close they had come together, the pair of them. How preciously close to the precipice of the abyss. Death, and irretrievable sorrow, and somehow that ghost was not even the most painful, because at least they were still alive.

So here Ylva was, once more working for a major hospital, once more with a cabin in the rural yonder outside a major city, and yet with everything so much different, from the smell of her surroundings to the particular nip in the winter air as licks of a November breeze fluttered the tails of her favorite gray peacoat. The more radically things changed, the more stubbornly and bizarrely they stayed the same.

She wondered how Gustaf was doing in all of this. What he was thinking, in the way cats thought of things. Was his new home so strange to him, or did he simply think of warm beds and getting his food on time?

At least now he could count on someone always there in the cabin with him. That just one of the benefits Ylva had come to realize in her new surroundings: a three-person household where only two of those persons left the house to work was far more convenient for feline royalty.

So how could I ever refuse? I feel like I win when I lose!

One more turn of a sidewalk, and PTMH came into Ylva's sight, stretching imperially above her in the way multi-floor hospitals had a way of doing. Hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat, rucksack bouncing against her back from her left shoulder as she walked, Ylva gave the street a cursory glance in both directions - few cars about at this time of morning, but it was always better safe than dead - and crossed, weaving her past an as-yet empty ambulance bay and into a pathway of stone columns on either side of her.

It was a great deal more artistry than there had been at St. Francis in Boston. Ylva had thought as much the first time she had laid her eyes on PTMH in person, and she thought it again now. No doubt it was something about the age of the building which made it seem like a great, monolithic relic of the days of emergency medicine past, where hospitals were not so often clean-cut for the sake of evoking images of prosperity and profit.

But Ylva also knew better. She had worked in hospitals for fifteen years, nine for the Royal Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield and six for St. Francis, and she was acutely aware - though never quite accepting - of the difference in priorities between the British National Health Service and privatized hospitals in the United States.

But people always needed help. No matter where one worked, or how, or in what department, or in what capacity, there would always be people who needed help.

At least PTMH had the decency of looking like someplace where those people could find it. It had that even over Hallamshire.

Past the swinging doors of the staff entrance, Ylva was met with a long white hall and that ever-present haunting something about hospitals all across the world. It was not quite a not quite a sensation, not quite a feeling, and not quite a smell - even though she could certainly pick out the distant odors of blood and disinfectant even this far out. In her ears, Waterloo stopped and the playlist shuffled, and-

Take a Chance on Me. Well. Ylva did not make a habit of believing in heavenly supersitions - but.

Rather on the nose of you, cosmos, she thought, not quite thinking about it as she plucked the buds from her ears and deposited them in the right pocket of her coat. From that same pocket, she produced her phone, furrowing her brow down at it as she unlocked it and stopped her Spotify playlist before it had the chance to run down the battery over the course of her shift.

There were also messages, and Ylva - who knew she was, as so often happened to her, eye-wateringly early - could not quite resist the urge to thumb through them, despite the looming weight of newness on her shoulders. Well-wishes, memes, and musings about plans for later, if of course everybody's shifts survived contact with the enemy.

It was fortification, she decided. A preemptive morale boost, just in case she needed it. One never had the luxury of knowing, in this profession.

As she moved down the hallway, spotless white shoes on spotless white floors, Ylva shrugged out of her coat and slung it over her left shoulder along with her bag. It was a frigid day outside, and not so much better between the walls of the hospital, but she dressed simply beneath her coat today, simply her standard black scrubs and a dark t-shirt - one whose starry pattern was not visible over the neck of her scrub top - because she knew she'd had the wherewithal to preemptively stock her new locker on Friday with essentials, including the hoodies and cardigans she intended to wear over her scrubs.

[tlbodine]

Overthinking: The Beast from the East

The Beast from the East is Goosebumps #43, released in May of '96. I remember this one's cover from childhood, because I always thought the creature was adorable. But I never read it for whatever reason. Also for some reason in my head this one and The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena always got mixed up.

Anyway. I'll be honest, I didn't love this one near as much as Egg Monsters from Mars. But it's a fun time, and sometimes that's all you need.

First, the Plot: Ginger is camping with her parents and twin brothers, Nat and Pat. She and her brothers get separated from their parents and end up in a very strange part of the woods, where all the plants are strange colors and the animals look like nothing from earth. They encounter big blue furry beasts who speak English and insist that the kids play a game with them.

The rules of the game are vague and seem to keep changing as they play. But the initial idea is basically tag: When you're "It", you need to tag someone else but can only do so from the East. If you're "it" by sundown, you get eaten.

It's pretty clear the beasts never expect to lose this game.

Ginger and her brothers try to survive, encountering various obstacles along the way, from a death pit to a nest of snakes to a hidden penalty rock and a cave full of bugs. Each time she thinks she's got a grasp on the rules, they change, and there's some new obscure reason why she has to keep playing.

They're separated early, such that the beasts only ever see one twin at a time. In the end, when both twins are present, the beasts believe that it's one person who has doubled himself and realize that these humans are higher-level players than they thought, so they have to let them go.

Unfortunately, it's nighttime now, and the kids have to play with higher level players now....

Overthinking It:

This book is one of the more whimsical romps, more of an adventure than a horror. Know that going in, and set your expectations accordingly.

Oh, sure, there is some terror inherent in the idea that you're playing a game with the penalty of death. But for all their posturing and hunger, the beasts aren't that intimidating. What they are is pedantic.

This book captures well the supreme irritation of playing a complex game with a bunch of rules lawyers. If you have ever tried to learn, say, Magic the Gathering by playing with a bunch of guys you just met at the comic shop, you've had an experience not unlike this book. Now just imagine those guys have insisted they can eat you at the end of the night (take that however you wish) and you've got The Beast from the East.

Something Stine often keys into with these books is unfairness as a lynch-pin of plot, and this is a really good example. Often in Goosebumps it's the unfairness of not being believed about something, or of being blamed for something. But here the unfairness is in navigating a complex system with incomplete information, and the maddening fact that the people taking advantage of you could tell you what to do but simply refuse.

It's filing your taxes, basically.

Anyway. I'm making this book sound somewhat more tedious than it is. I do like some of the world-building flourishes, and the characterization of the beasts is quite funny at times. There's also a whole introductory section about the song "Teddy Bear Picnic" and bed bugs that frankly feels like it's setting up this entire story to be a dream or fantasy, but that never pays off so...idk what that's all about. You tell me if you have any insights into that one.

If You Liked This, THESE Will Really Give You Goosebumps:

The setting and the beasts strongly reminded me of the film adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are, which is a movie everyone seems to have universally decided to ignore but which I remember enjoying in theaters.

If you like deadly games with ever-shifting rules, may I interest you in As the Gods Will where kids have to play deadly children's games? Warning for gore and exploding heads. If that's not enough weird Japanese horror for you, pair it off with Tag, which involves playing a game of tag with a deadly slicing wind. Just go with it.

For a different kind of game-based horror, enjoy the cheesy if-you-die-in-the-game-you-die-in-real-life movie, Stay Alive.

[varusai]

⭐️Get to know your mutuals⭐️

⭐️ Tagged by @elvenmoans

this took me forever to fill out i kept forgetting it in my drafts. oops😔

⭐️ What's the origin of your blog title?

blog title: ☆ ฅ^•⩊•^ฅ ☆

i was looking at a big ass list of japanese emoticons, don't even remember the specific one i was looking for, but came across this one ฅ^•⩊•^ฅ and???? hello??? its so cute???

i never know what to title my stupid blog so i just put that there because it makes me happy to see her.

⭐️ OTP(s)+ shipnames(s):

i’m on the oc shipping train rn but for regular non oc ships we got

moonsea tyrants (manshoon/ fzoul) - the forgotten realms

gideon/harrow/ianthe (any combo) - the locked tomb

farcille (falin/marcille) - dungeon meshi

durgetash (the dark urge/enver gortash) - bg3 (only default hot white dragonborn durge tho, i don’t care about any of that custom character shit)

scar/lex - AVP (i’m having my annual resurgence of this ancient fixation. it will pass soon)

⭐️ Favourite color:

black, but since a lot of ppl consider this a non answer/cop out, purple. i have a particular soft spot for ultraviolet purple.

⭐️ Song stuck in your head:

Thnks fr th Mmrs - Fall Out Boy

i heard it on the radio yesterday after not hearing it for a long time and now its stuck

⭐️ Weirdest habit/trait:

i think this is more of a question that one would need to direct outward, not self-assign. like i talk to myself and consider that both find and normal what the fuck do i know about what counts as a weird habit lol

⭐️ Hobbies:

mainly playing dnd right now. playing dnd and thinking about The Characters. i also write and draw sometimes. i just never finish anything. I’ve also been reading a lot more this year, which has been nice. and I do/learn math for fun, but idk if that counts as a hobby? i'm gonna count it because i do it often enough.

⭐️ If you work, what's your profession?

i got some chronic conditions during covid and was fucked up and disabled for a while in addition to being really depressed. i'm on meds now and its getting a little better but now the job market is fucked so i don't have a job job rn and i just do gig work and temp jobs when i run out of money. usually admin, tech support, tutoring, or doordash. kinda just depends on what comes up.

⭐️ If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

tbh i kinda already had my dream job? i was a physicist doing research on planet formation. undergraduate level, but it was a paid position so technically i made it. i do hope to go back to it one day when i'm not mentally and physically fucked up, but considering the state of the world now def doesn't seem like the time. unfortunately.

⭐️ Something you're good at:

befriending cats. i’ve literally never met a cat that didn’t like me. even stray cats. i’d like to think i’m pretty good at art too.

⭐️ Something you hate:

capitalism. i also hate driving, temperatures higher than 80F, and the human head, neck, back, and nervous system. mine specifically.

⭐️ Something you collect:

pens and notebooks/office supplies. which was fine when i was in school/doing research/teaching but after??? i would have ended up in some trouble space wise if i hadn't started playing dnd lol. now i can use my stuff again for my notes/game binder :3

i also collect dnd dice sets✨

⭐️ Something you forget:

i'll forget anything that you can ask me a question about out of nowhere. my brain is never stupider than when i'm put on the spot😔

⭐️ What's your love language:

talk to me about something that i'm obsessed with. especially like fic/character/dnd/oc worldbuilding. and especially if we're working on it together. if you can get to this stage you're prob in for life.

⭐️ Favourite movie/show:

The Thing (1982) is my favorite movie ever i watch it literally all the time.

big shout out to the Alien franchise and LotR tho they're tight runners up.

my fav show fluctuates a lot more, but i gotta say just based on rewatch value How Its Made takes it easily.

