#you have. too many damn surnames | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morownic · 2 months

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now one is too many, but it’s never enough

Don’t tell me you’re happy, because this isn’t love. (So be careful what you wish for.)

warnings/tags: NSFW MDNI (non-graphic smut), non-ultraman AU, afab + fem pronouns, mentions/implications of drug overdose and alcohol abuse

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a/n: there is a specific feeling im trying to convey while writing this and its the vibe from oh no (peep the chorus lawl) and just kiss her (this one esp in the prom scene + only friend tbh) so i do recommend listening to them while reading this part! so far my writing is very narrative based, i need to work on writing dialogues lol

Surreal was one way to describe the mise en scene before him; Ken felt as if he had and had not seen this before, and that unease pooling in his stomach threatened to grow into constant anxiety as he stayed still.

Now, Ken was just seated on one of the VIP tables near the far back of that same club in Shibuya, the one some of his more rowdy teammates had dragged him to after signing his contract with the Giants, leaning back against the cushion with his left arm on top of the backrest and his right hand holding a glass of whiskey. He was nodding along to whatever Fucile was saying, obscured by the loud music, and it wasn’t long until the foreign player was called into a different conversation by another teammate. Ken took a sip of his liquor to soothe the gnawing coldness in his chest, one he couldn’t quite tell if it was because the beat of the music only served to louden his silence, because he felt out of place even in a room full of people who had practically revered him, or because that feeling reminded him of something from the past that he could not and would rather not recall just yet. Under the dim, multicolored lighting and amidst the thumping of the bass that rivaled his heartbeat, Ken hoped that no one caught on his restlessness while he downed his whiskey in one go, trying to figure out just what was making him restless in the first place.

Realization didn’t hit him like a truck when he saw her approaching the table where he and his teammates were seated, the sleeves of her dress shirt rolled up to her elbows and its first two buttons undone. She was holding her own glass of whiskey as she walked toward his direction without breaking eye contact, her gaze stone-cold and too unreadable for someone who had laid herself bare for him in the past. She looked even more beautiful under this kind of lighting, he thought, and he immediately remembered all those times he had seen her just like this. Still, realization didn’t pour and wash over him like cold water, and he wished it would, because it hurt even more when it didn’t, because it meant that he had been through this one too many times. Instead, it dawned on him slowly, like when he stood in front of her house with a corsage in one hand and a bouquet in the other and somehow understood that she, dressed in a gown that he thought made her outshine an angel, could never be his. It dawned on him slowly, like when he felt as if the world had slowed when she turned around after he hesitantly called out her name, her eyes gleaming in recognition yet her body unmoving from the hold of another guy whose name he couldn’t even remember while he was just there. It dawned on him that what he was feeling was just not the dread that came with feeling out of place in a world that both sang his praises and damned him with faint praise; it was this dread of knowing that, even in her world, he was still out of place.

“Sato.”

It was his first time in almost half a decade hearing her address him by name, and his first time ever hearing her address him by his surname and an honorific. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy that she remembered him or if he should pick the pieces of his heart that broke when she called him with such a degree of unfamiliarity.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” she continued. “You have an injury.”

Her hair was a little tousled, and under the dim lighting, he could barely tell that she hadn’t bothered to cover up her imperfections, something that she would have only done around him in the past. There was only a hint of red on her lips that had begun to fade, with a slight smudge on the left corner of her lips that made his mind wonder. He asked himself how the hell he could even see that and, out of habit, whether she had just left some dingy restroom after a quick hookup with some guy he didn’t even want to know. There were other times when he saw her like this, he thought, all pretty and cheeks slightly flushed from alcohol and practically glowing in the dark and always too far from his reach and never, ever his.

Ken Sato could be a selfish, selfish man; he could have anything in the world, what with how good-looking, well-off, and exalted he was. Yet, she was his first real lesson in ‘You can’t always get what you want.’

“Oh–huh?”

There was a scowl on her face as she leaned in across the table, and Ken could only think about how she still wore the same perfume all these years. He was growing lightheaded from her scent, failing to notice the way his teammates were staring at the exchange between them. There were too many thoughts running in his head at that moment. One was that, of course, she smelled as good as she looked, and it only brought the memories of nights spent in either of their bedrooms to the forefront of his mind. Then, there was the more rational thought of ‘How the hell did she know I was injured?’ that he interjected with another thought of ‘Anyone could tell, dumbass.’ And then, there was this awful, gut-wrenching realization that whatever this was, it was real. What was happening before him, the feelings suffocating his chest—all of them were real. His past with her and the present day where she made her way into his life again were not just one bad dream.

He hated it.

“Get yourself out of here before I tell Coach Shimura to bench you,” she snarled, and he didn’t know why. Vexation he understood, but resentment he did not. If anything, he should have been the one resenting her to death. But he couldn’t, could never. Not even with how egomaniacal he could be, not even with how he felt entitled to rage at the fact that she left him for Japan, just like his father did.

So, for the first time in a while, Ken found himself at a loss for words and only watched as she stood up and turned to address his teammates, her posture much more composed albeit with an air of disdain that was just as telling as his was—that they were both raised in a much different culture on the other side of the world. He briefly wondered if everyone else also damned her for it. He was, however, taken aback by her curt and polite forty-five degree bow toward his teammates, another contrast to her behavior toward him, as she spoke to his teammates in a much calmer and more dignified manner.

“Please remember that you have a game coming up. Take care of yourselves.”

He couldn’t find the courage to stop her as she excused herself and downed her whiskey in one go before disappearing into the crowd. It felt just like this, he thought. He would look at her, realize that there was no way anyone in the world could fill the hole in his heart when it was shaped to her exact likeness, and had to come to terms that, no, even she could not fill that hole. Ken, too, found himself pouring another shot that he downed in one go, hoping that the alcohol could at least outburn the pain searing in his chest. (It couldn’t.)

“Did you know her or something?” Fucile’s question pulled Ken out of his pity party, and he barely registered it as he craned his neck only slightly toward his teammate’s direction, eyes still glued to the empty glass he was holding.

Ken didn’t want to reveal that he did know her for several reasons. He didn’t want to get hurt again, and he selfishly thought maybe, just maybe, if he had kept some semblance of distance and indifference toward her, it could affect her just as much as it had affected him. But even if he wasn’t going to admit it himself, he knew that wouldn’t happen because she still had him wrapped around her finger even after all these years. He thought of the lonely nights he spent thinking about where she was, who he was to her, what they could have been. So his mind settled on the next best—or worst, depending on how you look at it—reason: that even if they were “friends,” even if the arrangement they had was a measure of closeness, even if they had laid themselves bare to each other, with him placing her in his heart next to his mother, there were days when he felt as if he barely knew anything about her, and now, it felt like he probably never did.

“Oh, no,” Ken exclaimed with a little exaggeration, to compensate for the silence that brought the attention of his other teammates. He shook his head, trying to ease the awkwardness and hide his unease by pouring himself yet another serving of whiskey and taking a sip of it. He hoped that his teammates would stop looking at him with suffocating scrutiny.

“We just went to the same high school.”

For the past four years, you found that it had become increasingly hard to put up a proper facade. There was no use for it at home; you no longer lived in Los Angeles where everyone thought you were perfect, and you no longer had to play the role of the good daughter anymore because your parents were long gone. Very few people had ever seen you past the pretense of the popular valedictorian. Your and Kenji’s mothers had passed away, you hadn’t spoken to your college roommate turned friend turned strangers after your falling-out, and he broke your heart into pieces that you had yet to pick up and glue together again to this day. There was another one, if you count his daughter as an extension of himself, which you did at some point as you bitterly laughed at the realization and irony that you could never get rid of him from your world, no matter how many times you tried to. But then you grew to love your daughter too much, even more so than you loved yourself, to think of her as a mere byproduct of failed love, and you didn’t want to turn out like your mother nor did you want your daughter to end up like you.

So, you named her after his mother instead—Emi—because you didn’t want to name your own daughter after your mother, who once invited some bashful younger man that came out of the foyer with disheveled hair, shirt untucked, and pants unzipped while she was lounging in the living room in her underwear, a glass of wine in hand, as she watched another episode of Love Island. Although everything about your daughter would inevitably and endlessly remind you of him, you still did what your mother had taught you best: curse the existence of the man who had taken away and given everything to you.

It was why contempt naturally came and etched itself on your face the moment you saw Kenji Sato since the last time you exchanged bitter words in front of that old diner somewhere in downtown Los Angeles. Years of trying to erase every trace of his existence went down in the drain, because the moment you saw him, you could only think about ‘What if we fuck it up again?’ knowing very well that there was nothing left between the two of you to even fuck up. You spent your first observation of the Giants during practice with a sour expression when you thought no one was looking at you. If Kenji was wondering to himself why he even left his career with the Dodgers behind for a father that was never there, then you were wondering to yourself why you had to come to Japan to escape from someone who ended up always being there anyway. You thought of what to say if he came up to you, or whether or not you should tell him that he had a child he didn’t even know of. All of that was put aside when you moved away from your conversation with Coach Shimura as he nodded in Kenji’s direction, when all you could feel at that moment was deep, indescribable longing and sadness that gnawed at your bones yet your face could only contort into an expression of scorn.

The next day, you didn’t come to practice for another observation, choosing to watch the game recordings in the comfort of your home and your daughter’s company. It was the first time in a while that you couldn’t look your daughter in the eyes properly because she reminded you of that doe-eyed boy you met in sophomore year of high school, and you were glad that she was at least preoccupied with talking your ears off about her new friends.

“The team is here, too,” a voice, one that you recognized had belonged to your senior shortly afterward, pulled you out of your train of thought. “Try to smile when you mingle, okay?”

Ms. Kudo—‘Just call me Eri,’ she said—was less uptight and less traditional compared to some of your previous colleagues. You didn’t know if it was because you were closer in age, because Eri was being considerate of your background as someone who spent almost half of her life in the States, or because she was just simply that carefree of a person compared to the typical office workers that you knew. She reminded you a bit of your roommate in college, and your heart tightened a little at the thought. Still, you weren’t sure how you ended up going along with your senior’s whims, or how you could even get your neighbor to agree to look after your daughter after a rushed phone call. You made a mental note to build your fortitude when it came to rejecting invitations to social outings and to buy something on your way home as a thank-you gift for your neighbor. A part of you reasoned that, since you had had your share of Japanese work culture, you knew better than to turn down a senior’s invitation to have a drink together. But you also knew that Eri was not that kind of person, that she would have understood anyway if you had said no, and then you were faced with the fact that you could use a drink or two considering what you had to deal with on a day-to-day basis. That, and the fact your face twitched at the mention of his name.

“I’ll… try my best,” you answered, forcing a smile. “I’m not sure if I could stay for long, though.”

Eri, who was leaning close toward one of the restroom mirrors and was about to apply her lipstick, paused her movement as she met your gaze on the mirror. She wore a frown that wordlessly asked you whatever you meant by what you said. You chuckled sheepishly as you crossed your arms.

“I have someone waiting for me at home.”

Her face lit up as she exclaimed an elongated ‘ooh,’ completely diverting her attention toward you. “You have a boyfriend?!”

You considered whether you should tell her or not. Maybe it would do you good to have at least someone else in your life other than your daughter. There was no one else left in the world for you, you thought.

“A kid.”

Eri’s eyes and mouth both widened as soon as those words left your lips. “You’re married?!”

“Uh, no,” you interjected almost too quickly after Eri’s exclamation before breathing out a deep sigh. “I just have one kid. A daughter.”

“Oh,” Eri’s response was soft, and if you didn’t know her a little past her cheerful persona, you would have thought it was out of character for her to look as pensive as she was. Still, the silence that lingered between the two of you was awkward enough for her to distract herself by finally applying her lipstick. You simply stood there, staring at the sink in front of you, noting how some of the droplets of water hadn’t dried yet.

You looked back at Eri when she cleared her throat as she put her lipstick back in her purse. “Dad’s not in the picture?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Okay, then,” she said, now turning back to you, her voice gentle and with a small, genuine smile on her face. “Just until 12 AM at most, I promise.”

You smiled back. “Okay.”

She gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder before grabbing her purse and making a beeline for the door. You followed her shortly after, opening the door for her to which she responded with a quick ‘thank you.’ As you exited the restroom area, you heard her ask for your daughter’s name, and you told her. You smiled when she said that her name was pretty, and she was sure that Emi herself was even prettier.

“Also, just drop the honorifics! I’m not that much older than you, you know.”

“Eri, you’re almost thirty.”

“Eek!”

Ken Sato might be prideful, but he was not stupid. He was well aware of his feelings for you. He simply didn’t act upon them when he could have very well done that, considering how often he did things his way anyway, but he pushed away the thought of acting upon them after that night when you asked if the two of you would be friends forever. If he could not have both of your worlds colliding, he’d take any chance he could get just to be a part of your world. So, while he was used to that somber realization and the little heartbreaks that would build up after, he had never felt so hopeless when he saw you walk down the stairs of your house dressed in a soft blue tulle dress that made you look like you came out of a fairytale. Or heaven, he couldn’t choose. You were like an angel, if not more beautiful. And it was at that moment, when Ken should have felt something akin to elation that you were coming to prom with him, that he could only feel the crushing weight of the reality that you could never be his. He forced a smile as he let you loop your arm around his and bid your goodbyes to your mother, and on your way to school, he didn’t know if you could tell that he wasn’t fully listening to your chatter about whoever had been causing drama among the circles you were in.

It wasn’t as if you did not know at all. As a matter of fact, you probably knew that he had feelings for you before he had even realized it. You were used to boys misunderstanding your words and gestures as an invitation, as a hint that they could lead to something more. Most of the time, you would have just ignored their advances until they were bored of you or tired of trying, or you would have turned them down as amicably as you could, unless they had somehow seen you past your sweetheart persona. (Not like anyone would have believed them if they told others that you were actually a total bitch.) But this is Ken, this is Kenji, the first person that you truly thought of as a friend, the first person that you ever let see through you, the first person that you had laid yourself completely bare to, literally and figuratively. You didn’t want to lose him, but you didn’t want to pursue something that could make you end up in the same position as your mother and him turn out to be a man as bad if not worse than your father. You didn’t want him to not be a part of your world, but you didn’t want to depend on him because your mother had taught you to never trust a man, let alone depend yourself on one. So, you did what you do best with all the things you wanted but could never have: you keep them at arm’s length so you could still have them, yet you never settle.

(Years later, you found out that it was exhausting to live a life like that, and you would finally learn to settle once you have a daughter of your own.)

You noticed how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. It was nerve-racking, the way his gaze felt as if it was burning a hole through your back. You had been crowned as the prom queen and was called to have a dance with the prom king, who was some popular guy from the basketball team whose name you could barely recall a couple years later. There was no way you could remember him when you could only think about Ken while dancing with him; you could only think about Ken’s uncharacteristically solemn expression throughout the entire dance, you could only think about how Ken’s body was practically twitching when you had no choice but to laugh at some actually smart joke that the prom king had whispered to you, you could only think about what Ken would do once you were done with your stupid formal dance. You had expected some sarcastic remarks, as he would sometimes give, or for him to drag you to somewhere more secluded to do God-knows-what, but what came after only made your heart tighten in anguish. Ken only smiled sadly at you before asking for a dance himself, holding you close to his chest from the beginning to the end without so much as uttering a word. Rather than feeling awkward, you only felt this strange bittersweetness; the deep, comforting warmth and the profound, inexplicable sadness that both came just from him simply being there.

“Are you going to college?”

Ken had made a quick trip to that one burger joint you loved near your school and brought you to the bleachers to eat together, away from the meddlesome crowd of teenagers that wanted a piece of him or you. You were taking a bite of yours when you asked the question, distracting him from unwrapping his burger as he thought of an answer.

“Probably,” he said before shrugging. “But, like, we’ll see if I can get to the Minor League without college baseball.”

