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kikiswriting7 · 3 months

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Take a Chance ✵ JJK ✵ MYG - 1

✵ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

✵Summary: Y/N just move across the world to start her University. She is paired with a roommate who is complete social butterfly and makes a bet, Y/N needs to take more chances. And at the hint of her new found friend, her social and romantic life take a dramatic turn.

✵Tags/Warnings: Smut, College AU, red flag, sexual tension. angst, dirty talking, drinking, friends with benefits, full of cliches, friends to lover, swearing

✵Notes: Hi Guys this is my first time posting my story on Tumblr! I will be cross posting on AO3 if you prefer that platform! Maybe it will be nice posting here so I can keep you guys updated more easily! Let me know if you like it !! :)

CHAPTER 1 - LEAP INTO THE UNKNOWN

Moving to a new country had been a daunting adventure from the start. With my entire support system living on the other side of the world navigating the first week of university life in a foreign land seem like an uphill battle. Yet, here I was, embarking on this journey of self-discovery in a sea of uncertainty.

Apparently, Thursday nights were the start of an early weekend, and as this is the first Thursday after classes had started, the night was alive with the promise of excitement. House parties dotted the entire neighborhood, begging the passers to shed their inhibitions and embrace the spirit of youthful abandon. Gabi, my roommate, is wasting no time in dragging me along to what she states is her “best friends” party – a term I can only imagine she uses loosely, considering she just met them.

“C’mon Y/N, you’ll have fun too!” Gabi wrapped her arms around my shoulders as we made our way down the street, the pulsating beats of music guiding our way. “You gotta live a little girl! Take some questionable chances!”

Even though already halfway intoxicated, Gabi’s enthusiasm was infections, however I can't help but worry about the trouble her reckless proposition might invite. “So I should just roll the dice on whether I will manage to arrive back to our dorm in one piece? How the hell do you even do it?” I question her, struggling to keep her upright on the uneven pavement.

But Gabi is unphased by almost falling face first into the pavement. “Let’s do a bet!” She exclaimed. Oh God here it comes “If I see that you are holding back I’ll scream “DICE!” and you need to roll with it and take the chance”

“Gabi, it’s not a bet if I don’t win anything from it, you are just telling me to do probably something stupid.” I retorted, bracing myself for inevitable chaos that awaited for me.

Before I can protest further, a voice called out from the front door, drawing Gabi’s attention away. Hopefully she will soon forget about this conversation and just party her way through the night.

Arriving at the house, she basically jumps in the arms of the man standing there and gives him a tight hug. “Y/N this is Jin! Jin this is Y/N! She is my roommate and he is already a third year student, yada yada yada. Presentations done. Let’s go party!!” she says that too fast to basically even matter but he still takes the time to give a small greeting smile before entering the house first. Gabi pulls my hand to come with her but before we fully enter, she turns around “who said you will not win anything from it?” and winks before pushing people out of her way.

Iside the house, the scene is more chaotic then it seemed from the outside. There is a blend of dim lights, sticky floors and rancous laughter coming from the beer bong table set up in one of the corners of the room. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and anticipation as I follow Gabi’s lead into the heart of the party,

Gabi made her way into the kitchen to grab something that would increase the level of alcohol in her blood, but not like she is needing it. She is tiny, but she drinks like a professional. I, on the other hand, am a very light weight, but no way close to being drunk enough to handle this party by myself.

I wouldn’t say the party was bad, I see some people from classes that we took through the week and exchanged a few words through the week. You end up in a small group with Eli, who is also from the new semester you recognized, Gabi and Jin. Jin is funny, his easygoing demeanor and infection laughter is putting me at ease, if only for a moment. Until he handed tops my cup with more wine and says “I think it’s time for some beer pong.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this, guys” I protest weekly, eyeing the table.

“and you will never be unless you play” Eli laughs

“I have never even played this before…”

“Lets do it like this, since its duos Gabi goes with Eli, and you go with me. Trust me I’ve been doing for three years; we can do this!” and lifts my own hand to high five him. The girls already excited to be playing a drinking game, are giggling making their way to the table and set up their side.

“You know how the rules work right? Just aim the ball in the cup if it goes in, they drink!” he then hands you one of the ping pong balls and says louder “the loser has to take shots!” Ok, so let’s not loose. The first ball that you throw goes in and Jin makes a bigger deal than what it is and gives you a massive high five. “I though you never played this before!” Gabi screams from the other end laughing before taking a big sip from her cup. You are at a point that now both you and Jin are screaming and hugging if one of you gets the ball in, attracting some looks to the table.

“Let’s go Jin, no pressure but this is our win! Only one left!!” I try to hype him up, and jump from side to side waiting for this throw. The game was intense and was one cup versus one cup and now, after so many big gulps of your drink, you just wanted to win.

Everyone is holding their breath, and once he’s about to throw someone drops a bottle and it splatters on the floor taking away his concentration. He misses the shot.

The girls on the other end immediately throw their shot and it goes in.

“This is not fair! I lost my concentration!” He immediately jumps and points to the table.

“We need another shot! Was not fair!” You add on to his complains.

“Besties, the only shot you are getting is tequila, since we WON! HA” Gabi laughs and does her victory dance with Eli. Rolling your eyes you follow them to the corner of the living room where a small table had random drinks. “What are you staring at Eli? ” You casually ask while Gabi is pouring your shot “Hey! That’s enough! That’s why more than a shot!”

“Oops” she giggles

“Ok, Don’t look now but there’s this guy sitting at the kitchen counter, I think he’s also from our semester, and he’s so cute! I noticed him looking while we were playing beer pong and, oh my god, I want him” she loudly whispers. And as if she said, “look now!” all three of us search for the man sitting in the kitchen counter. He was surrounded by people and was making everyone laugh. It was like he was the sun, and the rest were pulled into his orbit.

And all three of you, each receive a slap on the arm from Eli and snap all of you out from staring at the man. “Oohh! Someone has a crush!” Jin replies winning him another slap on the arm “yeah he’s also new, His name is JungKook, he lives in the same house as me. We can walk over there and you can talk to him, if you want” he adds on.

“Oh my god, you are an angel! Now both of you, drink! Drink!” you roll your eyes and laugh and as an instinct you look the direction of the man you were just talking about, and you lock eyes. He basically stares into your soul. Fuck, he was cute. And he was hot. Very hot. For some reason you cannot stop staring back and he gives a side grin that makes your heart skip a beat while you take your shot.

The act seems to be gone unnoticed by your friends as they already were changing the subject and dragging you along somewhere. When you realize they where they were going. They were going straight to Mr Hot guy. Fuck. You quickly turn to Jin, as the other two were giggling ahead making their way closer and closer.

“Uh where are going? I thought we were fine where we were…” he drops his arm around your shoulder and pulls you a bit closer “Gabi took a bet with Eli that she needed to go talk to him and if she did she would buy her coffee for a week. And, as I know them, she said “yeah why not””

He made way and went to say hi to his friends who are here and introduce the girls and me. Jesus what was in the water they were drinking? Looking around you could only notice that all the boys that are here are actually really pretty. The beauty real state in this 3sqm space was through the roof. Even Jin is pretty, you came to notice. Each of the guys introduced themselves. Jimin, is the one with blond hair and Taehyung said something in his ear that made the first one laugh. Then there is Namjoon who just casually smiled and went back to being busy going through his phone. And there was him, who while you were saying niceties to the others has a burning stare to your face.

“I am JungKook nice to meet you” he stated while he jumped off the kitchen counter with such ease that the movement was smooth, like he did this a million times. And honestly, wouldn’t be surprised if he actually did. Gabi talked first taking his attention and introduced herself. You both had unconsciously grabbed Eli, one from each side, and when he turns back at me and is going to speak, I say first, “and this is Eli!” giving Gabi the opening to pinch her side for her to speak, but a squeak comes out first. It also earns Gabi a side eye.

“Hi I think we are in the same semester! I really like your tattoos!” She points out to his arm.

“I’ll go get some more wine” You gesture to Gabi she nods. I will definitely use this as an opportunity to run away from this uncortable situation. You make your way to the small area with the drinks to fill your cup with more wine, when Gabi suddenly shows up next to you. “Girl why are you taking so loooong. I hate third wheeling.” She complains taking the cup out of your hand and taking a sip.

“You were not third wheeling, and I was not taking long, I literally just left” I state removing her little claws from my drink “ besides, you had like 5 hot guys around you”

“First of all, ew, Jin is like a brother, JK is occupied someone else,” she winks “Joon could care less if I dropped dead in front of him, and the other two barely spoke a word to us. Therefore, I rather be with you. Second, don’t forget we still have a bet. I need to find a questionable decision for you tonight” all you can do is sigh. I find it incredible how she basically just met half of these people and is already on nicknames.

“You know what, I think I need a smoke. Come outside with me.” She doesn’t even give you the time to respond and is already dragging me with her to the backside of the house before I could even respond.

We slip away from the crowded room, where I lean the side of my shoulder against the wall while Gabi lits up the cigarette that she’d snagged from a random girl that was going back inside.“I think I’m going to leave soon Gabi”I say, my exhaustion and the buzz of the alcohol making me feel unsteady. “I am super tired and a little bit drunk. Maybe we should leave together?”

Before Gabi could reply, a voice, not entire unfamiliar, interrupts her, a hand resting lightly on the low of my back. Startled, I stumble a feet backward, hitting against the man. Turning around quickly I find myself face to face with Jungkook.

“Sorry to startle you” he says with a soft smile, his presence both comforting and disconcerting at the same time.

Unable to find my own voice, I turn to Gabi, whose mischievous grin is way too telling. With a final drag of her cigarette, she simply says “Dice…” with a very dramatic and theatrical pause, and adds “I love you, but I’m going to go find Jin. I’m so not ready to go home yet. Catch you later!” With a wink, she dissapears back into the ongoing party.

“So, Dice… You are also new to school I’ve heard.” He asks, his tone friendly but flirty.

“Oh, you’ve been asking around about me?” I blurted out. And I immediately regret my lack of filter. It must definitely is the alcohol. No, more drinking around cute men, I scold myself. Focus.

“Maybe a little” he admits with a chuckle “So, why Dice?”

“Gabi thinks I should roll the Dice and take more chances” The words slipping out of my mouth before I could stop them. Why cant I be quiet for five seconds?

He wrinkled his nose and laughed. Taking step closer while I instinctively took a step back, only to find myself trapped between him and the wall. Determined to not show any weakness, I arch an eyebrow and stare at him defiantly.

Seemingly unfazed, he takes this as a challenge and leans closer. I guess two can play this game.

“Why don’t you take more of those then?” He asks and the scent of his cologne is intoxicating. I have to fight the urge to not bury my nose on his collar. No, I must actually be going clinically insane. What the hell am I even thinking?

Before things could escalate, I quickly slip away from the place that I was being cornered not two seconds ago, making a hasty retreat. “It was nice talking to you Jungkook, but I am so tired” I fake a yawn as I back away towards the door.

All I got from him was a puzzled and amused look as a reply. So as I turn around to enter and collide straight on another dude. Equally handsome and equally well-scented as JungKook. What the hell is up with these people?

“I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to run into you!” I stammered, doing my best to make sure I hadn’t spilled anything on him.

“Hey, its ok! Don’t worry about it! Are you ok?” He asks concerned etched into his face. Meanwhile I can still feel Jungkook checking the interaction from where I left him so I couldn’t help but quickly glance at him. He looked…worried?

“I’m fine I, uh, just need to find my friends.” I reply, eager to escape Jungkooks scrutiny” I think it’s time to go home”

“Then let me help you find them yeah? I’m also searching for my friends, kind of done with this party anyway.” He offers and offers me to lead the way.

As we navigate through the rooms that were thumping with the bass of the songs, I cannot shake the weird feeling JungKook left me with. Great. He’s probably going to make fun of me to all his friends now.

“So, what’s your name?” The guy asks closer to me.

“Y/N and yours?” I say looking back over my shoulder

“Yoongi” he just says casually. “so, are you friends with Jungkook?”

“Well friends is a strong word. We just met because of friends in common, I guess. Do you know Jin? He probably knows where my roommate is so we can go home…” you inquire to him.

“Oh, yeah.” He says after a short pause, connecting the dots of the people we are talking about “Are you roommates with Gabi?” He motions to more or less her height. Why doesn’t he sound like he’s going to deliver good news?

“Yeah, I have the feeling we are talking the same Gabi, so yes, I am.” And you brace for impact.

“Yeah I saw Jin leave with her, I guess to take her home. She got way to drunk way to fast, I guess. They had another girl with them trying to convince her to go.” Yup, sounds like them.

“Yeah she’s tiny but she drinks like a dude that’s 1,90. I’ve never seen anything like it” You laugh looking back at him. His hand rests reassuringly on my back. Nothing like the flirtatious touch of JungKook.

“Let’s get you home. It’s a boring party anyway.”

As Yoongi and I walk together towards my apartment, the night air feels cool against my skin, in stark contrast with the Hot and Humid atmosphere of the house we were in. The breeze caries the faint scent of spring. The moon and the street lamps casting a soft glow over the streets, and any other noises seems to fade as we lose ourselves in conversation.

We talked about everything and nothing, our words weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and dreams. Despite the weight of our respective parental expectations lingering in the background, we managed to keep the mood light, peppering our conversation with laughter and playful banter.

"I'm majoring in Business because it's what my parents want," I confess, feeling a pang of guilt for admitting it out loud. "But sometimes I wonder if it's what I really want."

Yoongi nodds in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I get that. I'm doing music production, but my parents are absolutely against it. They think it's just a hobby, not a real career." He looks sad while kicking a stone out of the way.

His words resonate with me, and for a moment, I feel seen by him. We are both struggling to reconcile our own desires with the expectations placed upon us by others.

"Cheers to a fun ride," Yoongi said, raising his cup of water in a mock toast, a wry smile playing on his lips.

I clinked my cup against his, returning his smile with a grateful one of my own. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, there was a sense of camaraderie between us, a shared understanding that we were in this together.

The walk passed quicker than I would've liked, and before I knew it, we were standing in front of my apartment building. I turned to face him, the warmth of his presence filling me with a strange sense of comfort.

"Thanks for keeping me company," I said, feeling a rush of gratitude toward him for making the journey home less lonely.

"No problem. Who else would've fought off the wolves for you?" he jokes, his laughter echoing in the quiet night air.

I chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playful banter. "Guess I would've been a late-night snack without you."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "No worries. Here to fight any wolves or ghouls. Just give me a call. See you around, Y/N."

As he began to walk away, a sudden impulse seized me, and before I could stop myself, the words spilled from my lips. "How would you know who to call if you can't even contact me?"

To my surprise, Yoongi turned back, a playful grin on his lips as he pulled out his phone and handed it to me. "You could always try the light signal in the sky, but I think this would be easier" he quipped, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I couldn't help but smile as I entered my number into his phone, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of staying in touch with him. "Talk to you later," I said, handing back his phone before turning to head inside.

His low voice still echoing in my head, the elevator ascends toward my floor, reality crashing back in. Gabi had disappeared, leaving me stranded at a party I never wanted to attend in the first place. Jin's note confirmed my suspicions,

“ Hey, I left Gabi and Eli sleeping in her room. They were quite drunk. I hope you are feeling ok. Sorry to not go find you. Gabi just blacked out and had to carry her home. Let me know if you need help with anything. My phone number is in the back. -Jin”

I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

After a soothing shower to wash away the remnants of alcohol, I settled into bed, reaching for my phone. Sure enough, Yoongi had messaged me, and I couldn't resist staring at his profile picture, a pang of longing stirring within me. His dark long hair falling over in an arch over his forehead, a pair of large headphones hanged over his neck, and he was serious staring at the camera, as if bothered for the person taking his picture. He actually looked very cute, even though he seemed not so happy with the situation.

I quickly remind myself to snap out of it. This was no time for silly crushes. Yoongi might not even find me attractive, and I am getting ahead of myself. With a sigh, I set my phone aside, determined to focus on the present and deal with the complexities of tomorrow when they arrived.

The sudden ping of my phone jolted me back to being awake, the bright screen cutting through the darkness of the room. Blinking groggily, I read the message from Jungkook, confusion clouding my thoughts. Why is he texting me at 3 a.m., and how had he gotten my number?

"Hey,"

the message reads.

"I got your number from the new semester group chat. Sorry if it's weird."

My mind is racing with questions, but before I could formulate a response, another message appeared.

"I was wondering. Do you guys want to go somewhere on Saturday?"

I stare at the screen, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity. Is this the same Jungkook who had cornered me against the wall just a few hours ago, his gaze intense? What changed?

Honestly, I don’t think its best best to reply immediately, hes definetly drunk, he might delete the messaged by morning and I can pretend I never saw them. I set my phone aside, right now, sleep is calling my name, and I had no intention of ignoring it.

The next morning brought with it a rude awakening, quite literally, as I find Gabi and Eli sitting at the foot of my bed, their voices chattering away in the early morning light.

Groaning, I pull the blanket over my head, hoping to retreat back into the comforting embrace of sleep. "Gabi, aren't you supposed to be dying right now?" I mumble, my voice muffled by the fabric.

But Gabi was undeterred, yanking the blanket off my face with a mischievous grin. "Oh, great, you're awake! We've been waiting all morning for you," she exclaims, her excitement palpable.

I can’t help but roll my eyes, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as Gabi bounds off the bed to fetch me coffee. "Aren’t you guys supposed to be dying?" I quipped, my words laced with mock incredulity.

As Gabi returned with a steaming cup of coffee, I begrudgingly sat up, preparing myself for the barrage of questions I knew was coming. “Yes we are dying.” She sit back at her spot. “Dying to know what happened last night! Spill it," Gabi demanded eagerly, her eyes shining with anticipation.

Sighing, I recount the events of the previous night, downplaying the encounter with Jungkook as I can feel the somewhat sad gaze from Eli.

"And that was it? How did you get home? Someone told me you left with a guy," Gabi pressed, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of coffee. "Oh, that? Yeah, while I was trying to ditch Jungkook, I accidentally bumped into this other guy, and he offered to walk me home," I explained, glossing over the details.

But Gabi and Eli are not even close to satisfied with my vague answers, their raised eyebrows and pointing questions forcing me to divulge more than I want to. "Also, Jungkook texted me saying that he wanted to go out and do something on Saturday with us," I add reluctantly under my breath, bracing myself for Gabi's inevitable excitement.

Sure enough, Gabi practically leaps off the bed, her enthusiasm infectious. "BESTIE AND YOU ONLY SAY THAT NOW?" she exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.

Rolling my eyes, I couldn't help but smile at her antics. "Yeah, well, at least I’m saying it now," I muttered, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I guess since he and Eli hit it off last night he might have been to shy to ask her out directly so he messaged me to know”

Eli takes that as her cue to turn bright pink “I mean I saw you guys talking and laughing last night, so I guess that’s why” I say reassuringly at her.

But Gabi isnt deterred, already brainstorming plans for the weekend outing. Despite my reluctance, I couldn't help but want to help my new friend go out with her crush.