⭐️ Favourite food:

panda express orange chicken and chow mein combo with crab rangoons, that exact order

⭐️ Favourite animal:

cats or seals! literally two of the cutest animals to exist.

⭐️ What were you like as a child:

undiagnosed and strange

⭐️ Favourite subject at school:

science! i literally took every science class my small town high school had and was still losing my mind

⭐️ Least favourite subject:

government & economics.

yawnnnn

⭐️ What's your best character trait?

knowledge seeking & creative.

⭐️ What's your worst character trait?

asocial & irritable

⭐️ If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

add about 3 to 4 more zeros to my bank account balance

⭐️ Tagging: @twilight-alchemist @sunnidaydreamer @voxiferous @sunsetfields @zarnitza @darkeecofreak @shadow-djinni @overcaffeinated-paranoia @roosterzebra @inadvisablyappliedmagic @bi-colored-corn @revasnaslan @a-la-orilla-del-rio @minigenos

i know a lot of y’all already but its still fun lol

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Two Red Gays That Haunt My Brain

FUCK THIS TOOK ME FOREVER. This all started cause the og version of them I dedicated the song brand new colony by the postal service. I think it can still stand they've just changed so much from the og. Have me fucking around with them like dolls. I just gotta figure out these fuckers.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster2 @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @livums @vacantgodling (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

You love at the same intensity as the ever expanding vacuum which we all inherently reside. Human, beast, and the fuckers in between such as you and I age far too slowly to understand. Understand just how mortifying this growth can be. I wish to learn regardless. Even if my time draws nearer than yours I wish to learn. Even if I become one with the space dust I will honor your intensity with every bit of me. I will reside in the same sky you admire when you think of me.

Greeter's head lolled aside, sweaty cheek making a smear on the wall. They were being held up by that same wall and the hand of the younger soldier forcing them against it.

"Med station. We need to go now." Cosma spoke, palm pressing further into Greeter, almost painfully.

Greeter couldn't tell if that was a demand or a suggestion. The older soldier scoffed opening a yellow eye to blearily look over Cosma. Appreciative that the solider's shadow had partially shielded them from the halls' lights. Their eyes caught sight of the cape-like adornment over her shoulder, rusted orange remarkably unbloody, from what they could see anyway. Unable to lift their head higher to see her face, they instead focus on her uncovered chest. Watching the irregular rise and fall. They lifted a hand to rest on Cosma's chest, fingers roughly touseling the bit of dark hair that resided there.

"No," Greeter grumbled.

"I'm not letting them touch you," Cosma spat out, almost sounding offended at Greeter's quick dismissal.

"It would be a waste. That's all they are going to see me as." Greeter grumbled again, teeth audibly grinding.

The older soldier's fingers came to a stop at the quickness of Cosma's retort. Feeling the tackiness of Cosma's skin, sweat and grime began to cool on her skin. Cosma's gaze honed in on Greeter, feeling them lurch into their palm.

"Soldiers help soldiers," Cosma tapped the piercing in her nostril, wearing the hoop to match with Greeter's own.

It would be a risk forcing Greeter to the med room, she was recognizing that. Though it was hard not to do so with Greeter so far out of character as opposed to the usual that would've knocked Cosma off by now. With the state they were in, they probably would push more for killing her than helping her. It was up to the younger soldier to decide of it was worth the risk. Cosma knew she could at least ease the soldier's pain.

Cosma had begun to take notice of just how caked in sweat Greeter was, their silvery hair clinging onto their cheeks. In a swift movement, she crouched down enough to slip her shoulder beneath Greeter's arm, wedging it into the older woman's armpit. Lifting and shuffling them into their arms bridal style, bouncing them to adjust them. Ripping a couple of pained grunts from Greeter's mouth.

Greeter kept their arm over Cosma's shoulder. Not bothering to fight this time. Instead welcoming the steady hold of the soldier's arms. Yellow eyes shifting back closed as Cosma carried them off. Greeter careful to keep their suspended arm from knocking into Cosma's sword. Grumbling at the jostling through the door to Cosma's room.

Cosma rested them on the preprepared bedroll. Pushing them down into it when they threatened to rise. Pulling their sword from its sheath and quickly shuffling out of her harness they went on the move. Before looking through their hoarded enhancements and pain relievers. The rationing system had usually worked out pretty well. With everyone being allotted plenty considering the work they all had to put in. But it had become obvious when they started cutting back on them. There were a variety of reasons for this.

Sometimes it was all random and you were just unlucky, sometimes they had to work more on conserving the things that they actually had, and other times if your worth started diminishing your med ration started taking a hit. It hadn't been that Greeter wasn't worthy, they had only been one of the older soldiers to still reside. The marvel that was Greeter having passed the expected lifespan by a decade or two at this point. Not to say it couldn't go hand in hand but it was becoming obvious that the older soldier's meds had taken a harder than usual hit.

Cosma's eyes scanned through the labels in a hurry. Fingers picking out a syringe with practiced ease. Prepping it as she listened to the grunts of the stubborn soldier, determined to move.

Priming the needle they rolled their eyes, "Move your wrappings aside."

Greeter lifted the flap of material over one of their thighs, rolling the material out of the way. They wiped the drool from their chin with the back of their hand, watching as Cosma approached.

Cosma pushed the needle into skin, pinching what fat she could on the soldier's muscular thigh. Slowly pushing the plunger down, keeping it there until they heard the woman's initial sigh of relief. Cosma removed the needle swiping their thumb over the bit of blood that rose.

Greeter spoke first, taking a hold of Cosma's sweated out mohawk, limply laying atop their head. Giving it a soft tug.

"Your mission leave you like this?"

Cosma shrugged a little, slit eyes widening a little, "Smelling like the rotting insides of a corpse, yes. But you weren't in my room when I got back. And the rollout was still tucked away."

"Shockingly sweet of you."

Cosma huffed, raising their head, "We've had a similar routine for weeks."

Greeter's hand dragged down Cosma's face, coming back up to trace over Cosma's religious tattoos. Greeter let their hands wander over Cosma's expanse of red skin, not yet as scarred as Greeter's own. And even more bare, with their harness out of the way.

"Let me thank you?" Greeter questioned running the rough pads over their fingers over Cosma with more purpose now.

"Are you not hurting anymore?"

Greeter shrugged a little, some of the pain still lingered but they decided to spare Cosma the specifics.

"It's manageable now. Not worth any more of your energy."

Cosma nodded, supporting themself with one arm, undoing the knot on Greeter's wrappings with the other, "I'll take that thanks."

[nabi-unveiled]

I got tagged by @dribs-and-drabbles 🤩 Thanks! I love being tagged. Lol.

last song:

Lay Down Your Weapons. This song was featured in a het jdorama "Hey Sensei, Don't You Know" and is on my "days like this" playlist. I purposely sought it out just a bit ago. What can I say? I am in my feels today.

favourite colour:

My favorite character colors are RED and BLACK. I love color in general, but 💚 and 🩵 are what I tend to seek out when purchasing items (not clothes).

last book i read:

I am in the middle of Before We Forget Kindness by Toshikazu Kawaguchi. I love this series. Makes you remember to appreciate things in the moment.

last movie:

Princess Diaries with my daughter. Her cousins told her she "had to watch it". And...ugh. If they can get away with kissing like that in a G rated kids movie, then why the heck do we still get nothing but pecks in some R-rated QLs. One of the kisses was even non-con so yeah. (Note - hating on the system, not the movie)

Anyways, my favorite part of that experience was my daughter getting beyond mad that they straightened the girl's hair to make her "look like a princess". I didn't expect her to react that way so it was fun to witness. Ngl it made me feel like I was doing something right as a parent. I'll take any bit of reassurance I can in that department.

last tv show:

Ep 3 of Secret Relationships. I'm hoping to watch episode 4 of it and the last episode of FC Soldout tonight.

sweet, savoury, or spicy:

If it is good food, I'm in. That said - I'm probably picking savory. Chips (crisps) and pizza are my weakness. I eat like a teenager more often than not 🫣.

relationship status:

Married to the only person I've ever really been with. We started courting almost 20 years ago. I met his entire extended family on our first date. We've been married for over 15 years. It's been a journey, and we're still figuring it out.

last google search:

"impacts of gravity and time dilation on nuclear decay rates" - related to work. Last personal search was looking up congee recipes (thanks to Secret Relationships).

looking forward to:

Everyone going to bed so I can watch my shows 😂, and going out to eat with one of my sons for lunch tomorrow 🍜. It'd be nice if I could figure out when to fit in a few 💤 too, but that's a rarity. There are never enough hours in the day.

Most people I interact with on Tumblr are related to QL media so I'm not sure about tagging anyone, but feel free to do it if you wish. 💖 Tag me in your response. I'd love to see everyone's answers.

[shintin]

Forget Me Not: Chapter 37 (Knock, knock, knock)

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Description: Having fallen into this world, you were forced to shed blood to survive. But what about when you get tired, when you think the blood on your hands won’t wash off and give up because you have nothing to lose?

Yep, you were there, at rock bottom, rolling in the deep.

Then, there came a day when life gave you a new chance to live, laugh, and love, or so she thought.

Genre: heavy angst, sad love story, maybe tragedy, violence, lonely hearts, broken souls, +18.

Tags/Warnings: nothing but angst.

Song Recommendation: Mitski - I Bet on Losing Dogs

Chapter index -> Next Chapter

Year: 2019

Y/N lay on her side of the bed, quietly watching him. Unaware of her presence, he blinked, trying to pinpoint when she had entered the room. Suddenly, he noticed she was utterly motionless, a kind of stillness that was distinctly hers. The realization struck him, and he took a breath, fully aware of the impossibility of this moment.

Yet, despite his awareness, a delightful sensation of blooming flowers filled his stomach, their soft petals caressing every inch of his nervous system. It felt like he had been granted three wishes: to see, feel, and have her once more. It was the most peculiar phenomenon—an extraordinary, joyous impossibility delicately wrapped in tissue paper, tied with a bow, and safely tucked away in his heart.

Everything felt incredibly authentic, to the point where he could even sense the fragrance of lemons and the scent of the sea enveloping her.

Satoru nervously swallowed, slowly raising his hand. His eyes widened in surprise as his finger touched her face's smooth skin. She went still as he gently cupped her cheek, which felt as soft as velvet petals. His fingers then traced along the curve of her neck and explored the scars on her shoulders.

She didn't say a word, but her eyes remained on him.