The snort you let out was anything but graceful, yet he found it endearing. “You’re Ken Sato,” you said while chewing, to which he responded with a disapproving look. He was just like his mother in that sense. You swallowed your food before continuing. “Of course you can.”

He chuckled. “You’re right.”

Ken had shared numerous comfortable silence with you, even if half of them were encumbered by an unspoken sadness that the two of you somehow understood. This time, though, he was on edge when you had kept quiet. Anticipation bubbled in his stomach almost violently, to the point where he nearly felt sick and just wanted to put his burger aside before you could say anything that would make his heart drop yet again.

“I don’t know if I’ll go to college here.”

Too late.

“Are you…” He trailed off, pausing for a moment. “Are you going back to Japan?”

Your hum was drawn out before you finally shrugged. “My parents said I’m next in line. It’s not like I can just say no.”

He frowned. “But you can, though?”

“That’s literally not how it works, Kenji.”

The way you deadpanned would have been humorous if it wasn’t for the way you addressed him by his full given name and emphasized the last syllable in mock annoyance, the way you rolled your eyes that contrasted the layer of sternness in your voice, the tone that you would use with him when you were trying to be serious yet lighthearted for the sake of his (or perhaps your?) comfort. He glanced at you, and you were chewing another bite as you looked to the distance. If he didn’t know you well enough, he would have thought that you were just blankly staring at nothing, but he could tell by the slight furrow of your brows that you were having some kind of battle with your own thoughts. He realized right then and there that you might be leaving. You could be leaving. He wasn’t sure what he should feel and when he should start feeling it and where he should even start dissecting it all.

“Well,” he cleared his throat nervously. “Will you be visiting?”

Another shrug from you. “Probably. Probably not.”

So much uncertainty from someone who hated uncertainty. Ironic.

“Are we…” Are we okay? Will we be okay? We won’t fuck this up, right? He didn’t know which question to ask. You were always vague. Untouchable. If he had asked one of those questions, you would just say things in an effort to soothe his worries rather than things you actually mean. “Can we still be friends?”

You remembered asking something along the same lines one night in junior year, within the confines of your bedroom and under the dim lighting of your old star projector. You had asked for reassurance. Reassurance that neither of you would fuck this, whatever the two of you had, up. Reassurance that he wouldn’t let you fuck him up. Reassurance that he wouldn’t fuck you up. But deep down, you already knew that the two of you had gone past the point of no return, of fucking each other up, that if something was to truly happen between the two of you, the pain that you kept contained in your chest, suffocating, would finally course through your veins and gnaw at your bones like some cancerous entity you were forced to live the rest of your life with.

“Yeah, of course,” you lied. Of course you did. You always did. “But what’s going on between us, that’s…”

He nodded, already understanding what you meant. This time, you turned to look at him. You saw him hang his head, seemingly losing his appetite as he stared blankly at his half-eaten burger. You were always like this, he thought. Always vague. Untouchable. He hated it. He hated it so much. You, on the other hand, were trying to decipher the solemn look on his face and suppress the guilt that was pooling in your stomach before you started throwing up the food you just ate. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want him. You’ve always wanted him. He was always the only one you ever wanted. But—

“Yeah,” his soft reply pulled you out of your trance. He was still looking at your burger, absentmindedly nodding. “Yeah, okay.” He took another bite, and you could tell that he was forcing it because he had a slight grimace as he chewed his food and swallowed it. “Be sure to text me about all your… stuff, yeah?”

You nodded, humming as you crumpled the empty wrapper in your hand. “I would say shit like, ‘You have to come to my wedding and my childbirth,’ but you know that I probably won’t even get married.”

He knew. So much uncertainty for someone who hated uncertainty. He knew you were not only going to not get married, but you were not going to let yourself be tied down to one particular person. He knew that even though you had placed him somewhere close to you in your world, he was still not a part of it; that he was not an exception. Ken knew all that, yet he still fell for you anyway. (He knew he had no right to call you stupid then.)

“Yeah, yeah,” he said coolly. He tried to feign indifference, he really did. But the way you looked at him made him realize that he had worn his heart on his sleeve for a moment too long. So, he wore a half-hearted grin as he held out his little finger and asked, “So, friends?”

At that moment, you cursed yourself for the person you were as you linked your own little finger with his, that familiar warmth and a heavier, agonizing weight blooming in and crushing your chest. You could tell he felt the same, somehow, if the way his hand slightly trembled was anything to go by. But you didn’t dare offer comfort that you could not sustain. You didn’t dare let another lie slip through your teeth just to break his heart again and again and again. You didn’t dare to tell him that you loved him, because your fear was far stronger than your love.

“Friends forever, bro.”

And so, the two of you spent what you thought was your last night together as blithely as you could. There were a lot of firsts and lasts that made your heart swell and tighten at the same time whenever you thought of that night. You rode his bike for the first time, and that memory alone made you purchase one for yourself after you enrolled in college. He told you that you looked silly with your dress bunched up carelessly around your hips, even though he himself was staring shamelessly at your bare thighs, but he didn’t tell you that when you took off his slightly oversized helmet and shook your head to untangle your hair was one of the times where he thought you looked the most beautiful. He smoked his last cigarette that night, and the lightheadedness he experienced almost made him try smoking again when you left for Japan. He wondered how did you even manage to smoke at least two a day. You told him that there was a reason why you didn’t mind that he didn’t go down on you, and he realized not only did you make him feel bitter, you also did taste a little bitter. He did eat you out for his own pleasure later that night, thinking it was the last time he could do it anyway. He still thought you were the best he had ever tasted.

And so, you let him sneak into your house for the last time, and you noticed how your mother was seemingly fast asleep on the couch, yet another Love Island episode playing on the television. She wasn’t, you knew that, he knew that, but you led him up the stairs anyway. He made love to you for the first and last time. Made love, not fucked. You knew because it was his first time holding you this gently as if he was afraid you would break or slip out from his grasp yet his hips collided with yours with a force that could knock the air out of your lungs and make you see all the constellations in the universe. You knew because it was the last time—and you just realized that after you let him into your world again in college—that he kept kissing you throughout the ordeal, as if taking a breath was the most unforgivable offense you could have ever done. His kisses weren’t rough either; not the clashing of teeth and borderline painful bites of the lips that you would sometimes get from him. They were slow, passionate, as if he was trying to tell you something wordlessly. You knew what he was trying to tell you. You felt the same way, too. But you simply kissed him back with the same fervor, taking his breath away with you.

The next morning, it was the first time he left without so much as waking you up, and the last time you ever laid yourself completely bare for someone else. It was the last time he let himself think of a future with you where he could finally be a part of your world, and the first time you cried, screamed, upon realizing that you loved him even more than you loved yourself.

There was always something about house parties that would make Ken retch whenever he stepped into the room. He used to think that it was probably the smell of sweat mixed with alcohol and puke somewhere in the corner, or how packed, poorly air-conditioned, and humid the room was that it was surprising no one had died yet from overheating. But the moment his eyes landed on her, he realized that it wasn’t the smell or the humidity that made his skin crawl. It was the fact that every time he stepped into one of these parties, he would either make an entrance with his arm looped around her waist or end up finding her making out with some other guy. It was the fact that every time he showed up to one of these parties, he would either have the time of his life and hook up with her in one of the bathrooms or drink his sorrows away for the whole night while she danced with her friends and some guys from the football team. It was the fact that every time he came to one of these parties, he would almost always come home with a freshly patched up heart broken into pieces again no matter what.

He couldn’t believe his eyes at first. The last time they spoke properly was on prom night, when they had ended the arrangement they had throughout high school. He didn’t have the heart to drop by her house anymore, and she stopped coming over to hang out with his mother. He even had a small argument with his mother because of that. They had kept texting each other at first, but as weeks went by, he stopped sending her memes at random hours of the day, and she stopped telling him small things that happened throughout her days. He didn’t tell her that he had ended up choosing college baseball and enrolled in one of the top universities in Los Angeles known for its varsity baseball team. He spent his days exercising, practicing, going out for a drink or two with his seniors, and coming to a few frat parties that he had been invited to. There was a girl or two that had wanted to involve themselves with him, but he brushed off one of them and scared off the other by muttering the wrong name when she went down on him. Ken did what he could to try to forget his high school days, sometimes drinking one too many to do just that, and that was exactly what he had in mind when he saw her giggling on the lap of some other guy in the middle of one of those frat parties in his freshman year of college.

Ken hesitantly called out her name once he arrived near the crowd of people around the couch, and he swore the world felt as if it had slowed down when she turned around. Her hair swept over her shoulder as she turned, and even with the unbearable anguish settling in his chest, he couldn’t help but think just how beautiful she was. Her lipstick-coated lips parted and her eyes widened with an array of emotions when she finally saw him. He recognized some of them. Realization. Surprise. Delight. Sadness. Guilt. Longing. (He hoped he hadn’t mistaken the last one.) Ken thought he couldn’t ever feel more brokenhearted than when he left her house without even sparing a glance at her front door while he revved his engine and sped back to his place, but holy shit—he thought he genuinely would rather die at that moment.

“Kenji?”

God, he wished he could hate her for how easy his name rolled off her tongue, or how she called out to him with his full given name instead of the name he used to detach himself from his reality. He almost shuddered at the sound of her voice. He berated himself for still being wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, hey,” he replied weakly, yet he willed his body language to be as normal as possible. “I didn’t know you also got in here.”

“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot to tell you,” she said. Ken knew that she didn’t forget. She knew that he knew. A moment passed before he noticed how she didn’t even bother to move off from the lap of that other guy, who was practically staring him down as he spoke with her. If he wasn’t a better person, he would have just abandoned himself to anger and start a fight right then and there simply for the way the guy was looking at him. Ken settled with an awkward nod in the guy’s direction, who didn’t even bother returning the friendly gesture. Asshole.

“No problem, uh…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. There was so much he wanted to say, but there was no way he would ask for a conversation in the middle of one of these goddamn parties, not when she seemed like she was doing just fine after that whole ordeal on prom night and especially not when he felt as if he was going to punch the teeth off the guy who was holding her as if she was his. (Ken selfishly thought, if she couldn’t be his, then she could never be anyone’s.)

“See you… later?” Ken wanted to hit himself in the head for how unsure he sounded, again.

She exclaimed almost too quickly for his liking. “Yeah, totally!”

Ken was reeling, yet he managed to give her a half-hearted wave and even catch bits of her conversation as he slowly made his way back to the group of guys he came with.

“You know that guy?”

“He’s…” She paused. “We just went to the same high school.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, Ken caught the way she giggled as that guy whispered something to her ear. He stilled when he realized for the first time that, no, this wasn’t just a bad dream. He was there, she was there, and there was still a distance between them that not even an act that was supposed to be reserved between lovers could bridge. She looked beautiful, too beautiful even in the arms of another. He didn’t know how much he could take before his heart actually stopped beating because of some broken heart syndrome, so he looked away and turned somewhere else. He really could use a drink right now. Hell, he could down a bottle of liquor in one go right at that moment just to escape from and forget everything. He only thought of one thing as he shoved his way through the crowd of drunken college students.

I need to get away from her.

“Sato.”

There was a hardheartedness in your voice that even made you shudder when you called out to him. It was weird to call him by his surname when you’ve spent all those years addressing him by his full given name, a right he had only reserved for his mother back then. It was even weirder to add an honorific at the end of it because you knew him too well to be using any sort of honorific, because you were used to whispering pet names in either one of your bedrooms, with lighting as dim as the club you were in. You wanted to throw up at the absurdity of it all. Why did you even come to his table, anyway?

You recalled getting out of the restroom with Eri and was greeted with the sight of a sea of people that just made you want to go home. Eri held your hand as she navigated through the crowd and found the staircase leading up to the VIP section, showing her ID to the bouncer before dragging you upstairs. Her hand felt clammy as she led you to one of the tables where some of the staff members you recognized were seated, along with some new faces that you didn’t bother asking about. Eri patted the spot next to her as she poured you a glass of whiskey, while your eyes darted around and landed on the table near the far back to shake off the thought of just how similar she was to your roommate. The sight of a familiar face, one you knew all too well, successfully did just that; although you hadn’t even started drinking, you genuinely wanted to throw up right then and there. It didn’t take long for you to down the whiskey Eri handed to you in one swift motion.

“Hey, hey, pace yourself,” she said, leaning closer to you so you could hear her over the loud music and chattering. “Don’t come home to your daughter drunk.”

You wanted to snark out of habit, but as you had done for the past four years, you told yourself that you were no longer in high school or college, that you were supposed to be a responsible adult and mother and not some broken teenager trying to cope with your parents’ fucked up marriage and parenting, their eventual deaths, and your complex with your ex-best friend and friends with benefits by having sex with anyone that walked on two legs, smoking until your lungs turned black, and overdosing in the middle of a goddamn frat party. So, you took a deep breath and muttered a ‘sorry’ to Eri, which she only responded with a concerned stare before she was distracted by one of your other colleagues asking her about something. You wiped the damp trail of liquor from the corner of your mouth and shook your head, pouring yourself another glass when Eri wasn’t looking and turning your gaze to the table where Kenji was seated.

Say, perhaps it was liquid courage, even if it was weird to have it when you just had one drink. Perhaps it was your brain trying to trick you into old habits that you had to grow out of years ago, or perhaps it was your heart simply telling you to just go after what you want, like you used to all the time, without caring how others would feel after you’ve laid them bare and take and take and take. Perhaps it was the realization that he was there, he had always been there, and there was no telling how much longer you have until you would have to let him go again because you thought he deserved better. Better than you, who only kept him at arm’s length because you didn’t want to end up like your parents but you also didn’t want to be alone either. Better than you, who repeatedly broke his heart because you could never give him what he wanted, too scared of what ifs, yet you still craved for a place in it. Better than you, who couldn’t even open your world to someone who would give you his world if you had asked.

You were once a good daughter and you might have been a good mother, but you were never a good person, you thought to yourself as you absentmindedly made your way toward his table.

It was hard trying to keep a straight face, but even if you wanted to show your heart on your sleeve, you wouldn’t know where to start. There were millions of thoughts running in your head and feelings brewing in your chest, and there was no time to navigate through all of them in the middle of a packed nightclub while you were trying to confront your once best friend without any clear reason why. Your breath almost hitched when you saw how realization slowly dawned on him, how his expression turned from one of surprise to one that you could liken to your own anguish. You’ve lost count on how many times you’ve seen that expression before. Perhaps once, when you saw him staring at you sadly from the corner of your eye when you had your formal dance with the prom king and talked with your friends while he was mingling with his own circles. Or twice, when you caught how devastated he was to see you sitting on the lap of some guy that had said a pick-up line so corny you didn’t have another option but to laugh. Or when he found you lying on your side next to your roommate in some frat dorm bathroom, barely breathing after snorting lines of cocaine. (But maybe the one time you remember the most was when he used the stuff of your sleepless nights against you in front of that old diner before you could even tell him that your pregnancy test came back positive.)

You ignored the stabbing pain in your chest and willed yourself to speak once you stood in front of him.

“You shouldn’t even be here. You have an injury.”

“Oh–huh?”

You knew how much Kenji loved baseball. That was something that even you couldn’t take away from him, and you were glad that you couldn’t. So you supported him in any way you could; in high school, you practiced batting with him, you came to his games whenever you could with that stupid banner you made, you cheered the loudest for him whenever he hit a home run. In college, you watched his rival teams’ games and analyzed them for him, you helped him come up with an effective training regimen and even joined him on days you were sober, you gifted him a new glove for his 21st birthday that he still used to this day. (You still watched all of his games even after you stopped talking to each other.) Perhaps it was that instinct kicking in, in addition to all of the unease wedging in your chest, that made you lean forward, dismissing his confusion and snarling at him to basically watch himself.

“Get yourself out of here before I tell Coach Shimura to bench you.”

There was a flash of anger in his eyes that only you could see, but he was rendered speechless otherwise. At that, you quickly stood up straighter before he could blow a fuse right at you and turned toward his teammates, trying to appear more dignified than you had been mere moments ago. You bent a little in a curt and polite bow to appeal to them, unclenching your jaw and relaxing the muscles in your face before you spoke calmly.

