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exquisink · 3 months ago

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don't let all this be a letdown (polysatosugu x reader)

cw. no curses au, breaking up with one of them and then getting back together, there are no warnings really other than suggestive scenarios and teasing of smut but there's no smut this time, gasp!, poly satosugu x reader, they literally come as a package it's an unspoken rule, this is basically fluff so sweet it'll give you diabetes even though it's also lowkey messy btwn mainly you and sugu b/c you felt underappreciated, i am pretty sure i lost the plot somewhere b/c this was supposed to be TOXIC EX BF SUGURU with you getting back at him but it's somehow weirdly wholesome, never mind some things like the two of them cornering you in public spaces b/c personal space is a foreign concept to these men

wc. 11K... and if i choose to tack on the smut later as a bonus snippet/post then it'll be more

Stop this nonsense, that small, sharp, squabbling voice in the back of your mind scolds you. That little voice of reason bubbles up every time you try to set yourself free from the commitments of a relationship you have ended, all on your own accord, giggling too hard at some random guy’s jokes, or allowing them to brush their hands up their waist. Just a bit too close for comfort should Suguru be near, but he isn’t. Right now it’s just you and Satoru Gojo, mingling with each other and pretending like you’re still involved.

You have tossed away any cautions, any questionings or doubts or asking yourself why anymore. Satoru Gojo may be Suguru’s best friend but he’s yours too, and each little flirtatious glance he tosses your way is just another ticket toward sweet payback. It’s what he gets for not appreciating what he’s had right in front of him. Of course this is all a charade, because Gojo understands more than anyone what bro code means and he’s only doing this as a favor to you, and in a way to Suguru too.

Get him to open his damn eyes. To read it all, soak it completely in, let the realization of what he lost dawn on him, and weep waterfalls upon waterfalls of tears.

Gojo may have gotten a little too into the charade but so have you. Those little late night texts, which he may have sent screenshots to Suguru ‘on accident’ but he definitely wants him to know. Let him simmer and stew in sheer anger over the fact that you’re just over being an afterthought.

Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been anything other than playing the role of the understanding, kind girlfriend. But all he’s ever done is taken your character and your time for granted, and you’re just finally cutting loose after everything you’ve done to try to make that fucking relationship work.

Oh, but it’s like you already said, you may have gotten a little too into this. Soaking up all of this attention Satoru is happy to fabricate for you all in favor of the drama, but also you have been actually actively responding to other suitors who have flooded your phone with messages since you have set yourself free.

That much you can admit to, but who can blame you when your ex’s best friend can be just as petty if not more so than you? Suggesting to send snapshots of your outings together in some of the most suggestive situations. Gojo has been nice enough to go run errands with you and while shopping for clothes, joins you in the dressing rooms for a quick way to set your ex off. Nothing too scandalous–just a snapshot of you two undressed in a few questionable positions but it’s not like you two really did much of anything. You don’t see how, not completely, because your goal is just to drive that point home–he fucking missed out and now he has to deal with the consequences of missing out on someone like you. After a certain point, you have to put your foot down. You can’t remember at what point when you checked out of the relationship in your mind, because by the time you cut things off, it was too late for him to try to change his ways because you know how it always goes. They change for maybe a few weeks and then revert back to their typical behavior. No one can actually ever change overnight; you definitely didn’t.

Getting into the relationship and basically all throughout the relationship, you have always put your best foot forward for Suguru. Giving him moral support before huge exams. Hearing him out when he’s venting to you instead of spewing solutions. Giving him space when he needs it. Planning dates. Remembering birthdays. Remembering his big events and attending them. Obviously it’s all the basic stuff but they matter. Of course they all matter. And in the beginning, he’s just as supportive, but then maybe he’s gotten too comfortable with a girl like you.

And that’s his biggest fucking mistake.

“You know,” Gojo comments as he hops back into his slacks and smooths out his hair, scrolling through his text thread with Suguru while waiting for you to get dressed. “There are ways we can amp this up but I don’t know if you’d be game to try it out. Even while you were dating him, you seemed so innocent.”

“Well, obviously, I proved you wrong,” you huff as you straighten yourself out, glancing at yourself in the mirror for a moment before your gaze flits back to Gojo. “It’s not like I’m getting into any of his friends’ pants. I just have to make him think I am.”

“And you’re doing a swell job with that,” he laughs with a wide grin brightening his features. He flashes his phone screen with Geto’s reply, and now you find yourself grinning.

Geto: what the fuck is wrong with you actually

Geto: she hasn’t been responding to any of my calls or messages. So this is what she’s been up to?

You wish you could see his face, but all you can imagine is him attempting to remain calm and collected, suffering in silence like he always does. You always kind of loathe how he acts like nothing bothered him, and that’s another reason why you broke it off. Besides getting too comfortable and not trying anymore. There’s actually a whole textbook you can write at this point on all of the reasons why you two were better off not together.

Your stomach twists a little at the idea of actually not being with him, but you have to be stronger than your feelings sometimes and you know that all too well since that’s something you had to do far too early in your life. You deserve better, all you’re asking for is some reciprocity for fuck’s sake, and he probably knows that and is threatened by the idea of you actually leveling up your life. And that’s why he’s fighting a time where you doubt you can change your mind.

“So what was your suggestion? About upping the ante, I mean,” you ask as Gojo thinks of a way to respond to Geto’s messages.

“Well, I mean, I can ring up some of our friends and they can get in on it. It’s not like they don’t like you too, you know. For as much of an idiot Suguru can be, he’s not wrong about people and we all like you.”

You sigh, flashing him your phone screen with a few threads from Toji, Sukuna, and Shoko. Toji keeps spamming your photos with fire emoji comments and Sukuna has sent you not so vanilla messages that you have no idea how to respond to, since you’re not that into the guy, even as a friend. A shiver dances up your spine as you glance at one of the raunchy messages he’s sent you upon the other couple hundred, frowning until your forehead creases and Satoru catches onto your discomfort, sneaking a glance at the thread. Even he grimaces, swiping the thread out of your line of sight.

You breathe out in relief. Satoru really is a good friend, isn’t he?

“No kiddin’. I mean, Toji and Sukuna are kind of expected, but Shoko? That’s something I would have never considered because she likes you guys so much,” you reply, but your eyes roll upward as you ponder over the situation you have found yourself in, wondering what to make of it. “Though, she is my type…”

Gojo whistles at that. “Okay, damn. I didn’t expect that from you, either.”

You beam at him with your eyes twinkling like little gemstones, standing on your tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, Satoru. You’re a great friend,” you tell him, and he’s grinning wider while dreamily sighing. “To me and to Suguru. He’s lucky, you know? To have someone like you who reminds him what’s important. I just think it might be too late this time, but who knows?”

“I’d really hate to see the two of you not work things out in the end,” he remarks, as another stream of notifications clutters his lock screen from Suguru. “Sheesh. He’s not a happy camper, but it’s one thing to say it and another thing to do something, right?”

You nod. “Right. Sometimes it feels like that’s all he is.”

“All talk, right?” he replies, sighing as his shoulders sag a bit. “Yeah, I get that. I really do. He’s a bit too wrapped up in his own bullshit sometimes to understand what’s going on around him. And sometimes, the best thing you can do in these situations is just let ‘im figure things out for himself. I mean, you can’t force someone to change, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, glancing at the time on your phone. “Should we get out of here? I think the store’s closing up in like an hour.”

“Sure. But you should still get that dress. With legs like yours, you’d kill it,” Gojo suggests, swiping the dress for you. “And it’s on me, as a token of apology for dealing with someone as dense as Suguru.”

“My hero,” you tease, exiting the fitting room with Gojo following suit. He catches onto the little skip in your step and there’s a hint of a small smile. That’s the happiest you’ve been since you broke it off with him. He can’t help shaking his head to himself before paying for your dress and leaving the store with you. Now you’re practically frolicking like you’re in a fairy world. Glow any brighter and maybe you can hear a choir of angels singing.

Suguru is an even bigger idiot than he is, and that’s saying something.

Geto does confront Gojo later.

Shoving him into the wall after showing up at his penthouse (unprompted but that’s essentially routine for them at this point), indigo eyes practically oozing rage and gritting his teeth like he may pummel him six feet under. Gojo knows he’s not going to, of course, out of everyone Geto knows Gojo’s still the one he can’t say no to who isn’t his girlfriend, but Gojo digresses.

“What the fuck, Satoru?” he growls, and Gojo merely picks at his cuticles, avoiding his eyes. Geto knows Gojo is stronger than he is but he lets him get his way. Sometimes. Sometimes. “Why are you fooling around with my girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” he corrects, pushing him off with slight force, catching Geto off guard for a moment but he bounces back, shooting a death glare as Gojo goes on. “And she’s been your ex longer than when she finally dumped your crusty ass.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Geto mumbles, “And my ass isn’t crusty.”

“She’s been over you for months before she broke up with you,” Gojo explains, “What, you really haven’t noticed her distancing herself?”

“Of course I have,” Geto shoots back, his posture relaxing. “I just didn’t think it’d get to this point.”

“Aha! And you admit it, you don’t think! That’s your problem,” Gojo counters, matching his glare now. “Just because you get the girl doesn’t mean you don’t stop trying. You have to show up for her, you know, like she’s always been.”

Something flashes in Geto’s eyes. Realization, perhaps? Or regret?

No, maybe Gojo’s giving him too much credit there.

“Suguru,” he starts, taking a step forward. “You can’t just stop trying. She never did until the last few months.”

“Well, what the hell do I do? She’s not responding to any of my messages or calls,” he shouts back, “Do I just show up at her doorstep or…what?”

“You’re going to have to go a little beyond that to make up for all of the things you missed,” Gojo shouts back, “And disregard anything performative. She can sniff you out like a drug hound, so don’t bother.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you know!” Geto retaliates, folding his arms as he tries to collect himself. Rounded grounding breaths and whatever else. Gojo has no idea how that’s supposed to keep him centered, but what the hell does he know about mindfulness anyway? He’s just as clueless as Geto is in that regard, if not more so.

Gojo sighs, exasperated, just seconds away from punching the lights out of him. Yeah, mindfulness and whatever, but he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about that stuff when both of his best friends are being fucking idiots.

And if that’s coming from the likes of him? Well, clearly there’s an issue. He’s not even saying this to be self-deprecating or whatever; he’s not that kind of guy and everyone who knows him knows that a little too well, but this whole charade is just appalling.

Gojo wants to see both his friends happy again, but they have to motherfriggin’ cooperate.

“I am, but I’m not going to solve your BS for you!” Gojo shouts back after a beat of tense silence. The air suddenly feels staticky and stiff, and he wonders if his judgment is clouded concerning this whole ordeal.

“Yet you’re fooling around with her to what, piss me off?!” Geto questions, pinching the bridge of nis nose as he struggles to control his emotions. He is many things, but violent he isn’t, and Geto doesn’t want anything to escalate around here for absolutely absurd reasons.

“Well yeah,” he scoffs, glowering at him like somehow he’s lost more brain cells. “She wants to have fun a little, and wanted to have fun with just me this time around. You can’t fault her for wanting a piece of this.”

“You’re part of the package when we are together, Satoru,” Geto grumbles.

“It’s almost like I’m well aware of that, Suguru.”

Geto’s eyebrows furrow; that tone Satoru tacks on is… curious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Geto quizzes, wary. Like he shouldn’t hope for more, but if Gojo is on his side like he claims he is…

“I don’t know, man. Figure it out, or do you truly have no brain and that noggin of yours is just hollow?” Gojo mocks while playfully knocking the crown of Geto’s head. Geto swats his hand away, appalled.

“I just fail to see what you hoped to achieve, fooling around with her without me present,” he says, “I can’t imagine the kind of trouble she’s getting herself in just to cut loose. Has she done this with anyone else?”

Gojo shakes his head. “Not as far as I know. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she wants you to reach out.”

“You say that and yet she leaves me on delivered,” he mutters, more to himself as he whips out his phone and opens your shared thread.

“Well, like I said, you have to go a little harder than what you have been doing. Spamming her is so three decades ago. But it’s also like I said, don’t do anything too out there or performative because she definitely won’t buy it.”

“Sometimes I don’t know whether to punch you or kiss you,” Geto mumbles, “And you swear she hasn’t fooled around with anyone else? It’s just been you? Which doesn’t bother me for obvious reasons…”

“Of course not, I still have my rights to her!” Gojo laughs, “But in all seriousness, you should act or something before things really begin to escalate. She’s already deleted some photos off of her phone and has warred with herself about straight up blocking you, so…”

“You’re telling me this now?” Geto rubs his temples as a headache comes on from all of this unproductiveness between the two of them. “Since you clearly want me to make amends, what do you suggest should be my first move?”

Gojo whacks his shoulder. “I told you countless times in this one conversation alone: I can’t do the work for you. This is something you have to figure out for yourself. I’m just here to support you, whatever it is you decide to do, alright? That’s what friends are for… even friends with certain additional benefits.”

Gojo winks at him, with that fucking look on his face that he always sports when he has something up his sleeve and Geto can’t even decipher it himself.

Geto scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“So nothing performative, nothing over the top… that doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for anything too creative if you ask me,” Geto muses out loud as he racks his mind for some kind of solution because this has gone on long enough for his tastes. He wants you back. He wants you, period. The idea of any other man touching you is completely out of the question; just entertaining the idea has Geto seeing pure firetruck red, clenching his fists at his sides as the impulse to punch something out wash over him. He’s not violent. Not really. He doesn’t want to resort to violence. Not even if it can be argued it’s warranted, like if another man touched you in ways you weren’t okay with, for instance…

Oh no. No no. Get those images out of his head NOW! That’s just adding fuel to the fire unnecessarily!

Gojo rests his hands on Geto’s shoulders, and all of the tension suddenly melts away. Gojo, as infuriating as he often is, has a way of being his calm, tranquility, and peace, too… you know, It’s actually quite perplexing, but that is the beauty of love, isn’t it? In all its nuances and complexities and mysteries.

“Come on, you’re doing so well. You’re just a whirlwind of emotions in just nanoseconds,” Gojo teases with a grin playing on his features. Somehow even in these moments, Gojo seems to glow, radiant, snow white hair shimmering and those electric blue eyes boring into the very essence of Geto’s being.

Geto kind of hates how much he loves this guy too.

But it’s also the most thrilling thing in the world, simultaneously.

“Okay, okay but can we stop dicking around and figure this out?” Geto sighs, “The more we stall, the further away she is from me. And I don’t like that I let it get this far already. I mean, for fuck’s sake… she can’t be having that much fun without me.”

Gojo flashes back to the way you had a little skip to your step finally having a chance to fool around and be a little silly for the sake of it besides just proving a point. As much as he wants to tell Geto a harmless little white lie, he’s not known to sugarcoat things…

“Eh… well, actually… this is the most relaxed she’s ever felt in a long time. So you really have to act fast, buddy!”

Geto’s eyes widen, perplexity shining in them as he grumbles out loud once again in sheer annoyance at Gojo’s ‘impeccable’ timing. “And again, you’re telling me this now?”

“Sorry, Suguru,” he quips with a shrug. “I can’t exactly go against either of you in this scenario. I can’t offer any bias toward either of you and as much as I love you both, I’m trying to stay objective here. This is something you have to settle between the two of you, and I”m just here to be of any kind of assistance. Anywhere feasible, I mean.”

“Duly noted,” Geto snarks back, as his mind wanders, swimming through a sea of clashing thoughts and ideas that don’t seem all that fitting for what he hopes to achieve, and that’s you back into his arms, safe and sound, loved and cherished and spoiled, something he should have still been doing even months and months into the relationship and he can’t believe he’s been so blind to see you haven’t been all that happy with him for that long. Come to think of it…

“Suguru, what do you think of this dress for our anniversary date?” you ask as you twirl around in a flattering LBD, with a sultry, darker makeup look. Geto barely looks up from the papers he’s too busy scribbling on to acknowledge it or appreciate the view. Even if he does see her every damn day, he should still take a moment to show he appreciates the effort she puts into everything with them.

“You always look lovely, pretty girl, but I’m in the middle of something…”

He can’t believe he missed the way your voice cracks, or your wistful expression. “Okay…”

Geto’s gaze flits down at his hands, these negligent hands which have failed to grab you by the waist and pull you in for affectionate kisses while he’s doting on you about how good you look in that dress. He’s wincing at his own negligent behavior… how has he been that blind? He knows that’s not the only incident, either; more and more recent memories flash before his eyes and he clenches both fists, groaning at his own idiocy.

“Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m actually the worst boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.”

“Actually I can argue you’re a step up from the majority of men but you’re still right,” Gojo wisecracks.

Geto glowers at him but he just grins back; he keeps grinning like that and it’s going to be permanent.

Oh wait. Too late.

“Sooo, now that you actually acknowledge how much of a piece of shit you truly are, how are you going to change it? Or at least begin to? Because once you start, you can’t stop. You can’t let things go again like you did the first time. Your shot at a second chance with her is already slipping from your grimy fingers so hurry the fuck up and think of something.”

“Satoru, I swear to God if you don’t shut up so I can hear myself fucking think, I’ll shut you up myself.”

“How? With your lips? Because that’s not the productive route we’re aiming for right now, though under any other circumstances, I’d have not hesitated to take you up on that offer–!”

Suguru bites back a groan.

“--Satoru, are you absolutely shitting me right now!?--”

“--hey, I’m just saying sometimes talking your head off can help you come up with ideas on the spot so I’m just trying to get your creative juices flowing here!–”

“--by annoying me half to death in the classic Satoru Gojo fashion?–”

“--Exactly! So did you come up with anything yet?”

Geto scowls, but a lightbulb does click on in his head as actually, by some amazing miracle, Satoru annoying him to death does help him think of some viable solution to the mess he’s created for him and the girl he’s so madly in love with but didn’t express such emotions well enough, Because he may as well be so emotionally constipated you’d need to shove a stick up his ass to get him to squeal!

“Satoru, does anyone ever tell you that you’re actually a genius, never mind the image you often set yourself up as?”

“Not routinely,” Gojo admits, his voice trailing off. “But it’s a refreshing change of pace to hear that every once in a while. So, what’s brewing in that puny noggin of yours?”

“That I’ll keep to myself,” Geto remarks, his eyes flitting to Gojo’s phone stuffed in his back pocket, buzzing with notifications. “But I can assure you it’s… a start, which is better than what I had before.”

“Ah, so you are catching on,” Gojo replies with a nod as he whips out his phone, typing away at a message thread with you. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised her I was going to meet up with her as a plus one at some party her roommates are dragging her to.”

“That’s usually my job,” Geto points out, shooting Gojo another glare but to that Gojo raises his hands in defense.

“Yeah, well, you can easily get that position back, if you just act now. So get dressed and go there with me. If she sees you with me then she’ll have no choice but to confront you.”

“Dressing up to the nines is certain to sweeten up the deal, don’t you think?” Geto murmurs while pondering over what could make you fold immediately as soon as you see him again since the breakup. He’s still not convinced you want to completely move on if you’re still messing around with Satoru, so that must mean there really is hope that things can still work out between the two of you, right?

…Right?

“Don’t ask me, you figure it out!” Gojo retorts with a huff. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to freshen up for a lovely girl waiting for me that you so stupidly let go!”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Geto exclaims and Gojo mock sympathetically pats him on the shoulder again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gojo dismisses, making an incessant yapping gesture with his free hand. “Thank goodness I'm not in my designer clothes or you would have owed me thousands right now.”

Geto’s jaw hangs open. “I’m in a crisis right now and that’s what you’re more worried about, wrinkles on designer clothes? God, that really is some nepo baby shit…”

“No, nepo baby shit is worrying about someone suing you for a car wreck just to scam you out of some money. This is just wanting to look fresh and clean, man!”

“Whatever, fucking nepo baby,” Geto counters with a little smirk playing on his lips now, which means at the very least, he’s feeling something other than mental turmoil at the idea of you slipping away from him.

Gojo straightens his posture, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You love me anyway.”