As his gaze returned to her face, he was taken aback by the way she looked at him. Her eyes carried a weight that worried him, yet her expression remained tender, focused, and brimming with emotion that he found it difficult to look away, captivated by her presence.

She closed her eyes, and he couldn't help but observe even the simplest actions she took: adjusting her weight, her hair sliding across the pillow, and the subtle trembling of her lips. All six of his eyes followed every movement of her body. This moment with her felt incredibly strange, causing his chest to tighten and his heart to race. She had a way of making him long to remain trapped in this dream indefinitely.

Then, she came closer and closer and closer.

Reluctant to disturb the enchantment of the moment, he reached out silently and held her hand as if she were a lonely, fluffy cloud in the sky, destined to vanish with the northern winds. He brought her palm to his lips, planting a gentle kiss upon it, desperately hoping it would dispel the emptiness in her eyes. But alas, the stubborn void remained steadfast. He managed a melancholic smile as she pressed her cheek against his palm, and he delicately brushed strands of hair away from her face. Something stirred within him, a surge of warmth accompanying the movement of her head. Leaning closer, she gently pressed her forehead against his, her breath caressing his nose like a gentle breeze.

"Please stay," Satoru whispered, tightly closing his eyes.

Expecting her to leave him again, he was caught off guard when her lips brushed against his chin. In response, a raw cry escaped his throat, resonating with longing. His mouth parted, and the warmth of her sweetened throat flowed into him. At that moment, he was incapable of thought or action, consumed only by the exquisite experience of savoring her presence. Each breath she took, every gentle movement of her lips, felt like a miraculous gift after weeks of separation.

He drew her near and kissed her, kissing her with such intensity that time seemed to lose its grip. In that fleeting moment, he momentarily forgot the misery of his life without her.

The bliss was limitless, but she broke the kiss, and her leg brushed against his. Opening his eyes, he found her smiling—a small, secretive smile that conveyed so many unspoken sentiments, the kind that no one else could ever say to him.

Was it possible to hold onto her, to make her stay? He kissed her gently on the forehead, the curve of her nose, and the corner of her lips. Under his touch, she seemed to swell, to grow more vibrant.

"Satoru?" she spoke, breaking her silence for the first time.

"Yes?"

She shifted sideways, and he willingly made space for her by his side. She seamlessly filled the emptiness, nuzzling her face into his neck. It felt reminiscent of the old days, the days before she had vanished into oblivion. With closed eyes, he embraced the moment as if in prayer, and his heart sprang back to life.

Her hand let go of his beneath the sheets, only to settle on his waist and gently glide down his thigh. The touch nearly caused him to lose his composure, but then she planted a light kiss on his pure white hair. He gulped hard, suppressing the reminders of reality that threatened to flood his mind.

"I miss you," she uttered in a faint whisper he almost failed to catch.

"I'm here," he reassured, softly caressing her cheek. "Right here, Y/N."

But she shook her head, defying his attempt to draw her closer until she dissipated into thin air.

He blinked, his breath ragged and gasping as it moved in and out of his mouth in quick intervals. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing so loud it resembled the sound of someone who had been running for a long time. And then, the familiar white walls of the room released their hold on him. He made a silent vow to himself that he would love to forget how to wake up one day.

Drenched in sweat, Satoru sighed and leaned against the headboard, taking deep breaths. He needed a moment, so he tightly shut his eyes until her face carved itself in his mind. These dreams were his only opportunity to be with her. Although he willingly let her go, he searched for her in the following days, not to bring her back but to ensure her safety.

Yet, it felt like the ground had opened up and swallowed her whole. She had returned to being the ghost she once was as if she had never existed, as if the echoes of her laughter hadn't filled this room just a few months ago, as if his body didn't still carry her scent. He ran his hand over his eyes and rested it on his neck.

Honestly, he had been considering the idea that Y/N might be a product of his imagination. Perhaps it was because he couldn't fathom how someone with a personality like hers could survive in this harsh world. Moreover, he struggled to comprehend why someone like her would show any interest in a heartless, self-centered person like him.

Yet, through the bond they shared, he could feel her existence. She was tangible, alive, moving forward without him. Yeah, that's the thing. The most challenging aspect wasn't letting her go; it was coming to terms with the fact that she didn't wish to remain, and that realization caused even greater pain.

Satoru berated himself and pushed the covers away, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and burying his head in his hand. He had hours of work ahead of him, yet her face continued to intrude into his thoughts, and he realized that a small part of him didn't want to dismiss the thoughts of her. Some part of him found solace in the torment it brought.

She was destroying him, the strongest.

He covered his mouth with his hand, realizing he was losing his sanity. Shaking his head, he collapsed onto the bed, placed a hand over his forehead, and then dragged it down his face in frustration. If only his stupid brain hadn't betrayed him, he would never have abandoned her at the wedding. Because, since that day, every decision he made seemed to be a regrettable mistake.

He turned his head and looked at the sheets.

He turned his gaze towards the sheets. She slept here, he thought. She had shared his bed, waking up beside him. In this bed, she had smiled, dreamed, moaned, laughed, and cried—all next to him. But now, her warmth was a distant memory. She had been here, and he had allowed her to slip away.

He had lost her.

What could he do now?

She despised him.

She despised him, and the chance of ever seeing her again was uncertain. It was entirely his fault. When he had acted foolishly, he should have anticipated the consequences.

These dreams and memories might be all he had remaining of her.

His hand lingered over the sheets, attempting to conjure her presence beside him, even if only in his imagination, even if only for a fleeting moment within the confines of his mind.

The prospect of a negative outcome filled him with terror. What if he never had the chance to see her again? The thought weighed heavily on his mind, causing him to grip the sheets tightly, and in frustration, he forcefully slammed his fist against the bed.

It's funny how quickly he grew accustomed to her presence in this place. It brought him an odd sense of comfort, knowing they would share the same roof and sleep in the same bed.

Her presence in the school changed everything for him. The months she spent here marked the first time in years that he truly savored living in these dorms since his teenage days. He looked forward to her smiles, tantrums, and even absurd arguments.

Now, Satoru longed for her to be here, to shout at him. He would have congratulated her if she had ever slapped him across the face.

But she never did. She packed her anger and disappointment and left.

Oh, God! He wished he could sink into the ground. The proof of her presence was so vivid and real that it made it unbearable for him to remain in this place. He couldn't seek refuge in missions, as he was obligated to stay in the school for the investigation regarding Y/N's flee.

Higher-ups didn't know he was the one who planned her escape. Even if they knew, that wouldn't change anything in his end. He had no reprieve from the consequences of his actions.

After all, he was consumed by a profound sense of hopelessness.

The clock had ticked past five in the morning, and it felt like he hadn't slept in days. However, he could scarcely bear to shut his eyes. He couldn't bear the solitude with his thoughts or confront the vulnerabilities within himself. He felt broken, held together solely by obligation. He had unsuccessfully attempted to express the jumble of emotions clouding his mind, but to whom? Who would comprehend him? Who would believe that what he was experiencing surpassed a mere binding vow?

Kento Nanami and Shoko Ieiri? Not quite. Their relationship never quite clicked for them. They couldn't comprehend how someone like Satoru, with his diverse preferences in partners, could be an emotional match for anyone, especially someone like Y/N: a girl who ate, slept, and breathed emotion. They always believed that Y/N gave him too much credit and that she tolerated too much of his nonsense.

They were correct in their assessment, but her appearance or the sense of being desired didn't make him fall in love with her. It was the trust they shared and the comforting sensation of finding a home. He had never experienced it before, as he had always felt alone. When he was held in her embrace, he felt warmth for the first time. Y/N was his home.

Indeed, Satoru was engulfed in his misery, isolated and without companionship.

His loneliness was a vicious creature. It sneaked up on him silently, sitting by his side in the darkness, gently caressing his hair as he stared off. It wrapped around his very bones, constricting so tightly that he struggled to catch his breath. It planted falsehoods in his heart, lying beside him at night, draining the light from every corner. Loneliness became a constant companion without her, holding his hand only to pull him down when he tried to rise.

Even when he was prepared to let it go, break free, and start anew, loneliness remained an old acquaintance standing beside him in the mirror, challenging him to try and live without it. He couldn't find the words to resist himself, to battle against the inner voices screaming for her return—wanting her back, wanting her back, wanting her back, and knowing deep down it wasn't possible.

Loneliness was a bitter, wrenching companion.

"Is this what you felt all along, Y/N?" he whispered into the empty room. He tried to convince himself that it was merely a meaningless dream, but he was deceiving himself. The truth was, witnessing her sadness carved into his unconsciousness became too overwhelming, and the thought of her suffering inflicted unbearable agony upon him. Knowing that she had endured all these pains.

He had thrown her into this situation, causing her to be discarded and harmed. Guilt drowned him, immersing him in a world where he unexpectedly delved into feeling her pain so deeply.

It was killing him.

He stood up and began pacing back and forth in his bedroom until he mustered the courage to keep his shits together.

The room carried the fragrance of morning rain, saturated with traces of her presence. The air was dim and infused with an earthy scent. He inhaled deeply and approached the window, pressing his fingers against the chilly glass. His breath began to fog up. He closed his eyes, listening to the gentle patter of rain rushing in the wind. Right now, raindrops served as a reminder that clouds possessed a pulse, as did he.

When he was a child—of course, with no friend— he often pondered the nature of raindrops. He marveled at how they descended, stumbling over their feet, breaking their legs, and forsaking their parachutes as they trembled from the sky toward an uncertain fate. It seemed someone was emptying their pockets over the Earth, indifferent to where the contents would land. They didn't seem to mind that the raindrops would burst upon hitting the ground, or that they would shatter upon reaching the floor, or that people would resent the days when the drops dared to tap on their doors.

Now that he thought, he realized that Y/N was like a raindrop. Despite enduring hit after hit, bruise after bruise, tear after tear, she persevered and moved forward, facing her fears. Yet, when their paths intersected, he emptied himself of her presence and left her to evaporate, utterly alone.

How could he be such a monstrous person?

He pressed his forehead against the glass pane, feeling the familiar embrace of the cold against his skin. He couldn't continue living in constant pain every minute of the day, as it was unsustainable. On the other hand, if the pain ceased, she would be gone, and he couldn't bear that either.

He took a sharp breath to clear his mind, clenching and unclenching his fist, when his attention was drawn to the scar on his palm. It served as a poignant reminder. He was about to trace his fingers along its jagged edges when a knock sounded at the door.

Knock, knock, knock! The door swung open, revealing Satoru with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a sly grin on his face. "Hey, Granny! Got any spare ice for your lovely neighbor?" he asked, leaning casually against the door frame and peering at her through his shades.