“would you like me to try to set up the thing?” I ask Eli casually.

“Honestly, I think it would be nice? He was so sweet the entire time. I think I have a light crush on him…” Obviously that she does, just the mention of him she her face turns the color of a strawberry.

Unlocking my phone, I quickly type out a reply to Jungkook, confirming our plans for Saturday. before you press send, Gabi, who is basically climbing over your shoulder to see the message adds,

“And tell him that we are having pre drinks at our place!” you just side eye her but type the message anyway. As I press send, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within me.

Gabi and Eli practically lunges for my phone as soon as it pinged with a response, their excitement palpable. And as I watched their faces light up with joy, I couldn't help but feel grateful for their friendship and the unexpected adventures that lay ahead.

“Happy?” I trying to sound bored.

“Yes omg you are such a good friend!” she hugs you pulling Eli into the hug as well.

They are both laughing and slapping each other giving each other tiny little shrieks.

“He said” gabi clears her voice and puts a much lower tone “yeah sounds great. I’ll come by at 8 to your place. Send me the address later. See you soon”

“Ok, now please leave. Today is our first weekday without any classes, and I intend to ride out my hangover," I declare, sinking back into bed with a groan. But before I can fully relax, Eli chimes in.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot. Someone left this in front of the door," she says, pointing to the bottle of medicine for hangovers on the nightstand, a little note still attached that I completely missed.

"Ohhh, was this the mysterious boy..." Gabi begins, but I cut her off, physically dragging both of them out and closing the door to my room behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I can't help but feel a sense of anticipation tinged with apprehension. This is going to be an intense year, that much is certain. Reaching for the little note, I read, "Thought you might need this to fight off those hangover monsters. -Y."

So, it's from him. With a smile, I pick up my phone to text him.

"You really didn't have to, you know?

"Yeah, I know, but couldn't let you fight that hangover alone."

"It's not even that bad. Don't be so dramatic,"

I reply, even though I know it's a blatant lie. Yes, it's bad, but he doesn't have to know that I'm such a lightweight.

"Yeah, sure, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better about it,"

he teases, and I can't help but chuckle.

"Thank you, anyway. Coffee does the trick most of the time though."

"Noted,"

"And it's my pleasure,"

He adds, and with that, our conversation comes to an end. I feel a warmth spread through me at his thoughtfulness. He doesn't send anything else for the rest of the day, and I don't dare to say anything else either.

Now, all that occupies my mind is the meeting with Jungkook tomorrow, which I really don't want to have at my house. But that's a problem for tomorrow. Today, I'm content to nurse my hangover and enjoy the peace and quiet of my room.

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the-orange-tabby-cat · 1 year

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Wings Of The Dawn | Chapter 2

Joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: You are Jackson's librarian, a doll with a good heart, that has your life changed when a handsome man decides to take his kid and start again in your small town after completing their cross country journey. Having a hard time ignoring Joel's dark brown eyes, you find yourself wishing to have him close as you both navigate through love triangles, teenage drama, city gossip, and ghosts from both of your pasts. This is a comfort fic filled with slow burn and small town dynamics. Chapter summary: It's time for a lights out one on one session with your favorite Texan. And no, I'm not talking about smut… Yet.

read on AO3 | fic masterlist | masterlist | playlist | next chapter

Rating: 18+ eventually (first chapter free of smut)

Warnings/Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Age Difference, Small Town Dynamics, No use of y/n

Chapter Word count: 6k

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CHAPTER 2

If you stare into the darkness for too long, you will notice that you can differentiate the shapes near you. For the first seconds, as your eyes get used to the lack of light, everything appears darker than it is, but as you keep them open, you see the details around you. After 21 years of living in the outbreak, being in the darkness from time to time isn't as challenging as it used to be, even for someone like you who wanted to run into the light as fast as you could.

"How many candles exactly do we need?" You asked Nath as she melted the beeswax little by little. There would be a programmed energy rationing for the following days as the dam got its amends done, making the demands for other sources of light higher.

It was a scorching day, much hotter than average for this time of the year. The heat in the candle-making process was hard to deal with, forcing both women to wear summer clothes and accept sweating as a regular reaction. You felt somewhat dizzy with the heat coming from the stove.

"We have 300 residents, I'm considering maybe 2 per person." She opened her mouth slightly, with her dark blue eyes looking above her, "600 up to 700 candles, maybe?"

"With just me and you making all of them? This is impossible." You looked at her, putting one of your hands behind your neck, scratching a little. From time to time, she would get a new plan that involved you both making something daring. Still, today, you were feeling tired from the start and decided to sabotage it before even beginning.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. We will have helpers, they’ll be here any minute, so you better behave and help me get the rest of the wax." Next to her, there were some trays with leftover candles. Everybody donated what they had on their shelf for the initiative.

Accepting defeat, you look at her, thinking about having more hands on. "Wait, what kind of help? You never involve anyone else in your plans," you inquired while separating the donated wax by color. Nath was very social and had most of the city in a chokehold, but she wasn't the type to keep too many people in her private life.

"First of all, ouch, I have more friends other than you," you glared at her, which she promptly ignored, "second, I convinced your favorite teenagers to join us. What could go wrong? Am I right?"

Without asking, you already knew the teens she was referring to.

In the weeks after the dinner at Alfie's house, Cat spent at least one hour per day at the library, close to you. She made herself useful with the book system you created, helping to put the books back on the shelves before you asked for it. Other times, she would read to the little kids in a group that came with the people from the small daycare near the corner by the afternoon.

Cat was reading Dr. Seuss, a very old copy of Oh, the Places You'll Go!, with a few yellow spots at page corners due to time, one of the residents found under a bed when they first moved into a house and decided to donate it. The infants reacted with smiles and giggles when you heard the characteristic bell sound of the front door.

Ellie stepped in with two books under her arm. You recognized her plaid shirt from the day at the meadow, trembling a bit with the memory. "I presume you devoured both of those?" You said, nodding at the books. She laughed.

"Yeah, came to deliver these and get new ones," she replied, putting them on the counter. As you went to put them on the right shelf, you noticed her brown eyes lingering on the kids listening to Cat's reading.

"Why don't you sit with them for a bit as I get you something new?" She looked at you and nodded slowly, finding her a cushion on the floor behind the kids. You smiled and thought she probably hadn't experienced the childhood pleasure of someone reading for her. A quick image of your brother reading out loud came into your mind, and you buried it as you searched for your recommendation books' shelves.

Cat didn't mind Ellie listening to her as she flipped the pages and showed the images to the kids. Ellie was blinking slowly, following Cat's hand in front of the pages, no longer a teen but instead a child. You started to get her two books since only taking one per visit was no longer enough.

She came every day to the library. At first, she came and left in a few minutes, just wanting a book to take home, but slowly she started to stay longer. Sometimes, she came just to check the available titles, walking between the shelves; others to get new books to take with her, and at times just to go somewhere. She was lingering for something you didn't recognize but tried to provide to her. Comfort seems to be a word that came close to what you felt she needed. You separated a table for her, near the window, a little far from the main door, when you saw she only read at her house. It has been two weeks since she started to read by her chair.

Finishing the story, the kids got up, and the teacher thanked you and Cat, who was already on her feet and coming closer to Ellie. You noticed a little red on her pale cheeks, perhaps from not being around other teens that much.

"So, what do you think?" Cat asked with a smile similar to the one that Alfie gave.

"Kinda cool, but not much for me," Ellie answered, a little snarky but playful. You wondered if Joel had a similar approach to humor.

"Okay, what do you like then?" Walking through the shelves, Cat put a copy of The Princess Diaries at the table nearby. As Ellie rolled her eyes, Cat got a clue and flickered around the shelf a little longer until she found something. “Maybe this? It looks like a you type of book.”

Ellie read the Murder on the Orient Express engraved on the cover and gave a quick look at Cat, "Now we’re talking, what is it about?" and with that they kept talking until after the sunset. Your recommendations for Ellie that day were discharged as she took Agatha Christie home, following Cat's tip.

They became a buy-one-get-two kind of deal. Cat helped you around as Ellie sat and read whatever the girl chose for her. If Cat wasn't there, no problem, she would wait for her with you, doing whatever her mind wanted. This was one of those days when Cat wasn't supposed to be at the library for a while, and without someone of her age, Ellie swallowed up her shyness and started to talk with you at the back house.

The back house was mainly bureau style, with just the machine that once belonged to a printing place, primarily focused on invitations and small printing, you believed. Now, they were filling a different purpose, restoring books and helping to preserve memory a title per time. You were taking leather and measuring for a book spine near the table, Ellie watching it closely.

“Where did you learn to do this?” She quietly asked, absorbed in the process, her eyes watching every small move you made.

"My dad was an archivist for a church. Do you know what are those?" Putting the book spine right in the middle, you started to glue the leather at the cover and back cover. Ellie shook her head, confused.

"Books are more than just stories, they also hold details about the world around us. Or used to, at least. My dad's life purpose was to ensure that every document, book, or piece of paper that held the church's history, part of us, was in good condition. He took care of it to be preserved for the next generations. I used to watch him do this at our house, in his studio. I like to think he would like me to continue doing this."

“What kind of books a church needs?” Ellie was seated next to you, her arms crossed a little on the table with her chin resting above them. You glanced at her and saw that she was honest with her question.

"Do you know what a Bible is?" You asked, stopping all your actions. She shook her head once more. "Well, you don't need to know about it, anyway. Churches' books are mostly their origin history or a collection of stories about what they believe." Forcing your hands to work with the leather again, you reflected on how different your life would have been without religious symbols shoved down your throat.

"Sounds kinda lame if you need a book to tell you what to believe," she replied, twisting her mouth slightly as if she thought it was absurd. You smiled at her, thinking about how much she looked like your brother at the moment.

Cat came not much after that, together with Nath, who was wearing a t-shirt written: "turtley awesome." She saw you by the counter and grinned immediately, making you sigh.

"You have a new plan," you said, annoyed.

"Yes, I have a new plan." She announced at the same time. "Our favorite Mexican will be starting to work on the dam soon, so I thought my favorite doll could do this city a favor and deliver candles with me."

"That's it? Deliver candles from house to house?" Squinting your eyes at her, you felt it was too good to be true. She squinted back at you for a few seconds, making Cat laugh.

"She forgot to say that we don't have any candles left in storage. You'll need to make new ones," Cat said, and you mouthed an "oh" to Nath. Of course, her plan had a catch.

"Just like I said, our favorite Mexican will be working on the dam soon, and they need a shit ton of candles in, like, two days," Nath said, pointing to Cat, eyebrows raised. As Ellie left your work table and came closer to the counter, Nath looked at her.

"Nice shirt," Ellie observed, followed by Nath humming something and entering a staring contest with the girl. You looked at both of them, confused about what was happening.

"How old are you? 12?" Nath questioned. Ellie shortly replied, saying 14. "Do you have a curfew?"

"Okay, no more interrogation. Let the poor girl be. When do you want to start this candle mission?" Before Ellie opened her mouth, you moved your hands in a motion to stop, gaining a short laugh from both girls.

"You see, Cat I get it, but how did you convince Ellie to make candles with us? This is new. I only see her at the library," the gears inside your head running with you, wondering when they met beside the library a few days back.

"A lady never tells, Doll," she said, melting more wax, "but apparently, having a collection of t-shirts with puns did the trick."

From the Tipsy Bison, Nath had a good view of the main street. She was quick to observe who and what, and even faster to understand their motivations. She noticed that Tommy's niece was going every day to the library, and on the days it was closed, she would stay put at home.

Joel appeared here and there, mainly with Tommy by his side, she crossed paths with them a few times and could check Joel's address. With the house street in her mind, she made a connection: Ellie was going to the library straight from her house, not from the school building, and as Maria reported earlier, she was supposed to already have started.

Nath and Seth cooked the patrol's food daily, with the patrollers coming to the counter to collect it before going to the city gate. In one of the deliveries, she heard Joel would come with the day's patrol to inspect the dam before working on it. It was Sunday, the library was closed, Nath made up her mind to let Seth take care of the Bison for the day and started walking to Ellie's house.

"Hum, yeah?" The girl opened the door, confused. Nath and she had seen each other just once, at the library, a couple days ago. Ellie's eyes lingered a bit too much on Nath's chest area, probably reading the t-shirt with a mouse drawing and the phrase "smartest rat at the sewer."

"What color is your room's ceiling?" Nath asked, snooping with her eyes inside the house. Old American regular, not yet different from the previous decoration there before being occupied by J0el and his kid. Impersonal, just a place to sleep, not a home.

She needed to find a way to get Ellie outside fast since Maria lived on the other side of the street and could easily question her motives for being there.

“Dirty white, why?” Ellie crossed her arms and raised one of her brows.

"Congratulations, you are a bored teen. Let me tell you what’ll happen now: you’ll come with me and have an amazing city tour, or you can stay here and your best choice is to sleep." Nath started walking down the pavement, shouting, "You have a minute to grab your keys and follow me."

Ellie rushed behind her, eager to have any excuse to leave her house. Nath had two main focuses during the tour: to present her with the basics of how the city worked and to gain a new alliance. She tried to make sure the kid understood the main buildings.

"Okay, let's get to the basics: buildings. The city has some structures inside our walls, but we also have some land a few miles from here to get some specifics. The food you eat is a mix of everything, Chad," she pointed at the man working on the garden as they passed by it, "is our gardner. Vegetables, fruits — you name it, are harvest inside the city and the animals come from the land outside. Try to get close to Chad, when you crave something sweet, compliment him, and he will give you a few berries. Works like a charm."

"The stable's horses are for the whole community, but if you start to patrol, you can choose one to be your main one." Nath continued as Ellie looked back at her in wonder.

“Which one is yours?” Nath laughed at the absurdity of the question.

“I don’t patrol, kid. Do you really think that I’d go around the runners and lunatics outside these walls risking my life? Hell no! My contribution is good alcohol and movie nights orchestrated by yours truly at the mess hall. Do you like horror movies?" Ellie didn't answer immediately, almost as if she had never seen one. "Well, you can try and see if it fits. The next one will be in a few weeks, you should come."

They walked through the main avenue and the main buildings. Nath showed her where they produced paper, how they got new fabric to make more clothes and not rely only on "treasure hunting." Little by little, Ellie understood the whole system of the city, including the government model. They were walking back on the main avenue as Nath continued the final part of the tour.

"If you ever get fucked up pretty bad and need a doctor, you go there and ask for Edwin. He looks a thousand years old, but pretty cool dude in case of an emergency," she spoke, nodding at the clinic on the other side of the street.

About four houses down the street, she started to speak again. "The little kids stay at the daycare until late during weekdays – make sure to do not cross their paths, or you will smell a diaper from a mile away," she twisted her nose and pointed at the said building. Ellie laughed, eyes bright as if she was taking notes of everything.

"And this is the best place in this city," Nath said as they entered the Tipsy Bison as the city tour ended, "it also opens every day of the week but for adults, not pests. You can't drink anything I have behind this counter, but you can eat a mean grilled cheese. Hungry?"

Turned out it was Ellie’s first time in a bar, exactly what you would hope for a 14year old, anyway. She was seated at a stool in front of the counter, watching from the kitchen’s door Nath make her a sandwich. Above the door, there was a black plaque with white letters:

NO SWEARING

NO FIGHTS

NO CORDYCEPS DISCUSSIONS

NO END OF THE WORLD TALK

"Why the hell do you have these rules for?" Ellie asked out loud, making Nath look at the plaque as she passed the door with the grilled cheese plate. "What happens if someone breaks it?"

“Pawpaw’s rules, not mine, but I still follow them. Don’t test them and you will be fine. Eat your damn sandwich,” she replied, Ellie was already taking a bite. “You like to read, huh? I watch you walk to the library every day. Dolly may be somewhat innocent, but I’m not. You are running from something.”

"What do you mean?" Ellie replied, getting tense at her shoulders, her small mouth a little more rigid. "I have no clue what you’re talking about."

"I get it, pal. A new kid that crossed the country with a grumpy man and ended up in a small town? Not the smoothest life," the girl looked down and took another bite. Nath continued, "My grandpa and I had our share of adventures before coming to this place, just me and him. If anyone understands you, this person is me. You skip school to go to the library. Dolly hasn't realized it yet, but I do."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Ellie replied using her meanest tone. Nath pointed at the plaque with the rules. The girl looked up. "Not saying sorry for your stupid rules."

“Didn’t ask you to. Listen, I’ll keep your secret for now if you do me a favor.” Getting herself a little closer to the kid, Nath whispered, “I need to deliver some things around town and can’t be seen while at it, but you, nobody knows you yet. Simple and easy.”

"What kind of things?" She questioned in the same breathy tone, trying to keep her posture. "What can you give me in exchange? I won't do it for a secret. It’s too little."

“Basic shit, I can give you more details later,” Nath replied and waited for Ellie’s reaction, that just nodded her head once, “here’s the deal: you make me one deliver to check the quality of your work and come to my house next Sunday afternoon with Cat, I get you something from a smuggler outside Jackson. You name it.”

"Really, man? You want me to help with your stupid candles?" Ellie rolled her eyes, and Nath maintained her neutral expression, trying her best to get the kid afraid of her. It worked.

Ellie took her last bite and shook her head, "Fine, but no, something smuggled is too little. I want your shirt. The turtley awesome one." They sealed the deal with a handshake. One week later, Ellie and Cat were helping to make candles, to your utter confusion.

"Are you sure that this is your preferred weekend activity?" You asked as you finished making the second batch of candles. Looking at Cat, you continued, "Aren't we too old to be your pals for the day?"

"Old? Yeah, lame? No, also, I'm hoping to be paid with another apple pie," Cat said, and you smiled at her, putting the topic to rest.

Turned out that 600 candles were indeed impossible with the amount of time you had. You were tired of making them until way after the sunlight went away. Cat had gone home already, Ellie stayed to help clean everything and you realized it was probably too late for her to walk back alone, Joel was most likely worried.

Despite the kid saying to you that it was alright, you insisted on chaperoning her, carrying with you some candles, hoping that Joel would be less angry by it. As you walked the few blocks to their house, you came to the conclusion that you had no indication, clue, or even context for what Joel was like. Ellie spent most of the days at the library, but you never spoke about her relationship with him. He was a book waiting to be opened, one that you wanted to read every page and write small comments at the margins.

“I’m home!” Ellie shouted downstairs, as she entered the main door, Joel came from the kitchen. “Oh no”, you thought.

With a cloth rag on his shoulder, he stopped near Ellie, both hands on his hips and a knee popped. She opened her mouth, he quickly dismissed, "Don't. I told you, this is a safe place, safe as it gets, but you need to give a heads up before disappearing like that."

"I lost track of time, sorry. Nothing bad happened. Tell him, Dolly," she replied quickly, looking at you behind her shoulder. You were still at the front door, feeling awkward to enter the house. Joel furrowed his brows and looked at you up and down.