As per Gojo’s request, Geto doesn’t pick you up with him. Not unless he wants to be stuck in the car the entire time there, avoiding looking each other in the eyes, talking over the other because they don’t want to discuss anything around Satoru and not being involved in conversations involving the other. Gojo knows better than to put either of you on the spot like that; he has more class than he ever cares to let on (because he’d much rather be a show off and not let people know he has much depth to him at all).

Still, though. It’s not exactly becoming of a man like Geto who’s sitting somewhere at some secluded corner of the bar, dressed in a sapphire button up and black slacks, his black gauges accompanied with other piercings (some of which he’s still borrowing from your collection of diamond studs, just to sweeten the deal a little more). He’s set his obnoxiously thick hair free, cascading around his sharp face, accentuating his unique features. He’s definitely attracted potential rebounds but he’s not interested in rebounds. He’s only interested in winning you over again, whatever it takes. And he really means whatever it takes, because here he is, reapplying the cologne you love on him the most, hiding the necklace you’ve given him earlier on in your relationship beneath his skin tight v-neck top that usually gets you going because it still leaves just enough room for the imagination (as if you don’t already know and adore what’s underneath)…

This is just the bare bones of how far he’s willing to go just to drive the point home: he’s not going to lose you over the fact that he’s just a fucking idiot. Sometimes he doesn’t realize what’s in front of him. Good God, how long has it taken him to realize he’s fallen so hard in love with Satoru that he practically smacked his head onto the pavement when it dawned on him?

It’s not your fault he’s so fucking dense. He’s just as slow as Satoru, sometimes if not worse than he is when it comes to acknowledging anything because of how one-track minded he can be, and he’s willing to admit that to himself but never out loud. He and Satoru are far too alike than they ever even realize.

He breathes out through his nose, burying his head into his hands as he bounces his leg against his stool, waiting for the next course of action in whatever Satoru has planned with you tonight other than just being your plus one.

He has caught onto some of your roommates conversing with one another and trying to pick up some men who are too engrossed in some sports game on the televisions hanging above the bar, but he doesn’t bother going out of his way to exchange pleasantries. If any of them acknowledge him first, he does flash them a smile, at the very least, because even if he’s not that kind of guy he’s not going to be outright rude. If he’s going to win you back, he may as well try to win your friends over too. Their approval matters just as much as yours… he understands all too well how much what your circle of friends believe may influence your own and that’s precisely why he keeps his so small. (Aside from the fact that he is a firm believer in quality over quantity…)

His phone dings. A text.

Satoru: we’re going to be there in like 10 minutes or so, how’re you holding up?

Geto: that’s up for debate

Satoru: always so cryptic and ominous… you might as well be a member of the addams family

Geto: don’t text and drive

Satoru: awwwww someone’s worried about me ;)

Geto: satoru i WILL punch the lights out of you when you get here.

Satoru: you’re going to punch your face with my face? :D

Geto, having no way to respond to that, sets his phone down and signals the bartender for something stronger than a Screwdriver. Whatever they make him, it’s all going to be on Gojo’s tab anyway. He’s going to need that liquid courage for what he’s about to do tonight just for the sake of a girl.

But you’re not just any girl–you may as well be the love of his fucking life and he doesn’t use such language lightly.

No matter what, he’s winning you back. It is an inevitability in his life that you belong in it, and he knows better than to make the same mistake twice. What is it that they say? One time is a mistake. Twice is a conscious decision. Any more than twice, then there’s no chance of things ever being the same again and that’s the last thing he ever wants for someone like you, who is one in a billion, in his eyes.

But it’s one thing to say it and another thing to show it. And that’s where he fucked up.

He won’t ever again.

And as if the universe wants to toy with his feelings just a little more, someone shouting your name catches his attention and he twirls around on the bar stool he’s sitting on, jaw agape as he watches you strut into the bar with the sexiest LBD… is that the very LBD he’s ignored you putting on for him with that slit showing off your gorgeous legs? With that subtle shimmer and you’re even sporting that darker, sultry makeup look that’s excellent for a night out where you want to forget the fact that you’ve just called it off with your deadbeat boyfriend.

And he REFUSES to be the deadbeat boyfriend. Glancing at the drink the bartender so generously mixed for him, he dismisses it, adjusting his suit and tie as he hoists himself up from his seat and strides over toward you and Gojo who is lagging just behind you as your plus one like he promised with a kind of confidence and swagger he’s always been known to carry. Because for fuck’s sake, Gojo’s his best friend and maybe some of his behaviors have rubbed off on him a little.

The worst part is throughout the entire time he’s spent building the courage to do something about what’s become of the two of you, you haven’t even spared him a glance. From the moment you enter, you are soaking up the attention you get from your friends, some he doesn’t know, and your mutual friends, practically glowing so bright it might rival the full moon tonight. You have never looked happier, more at peace, and it’s because you kicked him out of your life.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets when he watches you saunter up to Ryomen Sukuna, of all the people in the world you are choosing to talk to, with a little flounce to those luscious hips of yours Geto is dying to sink his fingertips into while kissing you like he never wants to let you out of his grasp again… and he genuinely doesn’t, he understands his mistakes now, he wants to change himself, change for you, as long as he can make you happy and no one else.

Call him selfish, but the only person he’s ever going to allow sharing you is with Satoru Gojo. He’s never had an issue with sharing anything with his best friend and that includes you, but with Sukuna? That prick with that hard stare that looks like he’s undressing you with his eyes every second he gets and this time, for some reason, you aren’t quivering and are instead leaning into it? Do you know he’s standing there, completely dumbfounded as your hand slides up Sukuna’s chest, your shoulders shaking as you laugh at one of his super unfunny and probably downright creepy jokes? Haven’t you told him on several occasions Ryomen Sukuna does nothing but give you the fucking creeps? And not only that, but even Toji Fushiguro has shown up to your side, greeting you with a bear hug that you don’t shy away from for reasons that are utterly lost to him. He’s drinking in the sight and hating every flavor he’s being introduced to and he doesn’t know what to do to cease all of this nonsense. He has to make a move though and fucking sooner than too late.

He inhales sharply, adjusting his posture and continues to weave through all of these sweaty dancers who are holding their drinks up in the air while singing along to some cheesy pop song but none of that is even important to him right now. His eye is on his prize but your eyes are on everyone else but him.

He stops as someone zooms past him, almost wanting to cuss the person out but he decides that’s a battle not worth fighting because he’s only focused on you and how you seem to be so keen on feeling up Toji’s pecs now! God! Doesn’t that guy ever skip a workout? It might do everyone around him a lot of favors–like having a shot at winning their beautiful girlfriend back!

He stops, wetting his fingers and smoothing back his slick back bun of any flyaways before rubbing that hand on his slacks and using his dry hand to rest his hand on your back. He tries to put on that picture perfect smile but he can feel himself seething so much behind this smile of his that his teeth may crack from the pressure.

And then he catches it: the way your shoulders lock up, the way your eyes dull ever so slightly under the cycling LED disco lights flashing everywhere around the bar. Toji gives him a look but says nothing; he and Sukuna know what type of person not to cross and Suguru Geto definitely isn’t one of those people they should mess with at all.

You finally whip around, and his breath catches as he takes in your ethereal beauty, unmatched, no one in the world other than him can properly make it known just how much of a beauty you are to him. And he’s never going to make you feel anything other than beautiful and wanted.

He’s never going to let you slip from his grasp ever again.

This is the moment of truth.

“Hey,” he greets with a low purr, as his fingers spread across your back. You shiver under his touch. Ah. He still has an effect on you whether you choose to acknowledge it out loud or to yourself or not; that’s reassurance in a way. That means there is still a chance for the two of you to live a happily ever after together, frolicking in the sunset as the credits begin to roll in the film or whatever it is people these days find to be the pinnacle of romance.

“Um,” you blink, eyes flitting from one area to another–perhaps in search of Gojo? “Hi.”

“Stop giving me the cold shoulder, pretty girl,” he drawls with that classic smoldering look on his face which may as well rival James Dean himself, as he draws you closer into his body. He’s impressed you don’t openly protest–perhaps your conviction in the breakup isn’t as strong as you made him believe it is? Or is he just clinging onto false hope? Either way, he’s good with either option because there’s something he can shape and mold from it. “Why don’t you let me dance with you?”

“Because you’re not my date tonight,” you retort while sticking your nose in the air. “Satoru is.”

And speak of the fucking devil, he slides into the scene with a club soda in his hand because he’s not much of a drinker, casting Geto a look as if he hasn’t been plotting with him about winning you back just hours before all of this.

“Yeah, and I don’t exactly appreciate you trying to hog her attention, Suguru~” Gojo chides as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you toward him, or attempts to, anyway. Because Suguru’s grip isn’t budging. Not one bit. Even if Suguru has no problem sharing with Satoru, the whole point is that they share you. That’s the agreement. That’s the arrangement. He cannot let you go; he’s been dragged to the water and now he’s going to fucking take a sip.

“Fuck off, Satoru. For once,” he sneers, keeping his grip secure around your waist like you’re some consolation prize and he has a feeling this isn’t helping his case at all but what the hell else can he do right now if he wants to get you alone to talk? “I need to exchange a few words with her if you don’t fucking mind. YOu can have your fix of her later, but you remember what the rules are, don’t you?”

“Rules schmules,” Gojo quips, pecking your ear and making you giggle, which makes Geto’s blood sizzle beneath his skin. Gojo really is trying to stir the pot just because he has such a fucking appetite for the drama and not because he actually wants to help him out, huh? “All I can say is you snooze, you lose, Suguru, and I can’t believe you slept on a beauty like this lovely lady who I get to spoil all night. Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

That look of disgust immediately melds into one of adoration when you look at Gojo and Geto’s heart sinks into his stomach at the mere sight of you like this. That look should be toward him, not just with Gojo.

His grip tightens around your waist and you yelp a bit from the sudden pressure of Geto’s fingertips digging into the areas of your dress which expose your skin. His breath fans against the crook of your neck, and suddenly you’re covered in goosebumps. This position they put you in is definitely …

“Ummm…” you trail off, your face flustered as you try to wiggle between the two men who are acting more like grade schoolers on a playground right now… which is 100% your fault. You put yourself into this mess all because you wanted to feel more seen and this is not exactly what you had in mind… “Guys, don’t I get a say in this? You know I adore the both of you–!”

“--then why did you break up with me? You know by extension, that means breaking up with Satoru too, right?” Geto challenges, yanking you closer toward him but Gojo doesn’t lose his grip on you either, stopping him and now the two of them are closing in on you to the point where you can feel their pelvises grind on either side of your hips.

Oh for fuck’s sake…

Gojo’s breath fans against your face; your eyes fall to his face before flitting up to meet his electric blue eyes which are full of heat like blue stars.

“Did you know he was going to show up tonight and you conveniently left out that little detail, Satoru?” you ask in a demanding tone, and Gojo returns with a noncommittal hum while Geto doesn’t waste his time, feathering his lips along the crook of your neck like he’s reclaiming his territory.

“We’re in the middle of a fucking bar,” you point out with a growl and both men laugh.

“Come on, Princess, have a sense of adventure,” Gojo chuckles with a little twinkle in his eyes which can only mean trouble is brewing in that noggin of his. “Besides, we both really miss you, you know.”

“And just whose side are you on!?” you cry, exasperated as Gojo mirrors Geto’s movements, peppering kisses on the opposite side of your neck.

“Ours, by that I mean all three of us,” Gojo mumbles into your skin. “I want us to work out.”

“Ugh,” you groan, smacking your head. “This isn’t the most appropriate way to go about it when I just wanted a carefree night.”

“A carefree night when you look this good and I can’t be the one to sing praises to you like I’m part of a church choir?” Geto snarks as he bites onto your shoulder, making you jolt in place but they keep you secure. Arms snaking around your waist like chains. They’re not tugging and pulling you toward their direction and instead opting to share like they always do.

“And did you really think, even if you broke up with me and ended up going out with Satoru, it meant you lost me? We come together whether you expect it or not.”

“In more ways than one,” Gojo adds with a playful wink, but Geto shoots him a glare.

“While I appreciate the comedic timing, this isn’t the time, Satoru. Can you give us some time so we can talk about this for real? Go annoy Shoko or something. Or kick Toji in the dick for getting too close to her.”

“Toji would never have a shot with her and you know it,” Gojo replies easily and you can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I’m not attracted to bums,” you state, your stare boring into Suguru’s. “Clearly.”

Fucking ouch. You don’t need to read him to filth like this but Geto knows he definitely is deserving of all that and probably more and he’s just being let off a little easy with a few blows to his ego…

But he’s willing to swallow that along with his pride right fucking now!

“Baby,” he purrs, “I’m only here to take back what clearly belongs to me.”

“I’m not an object,” you sneer while narrowing your eyes into slits at him. The corners of his mouth twitch. So that game isn’t going to work on you either, huh? You’ve always been a tough nut to crack and that’s what he admires so much about you, and clearly he’s making an insult of that trait of yours now so he may as well backtrack and come up with an alternate plan on the spot!

His eyes roll up to meet Gojo’s, which are still occupied on you (and who can blame him? You’re a shining star amidst all of these duller ones).

“But seriously, Satoru,” Geto begins, as his hands slide slowly down your hips. You stiffen in their shared hold over you. “If you still want access to her you have to be fighting for her back with me, don’t you?”

“I mean,” Gojo retorts with his voice going up an octave. “I see your point and I raise you: I can’t fight all of your battles. You’re on your own here. I wasn’t the one who was neglecting her!”

Geto glances at you, then back at Gojo, and then at Gojo’s hands still around your hips, tangled with his. Something hitches in his throat. This is not the most ideal situation to put you in, he can see you attempting to wriggle your way out but with both him and Gojo keeping you in place that doesn’t make it easy for you at all.

“So will you let me take this elsewhere with her?” He meets your eyes. “Are you willing to hear me out?”

You mirror his actions before turning over to Gojo, nodding at him and with a little scowl (which you quickly remedy with a smooch on the corner of his lips), he separates from the two of you.

“Go kiss and make up with each other and hurry back. In the meantime, cheap bar food is waiting for me and I think I’m going to go annoy Shoko to death–”

“--I already pity her,” Geto snarks while scooping you into his arms practically and some brave soul whistles at his action while he whisks you away.

To the fucking restrooms. How fucking glamorous and romantic. Holy shit, is that some dried piss on one of the stall doors? Gross!

You glance around, fluffing your hair as you catch your reflection in the mirror. Geto peers at all the stalls ensuring there’s no one there to listen in (not that it matters, this should end as soon as it begins). If he thinks he’s going to get any just because he’s making an effort now then he’s got another think coming.

As well as more blows to that swollen, oversized pride of his.

Tapping your foot against the cold tiles in an impatient kind of rhythm, you wait for him to break the ice. You think you have done enough talking yourself, and you are a woman of your word, about hearing him out. See where that leads him. Maybe a black eye? A kick to the groin? That’s still letting him off easy because for fuck’s sake, you know how much you’re worth, and it’s not whatever he’s been giving you, for fucking sure.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he wrings his hands together as he meets your eyes. Those beautiful glittering eyes of yours that may only rival Satoru’s. Your eyes and your heart are like an atlas in his world. Such a cliche line but it’s true.

He addresses your name. You quirk an eyebrow, beckoning him to get a move on with this before you decide to walk out instead.

“Listen, I…” he starts, racking his mind for some form of a coherent argument as to why he hasn’t been as attentive as a partner as he should have been all of this time. “I don’t have an excuse, okay? You have every right to be upset with me, but what was with all of that before?”

“Shifting the blame onto me? Is that where we’re starting with this?” you shoot back with another narrowing of your eyes. Oh he’s never felt more judged in his life but he deserves every bit of it.

He takes a grounding breath. Here he goes again fucking up everything even more. Dragging his hand down his face, pulling down on his lower lip, he is still pondering over his words. If he’s not careful he’s going to dig himself into a six foot deep hole for you to kick him into and bury him alive. And maybe he’s not going to protest, because he almost would rather that than you moving on from him.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Geto finally says after a beat of silence. He takes a step forward toward you. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I get it–I was inattentive. I know I was. I wasn’t making you feel seen or appreciated and I’m in pain just thinking about how much I neglected you without realizing it before it was too late. This can’t be the point of no return for us if I’m trying to reach out, right? I’m not asking you to give me any credit because I don’t need you to. What I want is for things to be better between you and me, and you know I’ll do everything to make that happen.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, biting back a groan. “Suguru, I’ve said it a million times: it’s one thing to say it and another thing to act on it. Love by itself isn’t enough, you know. It’s a choice. You have to make it work. Otherwise there’s no spark here.”

“Don’t say that,” Geto protests, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I want things to work.”

“Trapping me in the middle of a bar and pinning me against you and your best friend isn’t exactly the best way to go about it! I felt completely objectified!” you counter, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Sometimes I just don’t know who the hell you and Satoru think you are! Like what, you think I’m your property, or something? You have rights to everything about me as if I’m not my own goddamn person?”

“Of course not!” Geto retorts, appalled that you would even consider such distasteful things about him among all of the other distasteful things you have accused him of since you broke up with him. “Of course you’re your own damn person! Satoru and I got a little ahead of ourselves, sure, but only because we find you irresistible and perfect. Goddamn it, I”m sorry I wasn’t attentive enough, but you have no idea how much I adore you and need you with me. I love the way your eyes sparkle whenever you talk about something that happened on your favorite drama series or how engrossed you get when you’re in the middle of something that means something to you. I love that when your favorite song plays you have to act as if you’re in a music video or a play with that song and you drag me along to do your silly little skits. I love that you call people out on their bullshit and don’t pull your damn punches when you do. I love–!”

–your eyes soften as your voice drops to a whisper. “Suguru…”

“--I’m not finished, dammit. I love that I spend most of my days knowing I can come home to you. I get through my days knowing that you’re who I get to come home to and I fucked that up. I fucked that up royally and I get it, words are cheap and actions are louder. But goddammit, if it’ll take me until my dying breath to get a smile on that stupidly gorgeous face of yours, then I mean it when I say that I will do everything to make that happen.”

You’re rendered a speechless, blundering mess, face flushed a deep yet flattering shade of red for your complexion. Maybe you have taken this a few steps too far yourself, but all you wanted was to be seen and you suppose you are after all.

If you don’t know any better steam might be blowing out of your ears out of sheer embarrassment over how far you’ve blown this entire thing out of proportion. Now you’re the one feeling like a total ninny, certain your body is going to melt into a puddle of goop because there’s a part of you that can’t resist Suguru Geto like some shriveling school girl who keeps tripping over herself.

Suguru calls your name again, gets your attention. Ugh you hate that his voice pulls you in even when you’re frustrated as fuck with him and with yourself.

“S-sorry, that was just, um, a lot to take in at once,” you stutter, trying to compose yourself and find some kind of footing again in this conversation. Aren’t you supposed to be having a screaming match with each other? Instead he’s going on listing off all the things he loved about you which means yes while he has been negligent he still has paid attention to you.

“Take your time,” Geto tells you, which makes your heart sink to your stomach this time. He’s always so goddamn patient with you, even when you don’t deserve his grace! “I’m not going anywhere. Not any time soon.”

He glides closer to you, cupping your face. You sniffle a little, feeling far more than just a little silly for everything that’s happened all because you let your feelings get the better of you. It’s human to err, but this is a royal fuck up on your part, too.

So you begin to apologize.

“I–!”

–yet he silences you with a tender kiss, which that action alone speaks for itself, speaks louder than any words he’s going to pull right out of his ass but you still feel like you need to address your own shortcomings…

He pulls away for a moment, staring down into your eyes with that soft look he reserves only for you or Satoru. It’s maddening how easily he forgives you compared to how easily you forgive him. His thumbs stroke your cheeks and your mouth is suddenly void of moisture.

No words left in you right then, either. So if you’re going to get onto him about not acting, you may as well follow up on your side of the argument. Grabbing a fistful of his fancy dress shirt (he’s not vain like Satoru), and pulling him in for another desperate kiss.

Soon you find your back hitting the edge of the sinks behind you, and Geto takes the liberty of hoisting you up by your bottom and helping you perch on there while he deepens the kiss, humming in approval. He doesn’t seem all that angry with you… but somehow you find that maddening because he should show more emotion sometimes! He is always so… reserved and collected like nothing touches him when you know for a fact that isn’t true. He thinks he’s above feeling anything other than completely alright with the status quo which is another thing you have to address but one day at a time.