"No," Y/N replied curtly, her annoyance evident as she tried to close the door. But Satoru held it firmly, her surprised gaze bouncing between his hand and his oddly pleased expression. What kind of power play was this that the infamous Satoru Gojo had initiated? She kept her distance, ready with a hidden knife up her sleeve, just in case.

"Don't you want to know why I need the ice?" Satoru inquired, his gaze fixed on where her hand and knife were concealed behind the door.

"No," she replied tersely.

"It's for my Scotch!" Satoru exclaimed, throwing his arms up in mock excitement.

"You don't drink," she retorted, her grip on the door tightening, fully aware that this flimsy door wouldn't stand a chance if Satoru had any intentions.

"Awww," Satoru pouted, winking at her over his glasses. "You sure know a lot about me." His grin widened. "But did you know that my six eyes can see your little knife?" He pointed directly at the spot where she had hidden her blade.

She took a deep breath, lips pressed together tightly. "Good night!" she declared, slamming the door in his face with frustration and determination.

 *

Knock, knock, knock! The door creaked open, revealing Satoru. Again. "Hello, my favorite coffin dodger! I'm in desperate need of bobby pins!"

With an exasperated sigh, she leaned her head against the door frame, rolling her eyes. "Do I even want to know why?"

Satoru's smile grew wider as if this was all part of his grand plan. He pointed at the stray hairs falling over his forehead. "Ever since you ripped off my blindfold, these stubborn hairs keep getting stuck in my night cream!" To emphasize the point, he raised an eyebrow and shook his head, demonstrating that his hair was not moving an inch.

Her eyes remained fixed on his forehead, surprise evident in her gaze. "You use facial creams?"

Satoru struggled to contain his laughter. Despite her reputation as a skilled murderer, her emotions were easy to read, which amused him greatly. "You don't?" He covered his mouth with his hand as if sharing scandalous news. "No wonder you look like grandmothers!"

Her eyes quickly snapped back to his face, her furrowed brows and deathly glares revealing her annoyance and anger. It must have been a mistake. How could someone like her, infamous for being a monster, have such a vulnerable side? Was she the same angel of death he had encountered years ago on his deathbed, or had he completely misjudged her all this time? Damn it, ever since she touched him, his instincts couldn't be trusted. There was an enigmatic pull towards her that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Lost in his thoughts, he heard her sharp retort, "Go to hell, you asshole!" followed by the slamming of the door.

 *

Knock, knock, knock. The door reluctantly opened, revealing a woman irritated by the late hour. "For God's sake, it's 3 in the morning—" Her eyes widened in disbelief at the absurd sight before her. "What the fuck?!"

Satoru had his t-shirt folded up to his stomach, using it like a kangaroo pouch to carry random stuff. What a clown! But despite her best efforts, her eyes couldn't resist sneaking glances at his abs and the fine white hairs under his navel. Is that his happy trail?

Y/N never had time for these kinds of games in her straightforward life. Maybe that's why she always fell into the white fox's trap, or perhaps she was just a bunny who enjoyed being hunted by this hunter who found any excuse to occasionally knock on her door and play with his prey. But no matter what, he always managed to surprise her.

"Hey! Pervert!" he exclaimed, waving his hand. "My face is up here!"

Her eyes slowly and somewhat reluctantly made their way back up, her blush becoming more pronounced with every passing second. And boy, if it were any other time, he would have grinned with victory at this triumph. But for now, he kept a neutral expression. "I need you to hide these sweets!"

She bit her lower lip as he casually took her hands and pulled her in closer, way too close for comfort. He emptied all the chocolates from his t-shirt into her hands, her fingers brushing against his chiseled body for a fleeting moment, sending a warmth surging through her that felt completely foreign. She lowered her head, desperately wishing her hair would cover her face and hide her embarrassment. What the fuck was wrong with her?

But of course, Satoru didn't stop there. He then took her shoulders and guided her back to her room, leaving her completely dazed. "If I knock on your door in an hour asking for sweets, don't open it for me. Got it?"

Was he going to show up again in an hour? This was too much to handle; she knew it. But her brain was short-circuiting, so she simply nodded, still keeping her head down.

"Don't trust me, even if I try to trick you," he warned, gently brushing her hair away from her face and locking his gaze with hers. "Okay, Y/N?"

She gulped, not daring to question her own sanity or the bizarre nature of this encounter. "Okay," she managed to utter.

Satoru grinned in satisfaction, stepped back, and closed the door with a smile, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, utterly confused, with a bunch of chocolates in her hands.

 *

Knock, knock, knock. He anxiously watched as the door swung open, revealing the hallway's darkness. " Do you like Kento?" The words slipped out of his mouth quicker than he intended. Desperate for her answer, he gripped the door frame.

"What?" She stood before him, dressed in red, aware that she was merely a plaything to entertain his boredom, but he was someone she desired more than anything in her life.

"Are you in love with Kento? Just tell me. Yes or no, Y/N?"

The urgency in Satoru's voice and the concern in his eyes made her lift her head and meet his gaze. What kind of game was he playing this time? Regardless, she was too weary to care anymore. "No," she whispered, looking away.

His wishes came true for once, and he got what he had longed for. He promised himself he wouldn't mess it up this time. He vowed to do whatever it took to protect this treasure. He took a step into the room, and Y/N instinctively stepped back, her last attempt to escape the fate that would shadow her life.

Counting down from ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...and one. Her back met the wall, and Satoru's lips found hers. There was no liberation in this love, so she closed her eyes and surrendered. His kiss deepened, and he promised her everything, everything she desired, as men in love often do. And despite herself, she trusted him, as women in love often do.

*

Knock, knock, knock. Satoru opened the door to find Y/N standing there, wearing a partially wet top and a sweatshirt that couldn't conceal her sweat. He wondered why she had come to his doorstep in such a rush. Despite the surprise, he didn't mind at all and actually enjoyed the sight of her. Observing her during her preparations, training, stretches, and even afterward became his new favorite meal of his six eyes.

With one hand on her side, she gestured towards the likely location of the training grounds. "I just saw Panda tossing Nobara around! Why aren't you supervising? What kind of sensei are you?"

Satoru casually shifted his gaze from her damp collarbones to her face. His half-opened eyes had a certain quality that his faint smile couldn't conceal. "What kind of sensei do you want me to be?" he asked, his voice husky as if he had just woken up. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame, shamelessly letting his eyes wander over her parted lips.

"I don't know!" She shrugged. "How about a responsible one?" she suggested, hoping he would take action and head to the training grounds upon hearing the news. However, he had no intention of doing so.

"Perhaps you could teach me," he proposed, his hand reaching for the hem of her waist, gently toying with the edge of her top. "During a private session," he added, his gaze locked onto hers.

"What the heck?" were the only words that came to her mind as he didn't wait for her response. He swiftly pulled her into the room and closed the door with a smooth kick. Her mind was filled with disbelief as Satoru stepped forward, cornering her. Their chests rose and fell with each deep breath as if they had just run for miles. There was a lingering desire in the air, an unspoken plea for vulnerability. Despite the years she had spent learning to defend herself, in that moment, she realized she wanted to be defenseless in front of him. There was an undeniable trust, a growing soft spot within her, certain that he would never harm her and she would be safe in his arms. He was the missing piece she had been searching for in her life.

She felt his warm delight as he called out her name. The tenderness in his voice returned, a tone he reserved for their private moments. He drew her closer, his hands enveloping her as if afraid she might vanish if he let go.

She softly whispered "Satoru" into the crook of his neck, and she could feel his hand sliding down her waist. He was her home, so she let him surround her.

He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. "You don't know what you do to me," he murmured, his voice gentle, smooth, and unhurried. She had never realized until now just how enticing his voice was.

His hand tenderly held hers as he leaned in, brushing his nose against the nape of her neck, causing her to stifle a moan. No one had ever touched her with such delicacy, treating her like a fragile cherry blossom. His lips lightly grazed her skin, and she couldn't help but whimper.

 He smiled. He was the reason for her racing heartbeat. He was responsible for those tears of happiness she tried to hide. He was enough for her, just as he was, without needing any proof or change to keep her by his side. As his hands explored her body, feeling and memorizing every curve, he kissed the top of her shoulder blade, gently tracing over her scars.

She rested her hands on his chest, causing him to open his eyes. Gently, he lifted her chin slightly. "I'll be a good sensei," he whispered. "I'll be good to you," he murmured, stroking her cheek and gently kissing her forehead. "I'll be good to anyone you wish."

She stared into his eyes, which seemed to hold a vast heart like the oceans and skies. Rising on her toes, she kissed him with hunger, desperation, and a longing to explore and savor him. He tasted like cotton candy with a hint of vanilla in his scent. Within moments, Satoru responded with an intense kiss, his hands encircling her neck while she attempted to remove his oversized T-shirt with her fingers.

They moved with a sense of urgency, driven by their desires. Satoru firmly grasped her hips, his hands exploring her body. His arms enveloped her with strength while his lips remained gentle. Her head spun with longing. His lips found their way to her neck, savoring her essence, consuming her completely.

She grabbed the waistband of his pants, not realizing how much it would excite him. In response, he lifted her by the waist, pressing her against the wall. His hands held her firmly, supporting her backside, causing her to wrap her legs around him instinctively.

As she tightly gripped his hair, their lips met again, intensifying the connection. His hands slid under her top, and both of them were breathing heavily. The tension grew as his pants tightened around his arousal while she clung to his T-shirt, driven by desperation.

"I'm telling you, I saw Y/N heading to her room. Why isn't she responding?" Yuji's voice echoed.

"Maybe she's taking a shower. It's a normal thing to do after training, you know," Nobara replied, her tone filled with righteousness.

"Maybe Gojo sensei knows where she is!"

"Can't we just leave everyone in this dorm wing alone?" Megumi suggested, feeling trapped.

Satoru let out a heavy breath, closed his eyes, and loosened his hold, allowing Y/N's feet to touch the floor, yet he didn't release her completely. She gently held his face in her hands and softly kissed the tip of his nose. "They'll go away if we stay quiet," he whispered, brushing his cheek against her damp, sweaty hair.

"They won't, and you know it," she whispered, leaning against his chest. She could feel the rhythm of his heartbeats, as well as the bulge pressed against her belly, causing her to blush and hide her face in his embrace.

"How about tonight, after 10?" she proposed, running her fingers through his hair, futilely attempting to neaten the tousled strands.