“Please remember that you have a game coming up. Take care of yourselves.”

You didn’t wait to see their reaction or hear their response, quickly excusing yourself and downing the glass of whiskey in your hand as you turned around. You could somehow hear the clicks of your heels echoing on the floor amidst the loud thumping of the bass, and you swore your heart was about to jump out of its place when you finally returned to Eri’s table. She saw how distraught you were and tried to ask you what was wrong, but you dismissed her by saying you needed to go home because of an emergency and yanked your bag from the seat so harshly that you were even surprised its contents didn’t spill out. You only thought of one thing as you squeezed your way through the sea of bodies.

I need to get away from him.

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jymwahuwu · 2 years

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JUST THINK ABT IT AHH Yuta okkotsu n bully!reader having a middle school reunion n somehow the kids like convince him to bring yn to the reunion and the other ex classmates just see bully victim yuta as a intimidating guy who changed alot married to bully! Reader who was fierce and all being submissive af and having alotta kids n plus maybe another one coming- >w< AHHHHH

sorry for the delay. there are a lot of things to do temporarily... ˚‧º·(′̥̥̥ o ‵̥̥̥)‧º·˚ anyway, i wrote it, bully reader deserves it. hope you like this🤭

TW: yandere, (implied) dub-con, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, housewife kink, humiliation (a little bit), (mentioned) bullying in the past

Everything happens from the letterbox. One with your name on it and one addressed to yuta okkotsu.

"Mama!" The little baby volunteered to help you get the letter, and came back with two letters. He stands on tiptoe and holds the letter in front of you. "Letter!" At that time, Rika was playing with the babies, and they pouted hoping that Aunt Rika could hug them (they wanted to play a game that could fly). They come over as soon as they hear it, and sit next to the two of you to read the letter together. You thanked him by kissing his little forehead and then stare at the letter in confusion, because it's usually just some bills mailed home, with only Yuta's name on it.

Oh, the alumni association. middle school reunion.

You have to explain to the kids what school reunion is. You kinda don't want to answer these questions though.

Yuta just smiled, not wanting to embarrass you too much. Even though he liked to humiliate you before and put you in your place.

Babies seem curious, their friends and classmates are precious to them, and they know that Mommy is always doing chores and can't hang out with friends. So, they persuade papa to take you out.

So Yuta took you there. Damn, you don't want to go at all (you didn't say it).

The school reunion location is in a hotel. You took Yuta's arm, wearing a decent skirt, like a submissive little wife. When the middle school classmates saw you coming, they asked who the two of you were. After so many years, everyone has changed, after all.

Yuta Okkotsu.

You gave your first name, but your surname changed to Okkotsu's.

Some middle school classmates were stunned because they remembered Yuta, the classmate who was always bullied. And you were one of those who bullied him. Your face starts to burn. They look at each other, but quickly change the subject and invite the two of you to sit down.

Ex classmates asked what kind of job Yuta is doing now. Yuta makes up a job as a bodyguard. This is not an outright lie. He does get paid a good salary to remove the curse (and kill some people if they get in the way). In their view, this is reasonable. Yuta looked intimidating even when he was smiling now. It's kind of scary. They also asked what your occupation is. You looked at Yuta, lowered your head, and responded timidly and awkwardly, you are a housewife. They froze.

Some classmates who were already mean when you were in school. They brought up your dreams at the time. This further humiliates you. Maybe you were thinking about getting married too. Still, definitely not to be the little wife of the man you used to bully - take care of the kids, clean and cook at home.

Oh, think about it, what if there are classmates who liked you in the school reunion? They might have dated you, that Yuta has witnessed - they hugged your waist, kissed your cheeks, whispered in your ear. You were so untouchable back then. Or, they like you but aren't together for some reason. Or, they have a crush on you and you're too dumb to ever realize it. Anyway, Yuta knows this. He leaves you briefly to socialize with some classmates, but comes back and finds that person talking to you? 🥺

They ask how are you doing, how is Yuta treating you? Then they want to make further contact, even almost touch your hand, or exchange phone calls with you. At this time, Yuta will deliberately hold your waist in front of them, kiss your cute cheeks, and introduce them again. He is your husband now. You've been acting like a shy little wife, snuggled into his arms. Hell, he'll even mention you're pregnant, again. You already have several babies. It's just that it's early in your pregnancy, so it's less obvious.

Yuta won't check your phone when you get home. He had always been a good husband after all. A good husband means trusting their partner. However, if he finds out about their call, he'll do a full and complete update on your phone and fill you up with cum <3

#alani.answers #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere yuuta #yandere yuta #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuta x fem!reader #yandere yuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #yandere yuta x reader #yandere yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader

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sgiandubh · 1 year

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Keepers of the Quaich

This time, we're going to look at things a bit differently and this could very well be my most speculative post ever. So be it: it is a risk I am taking and warning you about from the get go.

The only thing Mordor understood about the next October 4 event organized by the US Chapter of The Keepers of the Quaich is something that probably gave them collective relief: S is not going to be with C on her birthday. Not together. Not on the same continent. Shut up, shippers, you are stupid.

As usually, Mordor takes things at a very primitive face value, without bothering for context. But they always focused on the lewd side of the story, not on its deep ramifications, of which there are many. Anything that denies S's halfwit manwhore image upsets them greatly.

The Scottish society of The Keepers of the Quaich is not one of those old, steeped in tradition clubs, but it is damn selective. It only dates back to 1988, which is almost five minutes ago, for Europe (and especially the UK) and is deeply rooted in Highlands' lore, celebrating excellence in whisky trade and promotion worldwide. General facts about it have already been discussed elsewhere, but with a bias and little to no context. Also, really LOL at Mordor's idiocy to think that was a fan promotion event and go ballistic for the members-only and by invitation access to it.

Membership is by co-opting and with a five-year proven performance history only (ten years, if you step up to Master level). You need not one, but two recommendations, which makes it harder to join than a Masonic lodge or the Rotary Club (and I know what I am saying, heh). That S could actively seek to be inducted, rather sooner than later, is pretty much clear, as he could use the network it readily provides, along with the prestige:

(Sourced at: https://www.diffordsguide.com/encyclopedia/341/people/keepers-of-the-quaich)

I first had a look at the list of its International Chapters and it is interesting to notice Muslim countries as Turkey or the Emirates each having their own chapter, which clearly tells me it's all about luxury and more specifically, luxury hospitality business, in that case. If inducted after the customary five years' wait, S could also make good use of the German chapter's (a market that proved to be very problematic for him) network, along with the Nordics and Netherlands, if he would think about cleverly expanding his trade in the EU. Last but not least, I would keep an eye on Brazil and India (along with the more predictable South Africa and Australia), because he already has a solid fanbase in the first one and well, Asia is always interesting, when it comes to alcohol business.

I did not really bother with the list of the Patrons, which spells a good and prestigious sliver of Debrett's Peerage's Scottish section. But I also looked at the list of the Management Committee, who does all the hands-on dealings and is directly responsible for the induction ceremony of new members. Aside from representatives of Diageo and Pernod Ricard (giants of the alcohol business world), a familiar name popped right at the bottom of the page:

Annabel Meikle, Director of The Keepers of the Quaich and as such, directly involved in the management of its activities (and probably also in all the underground shenanigans leading to the induction of new members, too). A great contact to have in your rolodex, judging by her public CV on LinkedIn:

Glenmorangie (also a member of the Keepers) - keep that reference under your sleeve, we are going to need it soon :).

Could she be related to...

I am leaving this without an answer, because I don't know and I will always refuse to go data mining for anything, but that sure as hell is not a common surname, as Smith or Martin!

At any rate, Mrs. Meikle is also (along with the Duke of Argyll, the current Keepers Grand Master) a member of The Scottish Committee of something very, very prestigious: The Worshipful Company of Distillers (https://www.distillers.org.uk/), based in London and founded in 1638, by Royal Charter (for “Body Politique and corporate” to govern the “Trade Arte and Mystery of Distillers of London” - how I love history, people!) granted by Charles I, a Stuart (of course). I am speculating and having visions of Livery status and Freedom of the City, followed by Knighthood for S (no bong needed, this particular narrative writes itself and believe it or not, it's not entirely without logic). And it is my strict constitutional right to be a poetic coo about it - that guy is smarter than we thought and I would curate that contact to death if I were him (but I am not, I am just a benevolent and intrigued observer, as you all know). Back to Earth from these optimistic conjectures, I will keep a tab on it, as I dutifully took note that one of their current interests is tequila:

Onwards to the US. We can have a fair idea of October 4th event just by looking at one of their few press releases on the occasion of the Chapter's launch gala, on September 25 2019, in New York (https://www.distilledspirits.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/KOTQUSA-Release-10.04.19.pdf - with quotes selected by me):

Moët Hennessy. Another reference to keep under our sleeve, for it will be soon very relevant. So yes, what has been speculated by Miss Marple is partially true: more business than aristocratic. But this is only if we do not consider as American aristocratic the venue of the next event. The Metropolitan Club is a very East Coast, WASP old money and (well, technically yes) Republican (but not MAGA Republican and this, to me, is very important for some reason) organization:

That was the state of play on Friday, folks, and I was already excited to share my optimistic findings with you. And then, C went to Paris and more dots started to speculatively connect. Bare with me for this long passegiata, I think it's worth it.

It was particularly important that C would be seen in a very friendly-casual pose with Delphine Arnault, out of all the other people attending that event. Not because Arnault is currently the big boss of Dior and Loewe (as I already explained here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/729801825900953600/city-of-lights?source=share). And not only because C suddenly seems very interested to renew and expand her fashion days' old network. But also, because, as I already said, Delphine Arnault is also the daughter of her father and in France, business and family are always closely entwined. Always.

The French luxury market is roughly split between two behemoth players: Bernard Arnault (LVMH Moët Hennessy • Louis Vuitton S.A) and Antoine Pinault (Kering, ex- Pinault-Printemps- Redoute). These people and their businesses are number 1 and 2, respectively, on the global market. And out of these two, the only one very interested in the alcohol business is Arnault (Pinault does not deal in this sector).

So I took a look at his very diverse alcohol and spirits brand portfolio (25 references - https://www.lvmh.com/houses/wines-spirits/): rhum, brandy, champagne, tequila, wines (Argentina and even China). Two Scottish whisky brands: first Ardberg (the graceful peat from Islay). And - oh, hello, Mrs. Meikle - Glenmorangie, acquired by Arnault in 2004, after a bitter battle with Pernod Ricard (https://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/21/business/world-business-briefing-europe-france-scotch-maker-acquired.html):

Back at Mrs. Meikle's CV - hers was a pivotal role in the post-acquisition reshuffle, as part of LVMH:

Coincidence? I think not.

And then also a bourbon reference. Woodinville (based in the state of Washington, USA) with a pitch that made me grin again like the Cheshire Cat:

Sounds familiar? Rings a bell? See a pattern? You should: no, it's not S in disguise, but it could be SS in a couple of years, if S decided to sell it for a hefty profit.

But I was also interested in what is missing from this catalogue.

NO GIN.

Who knows? Maybe these French people could be enticed? In that case (and remember: I am SPECULATING), it would have to be a brand with a proven track record. You see, Arnault is famous for always buying only brands with a proven history and proven recognition (Tasting Alliance, anyone? LOL). Up until now and as is, FMN is just a pet project and a virtual endeavor. Nothing more and we shall see. But that little wild Scottish gin which could win hearts and already an award in Frisco is something completely different.

Now, then. You connect the dots. You draw your own conclusions. I see something very intriguing here and, as I already told you, the business underground situation is completely different from the bland façade.

You see, this is not about papers or checking a pulse or awkwardly grabbing a fist on some stairs. This is show me the money time. This is all about finding unexpected connections, at a very high level and on a very narrow niche.

So you think S and C can't stand each other anymore?

Humbug. They have each other's back from Day 1. And more. Ship on, ladies. Whatever clownery these days might bring, I know what I know. And by now, you should start asking yourselves the real questions, not if Waldo is with Carmen Sandiego (we KNOW), nor if they were online at the same time or not. I mean, that's cute: but to be honest, I think we're past that... uh... waypoint?

Next on my list is that Lallybroch trademark thing. This is the most complex one and I will take my time. I may speculate, but never without a logical base. And I always take these things very seriously.

Keepers of the Quaich, indeed. :)

#BoozeWars

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tfyoulookingatgiuxs · 11 months

Text

Drunk with my friends

Nancy Wheeler x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: That evening, you and your friends had organized a girls' outing. The party was getting better and better and alcohol was playing a bad joke on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: +18!! SMUT!! MDNI!!! Blurb, alcohol, toxic religion, fem!reader, use of Y/N, your surname is Williams, lesbian sex, fingerings, voyeurism, cheating, cunnilings, spanking, slight mommy kink, dirty talking, pet names (good girl, baby girl etc...), praise kink, begging, bad language, mention of drugs.

𝐀/𝐍: I love Nancy. Sorry for my english, this is not my native language. Please support and reblog! Hope you enjoy this one! (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

"Come on Nance! We're going to have fun!" You urged Nancy who still seemed unconvinced.

You, Robin and Chrissy planned to go on a girls' outing and of course, Nancy was the mom of the group. Meaning she's always hesitant about partying and staying up late at night.

"That's right, nothing will happen" Robin chimed in "I don't know girls, are you sure? What if we drink too much?" Nancy said worriedly. You rolled your eyes as Chrissy watched the scene in silence a little lost in Robin "We'll be at my house. No danger, no boyfriends, no drugs, just alcohol and even if we drink too much nothing too bad will happen" You said walking closer to her placing your hand on her shoulder, she smiled at you "Alright..." She said making a big smile from you and Robin.

In your house. The evening was truly crazy. You having fun to the music while laughter filled the living room.

In the last period, you felt stressed and it had been a short time since the last time you had a night out just for you girls. But let's not talk about boyfriends! You were dating a boy you met thanks to a friend of your mother. He seemed very kind and helpful towards you, your mother wanted at all costs for you to find a meeting point with him. He was also strongly religious, as your father liked, so both of your parents took the opportunity to introduce you to him and find a way for you to get together. Real shit. Yes. As forced as it was, you liked him at first and so when he reciprocated you got together, but lately things were getting worse and worse.

He only thought about reading and barely said hello to you. He also specifically told you that acts such as sexual pleasure were not to his liking, so he would not have sex with you until you both make the decision to have a child in the future. You couldn't blame him if he had been raised badly by his mother. He barely knows what it means having fun. You would have left him, for sure, even if you were afraid of disappointing your parents.

Nancy was engaged to Jonathan. For now she didn't have many problems about it but the only thing that was wrong was the distance which made her insecure.

Chrissy was engaged to Jason, the most popular boy at Hawkins High. Lately the two have done nothing but argue, and the little cheerleader would like to have some time to have fun and be carefree.

Robin on the other hand...has no one. She's a lesbian in love but not engaged, so she's the quietest one of all.

It was ten in the evening and you could still hear your screams as you were putting a large quantity of alcohol in your stomach.

From speaking you began to play spin the bottle, in a certain sense... it was spin the bottle but with the words 'truth' or 'dare'.

“Come on Y/N, it's your turn” Robin told you and you flipped the empty Coke bottle onto the board. The tip of the bottle ended up on the yellow segment where 'dare' was written.

“Now you have to dare someone to do something,” Robin explained. You looked at the three girls to decide and set your sights on Nancy, who was also dead drunk by now.

“I dare Nancy to show me her tits” You said shamelessly. Ever since you started your evening you can't take your eyes off her breasts. You didn't know if it was the effect of the alcohol or what, but damn did you want to see them. Robin and Chrissy were speechless but they seemed to enjoy this ambiguous dare.