You find yourself swinging your legs while wrapping your arms around his neck, nipping onto his lips and playfully pulling on his bottom lip. He stares down at you with that trademark wolfish grin on him that makes him so unbelievably irresistible in that moment. You’re about to lean in for another kiss, but then the door swings open with Gojo holding a few plates of food and the background noise of some of the bar music seeming kind of distant where you are.

“Did you two make up and fuck yet? Ohoho, I guess I checked in on you two right on time before someone else waltzed in here!” Gojo laughs, “Seriously guys, as brilliant as it is that you’ve made some progress here I don’t think it’s sanitary to fuck in a public restroom. We should save that for after we stuff our holes and then stuff someone’s gorgeous holes later.”

”Satoru!” Geto yells at him, exasperated and unimpressed. You can’t help but cackle, never mind how crass Gojo is (that’s basically ingrained in his DNA).

You sneak a kiss while Geto’s caught up in reprimanding Gojo on the corner of his lips, and Geto gasps while he glances at you, this time his face flushing a beautiful crimson and that’s not the only place that’s going to be red later if you have anything to say about it.

”We can talk more about this later,” you tell him, “This might not have been your greatest plan but thank you for reminding me of something important.”

”Oh? What’s that?”

”That you and Satoru really do see me,” you answer as your lips quirk into a small grin. Geto’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest, and he rests his hand over it to ground himself.

“I never meant to make you feel anything less than.”

”Huh? Less than what?” you beckon, tilting your head.

“That’s it. Less than. Less than what you’re worth, which is everything.”

Ugh.

“You’re going to make me lose all feelings in my legs,” you mutter, but you’re not angry, just frustrated because how can someone be so poetic without meaning to be?

Geto grins wide, so wide it eerily resembles Gojo’s when he is scheming something.

”Not yet,” he promises.

You smack your head as you follow him out sometime after Gojo leaves.

Oh no… now he even has a little skip to his step as he takes your hand in his, leading you toward one of the more spacious areas in the bar. Your roommates acknowledge you and one of them is pumping her fist, cheering for you, and you try not to read too much into it but you’re glad you have a good circle of folks around you. One of your roommates who has never felt any kind of way toward Geto does give him a bit of the stink eye but that’s only because she’s more on the protective side; she harbors similar feelings toward Gojo. The rest of the night moves faster than you can blink, and you exit the bar with your arms hooked around one of Gojo’s and one of Geto’s.

After your personal afterparty with the two of them, the three of you are tangled in Satoru’s bed together while you mindlessly scratch along Satoru’s scalp like a calming exercise. Whether he admits it out loud or not Geto is a thousand times clingier especially after sex with you than Gojo is so he has his head resting on your chest while playing around with your phone instead of his. All about that skin on skin contact even when all of your bodies are drenched in sweat… it is both disgusting and weirdly intimate all at once, but that’s the nature of sex itself, isn’t it?

Gojo eventually into the cuddle fest confesses to Geto that the two of you never did anything together after you broke up with him and it was all just a charade to get him to act, to which he says he doesn’t mind, because he deserved it. And yes, indeed he deserved every bit of that and then some because you put him through way more than just fooling around with just Satoru.

“I still didn’t like the idea of you humoring any of Sukuna’s texts to you,” Geto scoffs as he scrolls through your text thread with the aforementioned acquaintance. “This guy ought to get buried six feet under for how he’s talking to you like you’re just a fresh piece of meat.”

”You make him sound cannibalistic,” you remark with a teasing grin. Geto shakes his head as he hones in on a particular text, making him grimace.

He presents you with your phone screen. “What the hell? ‘Would love to see you on all fours, gorgeous thing’? Is this grown ass man for real? Is that supposed to be flattering?”

”Sounds like borderline harassment to me,” Gojo comments while chewing on some licorice. He offers you one and you decline. Geto takes a small bite off of his piece, but makes a face at the taste. Not a fan of sweets as a whole but he still tries whatever Gojo shoves down his throat (especially his dick).

You curl your lips in disgust again. How can anyone like black licorice? Apparently Satoru… who otherwise has the palate of a five year old.

“Fuck, yes it does. Should we pay him a visit?” Geto suggests and Gojo nods eagerly, making you bury your face into your palms. These two…

“We’re just saying—you don’t deserve to be objectified. You said so yourself you’re not a fan of it,” Geto brings up, and you sigh, relaxing your shoulders.

So he really does see you, huh? Shaking your head to yourself, you find yourself snorting at your own foolishness. Silly. So damn silly you are. For someone who makes a big deal about ensuring there is ample communication between the three of you, you sure feel like a bit of a hypocrite right now. But again, it’s not like you haven’t tried to talk things out with Suguru far before all of this began.

Speaking of which…

You plant a swift kiss on his cheek, and his bewildered indigo eyes meet yours. You smile a little. There’s still plenty of time to discuss the elephant in the room, but not when they’re all appreciating each other’s afterglow. Suguru traces a finger along your collarbone, leaving a reverent trail of kisses after.

“Man I didn’t expect to be third wheeling in my own relationship,” Gojo interjects with an exaggerated frown on his face. You laugh before planting a kiss to his lips, which instantly makes that frown disappear. No one likes to see such a ball of sunshine (and insufferableness) upset too long. Time to make that frown upside down! (Ah it seems he is rubbing off on you too…)

While you’re attending to Satoru’s neediness, kissing down his neck and making him purr like a content kitten, Suguru continues to trail kisses along your cleavage before trailing to your back, kissing down your spine, hiking your leg up—

“—if you try anything, I’m going to kick you in that stupid pretty face of yours,” you warn, “I don’t think I have another orgasm in me.”

”If you would be so kind as to let me challenge that theory…” he murmurs, face inching closer to your intimates.

”Suguru,” you chide again, “Not now.”

”Fiiiine,” he pouts, behaving as indignant as Satoru would be when he’s denied his favorite sweet.

He still doesn’t stop himself from kissing along your thighs and just in general continuing other ways of spoiling you to death, which in that case, who are you to deny him something like that?

Satoru lets out a little yawn that surprises even him as he tries to snuggle you a little closer into him and you nuzzle your face into his strong pecs. He may be skinny and lanky like Geto but his build is still sturdy. You draw circles around his unoccupied pec and he responds with a dreamy sigh. As messy as things can get with the three of you—a lot of it’s your fault this time—you can honestly say with your full chest that it’s in these moments where all of those other trying times make it all worth it. You don’t want things to go south with any of you so as long as they try to remember not to take each other for granted, then this could be all you need in your life. This is worth settling down for—these two gloriously hopeless men who you have fallen helplessly in love with yourself.

“Baby?” you hear Satoru sleepily murmur as he decides it’s time to retire to sleep finally… you glance at your phone screen to see it’s just over a quarter after 3AM and you know at least for yourself you have a pile of work to attend to tomorrow. That can be tomorrow’s issue, along with still talking things out…

“Hm?” you acknowledge him as both you and Geto join him.

“You’re going to stick with us forever, right?” he prompts, glancing at you with hope in his eyes like some impressionistic child.

“What are you, five? You do forget how finite our lives are, don’t you?” Geto interjects with a judgy look. You huff at his remark, which while true and another inevitability about their lives, he should still be a little more sensitive about Gojo’s feelings as well.

”Humor him, Suguru,” you chide with a playful whack on his shoulder blade, making him grunt in response. “Of course, Satoru. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncertain.”

”I know,” he remarks, before glancing at Suguru. “Er, we know.”

You chuckle at their antics, as Geto and Gojo simultaneously cage an arm around you and keep you snug in between them like nearly every night spent together. Just the three of them. The three of you work as a unit; you can’t believe you’re about to let all of that go just because you didn’t communicate your needs effectively enough. You have learned your mistake; you only hope Geto has learned his. There’s more to discuss when your mind isn’t about to drift off into blissful unconsciousness with the two men you love completely and wholly and hopelessly.

Both Gojo and Geto plant a kiss on your cheeks, and you stifle a laugh. Oh, how silly you are, how silly, indeed.

“You better not break up with me again,” Geto warns but you pick up on the playful undertone. You roll your eyes, before exchanging a look with Gojo.

“Way to ruin a moment, Suguru,” Gojo scolds, shooting him a look. “And that’s usually my role! We were just getting all cozy and stuff and you had to go and make some empty threat.”

“It’s almost like that was the idea,” Geto counters with a smirk.

“Just go to fucking sleep you two,” you groan as you flutter your eyes shut. “If I hear one more word come out of either of your mouths I’m washing them out with soap tomorrow morning.”

“Jesus,” Gojo breathes, his breath fanning your forehead a bit. “Whatever you say, Princess. We’re just glad you’re not leaving us for real any time soon.”

“Damn right she isn’t or we’re going to have serious issues,” Geto grumbles. You fall asleep to a bit more of them arguing as per tradition at this point, but it’s all white noise to you now.

It’s something to remind yourself to be grateful about having in your life.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #geto x you #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #erixtales #thotbubbles

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boiohboii · 2 years ago

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The Royal Way 《Pt.2》

(Leclerc!reader x Prince of Monaco!oc)

After his older sister marries into the Monaco Royal family, Charles knew he would be treated differently, to his surprise (and his sister's disappointment) his F1 team, ferarri, treated him the same way.... and that did not sit well with the new princess of Monaco

in which YN Leclerc uses her new familial connections to fuck up ferarri just like how they fucked up her baby brother's hopes and dreams.

N.B: so, this was supposed to be longer and the last part, but it's currently 3 AM and I have classes at 8 AM thus me splitting this little fic into a trilogy. Hopefully, I will have time tomorrow to post the third and final part! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!! WARNINGS: NOT REALISTIC AT ALL!! if you are looking for a realistic revenge sort of plot, it is not here, I tried as best as I can to search up what the whole electronic system does and it's relation to the DRS, BUT I AM BY NO MEANS AN EXPERT NOR HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE, SO EXCUSE THE POOR RESEARCH. The car designs are from Pinterest... Some swear words (fuck, bitch, etc...) Let me know if I missed anything else please!

Faceclaims:

yn leclerc --> anya taylor joy

Prince Thierry --> louis partridge

Masterlist // part 1

Liked by ferrariisdone, charlesthefrench, leclercfam and 716,920 others

F1_updates_live: Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc heading into the Ferrari motor home in LA. Neither of the Royals look ecstatic to be in this position and it's no doubt to do with the statement released by Ferrari's Formula one media team, where they had essentially blamed the newly wedded Princess, YN Leclerc and their own driver, Charles Leclerc, for his DNF in the previous GP.

username: let them cook

username: the amount of bodyguards they have is insane

username: they do not look happy

username: yeah, no shit sherlock, ferrari basically said that it was yn's fault that Charles is distracted

username: ferrari blaming everyone but themselves

LEAKED AUDIO FROM LAS VEGAS GP, FERRARI'S MOTORHOME: tensions rise in the Ferrari garage as the young royals of Monaco, Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc, threaten Fred Vasseur of taking him to court after buying out the rest of Charles' contract with Ferrari.

(Princess YN Leclerc,Prince Thierry, Fred Vasseur)

"It has been proven time and time again that the team is so incompetent! Why won't you do any changes?"

"Do you think that it's easy? These are people's livelihoods we are talking about"

"You do realise you are talking to a princess, right? She is well aware of how to run a business and a team, unlike you."

"I am just saying that I can't just fire people because Charles can't manage the car!"

"CAN'T MANAGE THE CAR? Are you out of your fucking mind mr. Vasseur? There is evidence, very strong evidence for your information, that the problem was from the electronic system. Do you have any idea how fucked up your engineers and strategists have to be to send out a car with failed electronic system?"

"Correct me if I am wrong my darling, but don't the electronic system control the DRS?"

"Mmhhmmm"

"And if the DRS opens in a corner it might result in a crash, am I correct mr. Vasseur?"

"The DRS was fine, there was-"

"My husband is asking a yes or no question Fred."

"Yes."

"So basically, Ferrari's Formula one team had, intentionally and with their knowledge, put a member of the monegasque royal family in direct danger."

"But Charles isn't a member of the royal family! He is only YN's half brother!"

"PRINCESS YN MR VASSEUR! YOU WILL DO WELL TO REMEMBER THAT!"

"Charles is my brother, and you dare put him in harm's way. I am princess YN Leclerc of Monaco, I can and I will hold you accountable as the principal of this team."

"You can't do anything! Carlos had the same car-"

"Carlos did not have the same car and you know it!"

"We already know Fred, we have had professional inspections done on both cars, it's quite deceiving really, telling a driver that he's the priority and still disappointing him every single time."

🔊 a thud is heard 🔊

"This is the amount of money to buy Charles out of Ferrari, but don't spend it Fred, we will be getting it back in court."

"YN WHAT WE-"

"PRINCESS YN FRED! *sigh* it seems like no matter what you are still convinced that you and your workers did no wrong, we will see about that."

"There is only one race left, there will be no team to take in Charles now!"

"Oh, we are not looking for a team to take him in, we made a team for him."

{Taglist: @phillydilly @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @omgsuperstarg @formulas-bitch @brakingboundaries @kyuupidwrites}

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subway-boss-jericho · 3 months ago

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. though it's the end of the world . don't blame yourself

Goodbye To A World - Porter Robinson

Animatic by ME!! It's DONE AAAA!!!! Mechanical Dreams is my submas AU you can read more about here!!

I don't know how to caption this! So much work and effort went into this! I'm so fucking mentally ill about them! Please watch my animatic I'm dying! Look at my complex and intensely thorough plot decisions boy. I Am Dying!!!!

Anyways I hope you all are having a good time! I'm having a great time!! oughh. I don't normally ask this but if you enjoy the animatic please please reblog this post. My stuff doesn't get around much and I am dying for folks to check this out after all the effort it took to make it.

Ingo's replaying his memories under the ocean, Emmet's fallen into a coma following his brother entering stasis, Hisui is safe from the dynamax pokemon again. It's time for the crew to repay all the pent up mistrust, hesitation and negative stigma around their heroes. It's time to make up for the blood that was shed and the bridges that were burnt in the name of keeping them safe. Emmet is asleep and Ingo is missing, and though they may not know how to save them yet, the people of Hisui will not let the legend of The Steel Titan and The Engineer fade.

And so, Time begins to pass.

Emmet is asleep and Ingo is missing, but their memory is alive, and someday they will wake again.

(As per usual if you are a bl\nkshipper please do not interact)

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i-will-cry-you-a-river · 1 year ago

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Based on this post

The Proud Immortal Demon Way was a clusterfuck. Master Airplane was a fucking hack of an author who should never ever be allowed to write papapa. The characters were complete idiots, so blind and stupid and Shen Yuan suspected the close proximity to the abundance of aphrodisiacs was to be blamed for the lack of intelligence points. The plot was nonexistent, the fantastic flora and fauna was forgotten for more pointless papapa. However!

However…

Shen Yuan had to admit. The fanarts and fan merch did not do justice to the beauties residing in the universe.

That hack of an author could not write porn. But his characters really were peerless beauties. One would think if the beauty standards were this high that everyone was a peerless beauty, they should be considered as normal.

One would think it wrong. If he could, he would take back his comments on this specific topic; their beauties really were peerless.

One, like the blooming peach blossom, charming and deceptively sweet; another like the oak tree, tall and reliable; and another like the prettiest blue iris, knowledgeable and lovely. It was a disaster.

Back then it was only the blackened protagonist and his life sized body pillow that made him go through a sexuality crisis. As a shut-in, the people he met with never really made him feel warm under the collar, so being gay was only a theoretical experience for him, only having crushes on fictional people. Now, on the other hand, it was a completely different experience.

He couldn't even step outside of his bedroom without feeling like an emotional wreck. The minute he does that-

“This discipline made breakfast for Shizun!”

The radiant halo of the protagonist blinded him day after day; his precious white lotus is just the cutest and purest, fluffiest sheep ever. Shen Yuan can see the future Emperor in him, the husband of hundreds of pretty flowers, but he was still just his 17 years old discipline, so filial and full of wonder.

Ah, Binghe, such a good boy for this master…

“This master is thankful. Go along now, your shijie is waiting for you,” Shen Qingqiu waved his fan. His little white lotus pouted as if Shen Qingqiu would believe he wasn't excited to spend time with his future wife. He encouraged the two of them to spend time together, and he was certain that the sweet and touching young love bloomed under his careful watch. He was like a fairy godmother…

[-10 protagonist satisfaction points]

Shen Qingqiu sighed behind his open fan. Luo Binghe started to become a homebody, which, as a past homebody himself, knew was a slippery slope and even with all the lost points, he had to make sure his white sheep left the bamboo house. Staying home was great, but when you were the future Emperor of the Three Realms, defeater of countless monsters and husband of a triple digits harem, you just had to learn how to be open to new experiences. Sorry, Binghe…

“Yes, Shizun! This discipline will leave now.” Luo Binghe bows, and it takes everything not to touch and pat his fluffy head.

“Good. This master expects excellence from his disciples.”

“Yes, Shizun. This discipline understands and will do everything to exceed Shizun’s expectations.”

Such a filial discipline! Such a sweet white lotus! This one is truly a scum villain to do what he needs to do.

[Host is-]

I know I know! You don't have to remind me![(⁠ب⁠_⁠ب⁠)]

Shen Qingqiu sighed, hiding his shame and regret behind his mask. He really was just a scum villain.

With a conscious decision to not think about the future, he ate his breakfast instead, noting the protagonist’s amazing cooking powers. He would miss this after Luo Binghe gets married and starts to cook for his wives instead.

Maybe the guy he finds for himself will be good at cooking… nothing compared to the protagonist, of course, but nobody can be compared to him. That would be unfair for his potential partner.

However, even though he'd been Shen Qingqiu for three years, he hasn't yet found anybody for himself. He tried to flirt, he tried to see who might be gay other than him - statistically, there should be SOMEONE, right?! -, but no results.

The Sect Leader immediately brother-zoned Shen Qingqiu through his and the original good's past bond, which was quite unfair in Shen Yuan's opinion. Yue Qingyuan was a fine specimen of a man. Strong and reliable, just the kindest man Shen Qingqiu ever met. He was the perfect man, THE husband material. Yet, the original good has been so cold to him, cruelly causing his death, even though they were like brothers. Shen Yuan wouldn't have minded the Sect Leader as his husband; someone loyal and powerful, someone who could protect him from his blackened lotus. So unfair…

His Liu-shidi, the prettiest man alive, was so straight, only the protagonist was straighter than him. Shen Qingqiu was honestly sad for him; all the women in PiDW belonged to the Emperor. He was quite tempted to find a way to punch Airplane Shooting Towards Sky in his face for making Liu Qingge straight. Look. Shen Yuan was a weak, weak man; if Liu Qingge would show the slightest inclination to be at least bi-curious, he would be all over his shidi in a heartbeat. That man, honestly… it was no wonder the author killed him before the plot. Liu Qingge was typically the Second Male Lead, who was the boyfriend of all readers. (He definitely would have been Shen Yuan's fictional boyfriend, that's for sure. Maybe if he would have stayed alive in the novel, Shen Yuan wouldn't have minded the lack of plot that much. Liu Qingge would have definitely made the whole thing a thousand times better just by being alive. Like he did it now. The best times of the week were when his shidi visited him to spar or to cleanse his meridians.)

Shen Qingqiu had high hopes for Mu Qingfang. The doctor was quite queer in the sense of being weird. He hoped he was queer as in gay as well. However, the only time Shen Qingqiu tried to flirt with him, resulted in a two day stay at Cang Qiong mountain under constant supervision. That was a quite humiliating result, if he could say so.

Shen Qingqiu bit back a groan. No matter; that was just the peak lords he kept close contact with. He had the whole universe to find that one (1) gay person who would be happy to spend that depressingly short amount of time with him until he was still alive. He might have only five years to live, before he would become a human stick, but he would NOT die as a virgin disaster gay. He would remain a disaster gay forever, but he would lose his virginity before his death, damnit!

Now, volunteer, where are you?