It had been a hot day, summer was not far away anymore. A tank top with shorts made sense for a day with your best friend, but in front of Joel, you felt naked. More naked than the day at the meadow. You jumped a bit, put on your best polite voice, and announced, "Sorry for showing up late, we did lose track of time. Ellie stayed with us all day. I can assure you she was fine under my eye."

Joel gave you a look, almost as if he didn't believe you. Remembering your first proper encounter at the Bison, he knew immediately you hated your nickname. Now he knows you were being just polite, not yourself, real. He looked through the doll in you, putting some weight on how his dark brown eyes gazed at yours.

"I mean it, she showed up by noon at Nath's door and stayed a little later to help us clean the mess. We made candles for the nights without energy. No more than that. I brought you some." You said in your own voice, no more the doll one.

"Right," he replied, looking down and then to Ellie, "Go to bed, you have school tomorrow. It's okay. I'm not mad at you." Ellie nodded, her face tensed still, and left without making any comments, leaving you alone with Joel.

For a few seconds, staring at each other, you both seemed to forget what you were doing. He spoke first, "So, the candles, thank you for them. They’ll be useful."

“Yeah, they will.” Putting the candles in his hands, you looked away when your fingers touched his. Not giving in to the feeling, you continued, “Have you seen the dam yet?”

"Hum, no, I’ll see the dam structure tomorrow." Joel quickly replied, short answer.

“Maria told the council that you used to work as a contractor, are you happy to do it again?” You tried once more, hoping to get more words out of him.

"I think so, it’s been so long that it feels like another lifetime," Joel replied, putting the candles away and taking the rag from his shoulder, not daring to look at you. Another lifetime, another Joel.

A younger Joel would have already asked for you to join him in the kitchen for a drink, maybe to walk you home, not this version with old bones and fear of everything. This one was too busy trying to keep what he already had near him, avoiding at all costs to be greedy.

To say that his first day back at a construction site was a dog day would be to lighten it up. He lied to you. Joel met Tommy a week ago to understand better the dam plan, the needs, and all by visiting it.

"Alfie is a good fella, not like some of the people we used to work with back at Austin," Tommy said as they walked down the main avenue toward the city gate. Joel allowed himself to see his baby brother as the 50 year old man he was, putting some trust in Tommy's words despite his history of having too much faith in everyone that sold him a good story.

Over the prior weeks, he tried to get some ground for him and Ellie. He would make her breakfast early in the morning, just like when they were traveling. Leave a lampshade lighted all night near her bedroom door to avoid bad dreams. Meet her at the mess hall every night to have dinner with Tommy and Maria. Walk her to school every morning. However, no matter what he tried, he could still notice the weight on her stare from when she asked if he was being honest with her.

Biting down the corner of his mouth, Tommy introduced him to Alfie at the city entrance. The man was accompanied by a young girl who looked similar to him. "Alfie, this is my brother, Joel. He will be joining us today at the dam."

"I heard good things about your abilities. Nice to meet you," Alfie started with a smile and shook his hand, "this is Catarina, my daughter. I will be home before the sunset, mija."

Joel controlled the impulse to sigh. Alfie was too smiley, too happy, too endearing, too young. Probably had an effect on women because of his thick accent, and being in his late thirties, early forties maximum helped as well. He had a happy look in his eye as if he hadn't lived on the same Earth as Joel for the last 21 years.

Cat gave her father a long hug and started to walk, leaving Alfie to talk with Joel and Tommy. The scene felt like a slap on his face, a reminder of what he one day had and now was shaking on his boots to keep. He assumed that Cat and Alfie had a similar age difference as Sarah and he had. Alfie was a natural, appeared to get along with his daughter, could smile easily, and had been a good friend to his brother over time. Envy wasn't a natural feeling for Joel, but he was sure he was jealous of the young man's destiny over his own.

He could sense there was conversation near him but only paid attention when Alfie said his name back at him. "Cat and Ellie are getting closer. Perhaps you both could join us for a backyard barbecue," he invited, smiling.

"Yeah, we’ll be there. Thank you," Joel agreed, looking in front of him, despite having not heard a single time Ellie mention Cat. He didn't know when, but he got so lost in his thoughts as they followed the trail that he lost his sense of reality a little. They were no longer at Jackson but on the back of horses following for the dam. He had no idea of how much time had passed.

“Hey man, I forgot to ask you. We saw you at Dolly’s door the other night, all good?” Tommy started as he got closer to Alfie, Joel behind them at the back of the trail. “All this cat and mouse must be tiring.”

“Oh, Dolly,” Alfie looked down a little, peaking Joel’s interest. “It is not, like, she is avoiding me, you know? But she hasn’t searched for me yet, I don’t know what to do.”

Alfie's smile was no longer decorating his face. Joel felt slightly guilty when he found out he felt better seeing the man's sadness. He had crossed paths with you a couple of times, but you looked at him straight in the eyes instead of running away. He saw how you dropped your shoulders as Alfie left your doorway, almost as if you were annoyed by the idea of being close to the man.

For a second, Joel allowed himself to believe you would have put your arms around his neck if he was the one kissing your cheek instead.

"She is a little difficult, but hey, progress is progress! Have you tried to ask Nath about it?" Tommy put a hand on his tight and looked at Alfie, a little lost in his thoughts.

"Not directly, she scares me a little," both men laugh as Joel didn't get the joke.

“Well, you should get a beer and try to get some alliances if you really want the doll,” Tommy advised and went straight to the front of the trail.

A well-known face waited for them at the dam. Joel glared at Tommy, who didn't look back at his brother's face. "Can't believe you didn't tell me this shit," Joel hissed low in his brother's direction.

Eugene and Tommy were fireflies together. Joel heard about the man over radio conversations over the years, listening to Tommy's enthusiasm as he spoke of his people skills and electricity expertise. Tommy searched for an older figure in Eugene because he no longer trusted Joel, simple as that. When Joel and Ellie showed up last winter, Tommy kept Eugene's presence a secret. Coming back during spring, he told Joel right away.

"Okay, you gotta check this out. I found the old floor plant of the dam in one of the office's rooms near the entrance. It will be a good rainy season, baby!" Eugene shouted hoarsely as the trio stopped their horses, Tommy and Alfie already walking behind him. Joel, however, stood back, taking a good look at the former firefly.

A slender man with long limbs, round glasses cracked in one of the lenses, and shaggy gray hair. His front teeth were slightly separated inside of a large mouth. It burned Joel's blood seeing Eugene so carefree, living a good life after years of Firefly actions and filling his brother's mind with ideas. Joel saw in him an old man who hadn't allowed himself to get old and hoped he didn't appear like this to the others, a joke of a man.

You were looking at Joel like he wasn't a joke to you, at least not a big one. His mind returning to the house with you, he waved the cloth a little on the air as if thinking and speaking at the same speed. "Why was Ellie with you?" He questioned a little for himself and a lot for you. He put some weight on the remembrance of that day at the dam, deciding to deal with it later.

"My friend, the bar owner - Nath, invited her to the activity." You replied with a lower voice as you shoved your hands in the back pockets of your shorts. "I can tell her to no longer invite Ellie if you feel uncomfortable."

"No, it's fine. Just took me by surprise, I guess," he quickly replied, pouting a little.

As you opened your mouth to say goodbye, a sizzling sound filled the room, and the lights flickered, followed by silence and total darkness. "Goddammit, fucking Eugene," Joel said out loud, leaving an intense sigh out of his body.

In the total darkness, you saw his silhouette against the moonlight that filtered from the kitchen's windows, a little far from where you stood in the living room. You could only hear you and Joel breathing.

"Guess we will have to use the candles before we imagined," he dared to speak, walking backwards into his kitchen. You were unsure of what to do, start to walk home? Wait until he came back with a candle lit up?

You waited, not by choice, but because you couldn't decide in time. You saw Joel protecting the candle's flame as he got close to you, his face lines soft from the orange light. His dark brown eyes were even stronger as the flame danced, reflecting on them.

"Come, I’ll get you something to eat," he spoke gently, and you followed his steps to the kitchen table despite the fact you were talking back.

“No, I will walk home, it’s already late,” you said without any intention to leave.

“Nonsense, it’s too dark for you without the lamppost. Stay a bit,” he replied gentler.

There was something sweet about how Joel moved around when his guard was low. It was the third time you met the man, but you noticed his shoulder line relaxed and his hands precise in their movements. In the dark of his kitchen, you wondered if he would appear the same with the lights on.

Joel heated for you some leftover tomato soup he made earlier when he waited for Ellie to show up. With a hint of embarrassment, you accepted the dish, lowering a spoon and tasting it.

"I'm not a huge fan of winter food during hot weather, but this is very good." He smiled, and a dimple appeared on his cheek. "Do you like to cook?"

"Not really, but I had to learn it due to necessity," he shrugged, frowning down a bit with his mouth. You laughed, and he smiled again.

"I learned due to necessity, and my soups don't taste like this," you teased, having another full spoon.

Time passed with the candle melting, and the only sound on the first floor was both your voices. Without noticing, you were almost whispering. You weren't sure if it was to avoid waking up Ellie or because it felt like a secret to be there alone with him.

“Can I get a little nosy?” You chewed your lower lip after speaking, Joel nodded. “Ellie comes to the library all the time. I think she is avoiding something.”

Joel's eyes got harder. "What do you mean?" He questioned, putting his back against the chair, getting some space from you.

“She reads a lot, which is amazing, but she reads to forget reality, not to her entertainment.” You lowered your eyes at your almost empty plate. Silence filled the room again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

"You are right," Joel affirmed, crossing his arms at his chest. His eyes were lost on the wooden table in front of him. "The way to Jackson wasn't easy, I can tell you this much. She came from a FEDRA school, it takes time to learn how to be a kid when you were raised to be a soldier."

Finishing your soup and resting the spoon on the plate, you looked at Joel. The lines between his brows were stronger now, his hands around his biceps holding tight his body closed. His plush lips were tensed as he stayed quiet, immersed in his thoughts.

"Time heals most things," you started, earning a quick glance from him, "she will open her shell. I will keep an eye on her, pinky promise."

His eyes went back and forth between yours. You felt a little awkward after saying such a childish phrase in front of a man older than you, forgetting for a second you weren't speaking with Nath or your brother but with someone you were spending more than 5 minutes together for the first time. Despite that, he put one arm on the table, close to your hand, and lifted his pinky finger.

Smiling with your mouth closed, you enlaced your finger with his. He slowly looked from your finger to your eyes and smiled back. In the low and trembling light from the only candle in the whole room, with his dark eyes boring into yours, you never felt more seen.

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crispycreambacon · 8 months

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☆ Mello-Jello-Wellow! Crispy here ☆

AO3 || Art-Only Blog || Free Palestine

Welcome to my main blog!

My name is Chris Pycream Bacon, but most just call me Crispy. In here, you will find pretty much everything such as my own work, my interests and rambles from others. If you wanna see just my art, you can head over to @crispyfriedartchive instead!

I hope to create a space which is inviting, so feel free to reach out via asks! BIPOC, LGBT+, disabled/neurodivergent and non-Christians are welcomed of course, and if you object to that, this place is not for you :}

Down below, you'll find more about me and find my tagging system. Otherwise, feel free to chill here and have a nice day~! ☆

More About Me

As you can see, I'm an artist and a writer. Particularly, I love doing silly doodles, illustrations, comics and fanfiction, and I hope to become an animator or a comic artist one day. However, I'm open to any art or writing career that welcomes me along the way!

My other hobbies include singing, voice acting, listening to whatever music catches my brain worms and yelling about my current interests. I also have two cats, Sashimi and Takoyaki, a corgi named Miso, and a t-rex plush named Dinosara whom I love very much :3

I'm Filipino! Unfortunately, I can't speak Tagalog (yet), but I try to stay in touch with my culture. I can also speak a decent amount of Indonesian after having lived there for over a decade. Filipino-Indonesian solidarity for the win!!

I'm hella non-binary, and I will hit every character that I love and/or create with the rainbow stick. I'm also aroace, bisexual and in a queerplatonic relationship (hello darling if you're reading this!)

My Stances

I try not to get into discourse as I've done so before, and it's very unhealthy for me (so please don't bring that up towards me!) However, I still want to make the following clear:

People with stigmatized disorders such as DID, Cluster-B disorders, psychotic disorders, etc. are always welcome here, and if I act in a way that makes you feel otherwise, please let me know!

I'm pro-Palestine and anti-Zionist, but I'm still inclusive towards Jewish people. No government actions should be an excuse for bigotry, and Jewish people should always be welcomed.

I'm inclusive when it comes to LGBT+ identities. While I may not always understand all identities, I've learnt to just mind my own business. It makes you happy, and it doesn't harm people? Then go forth! Be yourself :]

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mostthingskenobi · 1 year

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CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 8: The Power

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Cassian is wearing down Tarkin's patience. Rogue One's rescue mission gets underway.

Everyone's feedback has been so lovely. I'm glad you all are enjoying the fic so far 💜 Thank you for taking the time to read! It means so much to me!

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

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CHAPTER 8: THE POWER

“The power has always been in your hands.” Tarkin was indefatigable. Hours had gone by and he never shifted his weight or leaned against the wall. He simply stood, usually with his hands behind his back, eyes never betraying an inkling of exhaustion.

Cassian, on the other hand, knew he was nearing his breaking point. Dying would have been easier, but the IT-O droid wouldn’t allow it. His fingers were clutched into the chair’s arms, his hair, now crusted in salt, hung in his eyes, and his blood somehow felt hot and cold at the same time. The only thing keeping him lucid was verbally sparring with Tarkin.

“Tell me what you did with the Death Star plans, and all this will stop.” The Grand Moff dismissively flicked his hand in Cassian’s general direction.

“You mean you’ll finally kill me?” Andor snorted.

Tarkin’s skeletal frame gave the slightest flinch. He glowered down at the young man. “I think we’re beyond that, don’t you agree?”

“How many years will it take you to rebuild everything you lost at Scarif?” Cassian goaded, spitting blood and salt from his split lip, ignoring his interrogator’s threat. “Structural engineering, hyperspace tracking, navigational systems. All gone. All because of me.”

The imperial officer reset his jaw and suppressed a sneer.

Cassian had gotten under his skin with that one.

A small but short-lived victory as one of the death troopers sent a shock through the binders around both Andor’s forearms and biceps.

“It’s true, we lost a great deal of research. But the Empire has limitless resources and nothing but time. We shall rebuild and ultimately be better for it.”

“That sounds like a fun conversation you’ll be having with the emperor,” Cassian retorted, his voice choked with pain.

Tarkin nodded to the death trooper squad leader who grasped the rebel’s right hand and promptly broke one of his fingers. “Tell me what you did with the plans and the torment stops,” the Grand Moff raised his voice to be heard over Cassian’s gasps.

“The fact that you’re running this interrogation yourself,” Andor finally spat out, “and the fact that you keep asking me the same questions over and over, tells me that no one in the Empire has a clue where the plans are and what the Rebellion wants with them.”

“Indeed, I rarely question traitors personally. I am making an exception in your case because the attack on Scarif gave the rebels faith. The Empire will not allow that kind of impudence to germinate. We’ll make an example of you, display what remains of you as a warning to all dissenters. I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to watch hope vanish from a prisoner’s eyes, especially one as proud as you, Captain Andor.”

“It’s Commander now, actually. I got promoted.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. For stealing the plans to your planet killer. They even gave me a pay raise.”

Needling the imperial bastard was one of the greatest joys he’d ever known, but Tarkin’s eyes suddenly grew harder than Cassian had yet seen.

“I suppose a promotion means you were privilege to even more crucial information from within the Rebellion. We shall have to dig a little deeper into that mind of yours and see what other secrets you’ve been privy to. Not to worry, Commander, we’ll make sure to keep you alive as long as possible. It’s one of my many skills Emperor Palpatine finds invaluable. I will break you but I shan’t kill you. Your suffering will be all the more gratifying when we apprehend this young lady.” He displayed a hologram of Jyn. “The interrogator droid monitored your vital signs during our previous conversations, and, apart from your mother and father, this was the only person who triggered an emotional response. Who is she?”

Cassian glanced at the hologram then quickly looked away. “She’s no one.”

“Clearly that can’t be true. Look at all you’ve endured to protect her.” Tarkin came forward and stood directly over Cassian, leaning close until their faces were inches apart. The rebel’s wrists twisted against their restraints, unable to quell the impulse to claw at the fascist. “When I inevitably capture her,” Tarkin snarled, his eyes drifting down to Cassian’s fingers reaching toward him, noting this woman elicited an entirely different kind of response from Andor, “I will drag her broken body before you and make you watch her interrogation. She will beg me for death, all in honor of your promotion.”

Cassian swallowed thickly. “I won’t tell you anything.”

A slow, icy smile pulled up one corner of Tarkin’s thin lips. “There is fear in your eyes.”

It was true. Nothing scared Cassian more than the idea of Jyn falling prey to Tarkin’s cruelty.

“Let’s capitalize on this fear, shall we,” the Grand Moff said, standing straight and gesturing several troopers forward. “It’s time for a change of tactics.”

Cassian’s wrists were suddenly release from the binds holding him to the chair. Death troopers hustled him to his feet; he would have collapsed between them if they didn’t hold him up by force. The floor opened and the chair descended into the bowels of the compartment below via hydraulic lift before the durasteel slammed shut. Conversely, a slat in the ceiling opened and a heavy, woven carbon cable with cuffs on the end tumbled into view. Cassian watched, too weak to resist as the death troopers locked the binds around his wrists and promptly wrenched them above his head, leaving his toes barely scraping the floor.

Tarkin prowled around the room like a shark circling blood in the water. “Let’s see if we can find a way to persuade you to cooperate.”

——————–

Jyn and Rogue One were halfway up the bulk cruiser’s boarding ramp when someone shouted from the hangar, “Lieutenant Erso!” She paused and turned back, spotting Draven as he appeared from the overhanging ziggurat’s shadow. “A word, please.” She exchanged a look with Bodhi, indicating with a nod that he and the rest of the crew should go on without her.

“I have an unusual request,” Draven said as she joined him on the landing pad. “One that’s of vital importance.” He lowered his voice, forcing Jyn to move closer. “If Commander Andor and his team have indeed been taken prisoner, it’s very likely that they’ve been interrogated. Especially Andor since he’s the squad leader.”

To keep from growling, Jyn clenched her teeth together so hard her jaw ached. That’s what I’ve been trying to get you morons to understand for the past thirty-seven hours! she shouted internally.

“It’s not uncommon for Grand Moffs to have IT-O interrogator droids. The ISB is known to regulate who has access to them, but Tarkin almost certainly has one.”

He paused so long Jyn thought he was waiting for her to say something. “I’m not following you,” she finally replied.

Draven took a steadying breath because, Jyn suspected, he knew she wasn’t going to like what he said next. “These droids are used to record interrogations, so, if you find one with Andor, we want you to retrieve its memory banks."

Dread took hold of Jyn’s heart. “Why?”

“We need to know how much we’ve been compromised.”

“You mean you want to see if Cassian cracked.”

Draven averted his eyes, but his tone was closer to a reprimand than anything. “You know as well as I do that he’s likely to give up at least one piece of intel. Everyone does.”