Nancy, throughout all this she looked at you with wild eyes "You're a pervert Williams, you couldn't wait to look at a pair of tits" She told you and you followed the divine movement of her lips while the two spectators remained watching without saying anything, curious how it would end. "Exactly, I'm curious to see yours" came a surprised noise from the lips of Robin and the cheerleader.

Alcohol was playing tricks on you, but this was not a joke...

You don't remember how, or rather, you two don't remember how. But you both ended up licking each other's tits, while Robin and Chrissy watched and cheered you on.

Nancy let out a few moans as you sucked on her hardened nipple.

The atmosphere had heated up and Nancy was the center of your attention. She was beautiful and her curious look as she looked at you was even better. Robin couldn't believe her eyes. In an instant two of her straight friends had become lesbians or any other sexuality in a matter of minutes. Was it the alcohol? Very likely in Robin's view. But not from yours. Sure, you were drunk, but you never denied yourself the attraction you had for Nancy. She was a beautiful woman, but not only in the aesthetic sense, but in everything. She was tough and she could stand up to you, she was responsible and when she ordered someone to do something...God you couldn't help but fantasize.

What were once fantasies were becoming reality and you couldn't miss this opportunity. You lifted your face and pressed your lips against hers kissing her. Robin and Chrissy, looking at you, started to warm up too, and after various comments, they too let themselves go. All four of you were a couple kissing sitting on the living room floor. Nancy reciprocated by adding tongue and you couldn't help but moan, wrapping your arms around her neck.

Fuck you. Fuck everything. Boyfriends, parents, friends and problems. Fuck you. All of you were now free as lust crawled between your legs. You in particular wanted to make bad decisions and bring down every perfect thing you had half-heartedly created.

Now you would have shouted the worst swear words at your shitty life. Fuck religion or any other shit, pussy was your religion now.

Sure enough, Nancy made you lie down on the floor and broke away from the kiss "Nance..." You said panting. She didn't say anything, just watched as you tried to catch your breath. You gave her a pathetic, submissive look, and Nancy couldn't help but giggle in your face "Poor thing..." her hand slid down your dress until it reached your skirt. Her left hand held your thigh tight making you keep your legs open, while with the thumb of her right hand she touched the wet part of your panties making you moan softly “I knew it Y/N, you are a dirty pervert, what should I do about you?" She said grinning as she pulled off your underwear.

You didn't answer and Nancy slapped your ass and you groaned "I said what should I do with you?" She repeated "Anything you want..." you blushed "Good girl..." she told you and then touched your wet folds with two fingers.

You also took a look at the other two. Both were definitely without clothes and Chrissy was making circular motions on her clit while Robin placed a few kisses on her neck, praising her and urging her to continue. You let out a moan as you felt Nancy's fingers enter your pussy. She didn't even give you a second, she started moving her fingers in and out making you moan pleasantly.

To think that in a few weeks you would have to go for confirmation. You will not be able to pray well if you have a guilty conscience and know that you have sinned so much. But you didn't care.

You had always been a devil with a halo.

Being still one would have changed little in your life.

You couldn't help the pornographic sound your pussy made as Nancy's fingers went in and out faster and faster. The living room had become a mass of moans from all four. Chrissy was about to come again, for the second time, while you were ready to reach your orgasm.

It was a beautiful feeling, and you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as her fingers were hitting that sweet spot inside you "Ohh- mommy, please..." You begged, not realizing what you called her. Nancy, the nickname didn't bother her and she didn't say anything about it "Shut up and cum" she just told you, and you didn't have to be told twice. You came screaming her name, wetting her fingers while tears ran down your face.

“Very good sweetie...” she praised you and saw your luxurious look. She pulled her fingers out of your pussy and tasted your juices “Mmhh…” she looked you straight in the eyes and sent shivers down your spine, making you close your legs.

"Ah-ah-ah, no no Y/N. Open these legs" she grabbed your thigh and you obediently did so "Good" was the last thing you heard and you looked again at the other two girls. Both were on the sofa, now tired and asleep. Of the two, Chrissy was the truly exhausted one.

You arched your back as you felt Nancy lick your clit. She continued sucking and licking until you came. Her whole face was now full of your cum, but Nancy didn't seem to mind, in fact, this allowed her to continue more wildly, torturing your poor clit "Ugh- mommy..." You repeated that nickname as your moans they increased more and more "It's too much, please...-" You begged but Nancy didn't want to listen to you, she slipped her tongue inside your hole making you tremble more than usual. You were about to come once again. Tears continued to fall down your face as you felt your third orgasm approaching “NancyNancyNancyNancy-” You repeated her name until she pulled away making you come “Fuck...” she said, wiping her lips of your cum.

You gasped and your vision went blurry.

The next day you woke up in the living room. It was early in the morning and the way you found yourself definitely shocked you. You and Nancy were half naked while Robin and Chrissy were completely naked on your couch. You immediately understood what had happened, and above all who you fucked last night. Nancy lay next to you, eyes closed as she was in dreamland. You got drunk with your friends. And that led to you fucking each other.

From that day on you decided to plan another girls night out.

#stranger things #spotify #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x fem!reader #stranger things nancy #nancy x reader #ashnikko #pride #lgbtqia #lesbian

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mxtxfanatic · 5 months

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Hello! I've seen some posts talk about JC's inferiority complex in MDZS, and there were a few things that kinda puzzled me a bit. The first was talking about how JC treated demonic cultivators post-WWX's death. That him hunting them down and capturing them were just (BS) rumors? That the original Mandarin wording in them implied he didn't really do anything that bad to those he captured? As in, no actual torture? (That he was all bark and no bite, apparently.) Even looking at when JC finally captures WWX, they spun the event to be something like "wow, yes, JC is so great at torturing people! look at him, using just a little dog to scare WWX instead of doing anything else!" What did the novel really say about all that? The other matter was more specific, to ch. 73? When JC and WWX stage their fight and then WWX's defection from the Jiang Sect. How JC then declares WWX as an enemy of the cultivation world? Did he really say something like that in the novel? What were JC and WWX's plans for their stated fight? Did JC follow those plans, or go awry? If the latter, what did he do?

These posts, in my eyes, seem to almost want to make JC look like he really wasn't as bad of a person. That his actions (in regards to WWX) weren't /that/ harmful. Almost of if the rumors in the book (and maybe in the "fandom" too), painted him much worse than he really is. Which, of course all JC stans want to make their "little purple grape" seem like he's so innocent and that even his bad behaviors actually weren't all that bad when you really look at them. (Here's me rolling my eyes.) I'm not a fan of JC, at all; I hate him, actually, lol. But the things these posts mentioned kinda make me pause. Yet given my bias against him, and my terrible memory, I couldn't really recall what truly happened in the novel.

Anon, whoever is saying any of this is just lying. Jc stans lose the battle with canon every time, so they start making up shit to make it seem like Jiang Cheng is actually a good person according to some super secret text only they have access to. Many times, they will even resort to gaslighting, such as with this example. Of all the mxtx novels, mdzs is the most translated by a variety of independent translators on top of the official, and they all say the same thing (with the exception of the official, which is another topic of discussion). You do not need to understand the original Mandarin to know the story, because every translation says the same exact thing. But if you want, we can still go through each point:

1) “Jiang Cheng doesn’t torture people! It’s all rumors!” and 2) “Jiang Cheng only goes after bad people like demonic cultivators!”

Debunked (go to the very last response in the thread): everyone around Jiang Cheng, even Jiang Cheng his damn self, acknowledges that Jiang Cheng kidnaps people to torture to death (because people seem to forget he’s a serial killer when discussing the torture). He also does not go after “demonic cultivators” at all. If he did, he would have sided with Nie Mingjue against the Jin on the Xue Yang situation. He does not. He only attacks people who remind him of Wei Wuxian or are surnamed Wen:

The owner, “No, no. It was his misfortune. The person’s surname was Wen, and that Sect Leader Jiang’s archenemy happened to have the surname of Wen as well. He’s hating on everyone in this world whose surname is Wen. Whenever he sees one, he’d grind his teeth in hatred, wanting to skin them alive. How could he give a single friendly look to...”

—Chapt. 92: Longing

3) “Jiang Cheng doesn’t torture Wei Wuxian!”

Debunked: locking someone in a room with something that makes them go blackout with terror counts as torture. Some people liking dogs does not mean that cynophobia isn’t real, and downplaying people’s actual phobias makes you a shit person. Also, Fairy isn’t a “little dog,” she is (apparently according to interviews) a Husky, and her presence is what Jiang Cheng uses to confirm “Mo Xuanyu” is actually Wei Wuxian before he brings her in specifically to torture him. Because once again, he knows how terrified Wei Wuxian is of dogs.

4) What happened during the defection?

Honestly, it would probably be best if you just reread Chapt. 73 because the lead-up to the defection is long and starts at Wei Wuxian having to prevent Jiang Cheng from potentially kicking A-Yuan, Jiang Cheng attempting to re-murderer Wen Ning, then him telling Wei Wuxian to return the Wen to the labor camps because he doesn’t care about fulfilling life debts if it gives him a bad reputation amongst the other sects. This quote is the end of all that convo:

Wei WuXian, “There’s no need to protect me. Just let go.”

Jiang Cheng’s face twisted.

Wei WuXian, “Just let go. Tell the world that I defected. From now on, no matter what Wei WuXian does, it’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect.”

Jiang Cheng, “... All for the Wen Sect...? Wei WuXian, do you have a savior complex? Is it that you’ll die if you don’t stand up for someone and stir up some trouble?”

Wei WuXian stayed quiet. A while later, he answered, “So that’s why we should cut ties right now, in case anything I do affects the YunmengJiang Sect in the future.”

Or else, he really couldn’t make any guarantees on what he’d do in the future.

“...” Jiang Cheng murmured, “My mom said that you do nothing but bring our sect trouble. It’s true indeed.” He laughed coldly, talking to himself, “‘To attempt the impossible’? Fine. You understand the YunmengJiang Sect’s motto. Better than I do. Better than all of us do.”

He sheathed Sandu. The sword returned to its sheath with a clang. Jiang Cheng’s tone was indifferent, “Then let’s arrange for a duel.”

Three days later, the leader of the YunmengJiang Sect, Jiang Cheng, arranged for a duel with Wei WuXian.

They fought quite a fight in Yiling. Negotiations failed. Both resorted to violence.

Under Wei WuXian’s command, the fierce corpse Wen Ning struck Jiang Cheng once, breaking one of his arms. Jiang Cheng stabbed Wei WuXian once. Both sides suffered losses. Each spat out a mouthful of blood and left cursing the other. They had finally fallen out with each other.

After the fight, Jiang Cheng told the outside that Wei WuXian defected from the sect and was an enemy to the entire cultivation world. The YunmengJiang Sect had already cast him out. From then on, no ties remained between them —a clear line was drawn. Henceforth, no matter what he did, they’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect!

—Chapt. 73: Recklessness

Notice how Wei Wuxian says tell the other clans he defected, and Jiang Cheng changes the statement to "let's arrange a duel." Also, keep in mind that everything after that conversation in the narrative reads like someone telling a legend: "They fought quite a fight. Negotiations failed. Both resorted to violence." The narration is depicting the duel the same way it depicted the opening prologue of Wei Wuxian's death: this is what the world was told about the defection battle after the fact, not necessarily the truth. Why do we know this isn't the truth? Well, Jiang Cheng had his non-dominant arm broken to make the battle seem real but also not to hamper his work too much:

Wei WuXian grinned, “How could it seem realistic if it wasn’t hard enough? It was your left hand anyways. It didn’t hinder you from writing. It takes a hundred days to heal a wound to the bone. It wouldn’t be too much even if you hung it up for three months.”

—Chapt. 75: Distance

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian was gutted, something the legend does not mention at all:

Although he was stabbed in the stomach by Jiang Cheng, Wei WuXian wasn’t concerned at all. He stuffed his intestines back into himself and like nothing ever happened, he even got Wen Ning to hunt down a few malign spirits as he bought a few large bags of potatoes.

—Chapt. 74: Distance

Keeping in mind that Jiang Cheng still has a golden core, Wei Wuxian seemed to have put a lot of thought into how to injure Jiang Cheng in such a way that seemed serious but was actually superficial. Wei Wuxian treated the duel like it was staged. Jiang Cheng treated it like it was real and tried to kill Wei Wuxian. The only thing I'll give Jiang Cheng is that his "declaration" wasn't what damned Wei Wuxian; him refusing to stand by Wei Wuxian rescuing the Wen is what damned Wei Wuxian. The declaration was only the official statement that he had cut ties and everyone else could do what they wanted to his former shixiong.

So in short: stop letting jc stans gaslight you just because they're loud and repeat the same lies over and over again with confidence.

#anon #mdzs asks #canon jiang cheng

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indigosabyss · 2 months

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not to go on another crossover brainrot. but consider. dr stone x jujutsu kaisen crossover, w the base premise of ryuusui and kento being cousins.

ikik nanami is a very common surname. but they also both have blond hair, brown(-ish) eyes, and pale skin. Nanami (Kento; sorry im more used to calling him Nanami 😭) also thinks a lot about money once he quits being a sorcerer. Which is obvs meant to talk about real world issues, but also would be in line with Nanami upbringing.

ok this got way longer than i thought, so read more for a major yap session.

Kento is also a really disciplined guy, which fits into the ideals of what the Nanami household wanted Ryuusui to be. Makes him fit perfectly into the Dr Stone world. (also we know ryuusui canonically has a bunch of cousins/siblings he doesn't talk about at all so there's precedent for the family connection too)

On the flipside, Ryuusui has learnt, through real world experience, that he can get anything he wants with enough hard work and money to pave the way. Except jujutsu sorcery. He'll never be capable of that, no matter how much he wants it.

In my mind, the two universes first intersect when Ryuusui sneaks into Jujutsu Tech to see Kento, some time in the guy's second year. Since both universes use the real world calendar, its easy to pinpoint Ryuusui as being eight years younger than Kento.

Nanami Conglomerate isn't a Jujutsu clan. They really are just a regular rich-ass family company, who had a sorcerer randomly. There's some discussion about that. A lot of "damn, nanami's loaded??? why tf can't he get a better hairstylist then" type of shenaniganry.

[Side plot: At that point, Ryuusui isn't the heir at all. (I think if you refuse to let your child into family photographs out of shame, then you are not leaving a trillion-yen company to him) so there's going to be some politicking about on Francois' end to make him heir, with the two cutting a deal for Francois to be his main assistant in everything if they get it done.]

Kento and Ryuusui's relationship is strained, bc Kento has been raised to keep his distance from the black sheep of the family - even tho all Ryuusui has done so far is mess around with the stock market a little bit, so Kento doesn't really get it and talks to him anyway sometimes.

To Ryuusui, however, Kento is like his third-favorite person. (First is Sai, second is Francois) bc his 7-3 ratio technique is very useful for model building and this boy has a talent for sniffing out gifts he can exploit.

So anyway, Sai is off being tutored in economics, moving up several grade levels above his age, and Ryuusui was stuck at the Naval Academy, so he sneaks out to get to Kento, who does not speak about his school and is understandably confused when Ryuusui sneaks in and is discovered by the students.

Gojo in particular is entertained bc at that age he hasn't interacted with many young children before, and he is considering adopting the Fushiguro kid, so he kinda wants to see what he's getting himself into.

Ryuusui is having the time of his life. Everyone treats him so nice! They listen to his stories about his regular life. And then have to take Nanami to the side and break it to him that the entire family was kind of purposefully neglecting these two kids. Which makes him rethink some things about his life and the structures he upholds.

Ryuusui really wants to be a sorcerer. But he can't. So of course he finds an S-tier scientist who may or may not be called Ishigami Senku to science out a solution for him.

Francois - even though I love them with my heart and soul - will also be non-sorcerer here. But armed with cursed tools to defend Ryuusui in case something goes bad on his adventures.

And on top of all that, in the horizon, there looms a Special Grade curse, almost primordial in its age and strength, capable of affecting the entire world in one fell swoop. The Medusa.