Here they are

#shen yuan #shen qingqiu #svsss #svsss fanfiction #sy transmigrated after realizing he is gay au #luo binghe #liu qingge #yue qingyuan #mu qingfang #sqq's harem #bingqiu #liushen #mushen #yueshen

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whisperingmidnights · 17 days ago

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39. Falling into someone’s arms with my fav feysandove, pretty pleaseeee 💗💗💗

My looooove hiiiiiii 💕 you're heeeeere. Post-CS fluff combined with silver fox!Rhys floating around has given me ideas.

From this list

Having all of the children out of the house for the night is a rare occasion. Even more rare that Mor asks Feyre to join her at Rita's without extending an invitation to the rest of us. Not that Rhys minds, I think. After the servants left or retired for the evening, he was more than content to crawl into bed next to me and read over my shoulder.

"You could get your own book," I tease as he pulls my braid back over my shoulder, baring my neck for his lips to explore. He hums against my skin, pulling at the sleeve of my nightgown until it slips from my shoulder.

"Yours is much more interesting."

"You're not even reading it."

"Oh, I'm getting more than enough information about the plot from all of the thoughts you send down the bond."

"Oh," I mutter, flushing as I begin to close the book. A large, brown hand lands in the center of it, and I look over to find those violet eyes focused intensely on my face.

"Did I say to stop?"

"No."

"Let me in," he murmurs, removing his hand from the pages to slide it beneath the comforter. The hem of my dress slides up my thighs as those eager fingers dive between them. "Let me see what your lovely imagination conjures while you enjoy your book. I promise to be good."

"Good," I laugh, leaning up to ghost my lips over his as I settle back against the pillows. The silver at his temples shines in the golden candlelight, and the shadows along his jaw make him look more like the rake from my book than I'd like to admit. "It doesn't feel like you're worried about being very good at all, Rhysand."

"On the contrary, my dove. Every day, I think of exactly how many ways I can be good to you-" his fingers falter against the gusset of my panties as we hear stumbling footsteps in the sitting room, followed by high pitched humming and giggles as something glass definitely shatters. My mate sits up, brows creasing in concern as I sit back with a sigh, my book dropping into my lap. "Feyre?"

The bedroom door opens, revealing our mate in all her drunken glory. The shoes she left with this evening are nowhere to be seen, and that thin, sparkly dress inches higher with every faltering step. Her makeup is smudged and her hair is a mess, and I don't think she's ever looked more beautiful.

"Have fun with Mor?" Rhys asks, sitting up next to me with a teasing grin. I miss the feeling of his hands on me, but I can't bring myself to blame Feyre for her abominable timing. It's better, safer, that she's home with us in a state like this. She dances her way over to Rhysand's side of the bed, her movements loose and a little uncoordinated.

"So much fun," she agrees, bright-eyed and flushed. "But I missed you both. Smells like I interrupted- oh!"

Her toes catches the upturned corner of the rug and she pitches forward, hurtling towards the corner of the nightstand. Luckily, Rhys still moves fairly quickly, catching her before her temple can connect with the wood and hauling her into bed between us. I scoot over with a sigh, waving away his apologetic look as I roll out to go scrounge up a glass of water and some bread.

#talk to me #ask game #feysand x reader #cs related

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rivtictics · 1 month ago

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Can someone explain to me the lore of the crystal in AHWM and ISWM, like I know the basics but idk I feel like it wasn't explained enough for it to make sense at least to me.

Also... Lunky?? With the weird lore-like beginnings of some "3 scary games" videos, what's up with that?? Not to mention the glitches sometimes occurring in Mark's videos, you could blame it on technical difficulties if not for the fact that some of them have hidden codes, I will show you what I mean with the glitches if you don't know what I'm talking about later when I'll have some spare time, but yeah, what the hell. I need to know cuz the things I mentioned feel like plot holes to me, and not the "canon plot holes that make sense because it's part of the plot" type like with Wilford for example.

Sorry for the long post but I'm just really curious about what it all means, I just don't know what I'm missing. Is Lunky even a part of the main lore?? Also I forgot to add that the glitches are related to Lunky.

I really need to make an obsidian board for the markiplier cinematic universe fr

#markiplier fandom #markiplier cinematic universe #markiplier #markiplier egos #wilford warfstache #ahwm #iswm #adwm #wilford motherloving warfstache #darkiplier #celine the seer #who killed markiplier #damien wkm #wkm actor mark #actor mark #wkm colonel #i should go to sleep #its late

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johanna-swann · 2 months ago

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Post 8x16 thoughts nobody asked for:

Starting with the positives: The episode was solid and it did make me quite emotional. I really liked the flashbacks and ghost!Bobby. It would've felt incredibly weird if we'd just never got to see him again and I miss him so much already. Bobby is probably my favourite character on this show. Was. I wonder if there are going to be many more flashbacks in the last two episodes.

Kenneth Choi FINALLY got a plot that actually revolved around his character again, not Maddie. It wasn't about her trauma or their marriage, their child, their future as a couple, it was about Chimney as an individual outside of his relationship with Maddie. (It's been 84 years, etc.) He did such a good job too. Chimney is usually the peacemaker, now he's the pot-stirrer. A few lines seemed somewhat over the top and illogical: On the one hand he insists he blames Bobby for giving up on finding a way out and that he doesn't really blame himself (he wishes Bobby had lived, he thinks it's unfair he got to live and Bobby didn't, but he doesn't believe it was his fault), then again he says stuff like "I already killed my last Captain". Idk, seems like they were forcing the drama here a little. But all in all I'm glad they focused on Chim again for once. They already gave us a very beautiful Buck&Chim scene and I hope they follow up on this a little more.

Athena being a little all over the place yet still trying to stay on top of things and doing her lone wolf thing was very in character. (Also a great opportunity taken with the fight between her and Chim.) I kinda wish she had gone to someone and admitted she needs help/comfort/support instead of everyone having to chase after her, but oh well. Her scenes with Hen and her kids especially were amazing.

On to the questionable stuff: I did not expect there to be a time skip this big (Hen back at work? Chim back at work? Maddie much more visibly pregnant? It's been a month at least I'd guess, but it kinda worked.) and I didn't expect the funeral to just be a montage at the end of the episode. Look at all the trucks and ambulances, the street had to be closed down, there were dozens of extras and everything. This must've cost the show a fortune AND it got spoiled weeks and weeks in advance. For an end of episode montage. Not worth it, very much not worth it. No wonder this show has budgeting issues. Who needed this? We already know Bobby was a hero. You don't have to convince us by squeezing a few more trucks and engines in one frame in a montage at the end of the episode.

In general I wish we'd got a little less pizzazz around the funeral and instead a little more focus on the characters. Athena and Chimney got their chance to shine and it looks like Hen will battle her grief through the Captaincy question next episode, but between the burning water and end of season earthquake disaster - when will the other characters have time to grieve? Bobby's mother was there, but she didn't have a single line. Buck was... extremely well put together (for now). Eddie had very little to do in general.

Also, why did they bring back Gerrard AGAIN only for him to play grumpy but sympathetic grandpa AGAIN? He got to show more of his grief than Buck, Eddie, Ravi, Maddie, Karen, Tommy or Hen. Why do they keep bringing him back and why do they keep writing him as a bit of a drill sergeant, but otherwise harmless? That is the same guy who called Tommy a fairy to his face last season, right? At least this time they confirmed upfront a different Captain will be taking over soon and I guess we should be grateful Brad was only there as a foto on that shrine.

The episode also didn't answer any of the burning questions that still remain with other loose ends. Like what will happen with Eddie? He was barely in the episode, he came to LA alone and had next to no dialogue. It was impossible to read the vibes here one way or another. I still have no clue whether he'll move back during the finale or leave the show after season 8.

They still didn't adress the Bucktommy situationship. And let me be clear, I didn't want or expect a full love confession / reunion or confrontation / closure subplot, but they didn't even exchange so much as a glance. Buck voiced his intention to call Tommy, talk things through and apologise for lashing out in 8x11. 8x16 is over now and they still haven't talked even though we had a few time skips and months have gone by. They're not only dragging this out for us as the viewers, a huge amount of time has also passed in universe.

Again, there are only two episodes left, both of which seem to have big emergencies and there is a lot of ground they still need to cover. We need an answer to the Eddie question, they need to make a decision about Bucktommy one way or another, they need to name a new Captain, they need to let the other characters grief, Maddie needs to give birth at some point (they could let this happen between seasons, but why would they?), there will possibly be more flashbacks and they only have ~90 minutes for all of it.

So yeah, 8x16 by itself was fine, love how they involved Peter Krause and Athena working through her grief by working a case was interesting to watch. But I'm growing more and more agitated about the things they haven't addressed yet.

(I mostly worry about Buck's plot(s) tbh. For Hen they already confirmed she'll have to think about stepping up as Captain. Maddie and Chim will have a second child. Athena and Chim had a lot of screen time this week. The Texas arc is almost over, they can just have Eddie move back and give him a bigger plot again next season or give him a heartfelt goodbye and be done with it. All of that seems manageable even in 2 episodes. But Buck has two big unfinished businesses NOW that are somewhat complex and I hope to god they don't plan on dragging them into season 9. They already didn't let him have feelings about Maddie's abduction in a way that was absolutely ridiculous and only made an off-handed "oh he handles it rather maturely" comment in an interview to explain it, if they now also gloss over Buck's grief and have him handle losing Bobby "maturely" then I will lose it. Also they either need to give us at least a hint at a Bucktommy reunion or finally let Tommy go. I can't handle a second summer break like the last one.)

#911 abc #911 spoilers #911 discourse #bucktommy #<- target audience

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it-was-summer · 10 months ago

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Come In With The Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, I'm so sorry for the late posting. I know that I don't have a new chapter of 'Video Killed the Radio Star' out yet, but stay with me here. This is part one (of two) of my 500 followers post! I want to thank everyone for reading and being so sweet throughout the years. I really hope you all like this first part! The second part will probably be posted sometime this upcoming week. AND IT WILL BE 18+. I'm estimating sometime between Thursday and Saturday. Again, this is not proofread because I never learn. Love you all- Em <3

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

You are on Part One! -> Part Two

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Slow burn ahh fanfiction, emotional cheating, an accusation of emotional cheating, couple fighting, sex mentioned, alcohol mentions, drunk reader at one point, light cursing, babygirl Spencer Reid, suggestion BLINK AND YOU MISS IT SUGGESTION that Reid is Bi, reader is referred to as a woman, she/her/hers pronouns at some parts, and mention of feeling like a burden. AND probably something else, idk.

Plot: Spencer Reid becomes friends with you after bumping into you at a grocery store. Instantly enamored with you he develops a crush. A crush, apparently destined to fail, because why wouldn't you have a boyfriend?

Word Count: 10,365 (That's correct... 24 PAGES)

Day One

Almost everyone could agree that Spencer’s job was incredibly arduous. If not arduous, it was strenuous, formidable, occasionally crushing, onerous; the list goes on. Overall, his job –despite all its pitfalls– was something he loved. There was one thing he was starting to hate more than anything, though: he couldn’t seem to keep all his groceries from going bad after a week of back-to-back cases.

Spencer narrows his eyes at his messy handwriting, looking back and forth between the paper in his hands and the cans in front of him. He just couldn’t find the can that he was looking for. Penelope had loaned him her recipe a few weeks back, and despite his disastrous efforts in the kitchen, he was determined to give it a shot. His mother never taught him how to cook –not that he blamed her, of course– so it was truly an area in which he simply lacked a lot of skill. Given his eidetic memory, he didn’t really need a list, but Penelope said this brand was best for her recipe when they talked last week. He didn’t want to risk it, so he wrote it down.

He turned his head side-to-side, looking for a nearby worker, but found none. The only person in this aisle was him. He frowned a little before the sound of a sigh passing behind him made him jump. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing behind him, staring at a list in hand. He couldn’t help but wonder when you had gotten there and how long you had been standing behind him before your sigh alerted Spencer to the presence of another life form in this aisle.

Your head tilted slowly, your eyes met his, and Spencer felt his mouth drying. He wasn’t charming around beautiful women like Derek; most of all, he hadn’t expected to run into one at the grocery store. Your eyes stayed on Spencer for a second before they moved towards the cans in front of them. Spencer felt like a warmth had just been pulled away from him in the absence of your gaze.

He shuffles out of your eyeline as you scan the cans with a soft smile. “Thank you,” your voice was light and airy, carrying a softness that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing. Your body is closer to his as you walk toward the cans and carefully reach up on your tiptoes to grab a can of sauce on the highest shelf.

Spencer gets the idea stupidly slow: He should get it for you. He clears his throat and maneuvers his body to avoid touching the beautiful stranger beside him. He slides the sauce can off the shelf and hands it to you.

He’s greeted with a dazzling smile, dimples on your cheeks, and eyes shining bright under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. “Thank you,” you repeat before you stare at him expectantly.

Spencer can’t help but feel like his IQ is taking slashes as he stares at that smile, “Spencer,”

You gave him a gentle nod as you walked the sauce over to your cart, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m Y/N.” You say as you look over your shoulder at him, hair falling into your face. For the first time in a long time, Spencer can feel the ends of his fingers twitching with anticipation at the idea of offering to brush the hair out of your face for you. He gives you a soft smile instead, his eyes trailing back to the list in his hands in an attempt to stop himself from staring.

Your voice near him almost makes him let out a yelp of surprise as you say, “Are you looking for something? I don’t work here, but I cook a lot.” You say matter-of-factly, suggesting that your cooking hobby somehow made you an expert in the grocery store layout.

Spencer felt like handing you his list and following you around like a puppy dog for the rest of his grocery shopping if it meant you’d keep standing this close to him. “Yeah, uhm, this brand of chili beans.”

“Oh, you haven’t looked low enough.” You barely even glance at his list before bending your knees and crouching down to the lower shelf to grab it. You look up from the ground, holding the can of beans for him to take with a bright smile before you say, “You’re so tall you must have forgotten about the lower shelves.” A laugh escapes your lips as Spencer carefully grabs the can from your hand.

You stand up with a gentle sigh. He can tell that you’re about to say something else when a man’s voice interrupts you. Your eyes grow brighter at the sound, and your head quickly turns toward the sound at the far left end of the aisle. “I got the cheese.” As he approaches, the man shoots the shredded cheese into the cart with a grin.

You mouth a soft ‘yay’ as the man’s arm quickly wraps around your waist. “Josh, this is Spencer. I was just helping him look for a can of beans. Spencer, this is Josh.”

Spencer feels his lips draw into a tight-lipped smile as he waves his free hand, “Nice to meet you,” He says with a slight nod.

“She’s always talking to strangers, I swear. Stop making friends everywhere you go, you little angel.” Josh says as he pinches your side, earning a melodious laugh from you. Spencer feels a little nauseous.

“Hey, gross.” You chuckle lightly as you pull Josh’s hand off your side, “Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Spencer. See you around.” You grab the handle of your cart with a beautiful smile before rolling the cart out of the aisle with Josh in tow.

Spencer watches you until you take a right and disappear from his view, and now he can only look at the can of beans in his hand. He sighs at his luck, smiling a little with amusement at the fact that you have a boyfriend. His short interaction made it clear to him that you were easy to get along with. Beautiful, kind, easygoing, of course, you had a boyfriend.

Spencer silently resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never see you or Josh again as he continued with his unneeded list.

Now, he felt like the fabled gods of fate were laughing down at him as he made the last trip to his car. He was closing the trunk of his car when he heard a familiar voice yell out his name from across the parking lot. “Spencer!” You yelled with bags in hand, panting lightly as you approached him with a light jog. “How funny is this?”

A sarcastically bitter voice was in his head. Only the Ancient Greeks would find this funny. “Do you live in this building?” he asked as his eyes scanned the parking lot for Josh. His shoulders relaxed as he realized that it was just you.

“Yeah, third floor.” You say as you readjust the bags in your hands. Spencer gave you an amused smile as he slid his last two bags on one arm, extending his free arm toward you.

“Need some help?” He offers in a soft voice. You give him a grateful look as you nod, handing him a slightly heavy bag. Typically, you wouldn’t have accepted help from a perfect stranger, but almost everything about Spencer screamed non-threatening, so you let yourself be a little trusting.

“Can’t believe that we’re neighbors. I'm glad I talked to you at the store; I made a neighbor friend!” Your speaking speed almost matches his when he is going on his excited ramblings.

Spencer pushes a door open with his back, holding it open for you with his foot as he laughs. “I guess it's plausible, being that the grocery store is as close as it is.” He’s quick to move to the next door, repeating the motion.

You smile gently as Spencer opens another door for you, this one leading the two of you to the stairwell. “Oh, you’re probably one of those people who doesn’t believe in fate, aren’t you, Spencer?”

“I would have to say that I absolutely fall within the twenty-nine percent of Americans who do not believe in fate. Nothing is predetermined.”

“Maybe you’re predetermined to believe that,” Is your quick remark as you walk in front of him on the stairs.

“Not likely,”

“So, what? You’re a cynic?”

Spencer smiles wide at the question, “How does my not believing in fate make me a cynic?”

You grin, tossing a skeptical look over your shoulder, before speaking again. “Not believing in fate is such a cynical thing to do,”

“And what does that make you?”

“Stupid and optimistically in love.”

Spencer shakes his head, his eyes glancing at the door that leads to the second floor, but he continues to follow you up another flight of stairs without complaint. “I would label myself as a realist.” And a profiler, but he was careful to leave that part out. The cases over the years proved one thing to him: nothing was predetermined. There was an opportunity for change everywhere.

“Okay, Mr. Realist, what about luck?” You asked as the two of you approached the door marked for floor three.

He thought for a moment as you held the door open for him, “Maybe,” was all he could say as the memory of when he was struggling with his aim came to mind: killing an UnSub with a shot to the head when he had been aiming for his leg.

“So you do believe in fate.” You turned your body to walk backward down the hallway with a satisfied, winning smile as you looked at him before slowing to a stop in front of your apartment door.

“Fate and luck are not the same thing. Luck is usually used to describe an outcome; it’s a notion. It’s circumstantial. Fate defies logic, science really.” He said as he handed you your bag carefully. His eyes glanced at the number on your door: thirty-seven. “You live with your boyfriend?” Spencer asks before he can stop himself, silently screaming at himself for being a creep.

The question barely phases you as you reach into your pocket, searching for your keys. “Yeah, moved in six months ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Spencer hated small talk. Actually, he secretly hated the fact that the first person he found attractive, after months of failed dates, was taken. He also hated that you were living a floor above him for six months, and he hadn’t known about it– hadn’t known about you. Above all, he hated that he enjoyed your company already, especially having only known you for more than a few hours at best. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“A year and eleven months,” you answer with a soft smile, your eyes giving way to soft emotion as you open your door. “What floor do you live on again?”

Spencer wants to say that you never asked, but he didn’t want to seem rude. He was sure you couldn’t be rude if you tried, that sweet smile of yours not capable of the act. “Second floor,” he answers as he readjusts his bags timidly.

With a soft gasp, you set down a bag or two, “Oh! I’m sorry.” You apologize softly as you look up at him, your eyes beautiful and tender. Spencer can’t remember if he is mad when he looks into those eyes.

Spencer let out a meek and barely audible “It’s okay,” He decides it truly is.

You bite your bottom lip and smile at him, “Well, thanks for your help, Spencer. I really appreciated it. Come up some time and say hi!” As you beam at him, you move a stray hair out of your face.

Spencer nods slowly, swallowing thickly, and manages a soft smile. His feet move his body back to the stairwell slowly. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Day Forty-Two

You’re laughing over something Josh said. Spencer doesn’t really get it, but you seem to think it is the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. Punchlines usually went over his head, but he was always happy to nod along with a smile on his face.

Spencer honestly didn’t want to come up and visit you and Josh a month ago. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in himself to stay away from your electric personality—why he visited you and Josh three Saturdays ago was still a mystery to him.

As Josh walks away with a smug smile, you turn to Spencer. He watches as you lean towards him, eyes tracking Josh until he’s out of sight. Your amused smile falls from your face as you whisper a soft, “Did you get that?”

Spencer is taken aback at the question. You laughed at Josh’s joke; how did you not get it? Why did you laugh so hard if you didn’t get it? He wonders until he’s whispering that same question to you, “If you didn’t get it, why did you laugh?”