Jyn’s expression became hard. He was right. She’d seen what the Empire did to its prisoners. She nodded to the general then turned to join her teammates on the ship.

“And, Erso,” Draven said, grasping her arm, preventing her from leaving. She looked up and saw approval in his expression. “Go get our man back,” he said earnestly.

Jyn couldn’t deny he’d surprised her. Draven had never been anything but a cold bastard, but for the first time ever she got the sense that he deeply cared about his soldiers, even if he couldn’t always lead with empathy. “Yes, sir,” she replied quietly.

He gave her a final, curt nod before releasing her arm.

Jyn joined her crew inside the corvette that was secured in the bulk cruiser’s massive cargo bay. “All good?” Bodhi queried when she appeared.

“All good.” She dropped her duffle in the shuttle’s built-in cargo boxes before taking a seat next to Sergeant Melshi. “You’re looking very stiff,” she said dryly, waving at his imperial officer’s uniform.

“It’s the cut,” he said, running his hands down his chest. “Wearing this jacket is like being slowly strangled to death.”

“Sounds appropriate.” She had always enjoyed Melshi’s dark humor.

“It makes my skin crawl.”

She nodded, understanding his discomfort. Cassian had told her about his and Melshi’s past experience with imperial brutality on Narkina 5. “But it’s worth it,” she offered, trying to make him more comfortable, “to get Cass back.”

“Absolutely,” he said without skipping a beat. “We’re going to find him and we’re going to bring him home.”

As though on cue, a voice broadcast over the cruiser’s intercom. “Pulling away. Prepare for hyperspace in three minutes.”

“May the Force be with us,” Jyn said loudly, and Rogue One shared a moment of pride.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE BETRAYAL" - Cassian finally reaches a breaking point and does something dreadful.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 "The Power"

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

READ CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 "The Reprieve"

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

#cassian #cassian andor #andor #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfic #rebelcaptain fic #jyn #jyn erso #jyn x cassian #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor fic #rogue one #rogue one a star wars story #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one fic #davits draven #ruescott melshi #melshi

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farfromstrange · 1 year

Text

Foreigner's God: Chapter 52

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: It's the morning after she reached her breaking point and Matt is there to catch her as she breaks down. He doesn't leave her side as they somehow try to find a way to navigate out of this dark hole she has slipped into, and his devotion is ever so unwavering.

Warnings: ANGST, panic attack, self-doubt, mentions of self-harm, mentions of injury & blood, talk about therapy, crying, mentions of anxiety, description of a depressive episode, emotional hurt/comfort

Word Count: 6.2k

A/n: I hope you guys are feeling alright. For this chapter and the next one, too, keep an eye out for the warnings and make sure to take care of yourselves! Thank you all for your support and I hope you're all doing okay. This is a dream come true and to still be writing this for you, even though updates are irregular and my chapters have gotten shorter, is an absolute honor because people read it, people like it, and I am on cloud nine over here. Thank you!

Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar (& if you want to be added too, fill out this form!)

Read Chapter 52: Say You Won't Let Go here on AO3!

Lost. It’s not as much of a feeling as it is a state of mind, but to Eliza, it has never felt more like an emotion. She felt completely and utterly lost, her soul an empty wasteland with miles of void space. She was running until she wasn’t, running out of air and water, and when she turned around the world only seemed to have grown bigger. She couldn’t escape. She was trapped. She felt lost with nowhere to go and it scared her shitless.

She stood in the wasteland of her dreams, of the happiness she thought was finally hers, but instead, the pain came and overshadowed everything. There was no more silver lining, only a black hole in the vastness of space, but even that space wasn’t part of our solar system, it was somewhere far away where no one could have possibly found her.

A voice called out for her. Physically, she was on earth and reality was… well, it was real, but at the same time it wasn’t. The voice sounded familiar yet alien. The hand that touched hers was warm yet cold. She heard a familiar prayer whispered into her ear, and the words sent shivers down her spine because even God was connected to memories she would have rather stuck down the garbage disposal.

Her eyes were heavy. She didn’t want to wake up. The world was cruel, but so was sleep. That was the truth; she was lost and even the points of escape that were offered weren’t exactly an escape, it was just more pain atop pain until eventually, the water managed to drown her completely.

The more aware she became of her physical state, the more agony seemed to spread through her knuckles. Slowly but steadily, she blinked against the protruding sunlight. Her eyelids were heavy and swollen, the salt of the previous tears burning her skin. Something wet and tight was wrapped around her knuckles and it smelled like copper in the room.

Copper and sweat stuck to the walls of her nose and refused to let go of her; she wanted to puke. The temperature in the room was treacherous because how was it possible for it to be hot and cold at the same time? And why did her head hurt so much? Did she fall? Her mind was full of millions of thoughts faster than she could think them properly, and yet her head had never been more empty. Everything was empty yet heavy yet oh so painful and she already hated that hopeless feeling that seeped into her bones.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of useless fighting, she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and it took her a while to make out the details around her, the furniture of Matt’s apartment and his distinctive silhouette next to her, clutching her bandaged hands and praying to a God she didn’t believe in, and his faith seemed to be swindling too. He sounded tired, and he looked just as awful. She didn’t even want to know what she had done. This was her fault, whatever it was, and she wished to pass out again.

Matt, ever so attuned to her body, lifted his head. His teary, unfocused eyes fell on her. He squeezed her hand gently with both of his own. “Hey,” he said, his voice barely above a relieved whisper. “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

Eliza opened her mouth, but she couldn’t answer. Was she okay? She didn’t know.

He brushed the sweaty strands of hair out of her face. “Sweetheart,” he called out for her again, trying to coax her into a state of proper consciousness.

She looked at him, taking a deep breath. The oxygen rattled in her lungs like an old motor.

“Hey,” he gave a broken smile, “There you are. You had me worried there. I thought… God, I was so worried, baby. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

She was missing some context. She remembered falling asleep in his arms and that was it. She couldn’t even remember how she got from the bed to the couch or why her knuckles would possibly have needed bandages.

“What–“ she croaked, her voice hoarse.

Matt reached for the water bottle on the coffee table and held it to her lips to drink. She took a desperate sip.

“You don’t remember?” he asked softly.

What was she supposed to remember? Judging by the look on his face, it was serious. He couldn’t even hide it for her sake.

“Can you talk?”

“Yes,” Eliza breathed out. “I just don’t… What happened?”

Her eyes were full of fear as she looked at him. He could smell the fear seeping out of her pores, the uncertainty in the way she held his hand impalpable.

He softened his gaze. “You had a rough night,” Matt tried to explain, trying not to break or scare her further, but he could feel her pulse quicken as her brain slowly started to wake up, and the realization settled in.

She looked at her hands. The dream hit her with full force. She remembered the blood on her hands, and Viktor’s condescending words as he called her weak, forcing her to kill over and over again until she was strong enough for his liking. It felt so real. The blood felt so real.

She remembered shying away from Matt, slipping into a haze as she scrubbed her knuckles open. There had been blood, but it had been hers. If her victims' blood became one with hers, she wasn’t sure, but a dream was all it had been and she took it too far. She took it too seriously because it had never felt that real before. She was back in the White Room and she was so helpless.

“Did I…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

Weakly, Matt nodded. “But you’re okay,” he said. “It’s okay, I promise.” He was struggling with tears, she could tell, trying to convince himself more than her.

“Oh, God,” Eliza choked out. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to… I promise I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, I know. I know.”

She tore her hand out of his and covered her face, her body trembling with fear and the salty ocean that started building up its way behind her closed lids. “I don’t know–“ she swallowed. “Ugh! I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know, Matt. I don’t know…”

He got off his knees and sat beside her. His arms opened and her crying frame fell into them. He cradled her close to him, his hand resting on the back of her neck. Her sobs echoed in his mind, seemingly breaking glass and tearing the apartment apart. Her pain broke him, and there was nothing he could do.

“Shh,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her scalp.

Eliza shook violently in her arms. He was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. He caught her while she was falling, and he saved her life in the process. She owed him so much and the fact that bad things kept happening in ways she couldn’t understand terrified her to the point of no return.

She clung to him, her hands clawing at his shirt, and he tightened his hold on her as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Her heartbeat sounded so loud and fast, her breathing coming in labored puffs. He rubbed her back, hoping it would soothe some of the initial aches and bring her back to him, but the more she cried, the further she slipped into the black hole he was trying to save her from. He was trying to save her from herself.

Another strangled sob escaped her throat. She tried to utter something, but her vocal cords were twisted. She couldn’t move. His voice moved into the background. Instead, alarms started blaring in her mind. Her muscles locked up and her vision blurred. She couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, hey,” Matt said, firmer now, squeezing her tighter, “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.”

She managed to shake her head as if to say, ‘I can’t.’ He noticed her distress.

“Take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through your mouth.”

“I c-can’t.”

“Please.”

Her quivering lips parted in a silent plea, “Help me.”

Matt tried his hardest not to cry with her. He hooked his arm under her knees and picked her up, carrying her shaking body into the bathroom. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. He turned the shower on, the water cold but not too cold as he lowered the shower head from his preferred height to one that would accommodate her.

Her sobs came only in broken bouts and he set her down on the cold tiles. She gasped, her lungs filling with the first breath of fresh air. He gently coaxed her under the stream and she yelped at the sudden change in temperature, her clothes getting soaked the moment she found herself under the water. Although when she opened her eyes, the world around her went quiet. The water formed a bubble around her, tuning out everything but the sound of the droplets hitting the tiles. Her tears mingled with the water and she focused on the cold feeling on her heated skin, the reminder that she was alive and that the world around her was real.

His hand caressed her thigh as he looked at her. “Breathe,” he told her, “and focus. Tell me five things you can see.”

It had become a familiar routine. She listened to his voice as he told her what to point out to him and in return, she focused on her surroundings as hard as she could, focusing on what her senses could pick and what his couldn’t. She told him what she could see, hear, smell, and taste. She focused on the cold water, the cold shower tiles, and his soothing hand on her thigh. Her limbs quivered, but her breathing began to regulate, and she finally found her way out of the box she had been trapped in. She stopped running into walls and found the hatch, breaking out of confinement into the world.

Her body slacked against the wall and she exhaled yet another shaky breath. Amid the chaos she had caused herself, a sliver of peace rolled around the corner.

“There you are,” Matt smiled softly at her and asked, “You okay?”

She licked her lips and nodded slowly.

“Can I turn the water off now?”

“No,” said Eliza, “Need it on.”

He nodded in agreement and sat down next to her, a position he often had been in before and had gotten used to it at this point. It wasn’t always as serious as that night, of course, but he didn’t mind the cold as long as she didn’t have to feel alone, and he knew she often did, even when he was around.

He gently took her hand in his, stroking his hand over the soaked bandage. He could smell the copper of her blood stuck to the fabric and running down the drain mixed with the shower water, and it was completely wet with different kinds of fluids at this point, but she wasn’t in pain. At least he couldn’t make out any of her usual signs of discomfort, her muscles were merely sore and her head hurt. He kept stroking her hand, listening attentively to her heartbeat as she focused on his breathing and began to calm down.

“You scared me,” he dared to admit.

She swallowed. “I know.”

“I was so worried about you. For a second I thought… last night, I thought you were gonna hurt yourself.”

The sanctuary of the water raining down around them seemed like the right place to pour his heart out. It was something he could no longer deny, and she didn’t deserve to be lied to either.

“I’m sorry,” was all Eliza found in herself to say. Another wave of tears stood close by, ready to fall and break her down again. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“You remember everything?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No. I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” he squeezed her hand again, “I understand.”

“It felt so real.”

“I know.”

“But I never wanted to hurt myself. That wasn’t… whatever you thought happened, it wasn’t me, it was…”

“Viktor?” he finished for her.

Eliza shuddered at the name, but then she nodded and said, “Viktor.” Saying his name sounded foreign, even though she had multiple times before.

Even dead, he still haunted her.

They sat there in silence for a while. Matt eventually turned the water off, but they stayed there, hand in hand, sitting on the wet floor of the shower. She stared blankly ahead, trying to sort her thoughts and emotions, and Matt listened. He always listened.

Softly, she called his name. “Matt?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I think-” she said, swallowing. Her thoughts were still a mess, but hearing the fear in his voice before and the pained look on his face just from experiencing her pain taught her something she should have realized the day before, or perhaps right after watching the life drain from Viktor’s eyes. “I’m not okay,” she said. Her voice bordered on a hushed whisper.

He turned his head in her direction. There was no surprise on his face, only understanding. Claire was right when she said he had to listen to what Eliza wanted. He knew her better than anyone and she always came around, sometimes sooner than later.

“I’m not okay,” she repeated and met his unfocused eyes halfway, “and I think I need help.” She cracked.

Wordlessly, he opened his arms again. She scooted closer and melted into him, placing her head on his now-wet chest. He rubbed her shoulders, trying to soothe the comforting ache of the cold that kept her grounded in reality.

Matt pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Okay,” he said.

“I don’t want to be a burden. I know you were scared, I know I hurt you just as much as I hurt myself, and I know there is so much we said we had to do before I… before I slipped. There are so many unanswered questions and I know you put Daredevil on hold for me. You pushed your anger away for me. You stopped going after the guy whose name you were told. You did that all because of me, just to be by my side the past two days, and I don’t know how to repay you for that, so I’d understand if you said you want to go out there tonight and stir some shit up. I’d understand if you said the city needed you more right now because truth is, this guy is dangerous and the night at the hospital haunts me as much as Viktor’s face does. I want to know who this guy is too, I want to understand, and we don’t, so we need to find a way. Or you do. I can’t keep you away from this part of yourself any longer and I couldn’t possibly want you to,” she said.

He cut her off by lifting her chin and forcing her to look at him. “Don’t,” he said.

She frowned, sniffling and trying to blink away the tears. “Matt-”

“No, you’re not a burden. You’re right, I chose you over Daredevil. I chose to take care of you. But I don’t regret it. I chose you because I love you, and I won’t leave your side until I know you’re going to be okay.”

“But this guy-”

“He’s not gonna touch you because I’m not leaving your side. Not until I know you’re fully yourself again, which you’re not. I love you,” Matt pulled her close and rested his forehead against hers, “and nothing matters more to me than you do, Punisher be damned. And he can’t hurt you here, I’m not gonna let that happen. You get that?”

All Eliza could muster was a weak nod.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it. We'll find a way to figure out who this guy is and understand what's going on. But right now, you're my priority. Your well-being comes first, and I won't let you go through this alone. We're in this together."

Her breath hitched. The familiar burning in her eyes intensified. She wasn't strong enough to stop the silent tears from cascading down her already wet cheeks. Matt was by her side, and while guilt was a cruel son of a bitch who always managed to suck the good out of everything she faced, she could feel his love through the invisible string that connected their souls in a whirlwind of emotions.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with a vulnerability she hadn't shown in a long time. "I just don't want to lose myself. I don't want to hurt you or anyone else."

Matt wiped away a tear that escaped from her eye. "I know, sweetheart. And you won't. I promise."

Eliza clung to him, her grip tightening as if he was her lifeline. And he was. He was the one thing keeping her from drowning.

“For now, we just have to focus on making sure you get better, okay?”

The softness in his voice caused another tear to slip down her cheek and land on his finger.

“I love you,” he said, “more than anything in this godforsaken world and I will never give up on you. Never.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

He kissed her forehead again. “I know. Let’s get you dried off, get you some fresh clothes, and rebandage these knuckles, hm? And then maybe you can try eating something. You need sustenance.”

She nodded.

“I’ll call Mrs. Darcy for you and make sure you get an appointment for tomorrow. You need your rest today. And then tomorrow, you can talk to her about what’s been going on and maybe she can help you find a way to navigate this without losing yourself any further than you already have. Deal?”

She nodded again.

“Good girl,” Matt hummed against her cold skin. “Now come on, you’re freezing.”

He helped her up, gently peeling the wet clothes off of her body. She protested when he turned the water on again, making sure it was warm before pushing her back under the stream. She relaxed almost immediately. He got in after her, washing her hair and smoothing a sponge over her reddened skin. She let him do what he felt she needed, and she loved every second of it.

Her body temperature returned to normal when he guided her out of the shower and wrapped her in a towel, drying her body and her hair. She closed her eyes, letting it happen. She was too tired to fight, and perhaps it wasn’t all too bad to have someone taking care of her. She wouldn’t have done it on her own. He was simply making sure she was alright and taken care of, and she appreciated that in a way she wasn’t sure how to express except for giving him a gentle peck on the lips.

Matt couldn't erase the scars of her past, but he could offer her solace in the present. He did a good job, she had to admit. He always had and he always would do a good job at taking care of her. His love had no limits and exceeded most expectations she'd had of relationships before he came around. She still often believed she didn't deserve him, and it was true; Matt was too good for her, but God, did she love the man with all she had, and there was no currency in the world she could repay him with because his love was priceless and she didn't know how to act. Even after all this time, she was as clueless as before, and he still loved her, even though she sucked at it. She couldn't understand why. She wanted to understand, but his loving her seemed like a chore and she needed to know why he was still clinging to her, even when she turned into such a mess, someone not worthy of such a dedicated love because what she gave back couldn't possibly match up.

Her mind slipped into darkness, the demons taking over and their voices were so loud, it frustrated her. Tears sprung to her eyes, but he caught them before they could fall. "You're safe now," he whispered.

"It's not that," she admitted as he led her to the bedroom and pulled out a pair of his sweatpants and a -shirt, all carrying his scent, his essence, and connecting her to his being. He knew she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by him on bed days. It comforted her. Another display of love her mind reeled with, and the demons screamed again.

Eliza closed her eyes. She fought with the voices in her head, trying to quiet them for just a moment, but they wouldn't stop. Her movements as she got dressed were still heavy with the burden she carried.

Matt tilted his head. "What then?" he asked. "You can talk to me, baby. What's on your mind?" He could tell she wasn't quite present, and it wasn't the fog from the panic attack or the night before. She was thinking, and she was thinking loudly.

She managed to slip her arm through the sleeve of her shirt. Exhausted, she lowered herself down on the bed, dropping her head in her hands. She wasn’t crying, but she whimpered, the fight against the noise in her head becoming futile because she wasn’t going to win either way. She couldn’t say anything against the cruel words thrown her way because even she, in her lucid state, found them believable.

She took a deep breath, which quickly turned into a groan. Eliza met Matt's concerned gaze, and her voice trembled slightly as she began to speak. "It's just... I don't understand, Matt," she said.

"What don't you understand, my love?" he asked, lowering himself next to her.

"I don't understand... I don't get why you love me so fiercely, why you're still here even all I've put you through, and I continue to fall apart every time shit happens and it's always you who's here, always you who has to catch me, and I... it doesn't seem fair, and it's not what I want you to feel like you have to do. I just don't understand why you stick around, you know? I don't and it's so fucking frustrating because... I don't deserve this kind of love. You keep saying I do, but I don't. I can tell you I'll be there for you all I want, but in the end, it's you who has to catch me, not the other way around. So I just don't get it because I don't deserve this unwavering devotion. I don't."