#crossover #dcst #dr stone #nanami ryusui #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento

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lizzybeth1986 · 4 months

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Too Little, (But Perhaps Not) Too Late

Book: The Royal Romance

Rating: PG

Pairing: Kiara & Penelope (platonic). Hints of Hana x Kiara.

Word Count: 3, 085 words.

Summary: At King Liam and Duchess Esther's bachelorette party, Penelope has something to say to her best friend Kiara.

A/N: This is supposed to take place during the events of TRR3 Ch 16 (the MC's bachelorette), but with significant changes that will be a part of my series Petals and Thornes. Penelope's surname is Drammir, the bachelorette is not in Vegas but at Côte d'Or in Cordonia, and by this point in the story Kiara and Hana are secretly a couple.

Tagging @kiaratheronappreciationweek for KTAW Day 5: Friendships, @choicesficwriterscreations for FotW, @choicesjunechallenge2024 for Ending/Beginning, @choicescommunityevents for Best Friend Day.

"Un Soixante Quinze, s'il vous plait."

Kiara has been to Côte d'Or - and this nightclub - enough times that every bartender there knows without even looking at her that her favourite is a slightly tart French 75; Deirdre smiles, her eyes trained on a violet-coloured bottle somewhere.

"I'll do you one better, Lady Kiara. How about some Empress Gin and a dash of lime?"

Kiara's laughter is a silent gurgle in her throat rather than the court-appropriate tinkle or a loud cackle (that for some reason, Hana seems to love so much), the amusement making her eyes light up. "That'll be fun."

Far more fun at least than watching half the court pair up for dancing from the sidelines, knowing she can't do the same. Yet.

She tries to make her sideways glance towards the other side of the bar look casual, but damn if Hana doesn't make it hard. In a black velvet minidress studded with diamanté, like stars in the night sky, she looks good enough to eat. There is a faraway, dreamlike feel to the way she stares, unseeing, at the opposite wall; Kiara shudders. The same dreams haunt her too, night and day.

Olivia seems to be sashaying her way to the spot where Hana stands, and Kiara turns away, swallowing. That woman has a knack for noticing everything and using that skill against everyone around her in the worst ways. Neither she nor Hana need the additional humiliation of being caught by Olivia Nevrakis of all people, before they're truly ready.

She jumps as she hears a jaunty hello right behind her. It's Penelope - practically prancing her way to Kiara from her spot on the dance floor, flushed and ridiculously happy, several tendrils of hair out of place, lips and cheeks rosier than usual. Kiara instinctively searches the crowd for her brother Ezekiel, and finds him talking to a minor noble some distance away, the dishevelment of his hair barely noticeable.

Kiara smiles back at Penelope. Clearly this night isn't going to be just a celebration of King Liam and Queen Esther's very obviously romantic union, but also a chance, for the many couples that have cropped up in the past few months, to be open about their love in the wake of that passionate love story. Cordonia seems to be changing, Kiara thinks, with a brief pang (she tries...really hard this time...not to look over at Hana again), right in front of her very eyes.

Penelope's attention has already shifted to the way Deirdre masterfully mixes Kiara's drink. The gin and the simple syrup had already been mixed and shaken before Penelope made her appearance; Deirdre's now getting to what Kiara knows Penelope would consider the fun part. She squeezes out a wedge of lime, quietly stealing a glance at her audience of two as the drink's hue changes from clear to a rather vibrant shade of purple.

"Ohhhh," Penelope's gasp comes out in a burst of pleasure.

"Empress 1908 Gin," Kiara whispers to her, "they infuse the concoction with butterfly pea blossoms. They change colour if you add anything acidic to it."

Penelope handwaves the information away with the carelessness she gives most pretty things - it only matters that they look pretty; she couldn't care less for the process that gave her that incredible sight.

Much as Kiara doesn't like to admit it...the word "careless" does seem to be the apt word to define how Penelope goes through her life.

Carelessness in court. Carelessness in her everyday life. Carelessness with belongings, with tasks, with people. Even the ones she genuinely believes (and she does. Truly) she loves.

Part of it - Kiara is aware - has to do with how overwhelming court life, on its own, can be for her. Penelope may have exaggerated some of the hardships she seems to face, but this she has never once lied about.

Navigating court is hard enough, even for Kiara herself, but too often Penelope exudes the appearance of a doe entering a den of lions. For every one thing she manages to get right, Penelope has to fear the hundred things she'll do wrong. At some point you just get resigned to the possibility that a good day might be one where you made fifteen mistakes rather than fifty.

But anyone who stays around Penelope long enough knows that there is a inherent lack of urgency about her, a certain reluctance to think things through, a certain comfort with being tended to, getting pampered, being let off out of sympathy even as her choices wreak havoc. A tendency to consider only her comforts and no one else's.

It isn't meant maliciously. These things just don't occur to her.

Kiara meets Penelope's eyes once, then nods and turns to Deirdre with an order for a strawberry daiquiri. Penelope passes her a grateful glance, relieved at having that decision taken out of her hands.

Kiara sighs. There are a great many things you learn to get used to as Penelope Drammir's best friend - her indecision and passivity being one of them. She shakes her head as she absently twirls her stirrer over her drink. The days Kiara allows herself to think of how annoyed she used to feel (way back during the engagement tour) around Penelope are few and far between, and she does feel guilty of doing her friend a disservice whenever she does. Of being ungenerous, judgemental.

Of abandoning empathy. Even if empathy is a gift she hardly expects to get herself from...well, from anyone.

Kiara steals another glance towards the other end of the bar. Hana and Olivia are standing side by side, their backs facing the bar, their eyes never leaving the dancing couples. From time to time Olivia seems to say something (and Kiara almost bites down her cheek to stop herself from going there and rising to Hana's defense, in case it's something nasty). If Hana is affected, you couldn't tell - so nonchalant is her stance against the bar.

Hana's words from a week ago - warm and soothing and smelling of melted chocolate - still ring in Kiara's ears. You deserve to have people you can lean on, Kiara. As much as anyone else. You need to be able to depend on your friends sometimes too.

Her hand barely ghosts over her side, but Kiara doesn't allow it to linger there. She allows the words to wash over her, like balm. Like some sort of elixir that she hopes will heal her, slowly, spreading its warmth and sweetness in small trickles, taking away the hurt and resentment and self-derision bit by bit.

When she's calm enough to turn to Penelope's side again, she catches her friend staring.

Her eyes no longer on her dairiquiri; she stirs it absently, very much the way Kiara just did a few minutes ago. Those very eyes are suddenly a deeper blue, a darker shade, her gaze more intent and more serious than anything she has ever seen from Penelope in all the years they've known each other.

Kiara takes a nervous sip of her drink (sweet. tart. refreshing), her laughter betraying a slight discomfort. "You're staring at me like I've grown an extra head."

Penelope's gaze doesn't shift back to her usual - the unfocused flitting of the eyes from corner to corner. The intensity of it makes Kiara shift a little in her seat. For all her faults, seeing Penelope be her usual thoughtless, fickle-minded self - always distracted by the newest shiny object or the antics of the nearest dog - has always been reassuring.

"I...I haven't been a very good friend to you, Kiki, have I," Penelope says, quietly.

She says it as if it isn't a question but a statement, as if she has thought enough about it that it has become an already-unquestionable fact in her mind - that for a few moments Kiara finds it hard to say anything in response.

"What makes you say that, Nena?" She says, using that old affectionate nickname that Penelope only allows family and close friends to use with her.

Penelope fiddles with the shell bracelet she usually wears with the dress she's wearing, a sumptuous affair in her house colours - completely inappropriate for Esther's bachelorette (they're all supposed to wear dark or muted colours so the bride could shine in her sparkly gold outfit). But because it's Esther - who honestly couldn't care less - Penelope managed to get away with it.

Much like she has managed to get away with a great deal of things, Kiara realises with an unfortunate twist in her gut. A terrible court performance. Being involved in smearing another courtier's name (learning about that last engagement tour, realising Penelope was comfortable expecting friendship from the woman she did that to and never even bothered to let Kiara know almost ended their friendship for good). Wanting Esther and her friends to pamper her within an inch of her life if they wanted her to accompany them for their tour, even though her past conduct demanded - ethically - that she at least offer unconditional support.

(And never, ever once asking about how Kiara was healing after she was released from hospital. But that was something, perhaps, that she couldn't lay blame on Penelope alone for. For the longest time, her injury really seemed to matter that little to most).

And whether or not Penelope seems to realize how good she has had it without making enough effort from her end, yet...she certainly seems to have made a good enough start right now.

Penelope's voice goes a little softer, her eyes suddenly unable to meet Kiara's. "I think it's all the time Zeke and I have been spending together," she says, one fingernail tracing the seam of a fake shell. "He's been feeling a bit guilty himself, you know. He always tells me he's the older one, he's the one who should be taking care of you...but it's you always playing that role instead."

Kiara winces. "Well... he's never asked that of me, has he?"

Has it been like that, really? Has it? All she knows of her relationship with Zeke is how often she loses patience with him when his reluctance to move out of his safe zone creates problems, either for himself or their family. It's the one thing she has always felt a little guilty about - as much as she has felt whenever she got frustrated with Penelope.

"That's the worst part, he says. That he let you adopt that role, and never give you the same level of support. That of course you find him a little hard to understand, but that never stopped you from trying to help. And of course you never ask for any help in return, but there were so many times you should have gotten it from him anyway," Penelope's sigh comes out in a shuddering breath, and Kiara notices a redness creeping up to her cheeks from her neck. "I never realised until he said that, that I've treated you that way too."

When Penelope looks at Kiara this time, her lashes are spiky with tears. Kiara tries to swallow the lump in her own throat, suddenly overwhelmed.

For a while now, these were thoughts Kiara did have. Thoughts she'd tried to quash in the many, many hours she spent struggling to move in that hospital bed without feeling that pain on her side, thoughts she fought off after being reminded - again and again and again - how she got hurt there. Thoughts that terrified her so much she suppressed them, experiencing a mixture of relief and disappointment when no one, not even her close friends, seemed to find what happened to her important enough to remember.

These were thoughts she could only allow herself to have for no more than a few minutes. They would damn near destroy her if she thought about them any longer than that.

These were the thoughts that made her want to kick herself for being so ungenerous and petty and judgemental. To hear those same words, the words she only allowed herself to think in her darkest, most bitter moments, from Penelope's mouth - without blame, without censure - and to know that Zeke has felt it too...there is a burn in Kiara's throat that she knows won't leave for a long, long time.

Oh, no, Nena, a part of Kiara still wants to say, you're a wonderful friend. Those words, constantly at the tip of her tongue whenever Penelope gets into one of her melancholy, self-pitying moods, seem to haunt Kiara again, urging her to keep their friendship the way it is. Unequal. Unbalanced. Practically one-sided. Kiara forever as protector, Penelope forever as protected. It must be better that way.

Hana's words come back to her - a balm to her bruised spirit.

You need to depend on your friends too.

"I may not have been the friend you needed all this time, Kiki," Penelope whispers, "but from today, I promise you I'll really try."

As Kiara does in the rare occasions she finds herself overcome with emotion, she lets out a wavering, watery laugh.

Will Penelope truly change that? She doesn't know yet. But damn does it feel good that she cares enough to try.

All this time, all this guilt and self-blame...for not being the kind of friend most people would insist Penelope needed. All this resentment, because people would certainly think long and hard about what it meant to be literally anyone else's friend and catering to their needs. Olivia's. Penelope's. Even (ugh) Madeleine's.

But not Kiara's. Never Kiara's.

"I don't know how to respond to this yet, Nena. But I need you to know that I appreciate this. Truly."

Putting her daiquiri down, Penelope crushes her in an impulsive hug that almost sends tiny purple droplets of Kiara's drink flying onto her outfit. Neither of them notice.

They part, reluctantly, and spend the rest of their time together drinking in companiable silence as the vibrations from the nightclub's loud music thumps on the floor beneath them. When the tune changes to a slower, more romantic tune, Kiara can't stop herself from taking a peek at the other side of the bar.

Penelope follows her gaze, and smiles when it lands on Hana. "You should go there."

"Hmm?" Kiara murmurs, barely hearing Penelope. Hana and Olivia are still talking, but the vibes feel far more chilly than they seemed to be a few minutes ago. Now Hana is the one slightly smiling, like the cat who got the cream, and Olivia looks surprisingly...pale? Perhaps a little ill?

Definitely not as smug as she seemed when she sauntered her way to Hana's side.

She isn't sure how that came about, but the possibility that Hana may have had something to do with it does fill her with an odd sort of pride. The kind of pride that makes her want to point to Hana in front of a crowd of twenty-plus nobles and announce, as loud as she can, "that's my girlfriend!!"

Penelope giggles so hard she almost snorts her drink out of her nose. "Go get your girl, Kiki."

Kiara stares at Penelope for a minute, then self-consciously runs her palms over her own outfit. "Am I that obvious?"

Penelope is still giggling. "Only right now, and only because I'm literally standing next to you."

Kiara laughs, relieved. This love she shares with Hana will still be her - their - secret. She wants it to stay that way, just a little bit longer.

The strains of the love song currently playing feel a little out of place for this nightclub, but Kiara's feet are almost itching for a slow dance in someone's arms. Head over heels when toe to toe. This is the sound of my soul. By the way Hana is looking at her now - alone at the bar again - Kiara can tell she wants it too.

Penelope places a hand on Kiara's shoulder, taking her leave with a grin and a conspiratorial wink. "Zeke must be looking for me. Have fun, Kiki!" Clearly in a mood for generosity, she kisses Kiara on the cheek before she leaves.

(For a woman who has never slept with, well, anyone before, Hana seems to be quite adept in the art of seduction already. Kiara has to bite the inside of her cheek just to fight the urge to whisk her to her hotel room for the rest of the night)

When she reaches Hana's side, the other woman's gaze moves over her in the most leisurely pace known to man. Slow, sensual, soaked in knowing, promising more than just one dance.

The soles of Kiara's feet tingle just from imagining the possibilities. She knows what they're going to be doing at least an hour (Kiara's being generous - she probably might not even last that long) from now.

"Lady Hana," Kiara says, holding out her hand and inwardly laughing at her own playful formality, "I believe I owe you a dance."

Hana breaks character, laughing delightedly. "A dance would be a good start."

Hana rests her head on Kiara's shoulder, her face nestled close to her collarbone. Her face is nestled close enough to Kiara's collarbone that she could breathe in her perfume if she wanted; she can feel Hana's long, deep inhale reverberate through her own body as she does. As Kiara runs a hand down Hana's back, she begins to sigh in tandem to the music too, drunk on her love for this woman. Ah ah ah haa haa. I know this much is true.

Even with her eyes closed, Kiara can feel the lights - deep purple and sea green - dancing behind her eyelids. The feel of Hana's palm against hers. A whiff of Gucci Bloom that comes and goes - that Kiara registers, instinctively, as the presence of her best friend stealing another dance with her brother. Kiara sighs happily.

Tomorrow might be as hard to live through as yesterday was, as this morning was, as every morning has been since this tour began. But every once in a while, she's gifted with tiny miracles.

This evening - every bit of it - has been a tiny miracle. And if this tour has taught her anything, it's that the tiny miracles are often the most memorable ones.

Almost as if they can both sense a desire to come closer, Hana and Kiara tighten their arms around each other almost imperceptibly.

Kiara smiles, again. Tomorrow may be different. But today...today has been beautiful. Today has been perfect.

This night of miracles does seem to be in any hurry to leave, and she's going to embrace it with both hands.

References:

French 75 - a cocktail made from gin, champagne, lemon juice, and sugar. It is also called a 75 Cocktail, or in French simply a Soixante Quinze.

Learn more about Empress Gin gin French 75 here.

The song Hana and Kiara are dancing to at the end is "True" by Spandau Ballet.

A/N1: I hint at a scene that is not part of canon but that will eventually show up at this point of the story when I write it in Petals and Thornes (basically Hana and Olivia talking. I won't be talking about it here, but it will be a major scene from Hana's PoV at this point in the story).