You smile a little cheekily and only slightly embarrassed, “I didn’t want him to know I didn’t find it funny. Sometimes, he falls short of witty humor.”

Spencer smiles at that, shaking his head as he stares over at the area where Josh disappeared. “Why don’t you just tell him that you didn’t find it funny?”

“Because,” Your voice sounds offended, but the amused look in your eyes tells him differently, “I’m his girlfriend of two years, and I’m nice. Unlike some people.” You give him a side-eyed glare, making Spencer gasp in mock defense.

“I’m nice!” He hisses out in a defensive whisper. He briefly falters at your incredulous look before slowly nodding in defeat, “Okay, I’m a little mean sometimes.”

You smile again and face him, your hands moving as you talk, “Which is funny because you’re perfectly nice when you’re around me.”

Spencer didn’t have an answer to that one either. After being friendly with the couple for a little over a month, he just could not be friends with Josh. His jokes flew over Spencer’s head, he talked over you (and sometimes him), and he never seemed to take your interests seriously.

Last Monday after work, you called Spencer, asking him if he wanted to go to the movies with you to see a tragic Italian film. He was quick to say yes, partially because of the excellent movie selection and because he wanted to be around you more.

When he asked why Josh wasn’t joining them, you simply said that it wasn’t Josh’s thing. That didn’t sit right with him, but he let it go. Then, the day after, you called him again, asking him if he’d be willing to go with you to one of those paint-and-sip places around town that weekend.

His answer was another resounding yes, and he didn’t even drink. Then the question came again during the class, and you responded with the same thing– it wasn’t Josh’s thing.

Josh’s thing was going off to work all day and then coming home to ignore you for a good two hours before dinner. Then he was all yours again. At least, that’s what Spencer saw. He understood that everyone needed their alone time and that he was being a little petty and a little jealous toward Josh.

He wanted to be the bigger person, honestly. It was just so hard when your boyfriend made it so easy for Spencer to hate him. He’d never say that to you, of course. You looked at Josh like he had hung the moon yesterday and then created the stars today. You never missed a chance to talk about Josh around… well, anyone—the precursor to Spencer’s current dilemma.

Deep down inside, he knew that his inappropriate crush on you couldn’t possibly get worse. So he thought, What’s the harm in becoming close friends with you? If anything, it was likely that seeing more of your personality would pull his rose-colored glasses off his face and force him to see you in a normal, less love-sick light. After all, he had gotten over his embarrassing crush on JJ and saw her almost daily at work.

When Josh walks back into the room, he’s on his phone. He barely glances up from the text as he speaks to you, “Hey, babe, would it be okay with you if I head out for the night?”

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion, “But Spencer is here, and we were going to finish the movie, remember?”

“Right, but I already know what happens. I mean, it’s a tragedy, right? Spencer and you always have more fun together doing your nerd stuff. No offense, Spencer. The guys just want me to go out with them.”

A realization dawns on your face as you realize he’s not asking so much as telling you he’s leaving. You nod slowly, letting Josh kiss your forehead before he grabs his keys and leaves. You look over at Spencer, who is trying to be polite by not watching the scene, looking down at the television remote with a deep interest.

You smile slowly, sadly, and turn your body a little on the couch facing the television. The rest of the night is spent in your living room with Spencer, sitting next to each other and watching a movie before ending with your head on his shoulder and the soft tone of someone saying they “Liked the movie.”

Day Ninety-Three

You could feel something starting to slip. It was a familiar feeling; something in the ground was shaking. It shook you, at least. You always noticed it first—a crack in the ship's hull. You were always the first to address it, too.

With Josh, it used to be customary for him to apologize for any indiscretion and try to fix the damage. But false promises are like duct tape in the ship’s hull, slipping and sliding against wet wood, water pouring in until the whole ship goes down.

It wasn’t always like this. Him coming home and ignoring you for hours, only to acknowledge you late into the evening. It was relatively new to your relationship. Well, if you consider nine months new. By now, you could only label it as consistent. Before you lived with your loving boyfriend, he would carve out time in the evenings just to talk with you for hours or take you on dates that sometimes lasted for days on the weekends.

You knew that living together would take some of that away– everyone deserved to have their private time, and you weren’t going to start demanding day-long dates anytime soon. You just missed the effort he used to put in, the time when he would make days for the two of you– hours for just the two of you.

A year ago, Josh would have jumped to see that weird new Hungarian horror movie with subtitles for you if you had asked. He would have attempted to stay awake during it, hold your hand during the parts that scared you, something lovely.

The first crack started when you moved in with him. One evening, you had gotten home from work early and occupied the living room for a few hours, watching some random French movie that had been recommended to you by your best friend. She didn’t like this kind of thing but knew you did, so you were grateful that she had thought of you.

When he came home from work a little later than usual, he saw you on the couch with a plate of pasta, watching the movie intently. You turned your head towards the door and smiled wide at him. “Hey! I made spaghetti, grab a plate and watch this movie with me? I’ll restart it.” Your hands were already reaching for the remote when a heavy, annoyed sigh cut through the air. You looked over at him again and gave him a gentle, empathic smile, “Hey… did you have a hard day? We don’t have to watch anything we could–”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to do anything with you right after I get off work?” Josh hissed out as he threw his keys onto the wooden kitchen table.

You felt your head reel back a little at the question, and you laughed a little, pushing yourself up to sit on your knees on the couch. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you ever thought I might want to come home after work and not talk to you for a few hours? I mean, I thought that after living here for two months, you would have caught on, but clearly you haven’t. I come home, and you’re right there, ready to talk. Prepared to force me to sit down and watch some… foreign language film that has some profound meaning that you’ll blabber about for thirty minutes before bed tonight.”

You blinked a little at his harsh words, which were unlike him. He never seemed annoyed by your passions, hobbies, or ramblings. In fact, he always seemed to encourage them. You tried your best to give him a genuine smile, “Love, you’ve had a long day. Let’s just take a second and get some food in you, and then we can d–”

“You’re not getting it,” he laughed bitterly, a sound that caused a sick knot to grow in your throat. “Sometimes, I’m tired of it being we, we, we, we. I’m always doing things with you: Cooking with you, reading with you, watching movies with you, sleeping with you, going on dates with you. Ever since you moved in, it's like it's always an ‘us’ task or a ‘we’ task.” His voice was rising in volume, and you felt your breathing becoming shaky. “I feel like you're always on top of me. It’s suffocating! Maybe I just want to be alone for a few hours. Maybe I don’t want to watch your stupid, fucking, symbolic foreign films.”

“I... I didn’t know that’s how you felt.” You breathed out as you slowly turned the television off and got up with your plate. You wanted him to apologize, you wanted him to soften those brown eyes and start telling you that he didn’t mean it. You wanted him to tell you that work was brutal that day, and he had accidentally lashed out at you. But he just stared at you, panting a little. “I’ll leave you alone some more. I, uhm, I’ll watch this alone in our room.”

And that was that. You had convinced yourself that you were a problem. You were too clingy, always in his space, always trying to force him to like your hobbies, always trying to share too much of yourself with him, always too much. So you decided that maybe what you wanted to do wasn’t his thing anymore.

Besides, you had plenty of friends that liked the same things as you did… maybe. Molly didn’t like foreign films, but Alex enjoyed them enough. Molly did like to paint, but her schedule always conflicted with yours. Sabrina was also a fan of painting but had moved to Boston last month. The list of her friends with crazy work schedules could go on and on, as could the list of friends who moved. You had thought about reaching out to some of them, but Josh’s words rattled you to your core, and suddenly, you felt like a burden for wanting to spend time with your loved ones.

Then, after six months of living with Josh, you met a man in a grocery store—a tall, hazel-eyed, intelligent man. Spencer Reid was unlike any man you had ever met in your life, a rare friend. He was transparent, often going into long, passionate tangents that always had you learning something new. So when he randomly mentioned a foreign film he wanted to see that weekend in one of your conversations, you felt comfortable asking him to come to the movies with you.

Then again, to the paint-and-sip place where the two of you failed to partake in any wine and managed to paint two terrible renditions of sunflowers. Spencer Reid was becoming a friend that you didn’t think you’d burden. Your other friends were quick to explain that you weren’t too much. Still, maybe it was because he had helped you carry your groceries up to the apartment the first day you met him or the way he was so happy to listen to your stories and thoughts. Something about Spencer Reid made you believe him when he said that you weren’t a burden.

And he was nice to be around. Then, there was the pesky fact of Spencer being attractive. At first, it was more of a passing thought. The way he wore his glasses late at night, how his hair fell to one side, the way his fingers were so gentle with books. He was a good-looking man in a nerdy way. Mix that with sweet, caring, and accomplished; he was a threat.

A threat to anyone but your loving boyfriend of two years. Sabrina was laughing over something you had said over the phone, her giggles rising in volume as she tried to speak between them, “He’s a.” Giggling. “An adonis of th–” Cackling. “The mind!” She managed before asking, “What does that even mean?”

“It means he’s a very smart-minded, attractive person.”

“Oh, so you’re like… crushing on the hot mind guy and fighting with Josh. Got it.”

“I’m not fighting with Josh, and we talked about it last month. We’re okay now.”

“Still ignoring you when he comes home?”

You pause before you let out a slow sigh, “Yeah.”

“What’s his record?”

“Four hours and fifteen minutes. He said he will try to be more attentive throughout the week, but he just keeps…” You trail off. You can imagine Sabrina shaking her head on the other side of the line.

“What about the weekends?”

“Going out with his friends more, he visited his mom’s last weekend. Nary a date night in sight, not since our second anniversary at least, and that was..”

“Yeah..” There was rustling, chips maybe, on her side of the line. “Maybe he’s planning something big. Maybe a trip? I don’t know, maybe you should bring it up again.”

You nod a little, your hands typing away gently on your work computer. “Maybe. The last time I mentioned missing our date nights, he just said, ‘We have dinner dates every night at home.’ That was an incredible feeling.”

“Something about weaponized ignorance is coming to mind.”

“Don’t,”

“Josh has been lacking in good boyfriend points since that stunt with the cake on your birthday,”

“He got a little icing on my nose!”

“Don’t,” She dragged out the ‘t’ sound, “Care! The disrespect! Your dress! Ugh, I’m going to get worked up. Talk to me about Dr. Genius.”

“What about him?”

“Does he ever, maybe, do something you wish Josh would start doing?”

You laugh, “What? No…”

“So you don’t wish that Josh would know the symbolism behind The Red Shoes and go into how… what did he say?”

“That art was worth dying for, and that Hans Christian Andersen's original story surrounded a sense of morality and religious–”

“Ah, Ah, Ah, so you don’t want Josh to know that?”

“He doesn’t need to know that,” your fingers falter in their typing, “Two people can have similar interests and not be in love.”

“Right, it just seems like lately, you’ve been…” You hate the awkward silence that follows Sabrina before she carefully speaks again, “Maybe replacing Josh with Spencer in your hobbies. I know Josh lashed out and was wrong, too, but this Spencer guy… he clicks with you– your hobbies, at least. And your witty humor, too. It seems he matches your intellectualism and your passion for learning, exceeds it even, but Josh is steps below you. Josh, he… just always seems so tolerant of your hobbies.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Nothing,” a voice calls her name, “Look, I gotta go. Josh is great, and I’m just being silly. Maybe I just have a grudge against him or something. I love you.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” You reply quickly before she ends the call.

You shake your head a little at her words, still swimming in your mind as you go back to charting something on your computer. What did that even mean? Josh is steps below you. He wasn’t dumb. He just lacked… that dry humor you had with Spencer sometimes. A quick, witty remark that had one of you smiling in seconds. Besides, that notion was ridiculous, given you had only known Spencer for three months. Josh made up for it in love… and you did love him.

All couples went through rough patches, but you were sure that if you raised your concerns again with Josh, things would change. You nod a little at the thought as you sigh, shifting in your chair slightly as you readied yourself to be engulfed in your work.

Day One Hundred and Forty-Six

Spencer could feel the bass of some pop song thumping in his chest. It had been a pleasant and slow week at the BAU. While he would have loved to go home and sit down with some book of his choosing, he allowed Penelope and Derek to convince him to go out with them.

The bar wasn’t too far from his apartment complex, so he didn’t mind. Penelope was twirling her drink's tiny umbrella between her fingers as she pointed towards a pretty red-head dancing in a dark green dress. “What about her?”

They have been playing this game for ten minutes now. By they, he means Garcia and Morgan. The game is ‘Who does Spencer find pretty at the bar?’

“Babygirl, you have a great eye,” Derek says as he points the woman out to Spencer, but before he can say anything else, Spencer decides they’ve played this game past the point of amusement.

“Why can’t we accept that I don’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, again?”

Penelope frowned a little, giving Spencer a pleading look. “You said that the last time we took you to the bar, you were willing to participate next time. It’s next time, Reid.”

Spencer remembers the conversation and groans softly as he sips on his water. He hated disappointing them with his lack of effortless charm. It had improved through the years, but he still struggled to find the right words to say in front of someone he found attractive.

“Come on, Pretty Boy. Are you going to back out of your promise?” Derek’s voice is teasing as he smiles at Spencer. Spencer can’t help but feel a sense of newfound obligation. He knew what was holding him back and hated himself for it.

His inappropriate crush on you had grown to be near debilitating, and even though Spencer had told himself that it’d never happen, he kept holding out hope that one day it would. He had gone on dates in the near five months he had known you, but he always ended up comparing his dates to you. They never laughed as sweet as you. They came up with the same academically related jokes you did. They never– they just weren’t you, simple as that.

“Fine, but someone else. She’s pretty, but I think that girl is her girlfriend.” He pleaded softly, watching as a taller brunette woman spun around the pretty redhead to the beat.

Penelope clapped and set down her drink, “This next one has to be perfect.”

“Pretty boy’s future bride,”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush at that, and he nudged Derek with a nervous laugh. Penelope was still scanning the crowd. The bar wasn’t empty or devoid of beautiful women or men for her to choose from, but no one screamed Spencer Reid material. Derek was scanning the crowd with her, always happy to see her passionate about something, even if it was Reid’s love life.

A gasp slipped past Penelope’s lips as she grabbed Derek’s arm tight, her index pointing toward someone by the speakers. Derek’s eyes landed on who she was pointing at, and he smiled wide, nodding quickly, “Future Mrs. Reid material,”

Spencer can barely see where they are pointing as he tries to look toward the area that Garcia is pointing at. Then he sees her. It’s you, and his heart drops. He wants to tell his friends he knows that isn’t ‘Future Mrs. Reid’ at all, but Derek and Penelope are already pushing him into the crowd. He glares back at them and stubbles with his footing for a second before walking toward you.

You’re wearing a beautiful black dress, hugging your curves. In the flashing lights, Spencer thinks that you’re shining. Your hips sway lightly to the beat as you stand near the speakers, alone.

Spencer gently taps you on your shoulder, and when you turn around, you have a glare on your face before you see it's him. He almost laughs at how you gasp and loudly scream, “Spencer!” Your hands fly out to his shoulders, shaking him gently as you giggle. “Hi!” You’re so drunk.

Spencer is sure that Penelope and Derek are watching the scene unfold with confused expressions as he laughs softly, your hands on his shoulders gently shaking his body side-to-side. “Hey, where’s Josh?” He yells over the music.

“Getting drinks!” You yell back in an excited tone.

He smiles wide and shakes his head a little; he usually doesn’t find drunk people endearing. But right now, in the flashing lights of the bar, your rosy-cheek face and tipsy giddiness have him feeling a little more enamored than usual.

“Who are you here with?” You ask loudly, your hands falling away from his shoulders.

“Uh, my friends, coworkers!” he replies as he stands beside you to point out the confused-looking pair staring at them.

“Can I say hi?” He could tell that your friendly disposition continued even when intoxicated, and he found himself adoring the consistency. He nods gently, and you’re smiling so much. Spencer wonders how someone could be so excited about meeting someone else’s friends.

He leads you over, your fingers grabbing the back of his button-up as he carefully leads you through the crowd. The gentle pull of your fingers gripping his shirt makes his cheeks burn as he stops in front of Derek and Penelope. “Y/N, Derek, and Penelope. Penelope and Derek, Y/N.”

You let go of the back of his button-up quickly as you extend a giddy hand, “Hi, I haven’t met any friends of Spencer's yet.”

Derek looks amused as he shakes your hand, his eyes flicking between you and Spencer, “How do you know the boy genius?”

“I found him looking lost in the grocery store. We’re neighbors! Well, almost,” You let go of Derek’s hand to point towards the roof, “I’m on top of him.”

Spencer can feel the breath knocked out of his lungs as he quickly corrects you, “She lives on the floor above me.” He explains before either of them can make a joke.

Penelope matches your happy attitude as she shakes your hand, “We had no idea that Spencer had a friend in his apartment complex! How long have the two of you been friends?”

“Almost five months,” You say with a little giggle, leaning toward Penelope slightly. “Spencer comes over to discuss movies with me or books, or we went to a poetry reading last weekend.”

“He comes over often, huh?” Derek’s voice asks playfully, and you nod quickly.

“The mothership is always beckoning,” You joke, laughing harder than you should at your own joke.

Penelope slowly drops your hand, tilting her head, and her flower earrings sway slightly. “And... your roommate is okay with that?” she asks carefully, and Spencer wants to ask why she doesn’t simply ask if you have a boyfriend.

“Oh, no. Josh doesn’t care. He’s my boyfriend of two years. Nothing can break that security, I’m sure.” You look towards the bar for him and catch his eye. You wave high and wide for him, and he smiles, shaking his head at you as he waits for the drinks.

“So, Pretty Boy here is just a friend.”

You giggle a little at the nickname and try to cover your smile with your hand, looking at Spencer. “Pretty Boy?” You giggle out. Spencer frowns a little and goes to defend himself, but you’re already nodding, “He is a pretty boy. That’s fitting.” Then, he feels like his body is on fire.

Derek is about to say something when Josh slides behind you with two drinks. “Always with Spencer,” he teases softly, kissing your cheek before handing you your drink.

“Josh, these are Spencer’s friends, Penelope and Derek.” You say, taking the drink and happily taking a small sip.

Josh holds out his hand for them to shake, a charming smile on his face, “I thought Spencer’s only friend was my girlfriend.”

Penelope doesn’t laugh, but she still manages a polite smile and shakes his hand before Derek does the same thing. Spencer fidgets a little, still beside you. You turn your head up toward him, and you mouth a soft, ‘He’s drunk’ as a way to excuse Josh’s behavior.

However, recently, Josh has been acting like that sober. He would demand to join the two of you at the movies while complaining about the movie selection. He’d sit between the two of you if the opportunity arose, which wasn’t strange. What was weird was how he’d become more physically affectionate with you in front of Spencer. Spencer hated that– hated looking at it.

Josh quickly grabs your shoulders and says, “We should let you all get back to your night.” It sounds like a suggestion, but he’s already leading you away. You gasp as he guides you away from the three of them, and you quickly smile, wave, and yell out a quick, ‘It was nice to meet you’ before you walk further away with Josh.

Penelope sips on her drink as a way to stop herself from talking, but Derek breaks the silence first. “So he’s jealous of you.”

Spencer wants to deny it, but even he can’t deny the facts. “Not at first, but now… I don’t know if I’m not nice enough or if I did something, but yeah, lately, he’s been like that.”

Penelope sighed and looked toward where you and Josh had walked off to, “She seems sweet,”

“Yeah, Reid’s head over heels for her too.”

“Wait, Spencer, are you?”

His cheeks are flushed, and he’s shaking his head a little, a lame attempt to try and hide his feelings. Derek lays it on thick, “Come on, he doesn’t let just anyone touch him. Did you see how he looked at her when he approached her earlier? Like a lovesick dog with a bone in his mouth.”

Spencer raises his hands and scoffs, “Okay, I’m working on it, alright. She’s just easy to be around. I’m getting over it.”

Penelope is swooning over the information, “A forbidden romance,”

“Her gatekeeper boyfriend and you, the pretty boy genius from downstairs,” Derek adds.