Matt's expression softened. "This again?" He wrapped an arm around her, but she shied away.

"Eliza," he tried again, his voice sincere, "I love you because of who you are," he said. "I can see the strength in you, even when you can't see it yourself. You've faced battles I can't even fathom, and yet you keep pushing forward. You still find it in yourself to love others and give back even when you're falling apart, and that is so admirable. That's what I look up to in you, that's what draws me to you. It's like nothing ever truly destroys you because you won't let it, no matter how many times you say you're broken. I didn't understand it before, but then Claire said there is no benchmark on how much pain a person can endure, and you have endured so much and you're still standing, it just shows how fucking strong you are, and it... it hurts me to see you hurt, but that doesn't mean you burden me or that you don't deserve my devotion. That's not true, sweetheart, and you know it. I know you do. Deep down, you know."

She swallowed, allowing him to touch her shoulder this time. "But," she said, "what if I can't love you the same way you love me? What if my love is tainted? What if I can't give back what you give me and I hurt you? I don't want to hurt you... and I hate that I think that way, but the voices... these stupid voices, they just won't stop!" Eliza dropped her head in her hands again.

Shaking his head in response, Matt gently lifted her chin, ensuring their eyes met.

"Eliza, love is not a transaction. It's not money. It's not an actual currency that can be compared. It's not about matching up, giving back equally, or measuring worthiness. Love is about acceptance, understanding, and being there for each other. It's messy and imperfect, and sometimes it hurts, it really does, but it's also the most beautiful and transformative force in the world. Everyone loves differently, but you always give more than a hundred percent, and you love with all of your might, and that is more than enough because I feel so loved by you, I sometimes feel like I am not deserving of you. That's what love is, not whatever you think you have to match up to, sweetheart. You're doing the best you can and that is enough. You are enough."

Eliza's eyes welled up with fresh tears again. She wanted to believe him, to trust in his words, but she couldn't shut out the voice in her head, no matter how far Matt kept pushing it into the background.

"I want to believe you," she whispered, she longed for it, "but these demons in my head... they make it so hard. They tell me I'm not enough, that I'll only bring you down in the long run. And I'm starting to believe it."

He gently brushed away a tear from her cheek. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I choose you, every single day. I would choose you again and again, not someone else because I love you and I feel loved by you, so you're not getting rid of me. Not again. Not happening."

Love isn't conditional, it's supposed to be a guiding light and help you grow with it.

"You are worthy of love, Eliza. Don't let those demons tell you otherwise."

She wiped her tears with the bandage around her hands. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, slowly but steadily letting herself fall into his arms.

He hugged her close to his side, his nose brushing through her hair. “Don’t apologize,” he said.

“I just want to be enough.”

“And you are enough.”

“I’ve never been enough.”

“As I’ve told you before, your past doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here now. You’re not alone and you have never been more than enough.”

She leaned closer, feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. “I love you,” Eliza whispered, her voice barely audible.

Matt smiled, pressing his lips to every inch of skin he could find and reach. “And I love you,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try to-”

He shushed her with a gentle kiss to her lips, cradling her face in his hands. “Unconditionally. That’s how much I love you.”

She nuzzled her nose against his.

"Things will get better and life will get easier.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I know, and I’m sorry all of this keeps happening to you, but not once did I consider giving up on you, and I still won’t. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, so you better get used to that. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

She sighed, keeping her mouth shut.

“Now," he said and took her hands in his, "let's take care of those knuckles before it gets any worse.”

Matt cleaned her wounds with gentle precision, his touch tender as he rebandaged them. "There we go. Good as new, almost." He made sure the bandages sat perfectly before pressing a tender kiss to each knuckle.

“Thank you,” she said. A tear mingled with a bittersweet smile on her lips. “I may not understand why you love me so much most of the time, and I’m not sure I ever will, but I am so fucking grateful that you do…”

He smiled and moved his lips from her knuckles to her face, kissing both of her swollen eyes, licking away the tears, caressing her cheekbones, and returning to their throne on her lips.

She melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. He cradled her head in his hands as he kissed her gently, making sure not to push her too far, and the weight on her shoulder lifted. Matt's kisses were the medicine to her pain on stormy days.

Pulling away, their forehead remained pressed together as their heartbeats and breaths intertwined, becoming one with the invisible string that was always there, keeping them tied together. Especially now she could feel it, craving his touch more than anything, and she recharged in his embrace, choosing to cling to the little bit of hope he seemed to want to transfer onto her.

He smiled softly, sensing the way her muscles started to relax under his fingers. “That’s my girl,” he breathed.

She shivered, moving impossibly closer.

Matt stroked her head back, kissing her softly on the lips again, lingering for a second before pulling away. “You hungry?”

She was hungry, but she didn’t have an appetite.

“How about I make you something while I call Mrs. Darcy and you just lay back and rest?”

Eliza succumbed to her hunger and the exhaustion of the past few days. She nodded, crawling back into bed as he tucked her in, pressing another gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

She laid back on the pillows, closing her eyes. The demons in her head momentarily silenced, and she listened to the sound of Matt’s movements in the kitchen.

She was brought back to the present by the sound of his footsteps approaching. Opening her eyes, she saw him carrying a tray laden with a plate of food and a cup of tea. “You made my favorite,” she pointed out when she saw what he was carrying.

He smiled. “I made your comfort food because you need comfort.”

“And tea.”

“Yeah, you need it.”

He was right, she did need it.

She ate and drank slowly. Her stomach protested at first, but after the initial ache subsided, she managed to swallow the bites of her sandwich better, and the tea flowed effortlessly down her esophagus.

Matt rubbed her thigh as he sat next to her. His fingers painted absentminded pictures on her skin, her muscles relaxing under his touch. He was a magician with the ability to peek beneath the surface, and he acted on her needs without needing words. It came naturally to him, almost. Taking care of her was a reflex, and he carried the ability to read her like an open book with the utmost pride because when it came to Eliza that was a rarity. She wasn’t an open book, at least not to most people, but no matter how well she locked herself away, he always found his way around her defenses. He had this way of getting under her skin and into her soul, and she could push him away all she wanted, he was confident enough now to keep her around because he knew she didn’t want to push him away, she simply wanted to protect herself.

She wanted to protect her fragile little heart and she wanted to protect him from the person she could become when the world became too much for her fragile little heart, but Matt was the last person to shy away. He, too, was broken. He couldn’t possibly judge her or see her as a burden when he was just the same. So he stood by her because it felt like the most natural thing to do, knowing that if life hit him as hard as it did her, she would do the same for him, and he didn’t even doubt it for a second. He knew her well enough by now, even better than she knew herself. He wanted to protect her heart; she couldn’t do it by herself anymore. She needed a shield and he would offer it to her.

He loved her with a passion that exceeded the powers of the universe, and he was sure that they could overcome anything with the strength they shared through the connection of their invisible string, something he had yet to understand, but that was something he would concern himself with if it ever became important enough to become an issue. For now, their connection was a once-in-a-lifetime gift, and broken human beings like them needed each other or life would surely find a way to end them. The invisible string saved their lives and there was nothing more to it than that. It was plain and simple, almost, but deep and vulnerable just the same, like the ocean’s tide.

Eliza placed her hand on his, her eyes closed. She took a deep breath. He was scared and tired, but he was trying for both of them. She could feel his devotion deep in his soul. It kept her grounded, making sure she wouldn’t slip from the precipice again, not without a rope to save her just in case. She needed his calm, she needed his love, and at that moment, she felt everything.

His veins glowed a distinctive red when she touched him. Time stood still. The world outside didn’t exist. Everything else melted away, the pain and the fear, and then it was only them left and endless possibilities to lean on each other and breathe. She breathed and he breathed and their heartbeats aligned. Their souls became one. Their connection deepened. She was in him and he was in her. He lived in her heart and she found a home of her own in his. They built their defenses back up together, but this time there was no differentiating when it came to seeking solace from the prying eyes of reality.

“What’s happening to us?” Matt dared to ask. His voice bordered on a whisper.

Her grip on his hand tightened. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “I just feel you, and that’s enough for me.”

He felt her. He felt all of her. It was a vulnerable feeling. His soul lay wide open and exposed, as did hers.

“You feel me?”

“Yeah.”

“I feel you,” he whispered.

“You do?”

“Yeah, all of you.”

Their foreheads pressed together like magnets. Matt reached out to stroke a strand of hair out of her face and she shuddered at the touch.

“I miss myself,” her vulnerable confession hung in the room like the red smoke that clouded her vision.

The red in his veins subsided, but the strength of his hold never wavered. “I know it feels like you’re not,” his fingers moved from her forehead to her lips, “but you have never been more yourself.”

“I’m scared…”

“Shh, I know.” He shushed her with a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m just so tired.”

Her exhaustion was more than evident, and he would have been able to tell even without his heightened perception. Her heart was beating, but she hardly felt like it was. She couldn’t find a pulse. Her heart and muscles weighed heavy. Her limbs were dragging on the floor, too heavy for her to lift, and she was slowly melting into a puddle from the painful fire in her soul that started to turn her skin into wax. She was falling apart without actually breaking, like an unfinished cake collapsing in on itself.

Matt put the mug and plate aside. He began scratching the puddle that she was off the floor by pushing her back into the pillows. He tucked her in, the blanket enveloping her like a safe cocoon. The comfort warmed her sore body and functioned as a balm to her shattered soul, as did the love he poured into every fleeting touch. His hand lingered on her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone which had become more protruding over time.

Pressing a kiss on her forehead, he got up. “You need to rest,” he told her. “I’ll take care of everything else. You just lay back and try to close your eyes for a few minutes.”

But Eliza caught his hand and her teary eyes gazed up at him with utmost devotion. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand in his. “Anything for you, my love.”

She didn’t protest when he stepped out, closing the bedroom door behind him only enough to keep the sunlight out. There was a small gap between the frame and the door, a small point of escape if she started to feel trapped. She appreciated his consideration. The words got stuck in her throat and she gave up, succumbing to the warmth of their shared bed and the silence that finally settled into her mind and the world around her. It was a peaceful silence, a welcomed moment of peace without the usual chaos raging inside of her like the dead sea.

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bg3ficreviews · 6 months

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Hello! Here are several questions to help build your FAQ post.

1. I am thinking of submitting a fic or two for review, but I don’t have an AO3 yet. Do you accept fics posted on tumblr or should I wait until I have them uploaded on AO3?

2. Do you require any specific tags be added to the fics you review? Either so you can find them to read them or so that they are labeled with some kind of tag post-review?

3. Is there anything your team is NOT willing to read/review (content, topic, theme, pairings, etc)? (This last one is mostly to look out for you guys. Boundaries are important!)

Hello and good morning! Thank you so much for these questions! We really, really appreciate them. We will be responding here as well as add them to our FAQs master post. 1. We accept any BG3 fanfic regardless of platform. AO3 is easier to manage because of how it's structured due to the collection feature, as well as with the tags, but since not all writers (and especially writers just starting out) will have access to AO3, we don't want to exclude anyone at all. We are investigating the possibility of adding external work to the AO3 collection (the platform seems to allow for that), so differing platforms shouldn't present a problem to the review queue system we have in place at present. 2. We're not entirely sure if you mean a specific 'review' tag on AO3 or the general principle of tagging, so we will try to answer on both fronts (more in the answer to question 3). We don't require any particular tags be added on AO3 in additional tags, since authors submit their work through our asks. That said, it's not actually a bad idea that authors simply submit their work to the BG3 Fic Reviews Queue collection themselves. That would remove the step of submitting an ask, and since the collection is moderated by us we will be able to see when authors submit their work to us. (We are still working on the best way to optimise our work pipeline, so to speak, so this is an interesting idea. We don't want to spend too much time searching for work on AO3, as we would like to focus on reading and reviewing and get those out as soon as is feasible.)

3. We are open to any and all fic, regardless of topic, trope or tag. Different members of our team do have different areas we prefer (or that we avoid), but we are firmly pro-fic and not shy to engage with heavy or controversial content as a team/project. As such, we do ask that, regardless of platform, authors have as inclusive/extensive a tag list as possible (as is the standard practice on AO3) so that we can navigate our triggers and areas of interest effectively. We really appreciate the consideration and care you have extended by asking this particular question, and have discussed this at length amongst ourselves prior to launching the BG3 Fic Reviews blog and it is an ongoing discussion that we take very seriously, both for the sake of our team members but the writing and reading community more generally. @tavyliasin has written an extensive and informative post on the importance of tagging over on her blog, and we share her views on the matter and honestly couldn't say it much better than she herself has. We highly encourage writers (and readers) to give her essay on the matter a read, and in so doing you will also have an idea of our own positioning on this matter.

Thank you so much for these thoughtful questions and for engaging with us, and we look forward to hearing more from you should you have any more questions or suggestions! All the best, The BG3 Fic Review team

#bg3ficreviews asks answered #bg3ficreviews faq #bg3ficreviews info post

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dramamelon · 1 year

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For @polyshipweek 2023! 💖

Day 1: Road Trip

Completing the Connection

Day 2: Second Chances Rating: E (overall, but not until day 5) Chararcters: Drift, Ratchet, Rodimus, Thunderclash Pairing: thunderdratchrod Fandom: Transformers (IDW1) Tags: Minimal Editing, Romantic Fluff, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Polyamory, Flirting Fic Summary: As a still newly-minted foursome, they've come closer to one another, but one connection hasn't quite fully cemented itself just yet. A surprise retirement announcement from Thunderclash has Rodimus suggesting one last tour on the Exitus for all of them. Really, it's a chance to for a bit of vacation time with his partners on Cybertron's shanix. And maybe it might spur on a little more action between Thunderclash and Drift.

AO3 link in reblog! Sequel to Closest of Friends. :)

Ratchet was happy with Drift. Very happy. He was absolutely certain Drift was happy with him, as well. That didn't mean he hadn't noticed the way Drift and Rodimus still looked at each other on rather frequent occasion. Having his own decidedly steamy past with Thunderclash—after a momentous night of food, drink, and almost debauchery—Ratchet had initiated the conversation that brought the four of them to their current place. The only hitch in their little group coming fully together lay in the prior lack of connection between Drift and Thunderclash. (As much as Ratchet might proclaim his disinterest in Rodimus before this, they all knew better. He did have a very noted inclination toward speedsters, after all, as Thunderclash reminded him again and again with obvious amusement.)

Thus, when he slid into the navigator's seat, Ratchet watched with great pleasure as his second chance was forced to take a seat beside Rodimus' second chance and buckle up. When Thunderclash held up his hand, Drift paused for only a moment before weaving their fingers together and letting Thunderclash rest their clasped grip atop his thigh. It wasn't much, but it was a good start. He could also see the shifting of their fingers as they silently conversed in hand.

Of course.

As someone only marginally knowledgeable in chirolinguistics, Ratchet resigned himself to the understanding that not a bit of whatever they talked about would be his to know unless they decided to share. Thus, deciding it was none of his business until then, Ratchet settled in his seat and gave Rodimus a quick nod. "Get Sureshot to get those bay doors open," he said. "I'm ready to put my free time to use the way it's supposed to be."

A wide grin was tossed his way and the shuttle's comm system flicked on. "This is the Rodpod to Exitus shuttle bay crew. How about we get those doors open so me and my boys can get the slag out of here?"

Ratchet snorted. "Real professional of you."

"Exitus shuttle bay to Rodpod, I'd tell you to have a good time, but you just fragging reminded me I'm stuck here until you slagstains get back," came the response, Sureshot's tone nearly as acerbic as Ratchet at his worst. "And I mean that in the friendliest way possible, just in case someone higher up the chain asks. You got me?"

It took everything Ratchet had to control his laughter well enough that Rodimus could respond and still be heard. He'd forgotten how funny a guy Sureshot was. The narrow opticked glare Rodimus threw his way very nearly dissolved even that small bit of control he maintained. "Don't worry, Sureshot," Rodimus replied with a drawl, "your secret's safe with me."

All that came back from the other side of the line was a grunt before it closed, then a clang rang out through the shuttle bay, signaling the opening of the doors that would let them escape the chains of their daily lives. Never one to accomplish a smooth launch in Ratchet's experience, Rodimus punched the acceleration and had them all thumped against the back of their seats as the Rodpod exited the Lost Light. Once his gyros were stabilized, Ratchet reached out to give Rodimus a thump on the nearest spoiler wing, earning a wiggle of the appendage and a pouty exclamation of, "That hurt!"

"Good. I'm gonna do it every time you launch a shuttle like that again and I happen to be on it," Ratchet informed him, casting a glance back at Drift and Thunderclash to make certain they were all right. Much to his delight, the pair were probably more all right than they should have been, all things considered. He knew exactly what that smile on Thunderclash's face meant. Knew exactly what Drift's fingers were doing, slipped down between Thunderclash's thighs. Turning back to Rodimus, he said, "Best get us to our destination, hot shot, otherwise you might miss out on some fun being had in the back of the shuttle."

He fully intended to rise from his seat and join Drift and Thunderclash, but found himself caught by a restraining hand to the shoulder. The look in Rodimus' optics brought any further attempt at movement to an immediate halt. A ping to his internal comm had him opening the line to a private exchange of words from the flashy mech.

::Hey, Ratch,:: Rodimus started, his hand sliding down Ratchet's arm until it paused at his wrist. The warmth his frame exuded by virtue of his very nature soaked into the joint, gentling the constant ache Ratchet carried there. ::Not yet. Let them invite us once they've gotten comfortable enough with each other.::

Ratchet arched an orbital ridge at him, a small laugh huffing from his vocalizer as he sat back in the embrace of the navigator's seat. He knew Rodimus was right, but the sight of his old flame and his conjunx getting touchy-feely bombarded him with an increasingly warmer flood of attraction. The feel of it through their tangling fields was even more intense. Tamping down hard on the reactions of his own frame, he jokingly asked, ::When did you get so smart?::

Attention returned to the front viewport and the controls under his hands—Ratchet mourned the loss of the warmth at his waist—Rodimus replied, ::Not gonna lie. It's all Drift. Remember how he let you and me find the two of us without him? How he kept Thunders out of the way for a bit?::

Thinking back, Ratchet could see and attest to exactly how effective the strategy had been. Given the time to really learn who the other was, most of their nitpicking now resulted in the two of them fumbling their way onto the nearest berth. Before that, they'd have been more likely to put much less fun dents into one another's helms and other sensitive parts. As he recalled, Drift found something else to do every time things got hot and heavy for Ratchet with Rodimus, occasionally dragging Thunderclash off to join him when the big mech wasn't at some meeting or other. At least, until they gave each of the shrewd look and caught Drift before he could disappear on them. They'd had a grand time of it since then, but for the one missing link in their party. Only one little hitch.