He drew back, his eyes widening as he gazed at her. "Tonight, after 10," he whispered, a wide grin spreading. He lightly brushed his thumb against her lower lip, only to be surprised when she kissed his palm and smiled as if this was a usual occurrence between two people who shared physical attraction. But there was something more, wasn't there? The soft pink hue on her cheeks and the way she smiled stirred something within him. What was this feeling that enveloped him whenever she was near?

Rubbing the back of his head, he walked back and cleared his throat, observing Y/N hastily fixing her hair, trying to conceal any signs of mischief like a naughty child.

"It's moments like these that make me question my morals. Can't we all peacefully share Y/N?" he declared, opening the door to his room.

A gentle nudge on Satoru's arm and Y/N appeared before the door. "What do you all need?"

Nobara and Yuji immediately started discussing urgent matters with Y/N, seemingly oblivious to the time constraints. Meanwhile, Megumi noticed how their sensei looked at her with a broad, nostalgic smile he hadn't seen in years. Oh, boy.

 *

Knock, knock, knock. The door opened instantly. Satoru had returned from a mission. "Sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to — "

Before he could finish his sentence, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist. She trembled with cold, her eyes red and wet from another nightmare. Without hesitation, he pulled her close, resting her head against his chest, disregarding the dirt on his uniform.

"It was just a bad dream, Y/N. Only a dream," he reassured her. Yet, her sobs persisted. Holding her hand gently, he pressed a kiss on it. "Look," he urged, encouraging her to open her tightly shut eyes. "There is no blood on your hand." He tenderly stroked her hair and kissed her temple.

She stared at her hand, almost disbelieving that the blood had vanished upon his arrival. Sniffling, she remained silent for a while.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" he asked with concern.

She raised her head from his chest and remained silent.

"What's wrong?" He gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. He was the strongest, yet something about this formidable woman brought out his weaknesses.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, a faint smile appearing on her lips as she lowered her head.

"What's amusing?" He grasped her chin and lifted it. Her eyes were still red, but the sadness seemed to have dissipated. Nevertheless, being with her made him feel complete, and for the first time in a long while, he experienced genuine happiness. Was he falling in love with her?

"It's just..." Her words snapped him back to reality. "...this is the first time someone has asked me that," she paused. "It caught me off guard." Balancing on her tiptoes, she hugged him, humming softly. "Yeah, I think I'll be okay. Thank you for asking," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Y/N." His arms tightened around her, assuring her he would never let go. He would hold her like this indefinitely if it would mend her broken pieces. Because she was the missing piece he had longed for in his life: she and her pure heart.

 *

Knock, knock, knock . Y/N rapped her knuckles against the wooden door. Knock, knock, knock. Silence greeted her. Trying again, she hit once more. Still no response. Her hand dropped to her side in the dimly lit hallway as Y/N leaned her forehead against the door. She had just arrived from Okinawa and Utahime's wedding, and despite her exhaustion, frustration, and the ache in her heart, she was determined to address the unspoken issue between them. She refused to accept that Satoru could be the person her eyes had seen that day. He couldn't be because what would that leave her to believe?

Knock, knock, knock. No answer.

It appeared that he was nowhere to be found.

*

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. "Where the hell are you, Satoru?" Y/N's voice was raspy, and her arms and the side of her face bore bruises. She shouldn't have been out of bed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as her fist continued pounding on the door while her other hand clutched her stomach. "We need you, Satoru. Where are you?" She turned and scanned her surroundings. Why had she hoped that Satoru would sense her pain and return? Collapsing onto the cold floor of the hallway, her back sliding against the door, silent tears stained her cheeks.

"Y/N? What brings you here?"

She raised her head from her knees and faced Shoko. She shrugged her shoulders. "I couldn't sleep." An obvious lie.

Shoko glanced at the door and then at her tear-streaked face, concern evident in her eyes. "Why don't you tell me exactly how you managed to defeat all those Gojo jerks?" she suggested, settling down beside her. Nights like these were better endured with a companion so the darkness wouldn't win over the dawn.

*

"I think he might be sleeping, or he's not in his room," Megumi's whisper came from behind the door.

Ignoring the explanation he had just heard, Yuji knocked on the door again. "He can't leave the school. Once he's cleared from the investigations, they'll assign him as Y/N's executioner again," Yuji commented without bothering to lower his voice. "And if he's sleeping, well, he's a teacher. How about being responsible for once?"

"What if he's also feeling sad? I mean, I know she was a part of your family, but I believe she was his family too," Megumi whispered, the words not concealed behind the door and reaching Satoru's ears.

"What?" Yuji exclaimed. "Are you saying he's miserable? Did someone inform you about something?"

Megumi began mumbling once more. "Didn't you want to witness him in pain? I thought that was the entire purpose of us being here."

Yuji let out a sigh. "That doesn't mean I want to see him messed up. I'm still angry at him, but I must talk to him!"

"You know Y/N didn't leave because of him, right?"

"I know," Yuji replied. He fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "But I haven't forgotten his significant role. If he hadn't broken her heart—"

"He did what he did to protect her. It wasn't healthy for her to be around him, Yuji."

"Fine," Yuji scoffed. "Stop defending your stepfather!"

"Ugh, Yuji. You need to—"

Megumi's sentence was abruptly cut off by the sudden swing of the door, revealing their sensei standing in the doorway with messy hair. The sight of their sensei caught them off guard, but it was Satoru who seemed particularly affected. He instinctively lowered his head, his hand reaching for his sunglasses in an attempt to hide his red-rimmed eyes behind the dark lenses. Although he tried to conceal it, Satoru couldn't shake off the feeling that Yuji had caught a glimpse of the dark circles beneath his eyes. This suspicion was confirmed by the noticeable softening of Yuji's previously furrowed expression as if he understood the silent struggles Satoru was going through.

Satoru abandoned the effort it took to punish himself. Maybe he deserved to have a companion in these hard days. Talking to a real human being might make things a little easier. He practiced using his voice, shaping his lips around the familiar words unfamiliar to his mouth.

Satoru, amidst his inner turmoil, finally reached a point of surrender. The weight of self-punishment became too heavy, and he realized he deserved to have someone by his side, especially during these challenging times. The notion of connecting with another person and engaging in a conversation started to stir within him as a glimmer of relief.

Pretending not to hear Yuji and Megumi's earlier talks, Satoru spoke, "How can I help you, kids?" However, his voice felt strange, unrecognizable even to himself. The usual playfulness and goofiness that accompanied his conversations with students were absent.

Megumi's gaze shifted between the two of them.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Yuji said, deliberately avoiding making direct eye contact with his sensei.

Satoru fully opened the door and stepped aside. "Then come on in," he invited Yuji, his tone welcoming. He then turned to Megumi with a grateful smile. Megumi's defense of him in front of Yuji held great significance. "And what about you, Megumi? Care to join us inside?"

The boy with black hair scratched the back of his neck. "No, thanks. I have to join Maki," he replied. "She's waiting for me at the training grounds," he added, glancing at Yuji one last time and nodding before turning away and walking off.

As Satoru gently closed the door behind him, his gaze fell upon Yuji, who was already seated at the table and waiting quietly. He understood that this discussion would be far from easy, as it required delving into painful truths and facing the consequences of his actions.

Satoru had to face the fact that, in a way, he was responsible for his brothers' deaths, too. It was a bitter pill to swallow, acknowledging his role in their tragic fate. Yet, amidst the confusion and lingering questions, he found himself grappling with the perplexing connection between Y/N and Yuji. The circumstances surrounding their relationship remained shrouded in uncertainty, leaving Satoru with a sense of unease.

Summoning a deep breath, Satoru released a heartfelt sigh. Bracing himself, he approached Yuji, the atmosphere between them charged with unspoken emotions. He pulled out another chair, sat down, and positioned himself before Yuji, prepared to navigate the difficult interaction ahead.

Yuji's gaze remained fixed on the table as he abruptly began speaking. "I need you to locate her and assist her in finding our brother before the higher-ups intervene."

Well, Yuji was straightforward so that Satoru could respond with the same honesty. "I can't," Satoru said, running his hand over his face and pausing it at his mouth.

"What do you mean you can't? You must! You always said you did everything for her well-being, and now you're saying you can't? Is it because of the assignment the higher-ups will give you? You're Satoru Gojo. You can do whatever you please! You never conform to the rules!"

"Yuji," Satoru called out, and finally, Yuji looked at him. The white-haired man's smile was tinged with bitterness. "There are things even I cannot do," he said, glancing at the hair tie on the table. It belonged to Y/N. He reached out and pulled it around his wrist. "Y/N is skilled at hiding. You won't find her unless she chooses to be found."

"Why did you allow her to leave?" Yuji's anger flared.

"Don't ask about things you already know the answer to," Satoru replied, leaning back in his chair. "Staying here would have cost her life. She's better off without me and the Jujutsu Society."

With a trembling voice, Yuji accused, "You destroyed her life." Satoru didn't need to look at the pink-haired boy's face to understand that tears were streaming down it, but he maintained his composure and remained silent, allowing Yuji to express whatever was weighing on his heart. "You weren't there when she needed you. You weren't there when your own family tried to harm her and her child. You weren't there when that powerful curse emerged during the Exchange Event. You only show up now to find an excuse to kill our brothers because that's who you are. I don't even know what I expected from a man who murdered his friend in the name of following orders."

Upon hearing the final sentence, Satoru jerked his head and met Yuji's piercing gaze. Every word Yuji spoke was undeniably true, and that truth cut deep. Satoru couldn't argue against it. The pain he felt was a deserved consequence. Yuji had every right to harbor such intense hatred toward him. After all, what kind of father fails to protect his daughter and her mother? What kind of man disappoints the love of his life and, as a supposed apology, ends the lives of her brothers?

Yet, just because something is true doesn't mean he was prepared to hear it.

He was unaware of the true magnificence of the world, but when Y/N entered his life, she shattered his perception. She revealed the hidden beauty in everything, and now that she was gone, all the beauty in the world seemed to vanish along with her. He had also lost her, which caused him pain, even though he knew he was the primary cause of it all.

The truth broke him.

His voice faltered. His back bowed. His knees weakened. His face crumbled.

He gripped the table's edge tightly to prevent himself from collapsing out of the chair.

"Did you love her?" Yuji asked, breaking the silence. His face was averted as he gazed at the rain through the window.

"I wanted to marry her."

"What?" Yuji turned his head, his eyes widening as he looked at his sensei.

"I have numerous enemies, and I knew they would never let my family be safe. However, while she was building sandcastles with a child in Okinawa, a moment of fear struck me. At that instant, I realized that I wanted it. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I wanted to create a future together. I wanted to grow old with her. I wanted to marry her."

"Did you get her a ring?"