A/N2: Often, when the fandom speaks about the Kiara and Penelope friendship, there tends to be a lot of sympathy for Penelope and criticism for Kiara. But when you take a closer look at canon, the opposite applies. The narrative tends to center this friendship on Penelope alone, with Kiara needing to constantly worry and protect her, and Penelope rarely ever showing the same regard or concern for Kiara. It's a grossly imbalanced friendship, and I did want some acknowledgement of that.

A big thank you to @thecapturedafrique for suggesting this title 😁😁

#kiara theron #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #kiaratheronappreciationweek #KTAW #KTAW 2024 #KTAW Day 5 #KTAW Day 5: Friendships #content: fanfic #lizzybeth1986

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amitiel-truth · 3 months

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Trick the Devil (Part 2)

Where does the Jujutsu Society get their dough?

(Not proof read, too lazy, lore dump)

Part 1

"The Seven Sponsors, it's unknown if they're cursed users or not, but what's known is that they are one of the most prominent members in Society as a whole, a group of people who promised secrecy of the Jujutsu World and fund our conquest in vanquishing curses as long as we keep the World of the Non-Sorcerers safe as best as we could.

They used to go under one single surname, until the heir women of their clan broke off, and married off into prestigious families, the main 3 are the Daigo's, each perspective head handles Pharmaceuticals, Police, and Military.

the Sada's, their territory is Shinjuku, not only do they have control of the brothels, but they're a great source of information, especially when getting dirt on certain politicians.

the Yoshikawa's, they handle the Entertainment Industry, but there are rumors their control runs deeper than what they Televise.

the Yamazaki's, they handle businesses of excess, such as restaurants, shopping centers, and banks.

lastly, the Chiyoya's, their main focus are Integrated Resorts, a hotel with a casino, together with conventional facilities such as entertainment, shows, theme parks, luxury retail, and fine dining. they're the ones who give the biggest funds amongst the seven of them."

"So you three better be on your best behavior! Usually, they only invite the most prominent Sorcerers to their Yearly Appreciation Party, but this year they're expanding their invites, better look good while you're at it." Yaga explains to them after their suspension, Shoko was a bit peeved off for Gojo getting her smoke confiscated, but not a little bit of replacement cigs to satiate her anger.

Satoru yawns in exaggeration, sitting cross-legged on his chair, looking and sounding bored out of his mind "Why do we have to attend something so boring? I could be doing so many things than attending some stupid party..."

"Like getting into a date with Chiyoya" Satoru thinks to himself, letting out a small snicker.

"This year isn't just about the Appreciation Party, they're introducing their Heirs that will soon take over the old Sponsors." Yaga added.

"And one of them is the girl you fought, Gojo Satoru, so you better prepare an apology speech!"

For a moment, Satoru appears somewhat serious, but the moment he hears that Chiyoya will be there, a mischievous smirk spreads across his face. "Oh? is that so?"

"You should have said so from the start. the only parties I'm going to are the ones that she's in." He remarks with a hint of flirtatiousness in his tone, which got him a bit of discipline on the head after finally getting excused.

"Satoru, didn't I warn you not to fool around with that girl?" Suguru asked, as they began walking to their dorms to get ready.

Satoru rolls his eyes "Listen Suguru, if I see an opportunity to have fun, I'm going to take it. Besides, I can't really help myself when it comes to gorgeous women now, can I?" He smirks cheekily

"What do you see in her anyway? I get that she's pretty and all, but she doesn't seem like your type, tall and slim, she doesn't even have any curves to show off, not that's wrong or anything" Suguru tries his best to sway his best friend's attention from the Heiress, something about her doesn't sit right with him

Satou appears slightly annoyed at Suguru's comment "Damn it Suguru, not every girl has to have the exact same kind of figure for me to like them" Satoru crosses his arms, pouting

"Well, it's not just her beauty that catches my attention, despite not even being a Sorcerer, she's an incredible hand-to-hand fighter...it's quite attractive, honestly." Satoru admits, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks as he thinks about Chiyoya, making Suguru gasp in shock.

"Are you serious about this one, Satoru?" Suguru asked, watching his friend's reaction

Satoru's blush deepens slightly at Suguru's question. "I...might be. Usually, women bore me pretty quickly but...this one seem different somehow. I feel this weird, indescribable draw to her...it's hard to explain, but I've never felt this way about anyone else before" He confesses, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"Like a Non-Sorcerer equal?" Suguru points out, curious about his sudden interest

Satoru nods, looking thoughtful as he contemplates Suguru's question "Yeah...I guess you could say that, In a way, Chiyoya represents something refreshing and new for me, something that isn't directly connected to this whole cursed society. She feels like a breath of fresh air in a world that reeks of sorcery."

He pauses for a moment before continuing "She makes me feel...alive in a way that I've never felt before. It's exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time."

Suguru looks at him in shock, raising an eyebrow "You saw a pretty girl with deep pockets who managed to hold you off for at least half an hour...and she got you this whipped? This is a moment in History."

Satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes "Oh please, 'whipped'? Let's be serious now, Suguru. I'm not some fool for just any pretty girl with money. Chiyoya is different, she has this...undeniable allure that I just can't seem to resist. It's not just her physical appearance or her wealth that draws me in, It's her entire presence. She's confident, strong-willed, and captivating, in a way that I can't help but feel completely drawn to."

"Yep, definitely whipped" Suguru confirms, continuing to walk to their dorm.

Satoru sighed heavily, but he couldn't help but chuckle at Suguru's teasing "Fine fine, you got me. I may be a little, teeny bit, slightly whipped for this girl. but can you blame me? She's unlike any woman I've ever met before. She's...intoxicating." Satoru mutters a small smile forms on his lips as he remembers how confident Chiyoya looked at him during their sparing match

"So much so that she managed to threaten you into pulling out your domain?" Suguru points out.

Satoru's expression softens slightly as he recalls the sparring match "It wasn't just the fact that she managed to corner me, It's her confidence, determination, and fearlessness. She was willing to face down the Strongest Sorcerer of the Modern Age without even as much as a cursed weapon. I have to admit, it was pretty damn impressive...and incredibly attractive."

Suguru's face looks judgemental "Whatever Mr. Whipped, just make sure to not cause a scene at the Party"

"Well this is quite a grand place" Shoko commented, looking around the place in a simple black cocktail dress.

"What did you expect? all of the Sponsors are gonna be here, of course, it's gonna be grand" Suguru replies to Shoko in a black suit, but Satoru only looks around blankly, already used to the Luxurious surroundings, he only had one thing in his mind.

" Ah, there's those finger foods, come on let's get some." Shoko points as they begin to walk towards the table, clearly this party is for an older audience.

"Hey, you think they'll let us drink alcohol here?" Suguru asked Shoko eyeing the waiter passing around the champagne but they all became background noises to Satoru, he only had one person in his mind as he tried to look for her.

until he found her.

the Heiress conversing with a group of people, 6 of them in fact, all varying in different personalities, refreshingly, Chiyoya wears a blue halter backless white beaded trumpet gown, showing off her slim and tall figure, her hair tied in a small bun.

Satoru's breath hitched as his eyes landed on Chiyoya, his heartbeat quickened slightly in his chest. She looks ethereal "Damn...she looks even prettier than before." He thinks to himself, watching her interact with the group.

As Chiyoya covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, another man suddenly walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and making Satoru clench his fist.

"Who does this jackass think he is? Touching her without her permission? It was clear that she was uncomfortable with the display" Satoru thought, instinctively sneering as he took a step to walk up to them.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing?" Suguru stops him with a hand on his shoulder, managing to snag a flute of champagne on the other.

Satoru turns to Suguru, a mixture of anger and disappointment evident on his face. "What does it look like I'm doing? That jackass has his hands all over her when she clearly doesn't want him to. I'm about to put him in his place" Satoru shrugs off his hand before trying once more to march up to Chiyoya.

"You can't just jump to conclusions, what if that's her date?" Suguru asked, as Chiyoya began conversing with the man, her smile spells indifference.

"That's her DATE!?" Satoru scoffed, irritation evident in his voice "She doesn't look very pleased to be in his presence, not to mention he's forcing himself onto her" Satoru pointed out before gasping, the man suddenly kissed her neck out of nowhere.

"He just suddenly kissed her neck! No one who has a date with her would do something so disrespectful!"

"Satoru, you're being dramatic, why are you even obsessing over her? you aren't even a thing." Suguru points out, unsure how to waver through his best friend's burst of emotions

Satoru takes a deep breath, trying to control his emotions as he looks at Chiyoya once more. "You're right, Suguru...I don't know why I'm feeling this way about her. she's just a girl I had one sparring match with... it's just...she gets under my skin like no one else does. there's something about her that I can't explain, that makes me want to protect her, care for her...even if she doesn't feel the same." Satoru frowns, looking at the floor in defeat

Suguru looks at him in worry, before sighing, "Satoru, just enjoy the party, okay? that's why we're invited here, remember?" Suguru says as the initial six people began walking away, but one stayed for a bit, a teenage boy wearing a black kimono. he whispers something into Chiyoya's ear while her date is conversing with someone else on his phone, the teen seems to have the same aura as Chiyoya, but more authoritative.

Satoru reluctantly agrees, forcing himself to focus on the party instead of his feelings for Chiyoya. "Yeah, you're right. We're here to enjoy ourselves, not get caught up in some girl's business. Let's just have fun tonight and forget about everything else." Satoru nodded, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"Good, just have fun tonight." Suguru agrees, turning to look at Shoko who enjoys herself with champagne and finger food.

As the teen in the kimono finished whispering to Chiyoya, she nodded before pulling on her date's arm, a seductive smile on her lips, leading him outside the venue into the Hallway. Satoru knows it's not his business.

"Satoru?"

But he can't help himself.

Like a Sailor to a Siren, Satoru follows her giggles through the Hall, whispers play against his ear, as he continues following them, until he hears something odd.

was the gurgling?

The sound led him into a private room, where he saw Chiyoya's date slumped against the wall, his throat slit open, his blood pooling onto the floor.

"Oh...I've failed..." Gojo flinches as he quickly turns his head to where the voice is coming from, there he sees Chiyoya standing next to the body, a bloody knife in her hand, dripping onto the floor.

"Oh well, there's always next time." Chiyoya shrugs, unbothered by her actions.

Satoru's expression doesn't change as he witnesses a crime before him, he should either be horrified or disgusted, and threaten to report her to the authorities...yet he's completely unfazed by the gruesomeness of her actions. somehow his idea of her doesn't waver, it only gets more intense.

"Let me guess, that man wasn't really your date." Satoru asked, walking over the blood to get closer to Chiyoya, his eyes never leaving her.

"No, not really, but he proclaims he was cause he's a big shot son of a mining company, too bad his business is going under because Mr. Yamazaki bought them all out, now he clung onto me like a last resort, too bad he's one of the chosen uninvited guest." Chiyoya answers, cleaning her knife with a handkerchief.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, intrigued by Chiyoya's words, It seemed she had a specific target in mind, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of admiration for her quirks.

"Chosen, you say? Is that what that man in the black kimono whispered to you at the party?" He asked, leaning against the wall beside her.

Chiyoya looks at him, her smile never leaving her lips. "You mean one of the Heirs? Daigo-san?" Chiyoya asked, pocketing her knife back onto her blue clutch.

Satoru nods, his gaze never leaving hers. "Yes, him. I saw how he spoke to you, and then you suddenly pulled your so-called 'date' here. Seemed like you had a clear plan."

He leans closer to her, his voice lowering to barely a whisper. "You're quite intriguing, Chiyoya, a blossoming woman with a killer smile and a deadly charm, I can see why I'm so enchanted by you."

Chiyoya looks at him blankly, before scoffing. "You just saw me murder a man in cold blood, yet you're still enchanted by me? you sorcerers sure are strange."

Satoru chuckles, a small smirk playing on his lips. "What can I say? I've always enjoyed the darker things in life. and watching you work...It's an art form, really. There's a certain allure to your ruthlessness that speaks to the dangerous side of me."

He steps closer to her, his voice sultry and mesmerizing. "I have to admit, I find danger and chaos quite...enticing."

"And who's to say you're only saying that? what happens if you go behind my back and report me to the Police?" Chiyoya asked, tilting her head, clearly not drawn to Satoru's attraction, but she didn't seem worried if he did.

Satoru laughs heartily, finding her question amusing. "You really think I'd report you to the police? You truly underestimate me, Chiyoya. I have no interest in something as mundane as reporting you. Why would I snitch on a creature as magnificent as you?" Satoru asked, reaching out to trace her jawline, his touch should send shivers down her spine.

"Besides, I have much more interesting things in mind."

"And what would that be?" Chiyoya asked, her eyes unyielding, pink hues clashing with blue ones.

A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes as he leans in closer, his lips hovering millimeters away from hers. His voice drops to a seductive whisper.

"I have the sudden urge to test my limits and see just how far you're willing to go, Chiyoya. I want to push every boundary, explore every hidden desire you possess. And I'm eager to see how far this dangerous game of ours will take us, my dear. Are you ready to dance with the devil?" Satoru asked, his eyes widening in anticipation.

"Let's play a game, shall we?"

"Oh, What kind of game?" Chiyoya asked in interest but her pink hues show indifference, but he has her attention.

"A game of trust and thrill. We'll take turns daring each other to do things, starting with small, harmless challenges, but gradually getting more daring. We'll push each other's boundaries until we reach our limits."

He leans closer to her ear, his breath warm against it. "The first one to tap out losses."

as Satoru backed away, all he saw was that she was already looking at him, interested "What is the Prize and Punishment?"

Satoru's eyes gleam mischievously, excitement coursing through his veins. He hadn't expected her to agree so quickly, his touch feather-light, leaving a trail of tingles on her skin. "Let's make it interesting. The Prize for the winner will be anything they want, no strings attached. As for the punishment...let's say the rules of the game state the loser has to do whatever the winner demands, within reasonable bounds, of course."

"It sounds to me you have an agenda of bringing up this deal, Gojo-san...a dark desire." Chiyoya points out with a smile, her stare unwavering.

His eyes gleam almost sinisterly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He fixes a stray hair to the back of her ear. "My darkest desires, you say? I have many, but let's list a few."

Satoru turns to look at her, sky-blue eyes full of hidden desires. "To taste your lips...to explore the depths of your mind...to push my limits and see just how far you'll let me go" he murmurs as he suddenly remembered that her 'date' kissed her neck, leaning in to place a kiss of his own over it, making his point.

Chiyoya looked at him blankly with a small smile on her lips, before a group suddenly flooded into the room. "Oh, the cleaners are here" Chiyoya backed away from Satoru, as one of them approached her.

"Mistress." cleaning her hand.

Satoru watches the interaction between Chiyoya and the cleaners, a hint of surprise in his eyes. He knew she was privileged, but this level of service seemed excessive even by his standards. His gaze lingers on her, taking in every graceful movement she makes, admiring her poise and control, realizing how meticulous she is, he would have thought these cleaners were also part of the venue's staff with their uniforms.

"You must go back to the party, now, Mistress, they are just about to be the Heirs of the Sponsors" The cleaner stated after cleaning her hand.

"Very well then, I'll leave everything to you" Chiyoya stated as she began to leave, as the cleaners began bagging the body.

"Gojo-san, do you plan to stand there for the whole party?" Satoru snaps out of his trance as Chiyoya addresses him, a small smile never leaving her lips.

"I was planning to admire the view just a bit longer. you look captivating as always, it's hard not to stare." He strides towards her, a confident smile on his face.

"I was just admiring your work here one last time before it gets cleaned up, but remind me to stay in your good graces with how capable you are."

"Dully noted." Chiyoya smiled as they began to walk through the halls back into the party.

As they began to walk back into the party, Satoru cast glanced at Chiyoya, studying her demeanor closely. He couldn't help but feel intrigued by her composure; her movements so fluid, her grace so captivating. It was almost as if she was completely unaffected by the events that just occurred only a moment ago.