Ratchet glanced back at the other two again, his spark turning soft on seeing the way Drift and Thunderclash leaned into one another. He knew very well the weight of Drift's helm on his shoulder, knew it was something he only did when he felt truly safe and unjudged. He also knew the spark-calming influence of Thunderclash in the worst of high-emotion moments. If a good and deep friendship was all they were able to obtain? Well, friendship was never something to turn one's nose up at. Far be it from Ratchet, though, to deny that he quite wanted to see what Drift looked like all stretched out on Thunderclash's monster of the spike. Or the other way around if that's how they liked it. Ratchet was good with either as long as he got to watch—and participate—eventually. Friendship with benefits was more than acceptable, as far as Ratchet was concerned.

They'd make it work, whatever happened, because Ratchet didn't think he could give it up now that he had it. His spark was so very close to full.

#polyshipweek23 #maccadam #dratchet #thunderrod #thunderdratchrod #ratchet #thunderclash #drift | deadlock #hot rod | rodimus

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thenightlymartini · 1 year

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First Chapter to “The Twin Diaries”-Revamped Posted

Title: The Twin Diaries

Rating: M, Archive Warning’s Apply (Planned Underaged Drinking, Warnings, Characters, and Other Tags will be updated as the story progresses) Will be a mix of serious Hurt/Comfort Themes and Humor Themes.

CW: brief/vague depiction of a car accident and death, trauma, grief, loss, culture shock, future CWs will apply and be added to AO3 tags as they develop.

Summary:

Human AU

Yong-Soo's life was going great, until a car accident and the deaths of his father and best friend turn that all upside down. He then has to move from Korea to live with his estranged mother and twin brother in the United States, who he didn't know he had. He also has to adjust to going to school at a military academy, adjust to a new culture and way of life, and deal with the grief and trauma of losing family and everything he had come to know as familiar. Yet, he's not alone in this struggle.

Sang-Kyu had a rough, but decent life. He's been in and out of hospitals more times than he cares to count, too many surgeries, an absent father, and an immune system that has caused him to be more reclusive than he would like. He had a boyfriend, a caring, but strict mother, and a life that was starting to turn up, even if he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life after high school. His estranged father's death and readjusting to now having a twin brother in his life was not part of the plan. Now, he has to navigate the maze that is his family situation and build a relationship with his twin. Easier said than done.

Characters: Features Mainly South Korea (Hetalia) and North Korea (Hetalia), but also has planned America (Hetalia) and Russia (Hetalia) as supporting characters. Other characters will be added to the tags of AO3 as they appear in the story.

Original Characters are used and the three OCs of Gojoseon, Jin, and Baekje are owned by @circlique, though the human names for Gojoseon and Jin are ones that I did create.

Pairings: Pre-Established RusNK (Russia x North Korea) and Eventual/Slow Burn of Kimchiburger (America x South Korea)

Link

#hetalia #fanfiction #rewritten fanfiction #kimchiburger #rusnk #aph south korea #aph north korea #hws south korea #hws north korea #aph america #hws america #aph russia #hws russia #im yong-soo #im sang kyu #alfred f jones #ivan braginsky

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social-muffin · 2 years

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Chapter 15 of Systemic Disorder is finally out! Took me like two years to update but I finally did it! :D Also a Tag that was requested! @lilacdon20 is this a thing you'd like?

I shall also leave the chapter here, for the people that don't have an Ao3 account, since I locked all my stories.

Enjoy the read!

For you lovely people reading this, a quick warning! This chapter contains Friendships breaking apart. The Arcobalenos do not get along and especially Reborn seems to have lost his cool at them all.

Systemic Disorder 11th Chapter

Grieving Hyacinths, Raging Tulips

~~~Skull's POV~~~

Once Mike and Hila are swallowed by the crowd, Skull focuses back on his next task. Afterall, the two girls, Kyoko-chan and Haru-chan, can't quite seem to get out of trouble on their own. And their system is woefully out of reach.

Skull expertly navigates a path through the crowd, only slightly hindered by his still new-ish chest, bumping into people here and there, cause he just isn't accounting for it properly yet. Either way, he quickly reaches the two downed girls, skidding to a halt and crouching down to properly assess the damage. Seems superficial, but he's relieved someone's trying to heal it.

But... Well. Skull just didn't acknowledge the masses of cloud still flowing out of him, which quite easily latch onto and fluff up any surrounding flames, those thin, sunny whisps included. Suddenly, they burst into proper ignition, making the blonde girl squeak in fright just as the brunette flinches back, startled.

Skull is reaching out to dim and guide the foreign flame before he even manages to find words. "Wao there! No need to panic. Let me help."

He grabs the Baby Sun's wrists, guiding her to cup her hands over her friend's injury. It's just an inch long, shallow cut, so the billowing flame closes it in a handful of seconds, but that's still rather impressive given that this seem to be a very new sun to begin with. Either way, the flame naturally extinguishes after the wound is taken care of, since any kind of risk has passed, thus dimming that dying will naturally. Skull still can't help the proud smile. "See? All good now."

He looks up and-well. The two girls are positively beaming their admiration at him. The brunette immediately grabs his hands, holding onto him will all her earnestness. "Please teach me-"

Her friend pushes forward, joining the hold on Skull's hands, keeping him from pulling back. Gosh they are desperate, huh? "Teach us! How do flames work-? What even are our flames called, Miss-?"

Skull feels a flush rise to his cheek and he clears his throat automatically, holding these girl's hands right back. He can't just leave someone after they asked for his help so nicely, can he? "Okay okay. First off all, my name is Hibari Mauve. What are your names?"

The girls immediately pull him into their orbit, bombarding him with endless questions instantly. Skull thought wrong. The blonde's name is Kyoko and the brunette's is Haru. And they really really want to learn!

~~~Verde's POV~~~

Verde barely managed to place his chosen flower, a Hyacinth, and speak his piece before he has to retreat. Because showing too much emotion and vulnerability would be highly inappropriate, right?

Afterall... Skull had hated him the most... Yes there was a lot of fear in the way he used to flinch away from Verde's touch, but Skull's occasional, cutting remarks had always felt more... hostile than anything.

Declaring him a mad scientist, constantly calling him crazy and insane, acting as though just being around him is dangerous...

It's natural that, in his darker moment, Verde even ended up suspecting that Skull might've been the source of that human experimentation rumor. The very rumor that has tainted Verde's otherwise clean reputation ever since he became an Arcobaleno...

Verde has always hoped that, some day, they could've talked about their differences and come upon some kind of companionship, but... Skull is... No longer with them. And one really shouldn't speak ill of the dead...

...Verde genuinely misses him. He has so many questions Skull still needed to answer. And that's excluding the many curiosities they all have about who Skull really was in the first place. No, Verde's most pressing question was... Well...

Are they not comparable with how much their fellow Arcobaleno despise them both?

Case in point, even in this deepest grief, Verde finds himself pushed aside more often than not. After telling an empty coffin the goodbyes meant for their cloud, they'd all retreated to a private room to compose themselves. But even in private, only Mammon deigns him with any sort of comfort. They have yet to let go of his hand, holding onto him tightly while tracing circles into his skin aimlessly. Honestly, Verde has a feeling they are just attempting to soothe, or forget their own grief.

Afterall, Lal and Colonnello immediately grabbed Fon when he entered. Now they're practically lavishing him with affection! Brushing his hair back, wiping his tears, pushing him into hugs between them, all just to help Fon calm the shaking of his hands... Verde's hands are shaking too. He's barely managing to restrain his tears!

If Verde asked for that kind of affection... Wouldn't Mammon release his hand in an instant? It feels like they would delight in depriving him of even that smallest anchor...

Reborn is the last to enter the room, scrubbing at his tears with a near vicious growl. And of course Colonnello immediately moves to reach out. To soothe Reborn as soon as possible and... and ...

Reborn shoves him back, sneering aggressively. Is that genuine rage..? "Don't fucking touch me."

Colonnello actually startles a slight bit, glaring sharply. They are all upset, but that's uncalled for-! "Christ Reborn, what's your issue-?"

Reborn almost steps forward, so clearly hostile and about to lash out. Verde flinches, instinctively bracing for what comes next. Verde really hates it when they get loud- "My issue? My issue is that you assholes keep clinging to me! Give me space to breathe for fuck's sake!"

Colonnello clenched his fists, growling himself now. Mammon has let go of Verde's hand, safely tucking themself away in some kind of mist pocket. Because of course they would abandon him instantly- "Space to-?! I was trying to calm you down you bastard!"

Colonnello squares up easily enough, absolutely willing to fight Reborn it seems. Even though Lal gets involved as soon as they get loud. This is not good- "Stop it, both of you! This isn't-"

Of course, Reborn easily turns his rage on Lal, spreading his flame through the room thickly. To intimidate? To suffocate? Does that even matter anymore-? "You stay out of this. None of this ever even fucking concerned you."

That's probably Reborn's worst choice of words ever. Lal twitches at it, just barely, which promptly spreads out a thick blanket of flames to combat Reborn's oppressive Sun. Those just so happen to be... Storm flames. NononononoNO- "Now now. Let's try to de-escalate, my friends."

Fon really really really should not have gotten involved! Reborn is absolutely enraged and very willing to hurt them all! Case in point, he barely even raises his voice this time. That's such a bad sign-! "Don't even try me with your holier-than-thou attitude. It's always been completely useless. If you ever tried something-anything-else Skull might still be alive."

In the following, deafening silence, you could almost see Reborn begin to regret his words. Unfortunately, Fon has run out of patience a few days ago. His smile actually dims, his eyes narrowing in a sharp glare, looking at Reborn with an overwhelming amount of hatred. The air is thick and heavy with a whirlwind of anger. Verde can't breathe-! "Oh, if I tried something else? What about you, hm?"

Fon isn't smiling anymore. That's a smirk. And a sadistic gleam in his eyes. He will absolutely devastate them all. Verde can feel their bonds fracturing and it hurts. "If you tried not being a monstrous disaster, maybe you'd have some friends! And maybe Skull wouldn't have run off in terror as soon as he could."

That instantly wipes the regret off of Reborn's face and easily replaces it with self-righteous outrage. Because they don't often speak up against him. Especially Fon. Verde just wants to disappear- "Monstrous-? That's it! I won't stand here and let some freak of nature insult me. Fucking get out of my life."

And with that, Reborn turns sharply and stomps out the room, stopping at the door, only to sent them perhaps the most hate-filled glare ever. "That goes for all of you."

Reborn cusses something under his breath, slamming the door shut, leaving them with... All of that. Colonnello, perhaps short-sightedly, decides to give chase after him, either to fight him or try to calm him down again. And Fon, left with a tsunami of directionless rage, exits through the window. Luckily he has enough self control to take his anger elsewhere...

But that leaves Verde with Lal and... What should he even tell her? This is usually Colonnello's job, but he ran off! And Verde can't get out a single coherent word past his tears! Not to mention that, now that the room is void of sun and storm, Lal's flames are finally noticeable. And they are actually roiling in rage.

Verde does flinch away when Lal moves, but she just goes for the door and leaves too. And with her gone, there is nothing left. Not even the aftertaste of mist. Mammon must've left a while ago... Verde's... He's been completely abandoned yet again.

Finally he can let his legs give out. It's silly but, sitting on the ground and crying to himself relieves just a bit of the building pressure under Verde's skin. It's just-... He's-... They were all finally getting along a little bit. They all hugged for the very first time just a month ago. Verde was forming bonds! They could've been friends!! But now?!

They're broken.

This is it.

~~~Kyoya POV~~~

Every damn Sky scrambled themselves in a pitiful attempt to court Skull the instant he gave a shimmer of cloud. Even Kyoya's damn skies are showing interest! And maybe that bit was the last straw. Kyoya's patience snapped and he lashed out instinctively. Which started an every-man-for-himself brawl almost immediately.

Kyoya doesn't regret it, honestly.

It broke the weird tension the whole funeral created and it makes it easier to breathe afterwards. But maybe that's just because all the skies got escorted out? In general, the crowd is finally starting to thin. Tsunayoshi's... friend? Enma found his family and they're leaving as well, followed by two more mafia familigas.

Which, of course they're leaving swiftly, they probably have planes to catch. Kyoya made Sure that these people knew that Namimori would not house mafia groups for longer than seven hours per familiga. Anyone that stays longer risks losing Vongola's favor, of course.

Then again, there are a handful of exceptions. Most prominently, the Cavallone Familiga. Speaking of which, Kyoya finally has time to scan the remaining crowd for that familiar yellow hair. He finds Dino near the former buffet. How the hell did Dino's whip end up tangled with Xanxus' new prosthesis?

Squalo is failing miserably to untangle them, Xanxus is embarrassed, the other Varia are brooding. In short, that situation is close to escalating. So Kyoya swoops in, nudging Squalo's hands aside with a quiet. "Let me."

He also pulls the whip from Dino's hand, giving said haneuma a very pointed look. Pulling the whip taunt wasn't gonna untangle Xanxus any faster! Xanxus tries to pull away as well, but Kyoya huffs at that attempt. "Hold still."

So he gets to work and it only takes a moment. The whip ended up weirdly pinched in this deep crevice in Xanxus' mechnical elbow, so after dislodging that properly it's easy enough to unwrap. Of course, with his hands free, Squalo rounds on Dino, shoving that blade of his under the stupid horse's nose. "What the fuck was that, huh?!"

Dino raises his arms, quietly defensive, but clearly not wanting to fight. What a killjoy... Then again, this time Dino has an almost valid excuse. "He was aiming at the Ninth, what else was I supposed to do??"

Xanxus' arm is free from the whip, but Kyoya is inspecting and admiring the prosthesis' craftsmanship so he isn't free to move around just yet. None of that mean he can't get extremely angry either way. "I wasn't actually going to shoot that trash."

Dino gestures vaguely at Xanxus, specifically towards his arm. He's obviously distraught. Squalo is holding him by his collar, threatening to shove his blade Gods know where. "Your aim isn't what it used to be-"

Which is a sore topic apparently cause in an instant, Xanxus has pulled his arm free from Kyoya's hold. He easily grabs his gun and takes aim at Dino's head. "Wanna see just how well I can fucking aim?"

Dino goes three stages of pale, apologizing faintly, but Kyoya is more intrigued by the way something seems to whirr in Xanxus' hand when he readies his trigger. Which reminds him! He needed to talk to Xanxus anyways. "You still owe me that fight."

That's enough to somewhat defuse and redirect Xanxus anger. He looks about ready to brawl right then and there, but ends up shrugging. "Sure do, trash. It ain't gonna happen any-fucking-time soon. We gotta get back to Italy today."

And with another quiet curse under his breath, Xanxus stands up and just... leaves. His family follows him, while leaving a little path of destruction in its wake. But that's just fine. That means Dino is relatively unscathed, if still pale. Kyoya can finally talk to him! If he... can find the words that is. Why is it so difficult to speak up about this?

Dino sighs to get rid of his tension, shaking some hair out of his face before looking back into the room. He's probably picking out where exactly his subordinates are waiting for him. But he can't leave yet! Kyoya needs to tell him- "You know I don't dislike you, right?"

Dino blinks for a moment, before turning to him with wide eyes. "Wait-What?"

And now Kyoya has to explain what his actual issue is! He can't put it into polite words but he can just be blunt. "I don't dislike you. I dislike a lot of the things you do."

Dino needs to take a breath, rubbing a hand through his own hair, gathering his thoughts. "I mean-that's good to know-? Thanks..? What do I-"

Oh, this is awkward. Kyoya nods stiffly, turning and just... walking away. Dino just sounds defeated and confused. Maybe this isn't the time or place for this kind of talk-? "Kyoya, what the hell-?"

Dino doesn't get to finish his sentence and Kyoya doesn't get to point out how Dino never even asked permission to use his name. Because in that moment, something red and solid steps into Kyoya's path. And... Well. Kyoya has been dreading this encounter the most, to be honest.

Fon can't even be bothered to fake one of his usual cheerful smiles. He smiles faintly. In a way that's artificially benevolent and completely discomfort-inducing. "Apologies. I need Kyoya for a moment."

He directs a brighter smile at Dino, perfectly composed and so much like the other monsters in the Clan. It makes Kyoya's skin crawl. So he goes to walk around this whole situation. "We have nothing to discuss."

And Fon snatches his wrist. Pulls him to a stop. Speaks in a very calm voice. "I think we do."

That roughly translates to: You ruined the Representative battle for me. Don't even try to ignore this.

Which is just Fon's usual: If we don't talk now, I'll come bother you in your home. You can't avoid me forever.

And that really just means: You don't get to decide. You can't just walk away.

So Kyoya goes to twist free of Fon's hold, but Fon pulls him along whether he wants it or not, taking him aside to have a 'private talk', away from the few people that are still in the room. Away from any backup Kyoya could possibly call upon. Actually, Fon just takes him out of the Funeral home and a little ways away, but still.

Kyoya rolls his eyes when Fon drags him behind some bushes and a tree, but then Fon turns to him with a tight lipped almost-frown. That much emotion in itself is... Unusual to say the least.

"You know something. Where is Skull. What happened."

....

Oh.

~~~Fon POV~~~

Kyoya's eyes go big for barely a second, before his expression becomes carefully guarded. He keeps trying to twist out of Fon's hold, sneering faintly. "Let go of me."

After another moment, Fon allows him to pull free and Kyoya rubs over the rapidly forming bruise. A part of Fon sadistically hopes that bruise darkens black and bothers him for weeks! That part also doesn't let Kyoya move away, pushing him up against the tree and keeping him there. "Where is he. What did you do."

Kyoya avoids eyecontact whenever he lies and Fon sees the way his eyes flicker aside for a split second before he glares up at him with his usual defiance. So he's going to make this difficult for both of them... "I have no idea what you're on about."

Fon tries to take a calming breath, but that new shard of betrayal in his heart rattles insistently and he reaches to grab Kyoya's collar instead. He doesn't actually want to hurt Kyoya, but he needs him to stay still and listen. "I knowSkull isn't dead. Where is he. What did you tell him."

Immediately, Kyoya reaches up and holds onto Fon's wrists, almost perfectly poised to push on Fon's pressure points. Naturally, Fon twists those weak spots out of Kyoya's reach, content with having Kyoya grab his wrists uselessly to try to keep himself from being strangled. "How would I-They just buried that herbivore, are you insane-?"

Kyoya has no right to sound that annoyed! Fon should be the only one outraged here! This worthless brat is hiding his brother from him! Fon raises his voice just the slightest bit. Just for emphasis. He is not growling. "That coffin is empty. And you were the last person seen with Skull. What did you do."

Fon notices the little tremors in Kyoya's fingers before he clenches them against Fon's wrists, sees the way Kyoya's pupils shrink a fraction, likely due to adrenaline. Fear truly is an uncontrollable instinct. And Fon is absolutely willing to exploit it.

So he pins Kyoya down harder, twists his collar and presses his knuckles against his throat. It's a familiar motion, Fon is a highly trained assassin afterall. Like this, he could crush Kyoya's airways with a single shove. Fon just wants to talk. "If you don't tell me now, you'll force my hand here."

Fon feels the way Kyoya's breath catches in his throat and his heart skips a beat. He sees the way Kyoya's eyes widen as his pupils shrink and his skin abruptly goes pale and almost clammy. And- And...

....

Why the actual hell is Fon threatening his baby nephew???