"No."

"What? What do you mean, no?" Yuji paused. "Did you at least do something, like light a candle or make her dinner?"

"No."

"Buy her chocolates? Get down on one knee?"

"No."

"No? You didn't do any of those things? None of them?" His whispers escalated into whispered yells. "You're the absolute worst, you know? The worst. You don't deserve her."

Satoru sighed. "I thought that was already clear."

"Damn." Yuji slammed his hand down. "You two were engaged, and none of us had a clue?"

Satoru's gaze was fixed on the floor, his thumb caressing the hair tie. He appeared composed, but when he whispered, "No," the sadness in his voice cut through Yuji's heart like a knife.

"You never proposed to her, did you?"

Satoru glanced at Yuji's face and shook his head. "No, I never did."

"Good," Yuji replied, tightening his fists. "She didn't need another heartbreak. I know how much she desired a family."

Satoru nodded, unable to find the right words to say. The sound of raindrops tapping against the window filled the room.

After a while, Yuji broke the silence. "You won't kill her when you see her, right?"

"You think I don't love her, right? You think it was easy for me to watch her leave. You think it wasn't painful to see her run away from me? Well, maybe you never truly understood who I am," Satoru retorted. "Because if you did, none of these thoughts would even cross your mind. I understand that labeling me as the devil makes it easier for you to accept her absence, to move forward, to cope. But if you truly knew me, you would understand that since she left, my love for her hasn't wavered, not for a single moment. So, no. Not only will I not kill her, but I will also stand up against anyone who wishes to harm her."

Have you thought about glue?

No one bothers to ask about how the glue is doing, whether it's tired of bonding things, concerned about coming undone, or even wondering how it's managed to survive through the weeks.

Satoru was somewhat similar.

He was like glue. He did his utmost to hold things together and safeguard those he could, yet nobody stopped thinking how he was faring.

Now that Yuji was paying attention, he likely noticed the fatigue in Satoru's eyes, the burden weighing on his forehead, and the tension in his shoulders. Perhaps it was time for Yuji to contemplate what Satoru was experiencing, what he wasn't revealing. Because, just maybe, throughout all these days, nobody had asked about how he was holding up. Because nobody ever anticipated the strongest person to be anything but fine.

Yuji gently pulled on Satoru's shoulder. "Megumi was right. You're not okay, are you?" Yuji whispered.

Satoru's eyes softened instantly, displaying weariness and faint amusement. It took him a moment to realize he hadn't answered the question. Only when he looked away did he eventually nod and say, "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"It's okay, Yuji. I'm not feeling sad. I should have expected this from the start. It seems that anything I don't want to lose always ends up slipping away. That's just how things have always been for me. The moment I obtain something worth wanting, it becomes lost."

Yuji started playing with his fingers. "I'm still angry, but I understand you made her happy like no one else ever did. So, I want to believe that you'll find a way to be together in the end. I know a bit about her binding vow to you, but deep down, I don't think it all happened solely because of that. Hence, get a ring and be prepared for the next time you see her," Yuji said, offering a smile for the first time in months.

Satoru's eyes briefly showed surprise before he averted his gaze, running a hand along his neck to soothe the tense muscle. After a moment, he shifted his focus to the window. "The weather sucks," he remarked.

Yuji understood it as a code for "Thank you."

"Yeah," Yuji replied. "Does it always rain on your birthdays, Sensei?"

Tag list: @hecateria @whattowritewhattonot @@readxeer00 @sunamew @yoongi-holland @sanokana @soft--grunge--burrito @move-in-mysterious-ways @tanu003097 @spookytreeeagle @wonderlandjthedaydreamer @littlecarrot06 @kurooyy @angeliccutie007 @misaki17 @yungliddysyx @nanamiswh0r3 @smokeyfuzz @sumii @zukisbabe @geidly @evalynanne @antheialy

[nczaversnick]

Mega OC Questionnaire

Got this tag from @the-golden-comet

Wasn’t sure who should answer this but I realized I haven’t done much with Caspian so here we go

Five things that make you happy:

“Oh five things? I guess Adrian, Faith of course. I like helping people and fighting with the rebels. Oh! I love ramen too.”

If you could save just one other person who would it be?

*cue Caspian strangling N.C. with his bare hands* Sorry guys this one is major spoilers

Tell us one of your funniest jokes:

“Oh cmon I’m not the funny one in his group. Most I can do is tease Audrey about her affairs with senior staff”

Where would you like to visit?

“If Quinn ever finds their people, I’d love to visit them. Utristan is great and all but I want to see what else is out there.”

When do you usually go to sleep?

“When I was a student, I went to sleep when I was done working. Nowadays I don’t go to sleep until Adrian comes back from his recon missions”

Are you a jealous person?

“I….dont want to answer this”

Have you committed a crime?

“Kinda hard not to when the system is designed to arrest you.”

Do you have a chore you usually hate?

“I mean nobody loves chores. But almost all the work I do is in my proffered field so it’s not really a chore…. But I hate practicing with firearms. It’s brings up unpleasant memories.”

Tell me an embarrassing childhood story

Athena: “Hell I’ll tell you an embarrassing story about him. When we were kids he once kidnapped a baby chick from the class project. He said he didn’t want it to live somewhere without air conditioning”

Are you a good person?

“I mean, I think so? Adrian once said that he looks up to me because of how kind I am but…I think he’s exaggerating”

“When have I ever exaggerated?”

What’s the worst thing you have ever done? Do you regret it?

“Of course I do. But it doesn’t matter now. All I can do is do everything I can not to be in that position again.”

What’s the quickest way to make you laugh?

“When Adrian asks about multi syllabic words. I know he’s still learning and I know it comes off mean but it’s so cute… I just can’t help it.”

What is your favorite song right now?

“Achilles Come Down”

Do you sometimes wish to be someone else?

“Only in the sense that I know I am not my best possible self. Tomorrow might be different.”

Do you push forward or take time to rest?

“Oh I’ve always been a push forward guy. But meeting Adrian changed that. That guy never stops moving and it’s hard to ignore it when you’ve seen what it looks like.”

What is your favorite drink?

“I’ve always been a big fan of green tea.”

If you had to pick an item of clothing or accessory to wear for the rest of your life what would it be?

“I’m legally required to say my wedding band.”

If you were forced to forget one memory, what would you choose?

“As if you really need to ask. I’d forget the day he died.”

What is a positive thing your worst enemy would say about you?

“Knowing Lucia she’d call me good bait. She really only cares about putting Adrian down and he’d do anything to save me.”

Tags for writing games (comment to be -\+)

@honeybewrites @wyked-ao3 @kittrrrr @zackprincebooks @theverumproject @fractured-shield @poppycat-writes @illarian-rambling @finickyfelix @kuebiko-writing @yourpenpaldee @willtheweaver @the-letterbox-archives @moltenwrites @davycoquette @drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie +open tag

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 2.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Longing looks, unspoken stolen glances, daydreams and overreactions, an unspecified age difference, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne song Can I Stay

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Can I Stay? Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The important parts of the meeting were a blur.

The very important, critically vital, future deciding parts of that meeting, yeah, that meeting filled to the absolute brim with the most VIP of VIPs was all kind of a blur.

You probably did fine. You’d done enough of these by now that you knew you could trust your mind to perform expertly on autopilot.

Metrics to report? You had them.

Deliverables? In spades.

Facts to show where your team outshone the others? Child’s play.

Story after story of your team’s very clear successes with you, their trusty captain at the helm? You had too many to recount, even when you picked just the best scenarios it still felt like bragging.

But that was the point of these things. Showing off for the people who mattered; the senior directors, the production team leaders, the deep pockets, the huge investments, and the big opinions who’s fortunes grew fat and heavy off the backs of the labor of thousands. The decision makers, the cord cutters, and the trigger pullers were all present today.

Meetings like this didn’t happen often but when they did they always mattered.

As you went through your slides and your carefully planned speech you kept your eyes steadily ahead of you at a level just above all of their heads. You’d occasionally allow your gaze to touch upon a few select sets of eyes such as the Company’s Vice President’s no nonsense eyes that watched the presentations with expert level eagle eyes ready to pop off a difficult question at a moment's notice for some of the less prepared members of this upper management team. You’d had none from her. Only a rare tick of her head with an impressed eyebrow lift and an even rarer concealed smile toward you as you were speaking. Many of the others eyes that watched you had far too much pressure when you allowed yourself to lock on, so you mostly looked at the foreheads and you kept your wits about you.

You only very briefly held President Byun’s eyes — the President of this company who had famously worked his way up from the bottom, or so his Wikipedia page said.

The President’s eyes bore a striking familiarity in their shape and in their color to his son’s. A superficial familiarity, because something deeper was very different from the set of eyes that carelessly burned a hole right into the very center of your chest almost an hour ago out there in that secluded hallway.

You could physically feel that same careless set of eyes on you now. A tingling sensation came from the left section of the room where the assistants to the management team stood by armed to the teeth with items ranging from a fresh set of batteries for a wonky laser pointer, a spare laptop for a machine on the fritz, to a box of every single cable and adapter and connector known to all of current and past technology on the off chance that some important person with enough zeros in their bank account might wish to connect a 1991 LaserDisc player to the several thousand dollar HD projector system installed in this meeting hall.

You were winding down now, finishing off with a well received joke that brought out an audible chuckle from the room and you could feel the pressure lessen as you easily answered the few questions that were posed.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes began to drift to the left side of the room. As if you had been called by him, your gaze moved so damned easily. It was probably because your speech was all done and you’d reached the end of the slide. You’d never quite mastered exiting one of these things with poise and ease and when your eyes drifted over they naturally settled right onto Baekhyun’s face.

The feelings that coursed through you were conflicted. Comfort and concern. Sanctuary and danger. You wanted to look at him. He felt like a friend and a comrade in here amongst so many others that expected and demanded so much from you. He was safe. He had been safe. He’d helped you prepare for the weeks leading up to this and you knew he was on your side. And you’d been holding it in so well. No one suspected a thing, you were sure of it. You’d been on top of the pesky crush you’d been hiding ever since you met him. And it had been just that. Just a silly passing crush.

You had fully planned on saying goodbye to him in three weeks time and moving on with your life with yet another unrequited love under your belt and a few unrealized fantasies in your head to hold you over until you found enough hours in the day to actually start dating someone. Someone closer to your level. A similar enough age not to raise any eyebrows at work, and a similar family background. Just someone normal and definitely not someone from a family like Byun Baekhyun’s. While the age gap between you and Baekhyun wasn’t completely unheard of, the gap in social status was pretty vast. Sure you’d reached a level of professional success through sacrifice and hard work but every single hard earned dollar you’d made was the result of your own efforts.