His mind raced with questions but he knew better than to bring them up immediately. After all, he was the one who initiated this little endeavor of theirs, and he wasn't about to ruin the excitement so soon.

"You're quiet, that's very unlike you, why? Have I pushed you to the limit already, Gojo-san?" Chiyoya teases, her pink hues glancing up at him.

Satoru chuckles, and a low, velvety sound reverberates through the air. "Oh, my dear Chiyoya, If you think I've reached my limits already, you underestimate me. I was simply savoring the moment, observing the intricate web you weave with each step you take."

His gaze meets hers, a small smirk playing on his lips. " Besides, I couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty. Sometimes silence is the only appropriate response to admiring such an ethereal specimen"

"I bet you say that to every girl you come across, Gojo-san." Chiyoya points out with a teasing scoff.

Satoru let out a hearty laugh, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and mild irritation, he had known that remark was coming. She was as sharp as a tack, and he loved it.

"Ah, you got me there, Chiyoya. You're not wrong to assume that I say that to anyone I find attractive. But there's something about you; your fierce independence, your unapologetic nature, and the way you refuse to be caged that draws me to you."

Chiyoya chuckles before walking up a bit further front, her hands behind her back as she leans forward "Why? Do you wanna tie me down, Gojo-san? Turn me into one of your pretty armrests?" Chiyoya asked, tilting her head.

Satoru's eyes, a sultry smile on his lips. The way she teased and toyed with him sent a shiver down his spine. He loved it. Her boldness, her wit, and her charm were all a dangerous addiction he didn't want to get rid of. He walked closer, closing the distance between them.

"Oh, Chiyoya, as tempting as that sound..." Satoru caresses her cheek.

"It would be a grave sin to reduce you into an accessory" Satoru stated, admiring her eyes.

"And why is that?" Chiyoya presses, wanting to hear his reasoning as he looks at her with admiration and desire.

"Because My dear, you're a force to be reckoned with. Your power, your confidence, your unapologetic nature..they're all qualities that I find incredibly attractive. I have no desire to chain you down or clip your wings. No..." He moved closer, pinning her onto a wall, his words filled with raw honesty.

"I want to watch you soar."

Chiyoya simply continues to look at him, her smile growing sinister under his gaze. "That's what you saw in me? We've barely met, and we've only interacted for half an hour at best, What if I'm not the kind of person you perceive me to be?"

He chuckles lowly, his eyes unwavering as he meets her gaze head-on "Oh, Chiyoya, the beauty in life is discovering the unexpected hidden layers, uncovering the unexpected truths hidden beneath the surface. You may not be exactly who I perceive you to be, and that's precisely what excites me. The thrill of discovering the true nature behind your mask, and understanding the depth of your character that's all part of the dance." He reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face once more.

Chiyoya simply stares at him as he slowly leans towards her.

"I advise you not to fornicate in the halls, Chiyoya Satsujin, if you value our names." a voice interrupted them, it was the teen in the black kimono, upon closer look, he had long black hair tied into a high ponytail, golden eyes looking at them with authority.

"Ah! Daigo-san! Did you come out here just to get me? you shouldn't have!" Chiyoya gently pushed away Satoru as if they weren't doing anything wrong, smiling innocently.

Satoru raises an eyebrow at the newcomer, amused by the interruption. "Well, look who decided to join the party. Daigo, was it? Quite the entrance you made there. Am I interrupting something important, or just your attempt to ruin the fun?"

"Who is this?" Daigo asked, turning his gaze to Chiyoya.

"The Strongest Sorcerer of the Modern age, I met him at Jujutsu Tech, he's quite an interesting character." Chiyoya introduces, making Daigo look at him blankly.

Satoru's smirk widens as he meets Daigo's gaze, his eyes gleaming with a mix of confidence and mischief. "Interesting, huh? Well, I'll take that as a compliment. Gojo Satoru, the honored one, at your service." He gives a small bow, the motion filled with mockery.

one Daigo couldn't care for "For your information, you are interrupting something important, they're about to introduce us, Chiyoya." Daigo turns to Chiyoya, staring blankly at her.

"Huh? Why didn't you say so? Let's go! Let's go!" Chiyoya pulls on Daigo's wrist, leading him back into the party, seemingly forgetting Satoru.

"Satoru, where have you been!? you just upped and disappeared!" Suguru found Satoru walking back into the party, a bit peeved that he'd quickly forgotten.

"Nothing much, just getting to know people, look, it's starting" Satoru diverts his attention as the lights go down.

"May I have your attention, please?" Mr. Chiyoya spoke through the mic, his welcoming smile contrasting his daughter's.

"From the three Heads of the main clan, I introduce Daigo Kuragami, Daigo Tenpi, and Daigo Tsukikage."

Three teens stood under the spotlight, the first one with long black hair and golden eyes, wearing a black kimono with a blank face. Daigo Kuragami.

The next two look to be twins, a boy and a girl both wearing black and white suits that invert them, their short black hair is adorned with high lights, the boy has a green highlight on his bangs while the girl has red highlights with two streaks on the back of her hair, both stares at the crowd blankly with golden eyes. Daigo Tenpi (The Boy), Daigo Tsukikage(The Girl).

"From the Sada's, I introduce Sada Ragyo." A very beautiful girl, long brown hair adored her back with her bangs colored in pink, her seductive pink hues are very different from Chiyoya's very own, as she wore a black sleeves dress (Sada Ragyo)

"From the Yoshikawa's, I introduce Yoshikawa Mondo." A short brown haired boy with bright green eyes, he wore an extravagant suit that makes him almost out of place. (Yoshikawa Mondo)

"From the Yamazaki's I introduce Yamazaki Yamasaki." A giant, like a sumo wrestler, stands under the spotlight, wearing traditional clothes (Yamazaki Yamasaki)

"And From the Chiyoya's, my very own Heir, Chiyoya Satsujin." The blonde-haired girl stands under the spotlight, her charming smile displayed for all to see, as her pink hues stare blankly at them, her white and blue dress glittering under the light, giving her an ethereal flare

May they bring prosperity for both the Non-Sorcerers and Sorcerers world" Mr. Chiyoya introduces, as the Sorcerers invited to the event clapped their hands, the Heirs bowing in unison

"These Heirs wanted to give their Appreciation to you Sorcerers for protecting the world, so, they've prepared a little performance for all of you, may you enjoy this turn of events" As Mr. Chiyoya suddenly announced a Performance, the Heirs all got into positions, most of them walking up to an instrument, but Chiyoya walks up to the center of the stage, picking up a mic

Intrigued by the unexpected announcement, Satoru's interest is piqued. The prospect of a performance from the Heirs of the Seven Sponsors is a rare opportunity. As Chiyoya walked to the center, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of anticipation. He waits intently, curious to see what kind of performance Chiyoya will unveil.

A Piano and Violin began their intro before a strum sharp of a drum began, and an Organ resonated with the harmony

"Ah, si je pouvais vivre dans l'eau

Le monde serait-il plus beau

Nous pardonneras-tu, ô chère mère

L'eau dans son courant fait danser nos vies

Et la cité, elle nourrit

Ainsi que toi, mon doux amour"

Chiyoya began singing in French, setting a melancholic tone of the song.

As the instrumental break commenced, Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the talents of the Heirs. Each one of them added their own touch to the music, creating an eclectic mix of sounds that somehow blended together perfectly. The inclusion of the blow horn further enhanced the harmony, adding a unique and unexpected element to the performance. He couldn't help but feel immersed in the music, his gaze focused on the stage where Chiyoya stood, captivated by her mesmerizing presence.

"Non, le grand amour ne suffit pas

Seul un adieu fleurira

C'est notre histoire de vie, douce et amère

Moi, je suis et serai toujours là

À voir le monde et sa beauté

Et ça ne changera jamais, jamais"

As the performance reaches its final moments, Satoru's eyes widen in astonishment as Ragyo's voice joins in perfect harmony with Chiyoya's. Their combined talents create a symphony of sound that fills the room with a melancholic and bittersweet feeling. The dual voices blend perfectly together, adding depth and complexity to the performance. As the music comes to an end, Satoru can't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for the incredible talents of the Heirs and their captivating display of artistry

All of the Heirs began to stand up and began walking up to Chiyoya, side by side, they held hands and bowed in respect to all of the Sorcerers in the room.

A round of applause erupts throughout the room, filling the air with a sense of appreciation and admiration for the Heir’s performance. Satoru, along with the other Sorcerers in attendance, cannot help but clap enthusiastically in recognition of the incredible talent on display. The Heir’s synchronized bow, a humble gesture of respect for the Sorcerers who were present, further adds to the overall atmosphere of mutual understanding and gratitude between the two worlds.

"May you all enjoy the rest of the Celebration" Mr. Chiyoya announces, as everyone dispersed, enjoying themselves in the event

"Wow, that was...wonderful." Suguru mutters, before turning his head to Satoru.

"Hey, how are you-Satoru, don't" Suguru stops him as he notices Satoru staring at Chiyoya, conversing with the rest of the Heirs.

"But Suguru!"

"No buts! we talked about this" Suguru looks at him sternly, as Satoru looks at him blankly, before smirking at him.

"Sorry Sugu, but I can't pass up this one." Satoru replies as he pulls a random girl from a crowd.

"Hey, my friend over here thinks you're hot." Satoru introduced before he began running off.

"Satoru!-"

"Wait, really?"

leaving him to deal with a girl of his own.

As Satoru made his way to Chiyoya, he overheard snippets of their conversation, snippets that piqued his curiosity even further. Determined to make his presence known, he approached the group, stopping nearby and clearing his throat to catch Chiyoya's attention

Chiyoya's head turns towards Gojo, before smiling at him

"Ah! Gojo-san, what a pleasant surprise, I was just talking about you" Chiyoya stated, an elegant smile on her lips

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Gojo's lips as he heard Chiyoya's words. He couldn't help but find the situation slightly humorous and interesting. Crossing his arms across his chest, he replied with his usual nonchalant tone

"Oh really, and what exactly were you saying about me?"

"That you were the one who saw me kill the uninvited guest" Chiyoya nonchalantly answers, shocking Satoru at how open she was to that subject

"So...you've gotten sloppy?" Daigo Kuragami asked, disappointment flashing through his golden eyes

"Aw, don't be like that, Daigo-san, how was I supposed to know he was gonna follow me?" Chiyoya asked, pouting

Despite the initial shock at Chiyoya's nonchalance, Satoru couldn't help but respect her honesty. He nodded in response to her statement and replied with a smirk

"Indeed, it seems like I did witness a very interesting moment. And I must say, your choice of "uninvited guest" was quite a bold one."

He couldn't quite gauge the dynamics in the group just yet, and Daigo's disappointment only added to his intrigue

Daigo looks at him blankly, before turning to Chiyoya

"Whatever happens, you take care of the fallout out" Daigo stated before standing up from the table, with the rest of the Heirs standing up, following him, before Sada Ragyo winked at Satoru, following behind the rest, leaving Chiyoya'

"So, did you enjoy the performance, Gojo-san? Chiyoya asked, tilting her head

Satoru regained his composure and responded with a teasing chuckle

"Oh, I must say, the performance was certainly entertaining. But I could hardly focus on anything besides you. Your talent and beauty on that stage were quite captivating, so myself."

"Really now?" Chiyoya asked, chuckling

"Alright, let's get into business, why did you seek me out, Gojo-san?" Chiyoya asked, getting straight to the point

Satoru, slightly taken aback by Chiyoya's straightforwardness, couldn't help but smirk. He always appreciated when someone got straight to the point

"Ah, always straight to the point, I see. Well, I must admit, I couldn't resist the opportunity to speak with you further. You have this mysterious aura that draws me in. And I couldn't deny the fact that I wanted to understand your clan, and by extension, you, better. Perhaps you could indulge my curiosity?"

"And how exactly will you quell that need?" Chiyoya asked once more, looking at him blankly with a smile on her lips.

Satoru took a moment to consider her response before responding, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips

"I suppose that depends on how you would like to go about it. Perhaps a cup of tea or coffee. Or if you'd prefer something more adventurous, there's always the option of going on a midnight stroll through the gardens. You know, for a more intimate conversation. The choice is yours."

"Are you asking me on a date, Gojo-san?" Chiyoya asked, unphased at the thought

A small chuckle escaped Satoru's lips at Chiyoya's question. He couldn't help but admire her directness and confidence. "Why, yes, I suppose I am. So, what do you say? Shall we have a night out, explore the city together, and perhaps get to know each other on a more personal level?"

"That's too bad, I can't go tonight or tomorrow, I'm quite busy" Chiyoya turns down the offer, apologetically smiling at him.

Satoru felt a bit disappointed at Chiyoya's rejection, but he also couldn't help but find her busy schedule intriguing. It only added to the mystery surrounding her, and his curiosity grew even more

"Oh, that's a shame. Perhaps another time then. But tell me, Chiyoya-san, just how busy can someone be to turn down a date with the strongest sorcerer in the Jujutsu world?"

"Perhaps I'm turning you down to see if you'd pursue me" Chiyoya answers, a blank smile on her lips, her eyes challenging him.

A flicker of surprise crossed Satoru's features at Chiyoya's challenging response. He had not expected her to play such a bold move. But he was undeterred. Satoru chuckled lightly before responding, a mischievous glint in his eyes

"Oh, so you're testing my determination, are you? Well, I must say, I do love a challenge. You have my word, Chiyoya-san—I won't rest until I've proven myself worthy of your time. Consider me your persistent suitor from this moment on."

" 'Chiyoya-san'... that's new, usually you'd only call me Chiyoya" Chiyoya points out, smiling at him

Satoru couldn't help but chuckle at Chiyoya's observation. He hadn't realized that he had subconsciously added honorifics to her name. It slipped out so naturally. He shrugged, a playful grin on his lips

"Well, I guess it's just a testament to how much I respect and admire you. But I must admit, Chiyoya, it rolls off the tongue a lot better than 'Chiyoya-san.' Wouldn't you agree?"

"And Satsujin doesn't?" Chiyoya asked, referring to her given name, meaning murder

It made him curious as to why she's named that way

Satoru nodded in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips. He couldn't deny the fact that her given name, Satsujin, had a certain darkness to it. It intrigued him even more

"Oh, it does indeed. Satsujin is quite an interesting name. But, if you don't mind me asking, is there any particular reason behind it? The meaning seems a bit... ominous, don't you think?"

"It's not just me, my Father also has quite the name" Chiyoya answers, before her gaze turned to her Father, conversing with the current Sponsors

"Chiyoya Akui" Akui meaning Dark Intent

Satoru's curiosity grew even more at Chiyoya's words, and his gaze followed hers to her Father, Mr. Chiyoya. Her Father's name, Chiyoya Akui, held a certain mysterious weight to it as well.

"I see. It seems that the theme of names in your family is quite intriguing," Satoru mused, a small smirk on his lips. "Dark Intent, indeed. I wonder if there's something deeper behind the choice of those names."

"Back in the olden days of Japan, children at birth were given a temporary name to prevent dying, because it's believed that demons steal children with pretty names until they're given a permanent name at the age of 4" Chiyoya explained before turning to look at Satoru

"But to our case, it didn't matter what age, children of Chiyoya's were always taken the day after having their permanent name, a demon seemed to always watch us...lying in wait..." Chiyoya mutters, her eyes staring blankly at Satoru

"That's why we have quite the names from birth throughout our lives, the only hindrance it brings is it's quite hard to advertise to the masses with that kind of name" Chiyoya answers with a smile on her lips

Satoru listened intently to Chiyoya's words, a mix of intrigue and disbelief on his face. He had never heard of such a belief before, and it was hard to tell if she was joking or being serious. However, the gravity of her tone made him lean towards the latter

"That's quite a unique tradition and a rather dark one at that," Satoru responded, a slight shiver running down his spine. "And demons...is that another part of the tradition, or do you really believe in its authenticity?"