Spencer sighs, annoyed with their teasing, “Alright, let’s drop it.” The pair gives him a look, and he adds a soft, “Please.” Seeing their friend’s annoyance didn’t usually deter them, but the way he shifted from one foot to the other as he begged them to stop had Penelope and Derek sharing a look before letting all their silent jokes go. Spencer was grateful that evening had returned to normal, his nervous thoughts slowly slipping away with easy conversation.

Day One Hundred and Eighty-Three

You’re sure Josh is mad at you for something. You just can't get it out of him. A few weeks ago, he had been nothing but sincere. Soft again, sweet again, him from a little over a year ago. It was beautiful, and it felt like he had finally listened. It felt like he had come back around and somehow repaired the hull.

Then he started ignoring you again. You had been careful, so careful, not to suffocate him like he mentioned. You make sure that you go out with Spencer on weekends. You distance yourself just enough for Josh to miss spending time with you. Spending time with Spencer was also good for you; he helps keep your spirits high.

He kept you feeling lighter than air. He would text you sometimes on cases with the team when he was out of town. Little reminders, little jokes, and sometimes… It felt nice. You didn’t know how to describe it. Thrilling, calming, extraordinary, and tumultuous all that once. It confused you, pulled at the heartstrings, softly tugging at something deep within you. It unsettled you and made you ache when you looked at Josh in bed next to you.

But his sweetness distracted you. Erased longing and replaced it with familiar love. You knew his steps, and he knew yours.

And now, he was angry with you. You didn’t want to ask, and you didn’t want to be a pest to the man you loved. You hoped he would just come right out and say it. You hoped that his cup of secret rage would overflow and spill over.

The sound of heavy footsteps disrupts your stagnant reading. Your eyes kept reading the same sentence. Every time you tried to continue with the following sentence, you found yourself unable to do so. You set the book face down on the bed and smiled a little at Josh as he stood in the doorway. It was Friday night, and Spencer was on a case. Molly was busy, Christina was busy, and everyone was busy. So you stayed home, attempting to read.

He was drunk, no drunk didn’t even cover it. He looked like death, pale with red eyes and muttering incoherent things to himself. “Josh… are you okay?” Your smile quickly faded, and you moved to the edge of the bed, watching him sway against the door frame.

He didn’t answer and just laughed a little, which turned into a groan and then a sigh. You push yourself off the bed and walk to him, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek, but before your fingers can touch him, he smacks your hands away with a deep frown. “Josh!” You gasp as you pull your hand away, rubbing at the slightly pink skin.

“Not right,” he mutters, and you shake your head as you try to understand what he’s talking about.

“What’s not right? Josh, are you okay?”

He stumbles as he pushes past you, his shoulder roughly bumping into yours as he sits on the bed. You stay by the door. “This. Us, not right anymore.” He roughly puts it together.

You can feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach as you turn around to face him, “What are you talking about?”

“Not right anymore,” his drunk hands are dramatically waving between the two of you, “You’re not,” he motions to his chest lamely, “Here anymore.”

You can feel the tears threatening to rise in your eyes, your breathing becoming fast as you shake your head. “I’m here, you’re here.” You point your index into your chest, just above your heart. “What are you saying?”

“Not here,” He repeats loudly.

“I am here!” you yell back as you walk to him. “I don’t know what happened tonight, but we can discuss it, Josh. We can fix things.” You can feel the weight of the world crashing down on your chest, its weight making it difficult to breathe clearly.

“No,”

You’re quick to talk over him, “Yes, we can,”

“No, we can’t,”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay, we can–”

“No–”

“It’s okay, I won’t be mad–”

“I’m in love with someone else,” He yells, his spit hitting your cheek. Your hands twitch slightly at the feeling, but you can’t move. All you can do is stare at him with a gaping mouth, opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. You couldn’t form the words, and your mind was blank. “Don’t give me that.”

You feel like someone else’s voice is speaking, “Give you what? Shock? Disgust? You’re in love with someone else. How else am I supposed to react? Do you want me to be happy? Oh, Josh, I’m so happy for you and your mistress! I’m so glad that you’re fucking her and me at the same time! I’m so happy, so happy!”

“I’m not fucking Estelle, she and I,”

“Your coworker, are fucking you kidding me?”

“Oh, shut up with the pity party!” He looks sober suddenly, his face red and twisted with rage as he stands up from the bed. Your footing slips a little before you catch yourself walking back from him. “You think these past six months I’ve enjoyed having him over here all the time? Giggling with you in the living room over some intellectual private joke that I don’t get, o-or how about when you disappear with him every weekend you can? Introducing you to his friends in bars, going to movies with you, you didn’t try hiding it from me!”

“Him? Who are you talking about?” Then it dawned on you, and Josh could tell from how your back straightened and how you looked at him with unsure eyes. “Spencer? You think I’m cheating on you with Spencer?”

“Not physically, but yes.”

“Josh, what are you even saying right now? I made a friend who likes the same things I do. I mean… a year ago, you told me that I was suffocating. You told me that you didn’t enjoy my hobbies. Did you just expect me to stop them? How did I cheat on you? Spencer and I we’ve never–”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve never fucked, or-or kissed him! Emotionally, you gave up on us. You’re only emotionally available for him. He gets you, all your jokes, your kindness, everything. He has it all. You’re always running into his arms!”

“Running into his arms? Josh, you push me to him. I don’t love Spencer; we are just friends. He’s there for me because he is my friend! What are you going to say now? Th-that I forced you to Estelle, who, by the way, I saw last month at that Holiday party for the office. Are you going to tell me that me being by your side all while having a friend with the same interest as me was too much for you?” You can barely breathe.

“You know it's more than that, don’t play victim. I can see the way you look at him. You used to look at me like that, and then six months ago, you met him. You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t try.” You repeat back before you’re scoffing a little, pacing the room quickly. “You shut me out. You stopped talking to me for months. If anyone has the right to play the victim here, it’s me. I don’t see you for hours. We had the day off for our second anniversary, and you didn’t talk to me until noon. When I moved in with you, did you even want me to be a person? Or did you want a perfectly still doll, interesting only when you want her to be interesting, talkative only when you want to listen, ready for the taking when it was good for you? Go ahead, treat me like a fucking doll.”

Josh is shaking his head now, his breathing ragged as he slowly runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t,” He pauses, his eyes looking at a photo of the two of you from two years ago framed on the bedside table. “It doesn’t matter anymore? I don’t love you anymore. You can make me the villain. I don’t care. I want you out.”

You swallow hard at his words and laugh a little, “Where am I supposed to go?”

“I,” He looks at you, and you see how tired he looks. The part of you that still loves him feels crushed; the other just feels angry. “My name is on the lease. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll let you pack a bag, but I want you,” he motions towards the apartment, and you assume he means your presence in the apartment and your things. “Gone.” And he doesn’t let you say anything back, walking out into the living room.

You stand still; you feel frozen. You don’t know if you want to start crying, start packing, or just call people to see if you can crash at theirs. That feeling, the feeling that he planted in you rises inside you. You’ll be a burden, suffocating, and miserable. But you need a place to sleep for the night.

Your shaky hands reach for your phone on the bed, randomly calling people. Alex is out of town, you know. Christina just moved and doesn’t even have a couch yet. You call Molly, but she doesn’t answer. You wish you lived in Boston so you could call Sabrina, but that’s unrealistic. You keep scrolling through the contacts and try to think.

As you reach the next contact, your fingers falter, and your mouth feels dry. You hesitate multiple times before hitting the call button. You wait with bated breath as you bring your phone to your ear.

Ring.

You should hang up. This is a bad idea.

Ring.

Doesn’t this just prove Josh’s point?

Ring.

You don’t even know if he’s back in town or when he’ll be back. You should hang up before he answers; call someone else.

The third ring is cut short as Spencer picks up the phone. Your hands shake as he says a gentle, tired, “Hello?”

“He-hey.. Uh, are you still in Illinois?”

“No, we’re an hour out. Are you okay? You sound like you’re upset.”

You lick your lips quickly as you debate, telling him everything: the fight, how Josh is kicking you out. Instead, you settle for, “I just need a place to crash for the night, and I know it's a big ask, and you’re getting home from a case, but–”

“Yes, yeah, you can stay at mine.” You let out a slow breath and nod a little, a sense of temporary relief settling over you.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I… I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be at yours in an hour?”

“See you soon,” Spencer says before you hang up the phone. You get to work as fast as you can, grabbing luggage from the closet and packing like a mad woman. Anything you can fit into the case, you carefully fold or roll up and stuff inside.

An hour comes around, and you’re packed enough for a week at the very least. You grab the only thing on the bed that’s yours, a dark green blanket, before slowly rolling the suitcase into the living room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re not in your body anymore, watching the scene from the ceiling.

Josh turns, a phone against his ear, and you only catch the ends of an ‘I love you’ before he hangs up. He draws his lips in a tight line before asking, “Where you headed?”

You feel like he knows the answer, “Spencer’s.”

His lips turn upwards, and he laughs; he laughs so hard that he’s gripping his side. “Ye-Yeah, that's right. Prove me right. Run straight to Doctor Reid. Fucking rich.” He snips at you as you finally feel the tears start to well up in your eyes. “You know what let him have my sloppy seconds.”

You gasp softly, the comment like a punch in the gut. “Have fun fucking her in our bed. Make sure to put the pictures face down before you give her the most underwhelming four minutes of her life. I’ll be back tomorrow to start packing.” You say as you start stepping through the front door, slamming it behind you. You’re panting lightly in the empty hallway, your mind numb as tears stream down your face. You don’t remember lugging your stuff to the second floor or getting to Spencer’s door.

The only thing you remember is the sound of your name and gentle hands grabbing your chin and tilting your head up with care. You remember sobbing, hyperventilating out the events of the past evening to him as he helps you inside. And the eventual call of sleep that reaches you on Spencer’s couch.

Day One Hundred and Ninety

Spencer could hear the soft sounds of your computer playing something in the living room. Last Friday… Well, technically, early Saturday morning, you had your head on your knees outside his apartment door. The sound of sobs had him dropping his dirty go-bag and grabbing your chin to soothe you.

He listened to everything: how Josh thought that you were emotionally cheating on him with Spencer, how Josh had fallen in love with a coworker, and how he kicked you out. You said you would have stayed, but the lease was in his name. It was a stupid decision of the past catching up with you– your words, not Spencer’s.

You had told him that it would only be for one night, but Spencer wasn’t going to make you couch surf all week. He insisted that you stay with him until you found an apartment. He let you stuff your boxes of things in his study and was happy to do it.

The worst part about this arrangement was seeing you like this, seeing you so heartbroken. You went to work a little later than him, came home later than him, ate, slept, and repeated the cycle. He kept catching you with a dissociative look on your face. Too scared to ask you if you were okay, he would awkwardly attempt to cheer you up with your shared hobbies. But that only worked for so long until you were ending the night with that numb look on your face again.

He lays in bed, wondering if he should go into the living room to check on you. He barely thinks it through before he throws his covers off and slips out of bed. He has plaid pajama pants on with an old CalTech shirt, and when he walks into the living room, he can see you pause what you’re watching on your computer and smile at him.

“Hey,” you whisper, even though it's just the two of you in the apartment.

“Hey,” Spencer whispers back before sighing and walking toward the back of the couch. “Can’t sleep?”

You look up at him before returning to the dimly lit computer screen, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” His quick reply has you nodding a little. You shift a little, pushing yourself up to make room on the couch for him. He takes the unspoken invitation and sits down next to you.”What are we watching?”

You lick your lips nervously, “Romcom. When Harry Met Sally.”

Spencer glances at you before he admits, “Never seen it.”

You gasp softly, and that playful light returns in your eyes for a second. He hasn’t seen that light in a week. “Spencer Reid, you haven’t lived.”

Spencer takes the opportunity to joke around with you, making a buzzer sound with his mouth. “Wrong. I’ve been alive for many years.”

This gets a weak smile from you, but still a smile nonetheless. “You want to watch it with me? I know it's late, but… maybe it’ll lure you to sleep if you find it boring.”

Spencer grins, glancing at the clock to see how late it is. He shakes his head a little, “Maybe we could just talk for a second? I’ve barely seen you this week.” He suggests. You’re quick to nod, shutting your laptop. You lean back on the sofa and bring your legs up to sit crisscrossed. He watches you. Your eyes are no longer red or puffy, but the skin on your cheeks still seems pale, lacking their natural rosiness.

“I found a great apartment, but I can’t move in until the end of this month.” You break the silence first, hands folding awkwardly in your lap.

Spencer nods, resisting the urge to hold one of your hands as he speaks. “That’s fine, and I’m not kicking you out anytime soon. You’re stuck with me for three more weeks.”

You chuckle a little at that, “Ever the gentleman,” You say softly, but your eyes don’t have that light anymore. You seem distracted, your eyes lingering on him briefly before staring at your hands. “Spencer,”

“Yeah?”

“What do you do when everything feels like too much?”

Your voice cracks softly as you ask the question, and Spencer is scared you’ll start crying again. He always feels useless whenever you cry, a genius without answers. He swallows the nervous lump in his throat: “I read, or sometimes I force myself to go out. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I end up at the public library. Or sometimes, if I have the day, I go to the Smithsonian. But... it’s been a while.”

You seem to perk up a little at the mention of the Smithsonian, and you give him a playfully little side glance, “Air and Space?” You guess with a small smile.

He smiles and shrugs, “Sometimes,” he returns the playful sideways glance. “Portrait Gallery?”

You’re laughing a little as you nod. Spencer feels relieved to hear its soft melody. “Portrait Gallery.” You confirm your pick with a soft sigh.

Spencer lets warm silence spread for a second, his eyes occasionally flickering over to your serene expression. “What about you? What do you do when you’re overwhelmed?”

Your eyes meet his as he asks the question, and for a second, you seem a little surprised that he is asking you anything. He wonders if you expected him to keep talking or ignore the tension in the air around you.

“Well, reading is lovely. Museums, movies,” you pause for a second, and your expression softens. “Music. I love music when I’m feeling overwhelmed, sad, or happy. It’s a universal fix, music.”

“What kind of music?” He has heard you talk about music before, how you didn’t understand people who hated it. Music helped him escape to childhood memories, the good ones at least. He wondered if it had the same effect on you.

“Everything. Pop, country, indie, anything that moves me. I like classical too, but only sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?”

“I like it in ballets, plays, movies. I like the visual representation that accompanies it.” Your eyes leave his slowly, “Like a music box with a ballerina inside.”

Spencer finds that this version of you, the melancholy version, is blunt. You don’t people-please or avoid questions; instead, you would directly state something. He liked how you directly stated your musical likes and how honest they were. He finds himself wanting every version of yourself that you have shown him lately, and he feels a little guilty for it.

A soft gasp from your lips stops him from overthinking, “Oh shoot,” You mutter as you pull out your phone, looking at the calendar before you curse softly.

“What’s wrong?’

“I, uhm,” You swallow hard and set your phone down, “I just remembered that Josh and I were going to celebrate our third anniversary a little early this year. Our second wasn’t the best, and he promised we would do something I wanted to do. We had tickets to see Swan Lake.” You chew on your bottom lip slowly, getting lost in the thought before you say, “That’s next month. I gotta cancel.”

Spencer can see how you slump at the thought and how sad it makes you to cancel the plans. He feels himself saying the words before he can even process them: “I can go with you.”

You turn to him with a soft laugh of disbelief, “What?”

“We could go together. Make the most of it. I mean, I like Swan Lake.”

“Spencer, it would be wrong to spend what would be my third anniversary with you. I mean–”

“It wouldn’t be the exact day. You said it was a couple of months early, so it would just be us…going to see Swan Lake. Just friends, seeing a ballet, and getting dinner or something. A night on the town. Something to keep your mind off things,”

He hopes you’ll agree to the offer, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you stare into his eyes. Your eyes dart back and forth, rapidly looking into his eyes and then at his face. The silence is killing him, a knife in his back as he tries his best to breathe normally.

Then you’re giving him a slow smile, a little shy at first, before you beam at the suggestion, “Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go to the ballet together. I mean, I would do it with or without Josh anyway. Now I’ll be able to go with someone who will actually enjoy it, even better.” Your eyes meet his hazel ones again, and you place a tentative hand over his. “Thank you, Spence.” Your voice is sincere, and Spencer feels his body relax when you touch him.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening two months from now.” He whispers in the air between you before he slips his hand away from yours and stands. He yawns softly, “Now… let’s get some sleep.”

You nod, a small smile still on your face as you lay on the couch. “Night.” You whisper as you close your eyes.

Spencer stands and stares down at you a little longer than he should before he takes a step toward his bedroom. “Goodnight,” he says as he walks into his bedroom. He’s thinking about your genuine smile for another hour before he even closes his eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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alexanderlightweight · 2 months ago

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Hullo! I hope all is well in the household and I hope Nightshade is getting all the (undoubtedly well-deserved) scritches and nose boops they deserve! :)

I've been happily re-reading a lot of your fic recently - I *adore* your writing and the dynamic you create between Alec and Magnus. I don't care what the plot is- I'll read anything you write because I know the characterization is going to be *chef's kiss* amazing!

After your fantabulous sentinel/guide promptlet that just posted, I went to re-read 'fire in his veins', your sentinel/guide AU on a03, and omg this section in particular just made me stop and live in the moment before continuing (I hope that makes sense outside my head). >> He has no right to defend himself and they both know it.

He would apologize, but he would have to mean it. He would have to be sincerely sorry and he isn’t.

He stays silent.

For the first time in his life he faces death and regrets that life might end.

There is a low snarl, an enraged noise and he closes his eyes. Acceptance is in every line body as he relaxes to meet his fate and a hot, rough tongue catches across his cheek as it brushes away a tear he didn’t realize he’d shed. <<

If you have the dreamling for anything more in the sentinel/guide AU, whether 'fire in his veins' or 'gladiolus', I would very much love to read it :)

(no preference on nsfw/sfw)

ty!! it seems to be a steadying time finally? maybe? I feel like every time I say that something bad happens lol so I hesitate

Nightshade is getting all of the cuddles and noseboops and treats and had been very spoiled as of late. I mean he's always spoiled but we found some beef cheek rolls he loves and they make him super happy and help with his teeth which is nice!

i hope you are doing well and well, here is a very rare pov, one i'm not sure i've done before but I might have. uh, so I realize it could have easily been missed. part of why it was so easy for Alec to detach from the clave is because currently, aldertree is in charge. aldertree just isn't a guide/sentinel and has no way of legally blocking a powerful sentinel from visiting a place technically in his territory. Alec is also technically in a very odd position because Aldertree needs him around but also can't give him too much power because then no one will actually listen to aldertree. so I hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

heartbeat like fire

Aldertree reads the message and then the official file attached to it one more time before he sighs, sitting back at his chair and wondering just how he’s going to spin this latest outcome. There aren’t many choices left to him and the more time that passes, the more his options become limited.

It would be one thing if he could cover it up, but Alec Lightwood didn’t just send his resignation to Aldertree, he sent it to the Clave pride and the Clave.

Worse, Aldertree knows they’ll blame him. Say that it’s his fault and that it’s his fault he lost the Clave a guide.

Especially once they find out that Lightwood’s a guide strong enough to bond with Magnus Bane.

The High Warlock of Brooklyn has been a pain in Aldertree’s ass since he got here, but now just took the one person who Aldertree’s unfortunately been relying on to actually run this hellhole.

Oh, the New York Institute is a fine place. Full of well-trained and capable shadowhunters, but it’s a beast to keep track of, run and also maintain the angelic core. Aldertree won’t stay here long term, but without Lightwood helping run the place, he’ll need reinforcements.

Except, Aldertree isn’t sure how much he’ll be able to get away with Lightwood leaving.

Already Aldertree has been fighting back a lingering headache since he got here and took over. But now, since what Aldertree assumes is the minute Lightwood cut his ties and left the Institute — it turned into a full blown migraine.

Lightwood grew up in this Institute.

Aldertree and several others in his research divisions have seen patterns and it's rare that nephilim children are fully raised in an Institute. It affects them, especially un-awakened or latent children.

However with the way the Lightwood punishment worked, someone with their name and blood had to stay with the Institute in order for any other’s to go back to Idris. That means that it was the eldest who was left, often and longer and longer and now, the signs are here.