How would you even begin to compare to this man? Baekhyun and you came from entirely different worlds.

How much trouble would you be in if all these leaders found out you were falling in love with their very own untouchable Prince? How much of him were you actually allowed and how far would your fall from grace be if you took too much?

Baekhyun’s smile was wide and genuine and his eyes shaped into little half circles. His hands were moving with the silent secret applause he gave you with just the tips of his fingers before shooting two quick thumbs up in your direction. You held your breath as you looked at him. You found it difficult to do both of those things simultaneously it seemed.

‘You’re so cool!’ He mouthed and you pulled your lips in between your teeth to keep your face impassive. It was self preservation. You knew you should not have looked for him at all.

The room was in motion again as the next team manager took to the center of the room. You took your seat for the rest of the meeting and steadied your gaze to the front of the room. You would not, absolutely would not waver.

But your memory, like your eyes earlier, drifted in his direction. You stared straight ahead ignoring the strong pins and needles feeling over your skin that came from the assistants section and your mind replayed the feeling of his long thin fingertips slipping along the surface of your face. His fingertips that touched along your jaw at first then moved higher. So light it felt like silk over a porcelain vase until those fingers threaded into your hair behind your ear, his pinky at the nape of your neck, his thumb pressing over your earlobe and the soft warmth of his palm along your jaw, guiding your face to him; urging you into his lips.

His lips and the yielding uncertainty in them.

His lips and the warmth of the exhale from his nose.

His lips, begging and your own, too scared to reply.

The speaker at the front of the room had said something funny. An audible chuckle sounded out around you and you dropped your hand from your face quickly and your index finger released its touch on your bottom lip and you looked around, chastising yourself for letting your mind wander in this way. The slight panic that you’d missed something important pulled at your nerves and your eyes, out of habit, sought out the familiar.

You found him so easily. He stood out like a sparkling Diamond in a room of rocks. The giggle in the room was winding down but those brown eyes were already locked into yours the second yours found his. Baekhyun’s expression was flat and serious and it was obvious that he, like you, wasn’t laughing. Perhaps he had missed the joke as well. Baekhyun was quiet and he was motionless, sitting amongst a group of assistants who could never really be his peers, they all giggled and whispered among themselves all worked up from the end of this tortuous meeting or from the entertaining speech they’d all been witness to, you couldn’t be certain.

You caught onto his eyes from across the meeting room. There was a moment of almost peace, when you looked at his serious face and he stared at you in silence, clearly lost inside his own thoughts.

The moment did not last long because his eyes seemed to widen and a bubble had popped, awakening him or alerting him, his posture changed and he pulled back instantly, averting his gaze with a recoil of his features he lifted a hand to rub over his face; he looked away from you. You wondered what had him so engrossed. What had been interrupted inside of his mind just now.

Had your own self resolve been weaker, the curiosity might just eat you alive from the inside out like acid.

Bodies were moving around the room. Your name was called by many a friendly smiling face pulling someone you simply just had to meet. Your introductions were filled with flattery on the excellent work you always produced. You were humble and you were grateful.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught the bounce of a blonde head of hair in the crowd as the small groups mingled about.

“My son has been making his way through the company learning the ropes from the very best we have in each department!” A deep voice boomed and your ears caught a few friendly chuckles as responses as one important man showed off to a group of other important men.

“When are you moving onto the next team?”

“I want to stay where I am for longer. I still have a lot to learn from my manager.” You were close enough to make out Baekhyun’s voice through the murmur of the crowds around you.

“Nonsense,” the old man began and to your surprise, Baekhyun’s voice firmly interrupted.

“No, not nonsense, Dad. I’m staying on this team for two more projects, at least. Maybe more. I haven’t even been involved in the beginning and end of anything yet because My Daddy keeps moving me around like a chess piece just to one-up his friends.” Baekhyun’s voice was quiet enough for the others in this room not to hear him, but you’d grown so accustomed to his particular way of speaking that you could just make out every word he spoke to his father, despite how under his breath he tried to keep it.

“How am I supposed to show my face around these people if you keep pulling me out before anything gets finished? How do you think that makes me look? Do you think that earns me any of their respect?”

Your curiosity betrayed you when you turned your head around just enough to catch the determined look on Baekhyun’s face. You felt a strange mixture of shock and pride watching him respond with such purpose and confidence to his father’s whims that you felt your jaw drop open just a little just from the surprise of witnessing this. You were so caught up in what he was saying and how he was saying it that the small tick of his eyes in your direction caught you off guard and made you flinch. How long had he known you were here? He certainly didn't let your eavesdropping stop him from making his point. His eyes touched yours only for a moment before he inhaled a steadying breath, lifted his chin and spoke his final piece.

“Respectfully, If you want to be able to trust me with your company in the future you need to start trusting my judgment about my life right now, Sir.”

The old man didn't speak right away but Baekhyun’s eyes didn't stay on his father’s face. Those flighty eyes of his gave you away instantly. President Byun turned his head, following his son’s eyes to find you standing close by; not close enough for it to be obvious that you had heard the entire exchange, but your proximity to and your current work with Baekhyun certainly made you feel guilty for lurking around the two family members having a private conversation.

The president didn’t betray any conceivable suspicions he may or may not have had of you, but you did find yourself pulled forward out of your duty to the company and pure politeness.

You greeted them both with a smile and respectful head nod and even reached out to shake President Byun’s hand as he addressed you by name and complimented your presentation. It was a conversation that had been repeated all afternoon and you responded in kind, giving humble appreciation for your excellent team and their efforts.

You’d expected the pleasantries to be the end of it, but the President kept speaking with a wry smile and a genuine twinkle in his eyes this time.

“So you are the reason why my son suddenly has the guts to stand up to me for the first time in his life,” he remarked matter of factly and you heard the deep chest filling breath Baekhyun slowly inhaled beside you. He then cleared his throat out loud and crossed his arms over his chest. The gesture had no effect on the old man who was clearly not new to embarrassing his children.

“Baekhyun has been an incredible addition to my team. I haven’t known him for very long but what I knew right away was that your son has an incredible sense of conviction and determination — he must take after you in that regard.”

This brought a grin to the President’s face and he reached out a heavy hand to lay over his son’s shoulders. Baekhyun’s face held a barely concealed wince and he rocked back and forth on stiff legs. He really should have tried harder to control his face. You’d had the same forced smile on your lips for a solid hour and a half now and your cheeks were starting to go numb from the efforts. For a man who smiled as easily as Baekhyun did, he really didn’t seem to be able to turn it on at a moment’s notice when he didn't genuinely mean it.

“I’ll tell you what,” President Byun turned to speak to you, “You turn him into you and I’ll promote you to Director.”

You pushed the final laugh out of your chest at the ridiculous promise and you said your farewells. You really needed this meeting to be over so you could get out of these heels and into the quiet sanctity of your office. You had several tasks left for the day and not enough hours left in the work day to get them done.

You gathered your things and you gathered your own important person and you left. While, no, you didn’t physically drag Baekhyun out of there, he followed on his own without so much as a word or even a glance from you. Your silent egress down the hallway toward the elevator was echoed by the familiar comfort of his quiet trailing footsteps. When you paused inside the elevator with a light hand to keep the doors open, he kept his eyes down at his feet and stepped inside.

The elevator doors closed and you stared ahead of yourself at the blank silver elevator side panel and he stared ahead at the numbers panel and you instantly missed the excitable chatty assistant you had before today.

This Baekhyun was too quiet and too serious. This Baekhyun was holding his breath beside you and you knew it because when you stole a glance at his face his cheeks were pink and his eyes and mouth were all closed up tight, ready to pop.

It seemed a nerve was being worked up.

It seemed maybe something was incoming and your hackles began to raise. This was the last thing you wanted to happen inside this enclosed space with no escape.

Perhaps it would be an apology for the stolen kiss in your sanctuary. An apology for taking that particular funny joke too far just for the sake of laughing at you.

You weren’t always like this; cynical and mistrusting. Sometimes you let the delusions play out. A microscopic voice inside whispered a hopeful and naive, ‘perhaps it would be a confession.’ You bit down a little on the side of your tongue to keep from making a sound. Someone like him? Surely he had his pick of women. He was so handsome, young, smart, capable, and he came from money. The kind of money that controlled the world.

You were a few of those things, you had your own money, not the world controlling kind but you could take a nice vacation anywhere in the world and even travel first class without batting an eye, and you even had your fair share of suitors. Hell, just this morning the creepy married father of two in your building ogled you in the elevator — gave you the old up and down and a suggestive wink.

And when you got off the bus at work this morning the homeless man across the street who usually shouted nice ass, changed it up and shouted nice tits at you and he was right. Your tits did look nice today. And perhaps the most eligible, most exciting of your suitors, the handsome new barista behind the counter at Starbucks who for three days in a row, had drawn a small sharpie heart after your name on your coffee cup. That could be flirting, right? The tiny little black thing perfectly drawn, as if he’d taken his time with it like he might, with you.

There was a change in Baekhyun’s face. You saw his lips purse outward and he slowly began to exhale the breath he had been holding. His cheeks were still pink but his eyes were open and he cleared his throat and angled his torso toward you a tiny bit.

It was happening, he was ready to apologize for playing silly tricks on you.

He was ready to pull apart that hole inside of your chest with his slippery fingertips and let out the last scattered fragments of your self esteem.

“Miss Manager,” he addressed you, alone in this quiet elevator without anyone else around to care, without his usual nickname for you. His voice held a seriousness that you’d never heard from him before. It made the air inside of this elevator feel stale and stuffy and you looked away from his grave face and his trembling lips.

The first words out of his mouth burned as they hit.

He didn’t call you Noona. He always called you Noona. From the very beginning there was affection and endearment in that word he used to address you by and you had been annoyed by his audacity and the unearned familiarity of that word at first, but the absence of it in this very moment paired with that look on his face and his flat out refusal to meet your eyes had your mind reeling and your skin crawling from the emptiness of it all.

Three more weeks. You had three more weeks, or less if his father decided to pull him sooner.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it would hurt less to sever the ties of familiarity now and go back to a strictly professional relationship with your temporary assistant Byun Baekhyun.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened and you inhaled a swift breath to speak.

“If you are going to apologize to me, there is no need. Let’s both just pretend it never happened.” You struck hard and you struck fast and you watched his face just long enough for the realization to hit him. You watched his face just long enough to see the quick blinking in his eyes and the way his jaw muscles clenched down hard.