No seriously! Why is he doing this?! Kyoya has nothing to do with what just happened with the others and-Of course Fon's hold loosens just a bit, he's in shock! At the very least, Kyoya immediately moves, shoving Fon back half a step, to make enough room to grab his tonfa. Only to freeze.

There is blood rushing through Fon's ears, but he can clearly hear someone speak up near them. They sound... Confused. "Kyo-san? Is that your lover?"

Kyoya blushes a tiny bit, caught of guard, but pulled out of the fear for his life. He unceremoniously shoves the butt of his tonfa into Fon's sternum, probably giving him a brutal bruise and finally shaking Fon out of his own head. Kyoya also snips back a reply to whoever spoke. "No. Why would you say that?"

Fon soothes over the spot Kyoya attacked, trying to calm his trembling hands. He mustn't rage. He mustn't. This is so unlike him! He's not a child anymore!! What is wrong with him?!

He needs to apologize. Kyoya will never forgive him. Kyoya shouldn't ever forgive him-but he needs to apologize! Fon looks up and, well, the guy that spoke seems to have been one of Kyoya's subordinates. Anyone would recognize that hairdo anywhere. Not important right now. "Kyoya..?"

Kyoya turns to look at him and... Well. There is not a single ounce of willing forgiveness in his eyes. He looks upset. Angry. Hurt. And instead of replying to him, Kyoya very easily corrects his subordinate. "He's just a relative."

.... Ah. That's true, isn't it? Fon has the blood of monsters running through his veins... And ever since he remembered that he's been woefully unable to control his emotions... Perhaps he is the monster, instead of Reborn... Maybe his self control died alongside Skull... But that's nonsense. Skull can't be dead!