For whatever reason, he’s fairly sure that the angelic core latched onto Lightwood’s psionic energy. Enough that it satiated it and also Lightwood then automatically shielded the rest of the Institute from the normal side-effects of such a powerful core at the same time.

Aldertree wonders if the relationship between the two was symbiotic, or parasitic.

They both mean things different things regarding Lightwood’s power and Aldertree doesn’t like either option.

—

With the rest of the world locked away, behind magick and psionic shields, Magnus sheds all his glamours and clothes.

He gets Alexander on his bed and pinned and then reality presses hard against him.

Despite the urge to bond, Magnus suddenly needs both himself and Alexander clean before they do.

Especially now that the Institute is a hostile territory and they’re both covered in scents from it. Even the bed will need to be changed with magic after they shower, their combined scents not enough to calm Magnus as he suddenly feels as if his territory has been invaded.

It’s always bothered Magnus, how Alexander smells like the Institute but now, he has reason to erase those scents. Preventing them from ever clinging to his boy again.

"You can you know."

Alexander is still pinned and his hands are gentle from where he's cradling Magnus' face between his palms.

"You can and should do whatever is going to make you feel the most settled. Protecting us both will only help you settle."

With permission he didn't need but desperately wanted from both Alexander and his own instincts, Magnus takes a moment to listen to Alexander's heartbeat.

It's soothing and steady and he focuses on that feeling as he moves the location of the loft and activates the war-level wards on the building they move to.

All evidence of their presence in the place they left is gone.

Magic turns the water on and Magnus wastes no time in pulling Alexander up from the bed through the room and directly under the spray and before he even asks, Alexander is plucking the soap up and lathering it.

He wastes no time in scrubbing himself down as if he wants to scrub the Institute away as well. It’s only because the sight is so mesmerizing that Magnus wastes long moments where he could be washing Alexander himself.

A moment later, he pulls Alexander’s hands away and replaces them with his own. The feeling of bubbles lathering on the skin of Alexander’s back is intoxicating and for a moment, Magnus gets lost in the way his callouses catch on scars and pass over smooth muscles.

Alexander’s breath hitches as Magnus pushes too hard on a deep bruise and Magnus apologies with a kiss and magic, further healing the tender muscle even as Alexander presses back into his touch.

AN:

i can't write bonding sex on the same section as victor aldertree apparently. I was going to but I was like... they need decontamination. clearly. btw not mentioned here but right now Cahya and Bela

i actually have to change the ending on ao3 a bit to fit this better because I realized Magnus would want them to be safe and protected before they bonded.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #heartbeat like fire #fire in his veins #alec lightwood #malec #magnus bane #shadowhunters

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thinking-through-some-things · 5 months ago

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What do you mean by the women from epic the musical was poorly handled? Can you explain? I’m interested bc I thought that too

ho boy, let's see.

there's definitely a general feminist critique to be had about how few women are in the musical and how small their parts are. obviously i realize the musical primarily follows the leading man and his male crew because that's just how the odyssey works. but it's still a conversation worth having, especially since there are ways to make the existing female characters better. the decision to base this on the odyssey is still a choice.

i don't have much to say about most of the monsters/goddesses. aeolus and scylla are fine. circe is okay, and she actually gets a few songs. personally i think god games should just be cut entirely; it's just athena justifying everything odysseus has done. hera is fine. i don't like how athena stops talking to aphrodite once ares shows up; the line that convinces her is "tell your lover that a broken heart can mend," which is directed at ares.

not mentioning anticlea until she's already dead means her death doesn't really have the weight it should. he's desperate to get back to penelope and telemachus, so it just feels like he forgot about his mom, which makes that tragedy feel a little unearned. he should be just as concerned to get back to her as he is the other two, which means he should mention her whenever he sings about them in the first act. then it would actually matter more when we find out she's dead.

the rest is under a read more because i wrote a lot about athena, and because i need to give a trigger warning for sexual assault for my other points.

athena is clearly the strongest female character and is positioned to be a foil to odysseus. that being said, i didn't really follow her shift in philosophy - going back to look at the lyrics it's because she blames herself for teaching him to be cruel? the goodbye at the start is weird - she's mad at him for not being ruthless, but really the problem is that he's arrogant - which is still something she could chastise him for. idk. either way i don't think her evolution was explored well at all - she basically just changes her mind because she misses him, not because she has actually seen anything to suggest mercy is good. and it's weird that she's only at the beginning, in the wisdom saga, and at the very end. her stuff isn't terrible, but it needs to be better distributed throughout the musical so there can be an evolution. give her one more song towards the end of act one, break up the wisdom saga so her story feels like it's part of the musical instead of a weird distraction in the middle, and actually show us why she starts to think mercy is good. as is her character is too reliant on odysseus in a way that really hurts that the story. bringing up telemachus earlier and exploring that relationship, or penelope and ithica, gives you a chance for athena to see something that helps her change her mind. (i have more to say about her story but that's just about fixing the plot. i think i've made my point here.

okay trigger warning for real.

calypso is really weirdly done. she has one song where she's pressuring him to be with her, and then a song where she refuses to apologize for "unrequited love" or something. odysseus is upset with her and struggling with ptsd in the first song, and then says he loves her in the second. it feels like the musical wants you to have an overall favorable impression of her. there's a lot of discussion about whether or not this is a case of sexual assault in the fandom posts i've seen, but i don't think that's something the musical is discussing. if anything, it takes the stance that it isn't, at least in this version, and that calypso is just some sad girl who wants to be loved. that being said, i've seen some pretty disgusting hatred directed towards calypso in those posts - not clear if it's for the original version, this one, or if there's any difference. either way, the musical needs to decide if calypso is bad/problematic or if she's good/misunderstood, and both of her songs need rewriting. (there's also something to be said about her being the only visibly black female character, but i don't know much about the actual actors for the musical so i'll leave this be for now. but that did stick out to me while watching the animatics.)

i have very mixed opinions about the sirens. the imagery of a group of men standing over and brutalizing a group of women as they beg for their lives was pretty heavy. i don't hate it - it very much sells the idea that the men have become monsters. however, it really bothers me that it basically just. happens. and then we move on. odysseus agonizes over so many choices, but this one seems like it was easy for him, and he doesn't suffer any guilt over it. no one challenges it. so overall it just comes off as a reason to brutalize women, which leaves a sour taste in my mouth. i wish we'd at least get pushback from some of the crew so there's at least some conversation about how maybe this isn't 100% justified. instead, the only mention of the sirens is in god games, where... apollo gives a half-hearted argument about how the sirens sing catchy songs. the other gods at least have a point. and with all of this, athena's retort just feels very victim-blame-y to me. overall, i think there's a way to keep the stuff with the sirens in - but there needs to be more delicacy in how the whole thing is handled.

and finally, penelope. she's probably the worst-written female character in the musical. she exists to 1) be odysseus's motivation/prize, and 2) assure odysseus that he's actually a good person and sure, every terrible thing he did was totally fine, no issue. her first song, which isn't until the last saga, just 1) tells us she's sad, and 2) gives us odyssey plot. the challenge doesn't really do anything to the musical's plot, so you might as well cut it. and her only other song is the finale, where she assures odysseus she loves him and never doubted him and she has no qualms over anything he did because she's a Strong Woman so she still loves him unconditionally. also the bit about the bed is confusing. it's clearly only in there because of the odyssey, and it makes no sense for the musical. penelope has no character in this musical.

(i acknowledge this is a bit hypocritical, but i would actually cut the actual penelope out of the musical. the mentions and cameos of odysseus's idea of her, and the bit with the sirens, can stay, but actual penelope never shows up. i would lean into the idea of her being his prize in a way that leaves you a little unsettled. but also i think odysseus should be the bad guy in the end, so.)

and finally, i hate the decision to introduce the threat of the suitors gang-raping penelope. we already know the suitors aren't great. they're demanding penelope marry one of them. they beat up the kid. there's no need to evoke such a graphic image; i felt sick the first time i heard it, and i don't even have experience with/trauma related to sexual assault. the only point of this song is to justify odysseus slaughtering the suitors, because actually they're all terrible, horrible people. which again just weakens the idea that odyssseus is some kind of monster, because this very intentionally makes him look like a hero. between the decision to downplay the idea of circe or calypso sexually assaulting odysseus (both interpretations popular in what fandom posts i have seen) alongside the brutal violence perpetrated against the sirens and the intentional addition of a whole song about gang-raping penelope, the musical has an uncomfortable focus on violence against women. it's gratuitous and serves no purpose.

#epic the musical critical #anti epic the musical

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answer2jeff · 2 years ago

Text

break-up, make-up.

song : post break-up sex

warnings : fem!reader, porn with some plot, smut, unprotected piv, make-up sex, lip being needy, mentions of alcohol and smoking (tobacco), reader has scumbag friends, sad pathetic banging, intentional lowercase. (lip and reader are 18.)

word count: 3,707

authors note: this is only like my 2nd time writing smut.......

your abdomen felt cold pressed against the marble of your bathroom counter. pulling at the skin of your face, running your fingers through your messy hair, and picking yourself apart in the mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet. you didn't feel like yourself. you swung the cabinet open, reaching for a hard candy eyeshadow pallet, a black eye pencil so old the label had rubbed off, and a mauve-brownish lip liner.

your phone buzzed against your pocket. you groaned, dropping your products into the sink before snatching it from the depths of your jeans.

773-642-3719: party @ ashleys 2night. u coming? 2:36pm.

it must've been karina. ever since you gave her your number on your break during your waitressing shift at patsy's, she'd been trying to drag you out of the house. you couldn't blame her. mopey from your breakup, picking up as many hours as possible, spending your free time collecting coupons for shopping sprees you'd never go on to spend money you didn't have, she was sick of you ruining the atmosphere everywhere you went.

or, wherever you didn't go, more accurately.

"he's just a guy. just—go fuck someone else! who cares if he's a dick just like him. focus on the task at hand: getting laid," she told you, licking strawberry jam from the tip of her middle finger.

"i'm just gonna miss him more," you sighed, watching the clock tick as your 15 minutes of what was supposed to be relaxing free time, was going to waste.

"*** ******** is not some kind of sex god, okay? the sex was good. you can find good sex anywhere."

"whatever."

he was more than that. he was more than the sex. he was the kisses in the early mornings where you'd wake up with him in your sheets. he was the whispers of 'you're so beautiful,' and 'i love you,' whenever you doubted yourself. he was the shitty jokes and late night walks, splitting cigarettes and dabbling in gossip. he was your best friend.

but he was also the hands that slammed your bedroom door. he was also the alcohol on his breath. he was also the words that told you to 'get your shit together.' he was also the broken promises he could never keep.

but he was more than anything karina saw him as.

i'll be there :) 2:38pm.

773-642-3719: bring some1 cute with u! 2:40pm.

you stared blankly at her text.

👍 2:42pm.

bring someone with me? who the hell would i bring? daniel's working tonight. and he's not cute. well—he's not ugly, but...no. stop. just drop it. you don't need to bring a guy with you. jesus. you don't need anyone. relax.

i'm here. 12:37am.

you knocked about 3 times before a lanky, raven haired boy with puke all over his title fight t-shirt swung the door open. you looked past his shoulder to see a group of familiar faces behind him.

"please tell me that's not h—" a short blonde girl groaned before a redhead, eliza, butted in.

"there she is!" she yelled, calling karina over.

the warm glow of the living room complimented the post-punk rock that rang through the poster filled walls of ashley's house. you were met with waves from your friends. karina beamed and quickly made her way over to the front door to greet you. her chunky sandals boomed against the hardwood floor, her red solo cup nearly falling out of her hand.

"you made it!" she smiled, taking your hand and dragging you into the makeshift frat house, slamming the front door behind you. the atmosphere was uncomfortably warm. probably due to everyone sweating their asses off from drunkenly dancing and grinding on each other.

"uh, yeah—i'm kinda late. sorry."

"fashionably late," she corrected you as you followed her through dozens of other girls and into the kitchen.

you analyzed the space. you knew a couple people here, either from work or highschool, since it was the summer after senior graduation, but there were plenty of girls and guys you'd never seen in your life. for the first time in months, meeting new people was sickening. immediately reaching for the bottle of tito's to help ease your mind, eliza stopped you. she furrowed her strawberry blonde eyebrows at you, shaking her head.

"uh-uh. you're the designated driver, sweetie. we can't have you drunk, too!"

your mouth gaped open in disbelief. were you seriously dragged here just to play babysitter?

"but there's plenty else to do," karina peaked her head out of the kitchen and eyeing a couple of her friends that resided on the couch, beer bottles in hand. you couldn't help but turn your head to look, too.

"mikey's got weed," she pointed to a shirtless brunette, "and i think destiny brought some—fuckin, i don't know, xanax to cool your nerves."

you nodded, lips pulled tight in a painfully neutral expression that read 'okay' and 'fuck you i hope you break every bone in your body and live your life as a spiritless vegetable,' at the same time. your arms were crossed against your chest, your body pretty much caving in at the amount of sheer embarrassment that coursed through you.

"since you're, y'know, kinda losing it," eliza wiped the corner of her mouth where whiskey-soda had been dripping from it, pointing her finger at you. her messy red nail polish on healthy long nails taunted you.

you felt like a wad of pink chewing gum: slammed between teeth and tongue just to be spit out and drenched in spit. but you weren't useless enough to be thrown away. just stuck under a table for some gross, unsanitary bitch to pick it up again and stick it right back in her gossipy mouth. cursing yourself for being here, you stormed out of the kitchen and made your way toward the back porch.

if you left, you'd be a prude. but if you stayed and drank, kissing strangers and making up stories filled with little white lies, you'd be deemed a slut for the rest of the summer. your last choice was to stick around, being that annoying girl who smoked cigarettes outside of the party to freak people out.

and so, you did. you hung around outside, watching people come in and out. occasionally, someone would stop to ask if you were alright, if you wanted a drink, or just someone to talk to. you politely declined every time. almost like you were waiting for some other opportunity to spring up in front of you.

"hey," a voice behind you rasped.

it startled you. it was painfully familiar. so much it made your heart drop to your empty stomach. you turned yourself around, eyes met with blue orbs that stared directly into you.

there he was. lip. your lip.

except he wasn't yours. not here. not now. possibly not ever.

"oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me, gallagher."

your hands grabbed onto the wooden railing of the porch steps. hoisting yourself up, you brushed off any dirt that smeared onto your dark blue jeans. your eyes were glued to the ground as you tried to swiftly move past him the moment you could stand up.

"no, c'mon—" he pleaded, rolling his eyes and following you back into the house. he hadn't had a sip of booze. for once, his mind was completely in the clear.

eliza and karina sat on the kitchen counter, their shoulders pressed together while shared a beer bottle, possibly their 6th or 7th of the night. you seriously wondered what they even talked about. they didn't have much in common other than the fact that they both liked reeking havoc on innocent people. and you.

"did one of you fucking invite him?" you spat, stepping just a foot away from the two of them snatching the beer bottle from karina's hand, you held it tightly in your fist, your fingertips turning pink at the brute force.

"lip? yeah, i did! wait, did you guys break up, or something?" eliza laughed, twirling a red curl around her finger while she gave an obnoxious wave to lip as he stood behind you. he bit the inside of his cheek, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and balled into enraged fists.

your jaw had been nailed to the floor at this point. karina looked down at the ground in shame. she didn't care about your 'healing' or 'getting laid.' all she cared about was stirring shit. it was such a middle school stunt for a 19 year old girl to pull. finally snapping, you slammed the beer bottle onto the ground, watching it shatter into a million pieces. clenching your teeth, you looked back up to see the disturbed expressions on your 'friends' faces. they weren't allowed to make this decision for you. you would decide if and when you were ready to act like a normal fucking person around lip.

a boyfriend wasn't the only thing you lost. you lost a friend, a piece of yourself.

hot tears pricked at your waterline. you spun back around and darted towards the front door. shoving through people, your hands grabbing onto their arms and not-so-gently moving them out of your path. you could feel lip's footsteps behind you, his pathetic whines calling out for your name; calling out for his friend ex-girlfriend.

"hey, would you just fucking talk to me? please?"

you finally stopped, taking a deep breath and letting the salty tears that streamed down your face smudge your mascara before turning to face him. the angry knit of his brows from earlier was gone. his face relaxed, a breath of relief escaping his mouth when he could finally just look at you. he took in the sight of your tears, your swollen lips, your shoulders that tensed under your jacket, the way your jaw trembled when you cried.

"i don't wanna talk," you muttered as you shook your head, "i just—i don't wanna talk here. can we go upstairs, or something?"

you stared back, half of your bottom lip barred behind your teeth, analyzing every inch of him. the way his hair that ended at the middle of his ear had grown a bit too thick, the line that formed between his chin and his lower lip when he frowned, his short eyebrows, how prominent his philtrum was, and his blue eyes that caught your attention the day you met in 10th grade chemistry. you missed the way the top row of his small teeth would beam whenever he laughed.

"yeah," lip nodded, "we don't have to be down here, alright? c'mon," he reached for your hand, tilting his head as he tried to stare into you.

you worried about forgetting the feeling of his hands gently caressing your face, rubbing your back when he held you close, twirling your hair around his fingers, when his palms would indent the plush of your thighs, or when he'd grab onto your waist when you kissed him.

there was no way you'd ever forget now.

"jesus, lip—" you huffed through open-mouthed kisses, your fingertips digging into the flesh of his shoulders. the cold wall against your warm back made you shiver once he tore your shirt off from over your head, along with the jacket he zipped down and gently slipped it off from your arms as he trailed kisses from your jawline to your collarbones.

in the most needy, starved way possible, you tugged at his cotton t-shirt. almost as if he'd read your mind, despite him being on a completely different planet, he pulled away from your mouth and peeled his grey t-shirt off with the same hands that rubbed those fucking circles against your hips the way he always did when he kissed you again.

some things just never changed.

your fingertips pressed against his bare abdomen until they made their way up to his chest. you missed seeing that little triangle tattoo that tyler gave him in the school bathroom. kissing it, tracing your fingernails around the perimeter, occasionally biting and soothing the mark with your lips.

"fuck this stupid party," he scoffed, his hand getting a hold of your chin and tilting your head back up to face him. you looked into him through your lashes, lids low with desire. the look in your eyes ruined him.

"yeah. fuck it."

you glanced at his lips and back into his eyes, just for him to smash his mouth into yours again. it was a mess of teeth and tongue while you entangled your hands in his hair.

"shit—" lip detached himself from your mouth to fill his lungs with hair that smelled like your perfume and sex.

his hands cradled your face so gently it was like you'd break if he ever dared to let go. your hands moved over the groves of his arms and up to his shoulders over and over again, the feeling of soft, supple skin never getting old.

"c'mere, pretty girl," lip breathed against your ear, his hand wrapping your neck gently.

he desperately began sucking and biting the tender skin, coming back to comfort it with pecks and blows of fast, cool air. tuffs of curly blonde hair tickled your jawline every time. his veiny hands roamed down the sides of your torso, never traveling up, until you tried removing your bra yourself. lip shook his head, removing his hands from your hips and reaching behind you to unclip the uncomfortable fabric while you clung to his shoulders for support.

"lip—" you protested, slowly growing impatient.

"i got it, baby," he whispered, kissing your shoulder before carefully slipping the straps over your shoulders and off of your body. that pet name hadn't bounced off of his tongue and rang through your ears in weeks.

once he tossed the bra to the floor, your body relaxed as lip backed away just an inch or two to admire you. he smiled, teeth and all. maybe he really did miss you. your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly backing him up towards the bed of the guest room.

funny. you swore what you and lip had was more than the sex. and it was. you weren't lying about that. but my god, the crave for his skin against yours was unbearable. flashes of your hookups projected over your head. the moans that erupted from you while you tugged on his blonde curls for dear life as he pounded into your weeping cunt—you missed all of it.

"i can't believe you even showed up here," you muttered, using the pads of your fingertips to shove lip onto the soft mattress, silk sheets feeling cold against his back. he glared at you through furrowed brows, propping himself up on his elbows. but his expression softened when he saw you unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the fly down and hastily kicking them off.