It was better this way. He wouldn’t get attached to the Noona who didn’t deserve his sweet nicknames and you wouldn’t have to survive being left again. Not that your last several romantic relationships were anything to compare to this functional strictly work relationship but there was a sort of sick satisfaction in you finally being the one to say it first.

‘This is over.’

‘We should end this.’

‘I’m in love with someone else.’

‘She’s pregnant, I’m sorry.’

He was stuck in the elevator again.

“Assistant Byun, are you coming?” You couldn’t help yourself with the overly formal title. Afterall, he started it with that Miss Manager shit inside the elevator and you could feel your emotions getting the better of you as he stood there silently watching you without moving his feet.

You had tasks to finish for the day. You both had so much work to get done.

He wasn’t moving.

“Are you mad at me?” His question was as small as it was childish. This was a professional workplace. Your jaw dropped and your head tilted and you just looked into his eyes for a second. Was this man really asking you this just outside of your office where your entire team worked?

Yes. Yes maybe you were mad at him, but you’d be damned if he knew about it. You closed your eyes and inhaled slowly.

“No,” you lied and he watched your face too closely so you spun around on your heels and walked swiftly back to your office, taking quick steps through the rows of cubicles filled with your team members to reach your office door and you pulled it open, half wondering if he was still stuck back in that stupid elevator. Maybe you could send him a chair and a desk so he could get some work done in there.

Inside of your office was quiet. You had your plants in the corner beside the window that offered a nice view of the city and your desk was covered with stacks of files that needed your attention. You kicked off your shoes and tossed them away. Your blinds were open to the rest of the team’s area and a few minutes after you entered and heard the single click of the door behind closing you telling you that you were completely alone at last.

Then another sound happened.

The door opening again, the door closing again, the sound of a human body inside of this closed office with you. A body who had sprinted across the crowded office full of your entire team, no doubt calling insane amounts of attention to himself in the process and you heard the telltale sounds of that human body behind you, somewhere lower now toward the floor.

To your horror, you spun around quickly to find Baekhyun down on his knees with his head hung low and a look of severe penance on his pretty face. The blinds of your office were open and several curious faces peered around their computer screens, trying to get eyes on whatever was going on in the bosses office right now.

You rushed to the blinds, pulling them closed as quickly as you could, which you realize only makes things look that much worse and would only make those peering faces that much more invested in the drama.

“Baekhyun, get up. People are watching.”

You had to step around him to reach the next window. He was very much in the way.

“Not until you forgive me, Miss Manager.”

There it was again. You angrily yanked the last of the blinds closed and stood in place with a hand on your chest as you willed your emotions to calm down. This was work. It was ridiculous of you to be so upset at his title for you. Hadn’t you been the one insisting a month ago that he call you that?

Behind you, he was still down on the floor and you felt a tiny poke that stung on the back of your heel.

“You have a blister,” his voice whispered quietly before the sounds of his movement signaled that he was moving around the room.

Two hands landed on your shoulders and gave a gentle push. Your legs resisted at first but the push became less gentle and you risked either falling flat on your face or giving in to his pushing.

“Assistant Byun, I assure you, I am more than capable of handling my own blister.”

“Evidently not, Miss Manager, it is already popped and bleeding.”

The pushing turned to steering and his response to you was downright snarky sounding. You found yourself shoved into a side chair in the middle of your office and you landed with a huff, immediately crossing your arms over your chest and offering as hard a glare your eyes could manage.

You glared at the man who was crouched down on the floor in front of your feet and his eyes glared back at you with a matching intensity that took you off guard. Why was he mad? Was he mad just because you were mad? Without his own reason to be mad? How dare he?

He was gripping your foot. You gave the smallest tug, resisting this but his hand wrapped around tighter as he ticked his tongue in annoyance.

“Be still,” he scolded without earning any sort of authority at all. He was leafing through a first aid kit that you had no memory of ever seeing before in your office.

“I told you I could do it myself.” When you snapped back at him, his eyes shot up at you.

“Miss—” as soon as the first word of that stupid formal title left his lips you rolled your eyes hard. You had absolutely no control over it. It just pissed you off to hear coming from his lips. “-Manager,” he finished but his eyes widened marginally at your obvious reaction.

“Miss Manager?” He said again, softer this time with a question in his tone. You set your jaw, tightened your arms over your chest and looked across your office.

“Noona,” he called and your jaw unclenched as you bit down on your upper lip. You could feel warmth creeping up your neck and filling your cheeks and you swallowed away the saliva that pooled under your tongue and you did your absolute best not to look down at him.

“Noona,” he called again and your eyes darted down into his. Your eyebrows rose a few millimeters in response to him and gone was the snarkiness and glare in his eyes as he looked at your face. There was something softer brewing in those eyes that watched you now. You saw the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said with a lift of a single eyebrow and he looked down at your foot. He was spreading some sort of ointment over the open blister on your foot now that you’d stopped fighting him about it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Baek. I already told you I wasn’t mad.”

“You were so mad, you almost kicked me when I was begging for forgiveness earlier,” he said in a mock serious tone. He was pressing a bandage carefully onto the heel of your foot and you felt afroned by his baseless accusation. His joke. You did no such thing! You felt a small laugh escape your chest and you pushed forward with your foot, the one he was holding in his hand and pushed it lightly against his chest. His balance teetered but he stayed upright and held on tighter to your foot to keep his balance.

“I did not!” You felt the first giggles break free from your chest.

“Look! You just did it again! This is an abuse of power!” He was laughing now, and his hand still hadn’t released your foot even though the first aid care was complete.

The hand holding your foot had wandering fingertips that gently caressed the skin over your Achilles tendon, seemingly smoothing the already smooth bandage there. With his other hand he carefully dropped the pieces of wrapper from the bandage into the trash can beside the chair you occupied. Your eyes followed as his slim fingertips carefully and slowly dropped each tiny piece of trash one at a time into the basket, taking way too long with it. They floated down and landed on top of an empty Starbucks coffee cup with the name Baekhyun written in black sharpie followed by a little hand drawn heart.

Apparently that new Starbucks hussie drew hearts on everyone’s cups.

Just like that you were down another suitor.

“Help me, somebody, anybody. This lady is crazy. She only paints half of her toenails,” he was outright laughing now gesturing to one foot with bright pink polish and the other with completely bare toes. You remembered your failed attempt at a home self care spa day. You’d gotten through a half a bottle of wine and half of your toenails when your work phone rang and you had to abandon your other foot to deal with a work crisis that only you could fix.

It somehow made you feel just a little sad, hearing how hilarious he found you. And knowing he was right about how much of a mess you were — with only a married sleaze and a dirty catcalling street bum offering you any sort of real attention, even if it was the absolute worst kind of attention.

You pulled your foot away. He was done with you now, he could have his laugh all he wanted on his own.

You had work to do.

You resisted the urge to kick him for real and stood up quickly, extracting yourself from his seated body and you made your way toward safety behind your desk where he never dared to step.

Only this time you felt him behind you in an instant with his hands grabbing your arms and shaking with the smallest pout on his lips. His laughter had quit the instant you stood up.

“You’re not still mad at me, right?” He was shaking your arm, pulling you back from behind your desk, where he must have known he wasn’t allowed.

“Right?” He shook your arm again. You knew this tactic. You’d seen it before. He was trying to wear you down by being annoyingly cute and he was really, really good at it.

Your anger had dissipated a while ago. This wasn’t anger you were feeling and you sighed out loud with your expression calm and steady. The anger was long gone. You had reached the final stage — acceptance.

Baekhyun would be leaving soon. You and him, he and you, the two of you like this together, it had an expiration date.

“We should finish our work,” you spoke clearly and plainly and his eyes widened as the shaking of your arm stopped and the pout disappeared.

“All of it, Baek. We should finish everything. And we should do a good job so you can get the most out of the last few weeks you have here… with me.” The last two words came out as a whisper and you had been staring down at the stack of folders on your desk.

Baekhyun was looking at your face. Gone was the cutesy act and the mocking laughter on his voice and his next words pulled your attention up from endless folders of work you still had to do.

“Noona, Can I stay?”

[To be Continued]

Links: Can I Stay? Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[self-indulgent-fics]

It's A Bad Idea Right?! | Teaser

masterlist

warnings : eventual nsfw, language

tags : enemies to fwb to friends to lovers , slow burn, fem! reader, college au! (everyone is at legal age unless stated otherwise), probably questionable

Music continues to blare as the night goes deeper, voices blending in to the beats of the song people don't really care for at this point; some would drawl out their words, bodies hazily swaying as they converse with one another, while others went off, tumbling to find any semblance of private spots with someone.

______ stands on the the side, leaning against the newel post of the stairs, arms crossed, staring intently at two people on the other side of the room, her lips pursed forming a pout. ______ could care less about all of this. Well, she wishes she could care way less about this, but the pang in her chest makes her repeat in her head like a mantra, as she watches her long time crush make out with his new girlfriend, not hearing the footsteps approaching.

"Enjoying the party?" A familiar voice and accent cuts off her thoughts, causing her to scoff in response.

"Why the shuck do you care?" Briefly, she removed her gaze from the two, looking up at Newt.

"Oh! No." He took a step closer, fixing the sherpa collar of his jacket, an amused smile painting his face. "Just curious. You know, since the only thing I see you doing is staring daggers onto Tommy and Teresa. And pouting. Lots of pouting."

"I am not." ______ said a little too quickly. Newt perks up, taking a quick glance to notice the outfit ______ is wearing.

"Yeah, you do. All frustrated and upset. What's wrong, your outfit not hot enough for him to pay attention to you?" He quips, not gaining any response from ______, then he scoffs. "You have been thirsting after him for months, so, yeah. It's not the outfit or the two hundred different ways ya position yourself so he can see down your cleavage, he just doesn't give a shuck about you."

_____ took a deep breath, looking sharply at the blond man. "Can you stop being a mean shuckface?" Her attention no longer focused on Thomas and Teresa.

"Mean? That's cute. When have I ever been remotely nice to ya?" He lets out an airy chuckle, smiling oh so smugly at ______. Newt takes another deep breath, stepping closer, partially looming over her; ______'s heartbeat quickens a bit, a clammy and hot feeling creeping up her system.

"Never." She regains her composure. "That's why I hate you."

"Yeah, you hate me, I hate you, we hate each other, yadayadayada. Same old, same old." He shrugs, relishing the red slowly staining ______'s cheeks. He leans down, faking to whisper. "But at least I'm not the one pouting in a corner while their crush makes out with someone else."

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taglist:

@jeonghanslover , @viriandi-is-a-witch