"It wouldn't hurt to follow such traditions, unless, you wish to see me die" Chiyoya teases, smiling blankly at him

Satoru raised an eyebrow at her response, slightly taken aback. He couldn't tell if she was being serious or just toying with him.

"Oh, so you'll die if I don't take this seriously, huh? That's a harsh consequence," He said with a hint of amusement. "I guess I have no choice but to take your traditions seriously if it means keeping you alive, Chiyoya."

"How so?" Chiyoya asked with a playful smile

Satoru returned her playful smile with one of his own. He couldn't deny the fact that he was enjoying her teasing. He leaned in slightly closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes

"Well, for starters, I guess I'd have to protect you from any demons lurking around, wouldn't I? Can't have anything happening to the beautiful heiress of the Chiyoya Clan," he said, his voice dripping with a flirtatious tone.

Chiyoya chuckles, shaking her head "If I were to have been given a normal name, what do you think my name would have been?" Chiyoya asked

Satoru hummed thoughtfully, his eyes roaming over Chiyoya's appearance as he considered the possibility. He couldn't help but imagine how different she would have been if she had a more normal name.

"Hmm, if you had a normal name, let's see...with your beauty and delicate features, I could see you having a name like Yua or perhaps Hibana," he suggested, his gaze locking with hers. "Though I must admit, there's something quite captivating about your given name, Satsujin."

"What appeal did you find from it?" Satoru took a moment to consider her question, his fingers gently tapping against his chin as his gaze drifted upward in thought.

"Well, the name Satsujin itself has a bit of darkness to it, and that definitely adds to its intrigue," he mused. "But it's not just about the name in itself, it's how you bear it. There's a sense of mystery and power in the way you wear the name Satsujin. It speaks... strength, resilience, and a hint of...danger."

"I didn't know these kinds of words would come from the Strongest Sorcerer" Chiyoya points out, smiling at him

Satoru chuckled at her remark, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Oh, I'm full of surprises, Chiyoya," he responded, his gaze never leaving her. "Being the strongest sorcerer doesn't mean I lack a bit of poetry in my heart. I appreciate beauty and intrigue, and you, my dear, have plenty of both."

Chiyoya looked at him blankly, sizing him up, making a decision in her head, before smiling "alright, you got my attention" Chiyoya reached over to her clutch, pulling out a calling card

"This is my personal phone number, be careful not to leak it, I'm free on Saturday, see you then" Chiyoya hands him over the business card.

Satoru's smile widened at her words and the gesture of the card. He accepted it with a nod and slipped it into his pocket.

"I'll be sure to keep it under wraps," he said, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "And rest assured, I'll keep our rendezvous on Saturday a closely guarded secret. Can't let anyone else claim the privilege of spending time with the captivating Chiyoya."

Chiyoya chuckles, standing up before flattening her dress "See you by then, Gojo-san, enjoy the rest of the party" Chiyoya said before turning to leave, walking up to her Father

Satoru watched as Chiyoya walked away, his gaze lingering on her figure until she reached her Father's side. Excitement coursed through his veins as he glanced down at the number scribbled on the business card.

"Chiyoya Satsujin," he muttered softly to himself, a small smile on his lips. "This is going to be an interesting weekend."

#jjk #gojo satoru #love story?#angst #jjk angst #oc #she's not nice #Spotify #severe angst #gojo satoruxoc?#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #TrickTheDevil!AU

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diazsdimples · 10 months

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Inspiration Saturday!!

I did a bad thing and started a new fic, which will be known as the Musician AU. Basically, Eddie, Hen & Chim are all players in the L.A Philharmonic, Bobby is the conductor, and Buck joins them for one concert as a new hot shot cello soloist. Eddie immediately falls head over heels for the man and him and Buck fuck nasty in many many backstage rooms. This is gonna be a long snippet sorry, I'm scared it's too niche lmao

Tagged by @callmenewbie @wildlife4life @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998, thank you guys!

Eddie gets to his chair and takes a moment to fully appreciate that it’s his. He’s not played first horn for a while, let alone while being the principal, and he’s pretty hyped. He takes a moment to unpack his horn, slotting the slides carefully into place and pressing the valves up and down to make sure they don’t need any grease. He’s so focused on it that he doesn’t hear Hen sneaking up to his side, clarinet in hand, and almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks.

“So, have you seen our new soloist yet?” she asks, leaning casually against his music stand and Eddie lets out a startled yelp.

“Not yet” he responds once his heart rate has gone back to normal.

Hen picks at something in her teeth. “Apparently, he’s very good, Tracy and Jeff can’t stop talking about him. It’s getting on my nerves”.

“Makes sense that he’s good, you don’t solo with the L.A Phil if you’re shit” Eddie jokes and Hen sends him a flat look.

“You know what I mean” she responds dryly. “Was the youngest in his class at Juilliard and did a stint playing in New Zealand with the NZSO before moving back to New York and playing with the New York Phil”.

Eddie can’t help but be impressed; the New York Philharmonic isn’t easy to get into and from what he’s heard, the NZSO are no slouches either. “He must be alright then”.

“You talking about Wonder-Boy Buckley? More than alright from what I hear”. Chimney is slouching towards them, weaving his way through the chairs and music stands from where he usually sits as principal trumpet. “Cathy says he’s hot. You’d better not let him distract you, Eddie”.

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully at Chimney as he sets his music out on the stand. “I have excellent impulse control, thank you. Haven’t had a random hookup in almost a year, even though Joel’s been repeatedly trying to jump my bones”.

“He does that with everyone, don’t feel special” Chimney replies, and he pats Eddie on the back.

“Why do they call him Wonder-Boy Buckley by the way?” Eddie asks. “Buckley’s a weird name, isn’t it?”

“Buckley is his surname; his first name is Evan” Hen explains while Chimney blows into his trumpet to warm it up. “And he’s Wonder-Boy because he’s so young and hot”

Eddie scoffs at this. Wonder-Boy Buckley sounds like a bit of a prick, honestly.

“Ready for your big moment? First movement of the concerto has a pretty big horn solo, and Bobby is expecting big things from you”. Chimney is looking at him with big eyes and if Eddie didn’t know him better, he’d think the guy was actually concerned.

Eddie won’t lie, he is pretty nervous about it. The cello solo and the horn have a few moments in the piece where it’s just them playing and it’s damn high and fucking difficult. Eddie’s done it in concert before, but that was with a much more minor orchestra and not in front of an audience of 2000+ people. However, Chimney and Hen under no circumstances are allowed to know he’s nervous so he shrugs nonchalantly and says, “yeah, I’ve been practicing it loads and think I’ve got it all sorted. Unless the soloist is truly as hot as you say, I’m pretty sure nothing will throw me”.

It seems the gods are listening to Eddie and laughing at him, because at that very moment, an extremely attractive young man walks into the auditorium with a cello strapped to his back and all Eddie can think is fuck, he’s really fucking hot.

“Oh look, there he is” Chimney says, perking up and Hen’s eyes flit across the auditorium, coming to rest on the man and her jaw drops.

“Holy shit, he’s hot. And I like girls”

“How’s our resident dick-expert doing” Chimney nudges Eddie teasingly and Eddie’s currently making a conscious effort not to drool.

“Yeah he’s – uh – he’s not bad”.

Not bad? Eddie is convinced this is the hottest man he’s ever seen in his life. His muscles bulge as he swings the cello case off his back and sets it on the ground and he flicks his head up to talk to Bobby, his blond curls flouncing delightfully as he does so. Even from here, Eddie can see how his eyes are a piercing blue and he can’t help but notice the way they crinkle as he smiles at Bobby, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth. He’s got some sort of mark around his eyebrow, maybe a piercing? Eddie can’t quite tell from this distance but man, it’s got him feeling things he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Hen and Chimney are sharing a knowing look and Eddie firmly ignores them, instead picking up his horn and beginning to blow some warm air into it. Terry, Amy, Sophie and Grant, his fellow horn players, have all turned up and are setting up, striking up idle conversation with one another as they wait for Bobby to give the order to tune up and start practicing. Hen pats Eddie on the back before returning to her chair and Chimney wiggles his eyebrows as he retreats, flicking his tongue around his mouthpiece suggestively.

(No pressure) tagging @theotherbuckley @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela @fionaswhvre @smilingbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @fruitandbubbles @watchyourbuck @incorrect9-1-1 @knightlywonders @housewifebuck @monsterrae1 @evanbegins @cal-daisies-and-briars @thosetwofirefighters @disasterbuckdiaz @spagheddiediaz @malewifediaz @shitouttabuck @jeeyuns

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hxlda-hxlda · 8 months

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death eater remus brainrot but make it wolfstar angst.

i've had this one scene rattling around in my brain for the last few days and i sat down to give it a chance. the discord server has since enabled me and i fear it's turning into a fic (there's already a doc and a plot, we're too far gone). anyway, enjoy the angst:

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Sirius Black had never been a forgetful man, nor boy. Quite the opposite, in fact. He could still recount the years of every single Goblin Peace Treaty being signed, then broken, signed then broken, in chronological order of course, from that one History of Magic exam in the fifth year. He could still tell you how many bricks lined the ceiling of the classroom McGonagall would make him sit detentions in. Sirius could still recite, precisely, every Slytherin secret password he’d ever managed to get ahold of, for when he and James would sneak into the Slytherin common room and steal all their left socks.

He could also, with immaculate precision, recall the Welsh drawl of none other than Remus Lupin. He’d sooner forget his own name than the sound of that damn voice.

The street was empty seconds ago, or so he’d thought. Remus had always been better at skulking around, appearing over his shoulder and scaring the living shit out of him.

“Moons! We’ll have to attach a bell to your shoes, I swear to Merlin.”

“What? Just because I don’t announce my presence to the school like you and Prongs?”

Street or Hogwarts corridor; some things stayed the same.

Sirius could have laughed. He did not do that. Sirius whirled around.

“Miss me, did you?” he spat before the words could get caught in his throat.

Remus was tall. Taller, maybe, if that were possible. Sirius had been taller once, up until the end of the fourth year. Then Lupin had shot up over the summer; beating himself and even James.

“Moony! Any taller and you’ll have to crawl through doorways!”

He had more scars, too. Again, it was apparently possible. A new one on his right cheek. The familiar one that slitted across the bridge of his nose. His nose was more crooked, broken a couple more times, maybe. He was so different, but not really.

His eyes were the same: bronze, golden as they caught the afternoon sunlight.

“You’ve the prettiest eyes, you know? Like caramel, Moonshine.”

“Says you. You’re prettier than the rest of school combined. All that inbreeding, I think.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Remus was three, maybe four, metres from him. The street—a pathetic, grimy muggle alleyway of a thing—still felt far too exposed despite being empty; vulnerable. Sirius let his wand drop from the left pocket sewn into his jacket sleeve. He couldn’t see Remus’ wand. It set him more on edge.

“Your brother sends his regards,” scarred lips murmured, a smirk on them. He had another new scar that etched his top lip as well.

“Oh, you’re carrying messages, are you? Good, you can tell him to go fuck himself.”

Remus laughed. It was much less familiar. Cold. He stepped closer, just one pace. “Where did those pureblood manners go, Black?”

Sirius refrained from flinching at his surname, cruel on a once-kind tongue. “You tell me, you’re the one staying in their fucking… snake’s nest.”

Remus scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Dramatic as ever, I see. Nothing has changed.”

Sirius scoffed in turn; a mimic. “Everything’s changed, don’t kid yourself.”

“Careful, you’ll start sounding all sentimental. You saying you miss me?”

“Moony! I missed you!”

“It’s been an hour, you berk.”

“I missed you anyway.”

“...I missed you too.”

“They'll kill you, you know,” Sirius said. To the pavement, the new scar slicing his eyebrow had been too distracting.

“I’m not a fool, Black. I’m not under any false guises.”

“Then what? You’re running about torturing muggles for the fun of it? You aren’t a monster.”

“That’s not what you said last we spoke.”

Sirius snapped his gaze up. Remus’ eyes—golden, like caramel, Moonshine—were wide, angry, still hurt, Sirius swallowed his own.

“I never meant that and you- you know-“

“Fucking spare me.” Another step toward Sirius.

“Come home, Remus.” Another step, toward Remus.

Sirius wasn’t pleading, he’d vowed not to, refused to when he’d left all those months ago. (He was pleading anyway.)

“I have no home.”

Sirius threw his hands out, laughing something sour and slightly manic. “Merlin, you haven’t changed either. Always so fucking melodramatic. Such a fucking martyr, is that it? ‘I’m just poor little werewolf Remus Lupin—’”

Remus flinched, as though hexed. Later, Sirius will wish he had hexed him instead.

“‘I have no one. No home.’ Is that what this is?”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re right! It’s fucking stupid, is what it is. ‘No one’ my arse. You had James, you had Lily, Marls, Pete–“

Remus laughed this time. Sirius didn’t understand the joke.

“You had me.”

“You have me, Moonshine. Forever and ever and ever.”

“That’s a pretty long time.”

“Well, hope you aren’t already sick of me because I’ll be there for all of it.”

“Bullshit.”

Sirius could have been slapped, wished he was instead. “What?” he choked out.

Another step toward Sirius. They were face to face, now. Remus looking down, Sirius up. He’d always looked up to, at, for, Remus. “Of course I didn’t have you. You had me. Merlin, you had me. But there’s a difference.”

“What?”

“I was your- your fucking pet!”

“That's- that’s not- you can’t possibly believe that.”

“No? You all didn’t treat me like some novelty?”

James had always said that he and Remus argued as though already married for twenty years, squabbles that could become full-blown arguments that could become laughter in minutes. It was just how they always were.

“Leave them, they’ll be right within the hour. Too much love for each other, I think, sometimes they just have to be loud about it.”

Sirius wondered if that was what this was.

“Novelty?” he echoed; breathless, bewildered.

Remus barked another cold, foreign laugh. “You don’t even realise. Christ, you didn’t even fucking realise it.”

“Release what? I loved you. You weren’t a pet, you were my–”

Boyfriend? Best friend? The love of all loves. All of it felt too small, none of it right.

“Pet,” Remus interrupted. “Something that was there, for you to blow off steam with once a month, feel like you were a part of something grand, maybe get off with while we were there. Don’t be stupid.”

“Me? You’re being stupid. You’re deranged if you think that.”

Sirius, in a rather untimely manner, glanced down. Just enough, just the right amount, that he was looking at lips he knew well, had tasted plenty. Chocolate and cigarettes and that wine they’d get drunk on random Tuesday nights with because they were sixteen and what else was there to do on a Tuesday night when you were sixteen and sickeningly in love?

Perhaps it was habit, the way his eyes found those lips and his own mouth sought to follow. He wondered if they still tasted of cheap wine and chocolate and home.

“Let’s get you home, Moonshine. It was a rough one tonight, wasn’t it?”

“I have to go.”

Sirius hadn’t realised it was him saying the words, him stepping backwards and forcing the distance between them, until he was back to safety; one metre, two metres, three, away.

Remus was looking at him. Sirius could not read why or how in that moment. It was all too much.

Sirius felt he should say something but the usual ‘it was good to see you’ didn’t quite sum it up right. Apparating without another word felt just as wrong, however. A voice in the back of his mind, sounding something like Alastor, reminded him he shouldn’t apparate at all when a Death Eater could so easily follow.

That’s right, Remus; the Death Eater.

Sirius felt sick.

“I have to go,” he said again, for lack of anything else.

“I have to go.”

“Wait– Remus, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you did. I think we’re done here.”

“Remus–”

“Don’t follow me.”

When Sirius apparated, no one followed him. Not to the first decoy location, not to the second, not to the third. Sirius found himself in his flat, he found himself alone, he found himself thinking of Remus. He’d like to lie and tell you he didn’t often find himself in this very way, but Remus was always the better liar of the two of them. You can ask him, see if he has something to offer.

#writing tag #marauders #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #marauders fanfiction

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