"me? you—" he let out a shaky breath, gnawing at the inside of his mouth and sitting up right, "you haven't been out of the house for days."

he stared down at the white lacy underwear you wore, fighting the urge to get up and tear them down your ass until they fell at your ankles.

"and how the hell would you know that?"

you raised your eyebrows, signaling to lip to fall back again so you could reveal the aching bulge in his pants. that same bright smile of excitement made your stomach stir as you were unbuttoning and unzipping the denim that imprisoned his cock.

"been spyin' on you a little bit," he joked, but he wasn't totally kidding. for the past week and a half, he'd been taking 'shortcuts' to get to any destination just so he could briefly stop in front of your place. just to see if you'd ever come out and coincidentally run into him. he even started going to your usual hangout spots to see if you'd turn up.

but you never did. him even going to this party was solely based on the off chance that you might've been here. possibly with a new guy. but you weren't. you were alone. just like he often was.

"how sweet," you teased, tracing the tattoo on his chest. caving into your urges, you tilted your head lower to pet it with a kiss, your eyes closed before trailing your lips back up to his own. he huffed through his nose, laughing at your gesture. it was cute. you were cute. lips hands moved down to your hips, his fingers slipping underneath the waist band of your panties. that little puddle of arousal shining through the white fabric of your thong only egged lip on. he looked into your eyes for permission, not wasting any time to help you remove them the moment you nodded your head.

letting him pull them down the plush of your thighs, you turned just enough where you could slip them past your calf's where they pooled at your feet before finally slipping off onto the floor. a delicate hand reached to pull down the fabric of his boxers, his leaking, pink tip practically making you drool the moment his cock sprung out. the heat and humidity of the room making the thick vein down the side of his length twitch just the slightest. you felt a yearning heat build up in your core as you wiggled your hips closer.

"now," you reached between your thighs to coil your fingers round lip's hardening cock, "i need you to fuck me like you haven't gotten laid in a thousand years."

"that's pretty much what it's felt like." lip mumbled so quietly you barely caught it. he looked up at you, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before he used his thumb to caress your cheek.

"wait, you—you haven't been with anyone else?"

lip paused, realizing he admitted to not seeing a single other person since you broke up. it almost surprised you that you weren't the only one who was sex deprived.

"fuck would that do? bring you back?" he tried to laugh, accidentally gasping at the feeling of your wet cunt brushing past his throbbing dick. you noticed this, smiling back at him and slowly trying to position yourself perfectly.

"well, you have me now."

those words were all it took. with one swift motion, lip finally caught a grip on the fat of your hips, guiding you gently down his cock, your wetness making a makeshift lubricant.

"always so fuckin' wet for me," lip praised, smiling at the sight of how easily he filled you up to the brim of your cervix. watching your face contort from slight discomfort and into full bliss was his fucking kryptonite. you gasped, the immediate stuffed feeling hitting your stomach. lip winced at the tight sensation, already cursing under his raspy breath and whispering incoherent praises. "so—so fuckin' tigh...fu–ck" you gave him some time to adjust, propping your hands behind you so you could grind against him just right.

lip began rolling your hips back and forth, wet sounds of sex filling up the room. whimpers of "fuck, yes lip," and "just like that," only made his sexual frustration worse.

"'missed you so fuckin' much, baby. shit—you make me feel amazing. so, so fuckin' good." his hands dig deeper into your hips, making their way to your ass to squeeze and occasionally slap the flesh. you flinched with a moan, his dick hitting your gummy walls at a slightly different angle each time.

"m—fuck, missed you too, lip. you have no idea," your lungs begged for air, your tits bouncing slightly at the constant movement of your hips as you chased your high. you looked down at him, tears of arousal filling up your hooded eyes. lip marveled at the sight of your pleasure, inching closer and closer to cumming inside of you right then and there—but he had to savor this. grunting

how could he have waited this long to make amends with you? his groans felt like they practically echoed and bounced off of the walls. he needed to focus on your needs tonight. he pried between your crotchets, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing sloppy, rough circles against the bundle of nerves.

"slower, hun," you cooed, moving up and down his cock to keep his tip pounding right into your g-spot every time. the idea of staying quiet had never been this hard—but the music and shouting from downstairs was bound to cover for the two of you. lip nodded his head, slowing down his pace and gently grinding his hips into yours as his thumb remained at work.

after the few moments of pure bliss, moans and cries of lip's name coming from you that he wished would last an eternity, he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. similarly, you started forcefully catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling. your head went foggy, every word that fell out of your mouth turning into messy gibberish. lip could tell you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to give up.

"i don't think i'm gonna last any longer," lip clenched his teeth, his hand aching from prioritizing your pleasure while his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. he'd been fucked out without even finishing a single time.

"me neither—"

desperately trying to get a hold of yourself, your body gave out. your thighs began to shake, your cunt contracting. trying to muffle your shrieks, you cupped a hand over your saliva-slick mouth. your hips moved as fast as you could ever dreamed was possible, forcing you to grab onto lip's shoulder blades for support. lip could literally see his dick rolling up and down your stomach as he moaned your name, his eyes screwed shut. finally, just at the very last second, he took every bit of strength left in his body to flip you over, your back pressed against the sheets while you reached your climax. he pulled out with a groan, white ropes of sticky cum coating your lower stomach and the space right under your tits.

makeup sex was not how you envisioned this night would go. but how could you complain?

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader smut #oh my god he's so hot i cant #makeup sex trope #i need him biblically #lip gallagher x you #proud lip gallagher apologist #my man my man my man #hope y'all enjoy #idk what this is tbh

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changingplumbob · 7 months ago

Text

CW: Moderate sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn tried to be in the moment but it was hard. His mind was racing. Silver was an excellent kisser. The werewolf had said it had been a while but it was obviously like riding a bike. Glenn was quietly proud of being the first one to get close to Silver for so long but he wasn't going to tell him that. Silver might think it meant Glenn liked that he had been alone when the opposite was true. The man he was wrapped around had a good heart, and Glenn wished he hadn't shut himself off from society, from love. But guilt was a tricky thing. He didn't blame Silver for wanting to run away from it all.

*waves* Let me explain for anyone new. My sims have woohoo drives and like to get it on but I know reading that isn't enjoyable for everyone. The text below contains that so if you are only here for the plot, or it makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free to skip the rest of this post. You will not miss anything essential to the plot by not reading it.

Silver: *between kisses* Watcher you do taste good

Glenn: *giggling* Thank you *kisses* I have a whole dental hygiene routine

Silver: I love that you take care of yourself

Glenn: I can take care of you to if you let me

Glenn could feel Silver start to smile. He ran his hand through Silver's hair and attempted to pull him closer. A foolish mission as they were already chest to chest, but he needed him.

Silver: You ready for me to take your pants off now

Glenn: More than, but let me see you to

Silver placed Glenn gently on the bed and bent down to take his shoes off before removing his own.

Glenn: You know, we kind of have matching shoes

Silver: What do you mean

Glenn: Mine are brown and yours are grey- or silver! Get it, because you're Silver

Silver: *chuckling* It's not to late for me to cancel this woohoo you know

Glenn: I was just trying to say I like it. It's like we were in different places but we still got matching shoes. It's cute

Silver: You're cute Babycakes

Silver pulled off Glenn's jeans and boxers slowly. Glenn felt nervous lying back as Silver examined him, and again he got the feeling Silver wanted to eat him up.

Glenn: Can I do you first

Silver: You sure

Glenn: Yeah

Glenn watched intently as Silver removed his remaining clothes far quicker than he'd done for Glenn. Silver then pushed Glenn back on the bed and straddled him.

Silver: Just use your hands

Glenn: But I want to taste-

Silver: If you do a good job I'll feed you some

Glenn blushed and focused on the task in front of him. He was nervous but Silver stroking his chest and face helped him keep calm. In the end, well, he did get a taste.

Silver: Come here

Silver pulled Glenn up and around so the pair were sitting on the edge of the bed. Silver pulled Glenn's face to his and peppered it with kisses making Glenn chuckle.

Glenn: Beefcake, what are you doing

Silver: You'll see but you need to understand... Werewolves are naturally stronger

Glenn: Promises promises

Silver: I'm serious Glenn. If I do anything that is too strong... anything that hurts you, you need to tell me

Glenn: But then you'll stop

Silver: I'll stop what I'm doing because I don't want to hurt you but I'll finish what I start okay? Don't deal with pain just because you think I won't bring you to a finish

Glenn: I promise Silver, I'll tell you if it's too much

Silver: Good, because I can get a little over enthusiastic sometimes

Glenn: Please, I am the most over enthusiastic

Chuckling, Silver leaned over Glenn's lap and got to work caressing him. Glenn had imagined what it would be like but it was better.

Glenn: Oh, um-

Silver: Too rough?

Glenn: No your hands are perfect I just... So for a potion of plentiful needs you need some pleasure and that's harvested when someone orgasms. Henri gave me some empty vials for it. Would you mind if when I do finish I channel some of that pleasure to be used?

Silver: Do you need like the physical-

Glenn: No, no no. No body fluids required. I just didn't want to do it without asking

Silver smirked and got off the bed to kneel in front of Glenn.

Silver: I don't mind that. Do you mind this?

Glenn: Mind what? You're not doing-

Silver kissed the inside of his thigh and Glenn twitched.

Glenn: I don't mind that

Silver: Uh huh, and this

And so Silver continued to tease Glenn, a kiss here, a soft bite there, until Glenn couldn't stand anymore and begged Silver to finish him off. As Silver enveloped him and his tongue joined in with his hands Glenn struggled to recall the spell for channeling the pleasure, unable to focus on much more than the sensations he was feeling.

When he finished and curled around Silver's head some brain function came back to him. He kissed Silver's back and looked up to watch one of the vials on his shelf fill up with the telltale pink contents. Rather than dissipate in to nothing the pleasure was being stored.

Silver: I was right, you do taste good

Glenn: And you give amazing head

Silver: What can I say, it's my centuries of experience Babycakes

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #GWG #GlennSutherland #SilverClawcrestByCawthornTales

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thethiefandtheairbender · 8 months ago

Text

a few disclaimers before i get into this post:

I have not watched anything past the halfway point of JWCC S4, but I do have a general gist of the plot

I've watched the final s2 scene and a few of the flashback scenes / other scenes from JWCT and S4/S5 of JWCC

I was never a fan of Kenji/Brooklynn, and always preferred Brooklynn/Darius

So I may get things wrong / have missed other lines or opposing sentiments in canon — please feel free to correct me in the comments/replies!

That said, thinking about what I do know, story framing, and the themes it seems like they're setting up... I think it's very likely Darius/Brooklynn will be endgame, and here's why.

1) Having Darius be in love with her at all

This is the biggest one I think, but not perhaps for the reason you may think. For starters, this is noteworthy purely because it's not really 'necessary'. There were a lot of other paths to get to the same place, re: Darius not going to see Brooklynn when he said he would and subsequently feeling guilty about her death. He could've even just been busy (maybe something with the anniversary of his father's death) or even more reserved and upset over Brooklynn and Kenji being broken up, perhaps on Kenji's behalf.

Instead, they chose to have a main character state that he's in love with another main character, and that it's accordingly complicated/messy. However, in the current framing, Darius and Kenji's relationship had more of a fallout over Darius not being there than Darius being in love with Brooklynn being an issue. It's heavily impacted him as a character, but for the other two people in the 'triangle', less so (though we see more of Brooklynn's side of things in S2 of JWCT).

We also see from JWCT that Brooklynn does not, as Darius tells it, make it clear that she doesn't have feelings for him. She doesn't say that she doesn't like him, she doesn't even say no, nor does she let him have an easy out from his accidental confession. Instead she seeks to clarify and only fumbles when Darius asks if she feels the same for him, which is understandable given she's semi-recently (3-6 months?) gotten out of a long-term relationship with their mutual best friend.

B: Did you just say 'love'? D: Oh that? No, I mean, I love all my friends the same way. Well, not the same way, but e-equally. The same amount of love. Even if... the love is different. B: And is the love different with me? D: Maybe. But our friendship is too important to me, and Kenji's my best friend, so let's just forget about it. Unless... B: Darius, I just don't think... I'm not really ready for—

Which makes sense. In Brooklynn's head, she's had one relationship fail because of her drive/work, and getting into another one wouldn't be smart with that in mind. And again, she's left a 6 year long relationship, moving on is going to take time even just in terms of figuring how to be single as a person in their early 20s.

However, we know that Brook and Kenji had been broken up long enough, and she'd been staying with Darius long enough, for him to develop feelings.

D: But when she came to stay with me, things started to change.

And we also see more than once that Kenji thinks it's plausible that Brooklynn could've loved Darius in return:

K: So my best friend fell in love with my ex-girlfriend. Did she love you back?

There's also the way this is tethered directly to Darius' character arc. If his 'origin point' in JWCT is that he feels like he failed Brooklynn and blames himself for her death, routinely framed under the language of 'needing,' then that sets up a character arc where he comes through for her (even though he's let go of his self-blame about her death "I couldn't have changed what happened" in the s1 finale).

'Being there,' or rather not there, is also a crucial aspect of what led to Kenji and Brooklynn breaking up.

K: I can't be with you anymore if you're not going to be with me.

(Which, Kenji trying to show Brooklynn something beautiful with the caveat "it doesn't last long," and then they break up? Yeah.) And we see that Darius is committed to being there simply because he's called her, sometimes multiple times a day, for months.

Even down to it being ultimately his idea to get on the ship, and everyone else following his lead (Kenji most reluctantly of all), when getting on the ship and going in deeper is identified as

So Darius being there for Brooklynn is something that has to happen in the future, which does not seem to be a part of Kenji's arc, and also works in tandem with Brooklynn needing to let people in / help her (which Darius can also relate to, as they are both fiercely independent and "keep trying to do everything alone"). He's become the person she Needs, narratively, and that's a very hard thing to undo and one that lends itself well to the idea of a future romance.

2) Darius vs Kenji as partners

This is not to say that Brooklynn is a perfect partner, even before things got bad.

She decidedly wasn't for Kenji at least in in the final stages of their romantic relationship, but merely that we routinely see her put her faith in and seek out things from Darius that she never seeks out from Kenji or the rest of the group in the same matter, and they know it. (The fact that Darius' boss Ronnie is also the one who tends to her, and the only person at the point in-universe, to think there's something between the two, also stands out to me.)

For example, the biggest actual issue with Brooklynn being so distracted is that for months (years?) she refused to tell Kenji anything about what she was doing with Dark Jurassic:

For a multitude of her own personal reasons, she didn't trust him with it. That doesn't mean Darius and Kenji are never in the same boat — she faked her death and left both of them, alongside everyone else in the group, in the dark — but that Brooklynn was pretty clearly going to bring Darius into the fold in ways she was never going to do so with Kenji, previously. It's not as though Brooklynn's obsession with the possible smuggling was the healthiest thing in the world, either, but she is 1) an investigative reporter, and 2) that drive to Know things is what sent her to Camp Cretaceous in the first place. If she'd approached things as a team (like she was trying to do with Darius, albeit very belatedly and likely because it felt like she didn't have other options), it wouldn't have been so unhealthy. It was that she was so routinely distracted without really sharing how and why, and therefore not letting anyone help pace her or help her at all, that was the problem.

In a lot of ways then, it's not so much "who's the better partner for her between Darius and Kenji" (though there is some of that), as much as it is "Which one does Brooklynn treat like a partner," and uh... I'd say Darius; her coming and crashing at his place semi long term immediately after her breakup only lends to this, tbh.

Speaking of which, next to the framing of it within Darius' plotline, this is the 2nd most 'damning' piece of evidence to me that they're, at the very least, not going back to Brooklynn/Kenji:

Identity theme

Initially pinged by the S2 trailer's big line of "I'm not the same Brooklynn you knew," it was clear that they were going to explore Brooklynn going on a tumultuous series of changes (possibly reflected by a change in hairstyle) and the idea that she no longer fits / belongs with her old life and her old friends.

This idea of "I'm not who I was / you're not who I thought so we can't be together" is not a new idea in terms of Brooklynn and Kenji falling apart, as we see it in S5 quite prominently:

They, of course, come back from that, as Kenji chooses Darius / the group over his father, and swears to never abandon them again. Nor does he abandon Brooklynn in breaking up with her, even if it leads to a much larger distance between them, with neither being physically or emotionally present with one another. It can be easy to chalk up Brooklynn's sentiment here, then, as being similar:

They can leave without her, because the Brooklynn (the 'you') is one she thinks no longer exists. As Brooklynn immediately follows up with, "I have a job to finish," showing that her determination and willingness to do anything to expose the smuggling ring is the 'one thing' that has stayed intact from Before everything went down (pre-breakup and fallout, etc). She also still gives the team Bumpy's egg, showing that she won't actually fully forsake them and that she does still care.

And, in some ways, I think Brooklynn is sort of right. The person they all deeply new is not who she is; she has become someone new because of her experiences, her loneliness, and trauma. She can't go back to being the old Brooklynn who hadn't lost an arm or cut her hair or hadn't faked her death.

This is pretty similar to what Darius worries in S5, after all:

B: Trust me, Kenji is the one who lost his way, not you. D: What if I'm changing? All the "life or death" situations, the choices between this bad thing or that even worse thing, it's turning me into someone I don't know. Someone I might not like. B: You know why we all look to you? Because your light burns bright, Darius Bowman. No amount of terrible choices can put it out. And I'll follow you anywhere.

So at Darius' biggest moment of doubt, Brooklynn affirms that she knows and sees the real him underneath the terrible choices he's made or their even worse circumstances, and that she sees him as the hero he is, and one that she'll follow. We also know throughout both shows that Darius thinks highly of Brooklynn ("Darius thinks the world of you!"); this doesn't mean idolization or idealization for either of them, but that what might be flaws for other people is not for each other. The scene where they discuss what happened with the breakup is not Brooklynn being entirely fair to Kenji, nor is Darius' tale of what happened ("She was really sorry, for not paying attention, for not appreciating all of this") since it was never discussed in that way. Instead, Brooklyn states that Kenji:

Brooklynn will possibly have an arc where she puts her friends above her mission, much like Kenji had to put his friends above his father. The push and pull of whether friends or dinosaurs' safety is worth more has been a frequent issue, with S3 and S5 notably making it clear that Brooklynn and Darius will both put dinosaurs first, and Kenji won't. This continued into JWCT for Brooklynn as well. I don't think her solution is to not be as obsessive but to allow others in on helping her. She's not being entirely fair to Kenji in her assessment of why they broke up, but the fact she tethers it to identity, something she is wrestling with all the more in S2...

If you feel on a fundamental level that your partner wants you to be someone other than who you are, it is extremely hard to come back from that. The fact that Brooklynn doesn't feel ready to face her friends because of how changed she is, and facing their potential reactions, reflects this uncertainty that she might be someone they don't recognize or no longer love. (Cue literally looking at her own changed reflection and citing what she had said to Darius: "I'm not really ready for...")

This uncertainty has made Brooklynn into someone who runs. She runs away from her friends, she runs away from her feelings, because she's not ready for potentially drastic changes. Therefore in order to grow, she has to trust Darius to be there for her again, he has to make a different choice... they're not the same as they were, maybe, but that doesn't mean they're totally different, or that she's a Brooklynn that he no longer loves.

The way she says "I'm not the same Brooklynn you knew" is also framed as being to the group, yes, but with a specific emphasis on Darius. I'm not the Brooklynn you think is so dedicated and wonderful, tackled onto I'm not the Brooklynn you'd do anything for, because you didn't.

They both have to meet in the middle in order to grow characters; Darius has to affirm that his devotion and love/loyalty for her is unchanged, and Brooklynn has to accept that she can still be a Brooklynn he's in love with, someone who's dedicated and wonderful and accepts his help.

Everyone over and over has reiterated that she needed him. It's not surprising, therefore, if the series decides to go with a romance, and say that she still does.

#dinostar #jwct spoilers #jwct #jwct theory #darilynn #jwcc #otp: cause i know you #analysis series #analysis #this is brainrot levels you'll never see again for this show i think but i had to get this out #and god i really need to catch up in full

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