Everything's wrong!

~~~Skull's POV~~~

Haru-chan and Kyoko-chan did not let him leave that conversation easily. They wanted to know the name of their flames right then and there. And they also wanted Mauve's phone number to be able to ask her questions and to train their flames with her. Skull could not find any complaints, because they do need to be able to defend themselves at least a little bit.

It's a little bonus that Skull might still be able to fuck over Reborn's carefully crafted, apparently sexist Vongola schemes. Just by teaching these lovely little girls how to catch up with their male peers. Either way, the conversation needed to end eventually, so Skull excused himself with the fact that he needed to find Kyoya, which isn't even a lie.

The girls had his focus in such a way that he didn't even realize the funeral home was gradually emptying, until Sawada and his friends came up to take Kyoko-chan and Haru-chan home. Mauve gives them a cheerful wave, making sure they are gone before looking around to see where Kyoya might be.

He's not in the funeral home anymore, that's for sure. He's not in front of it either. No, Kyoya is beside the building, talking to one of his subordinates and a... Child? Skull doesn't approach right away, listening in on what that boy is cheerfully telling Kyoya. "It was pigeons!"

Kyoya does not look pleased with this information, giving his subordinate a blank stare that grows quickly to an impatient glare. The subordinate naturally shifts away from him, terrified. "Is that so..."

Kyoya's tonfa glint prettily in the afternoon sun when he pulls them out, yet the subordinate turns tail immediately. Wise choice really, since Kyoya is almost on top of him with a single pounce. The only thing that stops that whole situation from escalating, happens to be that random child. "I still don't know my way home!"

Kyoya screeches to a halt, giving his subordinate the opportunity to sprint away unhindered. Kyoya obviously gives the child a somewhat annoyed glare, but it's also very obvious that he's softened, even if his voice carries a warning. "Little animal..."

Said 'Little Animal' absolutely disregards said warning, tapping up to Kyoya and grabbing hold of his suit jacket. For the funeral, Kyoya actually dressed up properly and he seems to be regretting that choice now. That child doesn't view him as even a little dangerous, huh. "Take me home Kyo-nii!"

Kyoya looks about ready to give up, so Skull walks over, just to cheer up his baby brother, of course. Also because Kyoya still has that faintest hint of blood on him. Skull would prefer if he wasn't getting into fights while he's healing... "Duty calls?"

Kyoya isn't much surprised by his approach, shrugging faintly and gesturing half heartedly. Still holding his tonfa in a death grip. Did something happen? "Something like that. You can go ahead without me."

Skull shakes his head, just because he doesn't want to go home alone today. And because that child seems to be one of Kyoya's rare few friends, maybe. Skull still really wants to meet all of those. "I'd rather keep you company if that's okay."

Kyoya looks done with everything, but he doesn't shoo Skull away. He just rolls his eyes and puts his tonfa away, annoyed, but... Calmer maybe. "Fine."

Kyoya gestures at the child, vaguely. He isn't all that comfortable, is he? All tense, yet still polite. Skull feels a little bad... "Nee-chan, this is Touma. Touma, that's my sister, her name is Mauve."

Skull waves at the little boy that's still holding onto Kyoya's suit jacket, rocking back and forth on his feet. Touma-kun has tanned skin from playing outside, dark brown hair that spikes in every direction like people can't stop ruffling it, and he makes the perfect picture of childlike innocence with his bright, brown eyes and that tooth gap in his wide grin. "Hiya Mauve-nee! That's English?"

Touma-kun looks up at Kyoya, all innocent and inquisitive and Kyoya is just so obviously tired of socializing today. He still responds, because it does feel like Touma won't quiet down even if he's met with silence. "Yeah. She's named after a colour."

Apparently that's the most amusing thing ever, because Touma-kun is immediately giggling, only somewhat stumbling along when Kyoya begins to walk. Touma is just absolutely fearless, isn't he? Kyoya actually needs to grab that boy's hand to pull him along. Skull can't wait to have a little talk with that child! "I am indeed named after a colour. That's funny, no?"

Touma-kun nods wildly, gasping a breath, before giggling again and tugging at Kyoya's hand. Kyoya doesn't seem fussed, until Touma manages to speak past his giggles. "My name means Iron. Like Kyo-nii's tattoo, you know?"

...What?

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr fanfic #hibari kyoya #khr hibari #khr skull #skull de mort #Systemic Disorder #Khr AU #khr arcobaleno #very long post

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pluralsword · 2 years

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Xenogender and Ao3 and Art

Hi xenogender and xenoaesthetic folks, entities, and realms and all and none,

it has occurred to us that we um, have written the majority of works on Archive of Our Own that have the xenogender tag. And we’re asking ourselves, we can’t be the only [(alien) robot] persons that plays around with this stuff right? (we’re plural btw)

When we talk to trans folks whether plural or nonhuman or no a bunch of folks relate to our terminologies we’ve come up with and sometimes giving people a look at the worldbuilding doc we’re not quite ready to post yet helps especially if they aren’t going to read fics generally, but also we know that our own experience with aesthetics that our oldest headmate struggled with for more than two decades to put words to and we helped her grasp she pronouns for, for herself in non-human history and assemblage terms, is just one small part of the vast xeno aesthetic spectrum. We’re just one system, and we want to know... what stories have you written, or are writing or making? We thought it might be cool if people reblogged around with their own stuff so their could be a post where all our stuff is together. More than anything- we feel a bit lonely sometimes, because being both on a xeno aesthetic spectrum and by and large a bunch of robots- we are beloved by our community and friends and loved ones, for which we are very thankful, and know a folks who can relate, but we wanna know what people are up to, or just thoughts.

So for those unfamiliar with us, our fanfic (we will eventually do original fiction) is about (Trans)formers and navigates hopepunk stuff regarding autonomy and aesthetic iteration with sparring, family, war, subaltern and community, love, diplomacy, gestalt consciousness, and so forth, drawing in part on the beautiful lore from seven different gender expansive canonical transforming robots in particular before Transformers Earthspark hit and introduced Nightshade (aside from how their whole choosing alt mode thing very much feels like choosing aesthetic expression and in Twitch’s case came before her pronouns were used but anyway) but specifically Arcee(s), Anode, and Lug. Our pg-13 or g-rated works thus far are mostly in the Autosignet Cycle aside from a few shipping fics. The Autosignet Cycle, mostly set in an original continuity, is probably going to continue for years with more fics to come, we started planning out very early versions of this in 2020 but tfwiki’s discord is what jumpstarted our first fic for the series, Day of Multiflame:

1. Day of Multiflame (complete)

A day of mirth, of memory, of rejoicing, of flames dancing together. On this ancient Camien holiday, some plucky heroes young and old across assemblage including two organics come together to celebrate, and to face the struggles ahead, of transformer majority worlds approaching outright conflict over rejoining the largest treaty organization of the galaxy… All the while ancient conflicts and motives beyond their current understanding overshadow everything, rolled up in the origins of these transforming robots. Between intergenerational family, swords, gifts, and I love yous and more, the steadying of each other is enough, to have a little bit of joy and wisdom on this Day of Multiflame.

2. Wheels of Mutuality and Symbiosis (complete)

Glyph tries to lucid dream to solve the puzzle of her sleep issues, not all is as it seems- but her love of Tap-Out and what informs her aesthetic experience runs strong, helping her through to some long awaited elucidations that are big if true.

This has some big zoomdare energy but I think that is what I often will end up writing.

3. Hold on to Your Dancing (complete)

In honor of xenogender visibility day (May 15th)- I resolved to write two poems, one about my own experience remains unfinished, but one in honor of robot aesthetics via fanfiction was something I was able to finish.

Here you'll find some hints about my plot - some of what this story is on about - with a visiting of the past: the beginning of the last territorial campaign of the Anti-Functionist War, from two war veterans you'll meet later.

4. Honey I’m Cheering For You But No (complete)

A blast to the past before the Anti-Functionist War- archivist Prowl is trying to sort out his life, hasn't been so easy for him after an awful job that has left him very sensitive to the disquiet of society as the very subtly not so Golden Age reaches an end. His old friends Arcee and Aileron who unintentionally helped spark his journey are visiting- and he is beside himself. What does it all mean to him, to them, to carry on as they do, to transform?

In short, we the author finally give some answers with words to the slice of life actions you saw play out in Day of Multiflame- answers very much in context with Sparkflung Trust.

5. Rekindling Flight (incomplete, 7/13 chapters)

At long last, The vast majority of transformers, residing in the Planetwell Polity Alliance, are about to rejoin the largest galactic alliance, which the PPA originally helped create and was expelled from after the Unicron invasion and the subsequent thousands year long war with Functionist usurpers. But, all is not well- threats loom from all corners upon the Autobot revolution: Decepticons, Unicronists, Functionists, and deep existential problems with past, present, and future will try people from all walks of life fighting for intergenerational hope and love.

Nonetheless, something new and wonderful yet old and familiar is afoot- efforts by trillions and their many subalterns are not vain: the power and practice of iterative story.

6. Addendum (incomplete, estimated 10/30 chapters)

7 million years ago, the latest blow to gender on Cybertron is dealt by the rising Functionist tide, stirring an Arcee struggling with loneliness and aesthetic dysphoria into enraged action to help bots in the Hadean System across the aesthetic spectrum save their transformative glory and stories… in the process, she finds aid from the scientist Jhiaxus, who also offers her a new reformatting surgery to let her spark do shaping with CNA editing help. Thus begins a new chapter in her life as a founding member of the expansion of what would later be called the Anti-Vocation League alongside her beloved partner and fellow old person Codexa, while grappling with her own growing pile of pains and traumas. As the millennia carry on and she heads to space, she eventually meets Anode and Lug in the stars, and some dear moments near the present all the way through to events after Transformers: Optimus Prime #25: Post… where she helps some gender expansive bots, and with help from Aileron and her pals she finally gets some answers and closure to her own self, and has a reckoning with forces pitted against her for millions of years. The years after are not what she expected during most of her life prior, and she is glad for them…

This is a fanfic revolving around IDW1, that seeks to add to her already detailed and beautiful arc of a trans woman errant warrior sage coming to terms with herself and deciding to trust people and herself. We love her transformations very dearly, and wanted to attempt to reconcile her appearance in Spotlight: Arcee with her later writing, drawing on wisdom gathered through study and experience, and imagination to connect the dots. As you can tell just from the mention of Codexa in the tags above, this revisiting of IDW1 Arcee’s tale is in part made possible by later writing of gal transformers who we adore, and we will note we draw from ones from all across the decades of fiction of Transformers. What can we say, we love them, and know so much more about ourselves than we ever would have because of them.

For this post, we will note: though it is an IDW1 fic with m-spec and f-spec bots, we build quite a bit of gender variety and relation into it that makes it readily apparent that Cybertron of old is even more different from human histories of such in that regard, we will spoil a little and say that we intend to show how of then aesthetics is remembered and remade into something new and old in the years after the end of the official story...

7. Sparkflung Trust (complete)

Written for a Transformers "fanthology" and also is a tie-in to the Autosignet Cycle original continuity we have been writing - along with a bit of IDW1, Cyberverse, and Alternity. A story about transformation in many senses (surprise), including a quest for the Transformation Matrix … inside of one of the most powerful creatures transformers have ever encountered. What will the errant people on the journey realize, and will it be enough to put into practice to succeed?

If you want to see the other standalone fics we’ve done, including ones about beloved Acid Storm and Overlord, go take a look at our Ao3 page! :3

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alygator77 · 3 months

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 1 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru)

ꨄ words: 9.7k

ꨄ a/n. so very excited for this little series :') these topics hit home for me, would love to hear your thoughts, i hope you enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 1 // circumstances and commitments

Red traffic lights always seem to catch you at the worst times.

As your car rolls to a stop, the city around you moves at a pace that feels impossible to match – the early morning rush, cars honking, people hurrying along the sidewalks, all while you’re stuck drumming your fingers anxiously against the steering wheel, the rhythmic beat mirroring your rising frustration.

You glance down at your phone, the glaring digital numbers reminding you of the precious minutes slipping away. Cursing to yourself, your breath hitches as a notification pops up.

Satoru Gojo: Where are you? The meeting is starting soon.

Late for work… again.

Your heart pounds in rhythm with the seconds ticking away, each tick of the clock feeling like a countdown to disaster. Dread coils in your stomach as you anticipate the inevitable reprimand you’ll face from your boss.

Lately, it feels like life is conspiring against you. It all began with your ex-fiancé, Naoya, shattering your trust with his betrayal, leaving you to navigate the tumultuous seas of parenthood alone – his disloyalty forcing you to drop out of school so you can provide for you daughter.

The relentless chaos of single motherhood has become your norm, each day a balancing act on a fraying tightrope.

And now, your unreliable nanny seems determined to sink your already precarious ship, bailing on you last minute yet again, making you late for work as you juggle the impossible of finding a backup babysitter.

The mounting challenges seem endless, yet you forge ahead, driven by the love for your daughter and the need to survive.

You left Naoya without hesitation, determined to carve out a life on your own terms, away from his manipulating deceit.

But single motherhood is an unrelenting storm, and although you filed for child support, the legal process drags on like a cruel joke – two months have passed since you served him papers, and still no court date is in sight.

What’s even more frustrating, Naoya is an attorney himself – he’s playing the system.

Why?

Because he wants to control you in the palm of his hands.

Every day feels like a battle, and this job is your lifeline – you really can’t afford to lose it over some stupid unreliable nanny. Unfortunately, stable full-time daycare is a luxury you can’t afford, leaving you at the mercy of said unreliable nanny.

While better than nothing, she is far from ideal – her chronic lateness and last-minute cancellations only add to your daily chaos. Yet, with no other affordable options, you are left with no choice but to grin and bear it, teetering on the edge of despair but refusing to fall.

You can already picture the scowl etched on your boss’s face the moment you walk through the door, late yet again – his expression stern and unforgiving.

And then there’s Satoru Gojo.

You can almost hear his sarcastic comments and see that infuriating smirk playing on his lips, his eyes dancing with amusement at your misfortune.

Satoru Gojo. The gorgeous and impeccably dressed heir to the Gojo Corporation, is the epitome of wealth and charm. With his striking blue eyes, flawlessly tousled white hair, and an air of effortless confidence, he commands attention the moment he steps into a room.

The Gojo Corporation, a behemoth in the business world, is practically a family of celebrities, their every move scrutinized by the public eye. Although you don’t work directly for Satoru, you often cross paths in the office since you serve as his father’s personal secretary.

Takemi Gojo, the stern and impatient CEO, demands perfection, making your role both challenging and stressful.

As you rush into the sleek, modern lobby of the Gojo Corporation, the sound of your high heels clicking against the polished marble floors echo through the hallway.

The receptionist, Shoko, looks up from her desk, her eyebrows knitting together in concern as you hurry towards her, hair disheveled, a folder clutched in one hand with papers threatening to spill out, and your handbag dangling precariously from the other.

The pristine, high-end surroundings make your disarray all the more glaring, and you can't help but feel a pang of embarrassment.

Though she’s currently on a phone call, Shoko’s concerned look expands, her eyes widening as she silently mouths to you, where have you been?

A defeated sigh escapes your lips as you shake your head, too flustered to explain. She subtly points to the door behind her, indicating where the meeting you’re now fifteen minutes late for, is being held.

With a subtle nod, you hurry past – she mouths, good luck, which does nothing to calm your frazzled nerves.

Opening the door, you are immediately met with a long table full of businessmen, their judging eyes snapping to you the moment the door creaks open. The air is thick with tension, and as you enter, the knots in your stomach tighten with each step taken, cheeks burning under the weight of their scrutiny.

Fuck. You are so embarrassed.

Satoru sits towards the back of the table in an office chair, lazily spinning around in circles while he fidgets with a pen between his fingers – clearly unamused, as usual.

He stops mid-spin and fixes his gaze directly on you, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His icy blue eyes seem to sparkle with amusement at your disheveled state.

In stark contrast, his father sits beside him, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and lips pursed in a tight line. The fury in his eyes is unmistakable.

Shit. He was pissed.

“G-Good morning,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you briskly make your way to your seat. Your hands tremble slightly as you hastily tidy your hair and smooth down your shirt, desperate to appear somewhat presentable.

As you shuffle into your seat and place down your belongings, you can feel Satoru’s eyes on you, scanning you with a wry smile.

His amusement is palpable, and he clearly relishes the sight of you flustered and out of sorts. The way his gaze lingers on you, enjoying your disarray, only adds to your frustration

"Late again, I see,” he hums, his voice dripping with calm, sardonic amusement.

“Quiet,” you hiss at him silently, clearing your throat while you sit up straight – a forced smile across your lips.

Satoru faintly chuckles to himself as his father peers over at you disapprovingly, his stern eyes boring into you with a silent reprimand.

“Right – now that everyone is here, let’s begin,” Takemi Gojo announces, his authoritative voice slicing through the tense atmosphere like a knife.

The moment the conference starts, Satoru can’t help but roll his eyes, a gesture filled with disdain for the mundane proceedings. Leaning back in his seat, he props his elbow on the armrest and rests his chin in his hand, adopting a languid, almost bored posture.

He begins to tap the tip of the pen he was fiddling with against his lips idly, the repetitive motion a clear sign of his disinterest.

Satoru always hated these corporate meetings; they were incredibly tedious and time-consuming, and most of the topics discussed could have easily been handled in a goddamn email.

As his mind begins to wander, he tunes out the monotonous drone of the other men’s voices, his attention inevitably shifting to you, seated right beside him. He finds himself inexplicably drawn to the sight of your crimson cheeks and the slight tremble of your delicate hands.

There's something undeniably endearing about your flustered state that always manages to spark his mischievous side. He relishes the opportunity to give you shit, finding immense pleasure in your reactions.

"You know," he whispers in a slight mocking tone, leaning closer so that only you can hear, "this meeting would’ve gone by so much quicker if you had just been on time."

A shiver rakes down your spine as you feel his breath slightly against your ear.

God, he irked you so much.

Satoru Gojo, with his annoyingly charismatic arrogance, always managed to aggravate the hell out of you. It made your blood boil how he would purposely push your buttons, always knowing exactly how to get under your skin.

Turning your head towards him with a slightly exasperated expression, you shoot him a glare before shaking your head.

“I know,” your hushed voice laced with slight irritation. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Meeting your glare with a cocky grin, Satoru’s eyes glint with amusement, relishing in the way he could rile you up in a few words – it entertained him to no end, his only saving grace from this boring ass meeting.

Tormenting you was certainly a good way to pass the time.

“Oh, I know I don’t have to,” he chuckles lightly, speaking in a soft yet mocking tone, “but where would be the fun in that?”

“Jesus, you are insufferable,” you scoff under your breath, rolling your eyes, the frustration evident in your tone.

A cheeky smile forms on his lips as he leans back in his chair, humored by your irritation.

“Insufferable, huh?” he murmurs, still keeping his voice low with a hint of mischief. “My delicate heart can barely take the sting of your harsh words. Now, is that any way to treat your future boss?”

You raise an eyebrow at him and purse your lips, irritation simmering beneath your calm exterior. Dealing with Takemi Gojo, as strict and demanding as he is, feels like a lesser evil compared to the daily torment of Satoru's antics.

You silently pray that by the time Satoru takes over the business, you'll have moved on to better opportunities. You really don’t want to be stuck as a secretary your entire life – you have dreams of finishing your education and building a better future, but for now, this job is your lifeline.

It is unfortunate you had to halt your studies after leaving Naoya, but providing for your daughter takes precedence over everything, and with money being tight, every decision is a careful balancing act.

Satoru’s eyes glint with a mix of mockery and amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips as he can see the annoyance flickering across your face – it only eggs him on even more. Leaning in closer to you again, his voice drops even lower as he speaks.

"What, you don't think I'll be a good boss?" his tone feigned with mock hurt. "Here I was, imagining you calling me sir every day."

Before you have a moment to respond, your attention is grabbed by the sound of Satoru’s father clearing his throat – you are met with his stone-cold eyes sweeping over you both, the disapproving frown plastered on his lips is a clear indication for you to stop with the chit chatting.

Message received loud and clear.

You shift back in your seat, straightening up as you attempt to refocus on the meeting. Satoru, however, seems entirely unbothered, his lazy smile still fixed in place as he leans back in his chair with a nonchalance that is equal parts irritating and infuriating.

After another grueling hour of corporate ramblings, the meeting finally concludes. Relief washes over you as the businessmen begin to funnel out of the room, their murmured conversations blending into a low hum.

You hurriedly gather your scattered belongings, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere, but just as you reach for your papers, the stern voice of your boss cuts through the noise, freezing you in place.

“Y/n, before you go, a word please?” Takemi’s tone is sharp and commanding, slicing through the ambient chatter like a blade.

“Yes, sir,” you speak softly and timidly, placing your belongings back down as instructed. Your voice wavers slightly, betraying the nerves bubbling just below the surface.

As you glance over at Satoru, he begins to rise from his relaxed position, only for his father to halt his movements with a sharp, "Both of you," as he motions with his hand for Satoru to stay as well.

Satoru huffs in annoyance, his shoulders sagging as he sinks back into the chair, his irritation clear in the crinkle of his brows and the slight downturn of his lips.

“Y/n,” the old man’s tone is serious as he addresses you, his expression furrowed in what appears to be disappointment. The weight of his gaze feels like a heavy burden pressing down on your shoulders. With a nervous gulp, you brace yourself for the reprimand that’s to come.

“This is the third time this week you’ve been late now. Care to explain why that is?”

You can feel Satoru’s smug smirk beside you, his arms crossing casually over his chest as he leans back in his chair. The self-satisfied look on his face only serves to heighten your disdain for him.

God, he aggravates you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I apologize, sir. I have been experiencing unforeseen issues with my childcare situation.”

The second you mention childcare, Satoru’s eyes soften in astonishment.

You were a mom?

He had no clue – you have always been tight-lipped about your personal life at work. In fact, he had always found you annoyingly professional.

That’s why he takes so much pleasure in pushing your buttons – you’re such a tightass. It’s so much fun to see a different side of you, to crack your uptight façade. This newfound information truly intrigued him, and he finds himself momentarily taken aback.

Takemi raises an eyebrow, his expression unchanged and stoic. "Unforeseen issues, hm? Can you elaborate on that further?" His voice is a blend of curiosity and skepticism, a hint of impatience lacing his words.

"Well, sir..." you exclaim, voice wavering as it’s filled with reluctance. With a subtle pause, you choose your next words carefully. You really didn't want to have to talk about this, but you’re backed into a corner and it appears you have no choice. With a shaky exhale, you proceed.

"My former engagement was recently broken off, so I'm currently a single mother. Unfortunately, my current nanny seems to have issues with punctuality."

Mr. Gojo listens to your explanation with an expressionless face, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words.

The room feels even colder, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Meanwhile, Satoru's eyes dart between his father and you, watching the interaction with a peaked interest.

You, a mom?

This newly discovered knowledge had certainly added a new layer to his perception of you. Part of him feels a little guilty for giving you shit.

Maybe he should go easy on you a little bit?

He thinks to himself, before immediately dismissing that thought as impractical.

Yeah… not happening.

"I understand the situation, and I sympathize," Satoru's father finally responds, his tone devoid of warmth. "However, being late is unacceptable, especially repeatedly." He pauses for a moment, studying your expression intently. "Have you considered alternative childcare arrangements? One that is, perhaps, more reliable and punctual?"

You bite your lip, wrestling with your internal dilemma. Telling him about your financial situation seemed pointless, would these billionaires really understand? It wouldn't change anything, and it might even come across as a feeble excuse.

Daycare costs $500 a week where you live; it’s practically a mortgage on top of all your other expenses just to get by. Besides, you really don’t like people knowing your business. Replying carefully, you try not to give too much away.

“Right… I am looking into other options,” the words feel hallow as they leave your lips, because the truth is, you've already scoured the internet and exhausted all possible options, but to no avail. There are no viable alternatives at the moment – everything is out of your price range.

Satoru's father nods in acknowledgment, his expression still serious and unyielding. "Good," he says, his tone sharp and authoritative. "Please make this a priority, y/n. I need to see an improvement in your attendance. Your tardiness is affecting the productivity of the office, and I cannot tolerate late arrivals for much longer."

With a silent nod, you try to feebly hide the desperation that's clawing at your insides. You’re at your wit's end with childcare, but what can you do? Your boss seems to think you can just magically come up with a solution, but there is none.

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The old man shifts his attention to Satoru, who is lost in thought, still observing you intently with an inscrutable expression. His gaze is unwavering, as if he's trying to decipher a complex puzzle.

“As for you, boy,” Takemi's voice cuts through the silence, stern and authoritative.

The abruptness of his tone snaps Satoru out of his reverie. He blinks, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance as his eyes flicker to his father.

“Let’s have a chat too,” Takemi continues, his eyes narrowing as he addresses his son.

You can feel the intensity of the moment, a palpable shift in the room's dynamics. Takemi's words hang in the air, heavy and demanding. Your heart races as you gather your belongings, sensing that the conversation to follow will be anything but pleasant for Satoru – his father is not known for holding back his opinions. Working beside them both, you’ve observed the passage of many quarrels – they are like fire and ice.

“Y/n, you’re free to go,” Takemi finally says, his voice softening slightly as he dismisses you.

With a quick nod, you turn to leave, your steps hastening towards the door. As you approach the doorframe, you cast one last glance over your shoulder.

Satoru is still watching you, his eyes filled with curiosity and something else he can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the lecture he knows is coming, and turns to his father.

“Yes, sir?” sounding unbothered and slightly bored, Satoru’s voice has a hint of defiance in his tone.

“If you plan on taking over my business, you need to take this more seriously, Satoru – and you need to focus on finding an heir. When are you getting married? I can’t have – ”

Click.

Once the thick wood closes behind you, you can only hear the muffled sound of their voices, steadily escalating.

You stand awkwardly outside for a moment, not wanting to eavesdrop but unable to ignore the growing volume of their shouting. Clearly, the discussion had turned into another one of their disputes.

It’s nothing unusual, but as the voices behind the door grow louder and more intense, you’re left wondering if this may be their worst fight yet. Although you can’t make out all the words being exchanged, Satoru’s voice is sharp and roiled as he responds.

"Married? You're still obsessed …. settling down, old man? I'm not interested … those uptight women you keep throwing at me …. damn boring!"

Sure, their disagreements are quite frequent, but is it your imagination, or are they arguing about...marriage and heirs?

The realization that your job security is hanging by a thread weighs heavily on you, and you can’t help but feel a pang of envy for the seemingly trivial issues that Satoru and his father are arguing about.

Oh, the privileged problems of rich businessmen, you think.

ꨄ

As the day passes by, you find yourself buried in work – answering phone calls, scheduling meetings, filing paperwork – all while trying your best to push the events from earlier this morning to the back of your mind.

The steady hum of office activity buzzes around you, but your thoughts remain a chaotic whirlwind, replaying the tense confrontation with Satoru's father over and over again.

You feel stuck – should you try scouring the internet later tonight for childcare… again? The knot of anxiety in your stomach tightens each time you recall his stern expression and sharp words.

Amidst the flurry of tasks, a reminder pops up on your Outlook, the chime breaking through your concentration like a jarring alarm:

Supply day

You stare at the notification for a moment, a sense of dread settling in. Today, of all days, a sigh escaping your lips.

You grumble to yourself, the sound barely audible over the rhythmic clicking of keyboards and muted conversations around you. You know exactly how this always goes – the supply room is conveniently located right next to Satoru’s office, a perfect setup for his constant interruptions.

You’re going to have to deal with his incessant pestering while placing the order – it’s like he always manages to find any stupid excuse to bother you, and it’s become a rather annoying tradition at this point.

With the supply list clutched in your hands, you ascend the sleek, glass-paneled staircase to the second floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. The brushed steel railing is cool under your touch, and the soft hum of the elevator nearby reminds you of the countless times you've made this journey.

A flicker of hope dances in your mind.

Maybe – just maybe – today will be different, and Satoru won't be waiting for you in front of the supply room like usual. After all, he did have a fierce argument with his father, their worst fight yet in fact, so perhaps he doesn’t feel like pestering you today.

But as you round the corner, the familiar sight of the supply room comes into view, and your heart sinks as you spot him – arms folded, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe, adorned in his tailored business suit and a smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips.

His presence is as predictable as it is irritating, the very sight of him almost humorous in its inevitability.

Satoru's eyes glisten with mischief as your gaze meets his. His smirk deepens, clearly relishing the reaction he's drawn from you. With a slight huff and roll of your eyes, you make your way towards him.

"Don't you have work to do?"

He grins knowingly, clearly enjoying your exasperated expression as you approach. “Always so grumpy when you see me,” his voice dripping with faux hurt, “is that any way to greet your future boss?” unfolding his arms, he pushes himself off the wall, a sly smile on his face as he towers over you.

His taunting words only serve to exacerbate your frustration, and you roll your eyes yet again. This man really takes too much joy in getting a reaction from you.

“Gojo, you may not have work to do, but I do,” you respond curtly.

"Ah, the dreaded supply duty, huh?" he smirks, feigning concern as he looks down at your clipboard, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Gotta make sure we're fully stocked with the finest pens and staplers possible. You wouldn't want the company to perish, now would you?" he grins playfully as his voice drips with sarcasm.

“Ugh…” you grumble as you brush past him and enter the room – the scent of freshly printed paper and the faint, musty smell of old supplies greets you. A playful hum escapes Satoru’s lips as he follows suit right behind you, hot on your heels.

"You really take this job too seriously, you know that?" he remarks, his tone laced with playful mockery as he leans against the doorframe. “One of these days you're gonna have to learn how to loosen up a bit. Can't be all serious and grumpy all the time."

You feel the embitterment boiling within you – the audacity of this rich billionaire, who’s petty concerns are as simple as marriage and heirs. With a deep exhale, you bite your tongue, attempting to filter your intolerance for him.

“Yeah well, I can’t just do whatever I want like you Gojo. Unlike you, I actually need this job,” your voice is level, but edged with a mix of frustration and determination as you move toward the shelves, your fingers deftly picking out the necessary supplies.

Satoru remains leaned against the doorframe, noticing the tenacity etched on your face as he watches you work.

For a moment, his playful demeanor falters as he processes your words. They clearly make him realize something – the crucial difference between the two of you. You have way more riding on this job than him, he’s only working to please his overbearing father, but you – you have a sense of purpose and strength that goes beyond mere obligation. Unlike the superficial women his father shoves in his face, you seem to have depth, a resilience that intrigues him.

Finally, he breaks the silence with a nonchalant tone.

“So, you’re a mom. Didn’t expect that.”

You glance up from the supply list, slightly taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply cautiously, not quite sure where this conversation is heading. Your hands pause mid-action as you meet his gaze, scanning his features to gauge his intentions.

His expression is surprisingly sincere, a far cry from his usual teasing demeanor. His eyes, usually glinting with mischief, now hold a hint of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again, his tone noticeably softer than before.

"How old is your kid?"

“She’s two,” your voice is measured as you lift your brow at him, feeling conflicted – you are still guarded, though something about his unexpected interest makes you feel a bit more at ease.

He nods slowly, the image of a little girl popping into his mind, and he can’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity, pity, or maybe even admiration. He’s not quite sure what exactly this feeling is, but it unsettles him.

He never knew his mother, and his father was never affectionate. The thought of you juggling work and motherhood, managing so much on your own, makes him see you in a new light. There's a strength in you that he finds both fascinating and humbling, something he hasn't encountered often in his sheltered world of wealth and privilege.

He leans his head back slightly, looking up at the ceiling, his gaze momentarily distant – he can tell that you’re uncomfortable sharing these details, and he makes a mental note to tread lightly. But there’s also something about your guardedness that piques his curiosity even more. It’s clear that he’s more invested in this conversation than he’d like to admit, a rare occurrence for him.

He lets out a low whistle, his gaze returning to you with a hint of genuine interest, his eyes lacking that usual mischievous glint.

"Wow, two years old," he muses. "That's pretty young. She must keep you busy."

For a moment, you see a flicker of something softer in his eyes, but there’s a part of you that still doesn’t trust it. You nod, focusing on your task, your fingers deftly organizing supplies as you try to maintain a sense of normalcy.

“Yeah, she does. It’s a lot of work.. but she’s worth it,” your voice naturally softens as you think of your daughter's wide, innocent eyes and the way her laughter lights up even your darkest days.

Satoru falls into a brief moment of contemplation, a fleeting moment of thoughtfulness crossing his face as he absorbs your words.

“I can imagine,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

But then, as if snapping back to his usual self, the corners of his mouth lift into a sly grin as he tilts his head to the side, his eyes regaining their playful spark.

“And here I always thought you were just your average workaholic, obsessed with pencils and paper,” he teases, a hint of mischief dancing on his lips, his words dripping with sarcasm as he continues, “Maybe you should bring her in sometime. I bet she’s already better at filing paperwork than you.”

A small smile escapes you despite your attempts to suppress it, betraying your earlier defensiveness. You roll your eyes, unable to resist his playful banter.

“Very funny, Gojo,” you mutter sarcastically, trying to conceal your amusement, but there's a warmth in your voice that wasn't there before.

He chuckles, clearly pleased with himself as he watches you, the amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you get back to your oh-so-important supply duty. But don’t think I’m going to stop pestering you anytime soon. Gotta make sure my future secretary is on her top game.”

You raise an eyebrow, but don’t respond, opting instead to continue your task, your hands moving methodically as you sort through the supplies. Despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a bit lighter.

The unexpected shift in his demeanor, the way he showed genuine curiosity about your daughter, caught you off guard. For a brief moment, you saw a different side of him – a side that isn't just the arrogant heir, but someone who might actually care. It’s a fleeting glimpse, but it’s enough to make you wonder if there’s more to Satoru Gojo than meets the eye.

He slowly lifts himself from the doorframe, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Stopping for a moment, he casts a last lingering glance in your direction, a smirk playing on his lips. His voice, exuding that typical mockery, breaks the silence.

“Seriously though, get those supplies ordered before the company crumbles without its precious pens and staplers – oh, can you order the blue ball tipped ones? Those are my favorite.”

Clearly enjoying the exasperated sigh that escapes your lips, Satoru flashes you a playful wink. Shaking your head, you feel a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up inside you.

You take it back – he’s as obnoxious as ever.

But you are not sure why you are unable to suppress a small smile. And for the first time ever, his playful teasing, while infuriating, also held a strange charm that you can't quite deny.

ꨄ

Rushing through the front doors of Gojo Corporation, your heart pounds with a mix of anxiety and exhaustion.

The early morning sunlight barely filters through the towering glass windows, casting long shadows across the sleek marble floors.

Your unreliable nanny had flaked on you again, forcing you to scramble for a last-minute solution for your daughter. You called everyone possible, your neighbor, your mother, hell even Naoya.

Luckily, your best friend Utahime could step in, but the frantic search had cost you precious time, and now, you were late yet again. Dread gnaws at you, a nagging fear that today will be the day you finally get fired for your tardiness.

Clutching your bag tightly, you weave through the bustling crowd of employees, their polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the floor as they move with purpose. The air is thick with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint hum of conversations. You feel wandering eyes on you and hear the muted whispers following your hurried steps.

"Can you believe Mr. Gojo passed away suddenly?" one employee whispers, their voice barely audible over the din.

"Yeah, heart attack, I heard. It’s going to cause a huge shakeup in the company," another replies, their tone laced with uncertainty.

You freeze in place, the news hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Did you hear them correctly?

Takemi Gojo, the CEO and your boss, had passed away?

You struggle to process it, the shock of the news mingling with the fear of losing your job. You were Takemi’s personal secretary, so…what does this mean for you?

Was Satoru going to take over the company? You should be fine then, right? He wouldn’t fire you… he has always been pestering you, boasting about being your future boss after all.

The thought of his arrogant smirk sends a shiver down your spine, but it also gives you a sliver of hope.

Your steps falter as you reach the door leading to your desk, your fingers trembling as you fumble with your bag for your badge. As you glance around, you can’t help but note the worried expressions on your colleagues' faces, their whispered conversations adding to the sense of unease. The usually bustling office now feels oddly oppressive, the air thick with uncertainty and mourning.

The second you round your desk, one of Takemi’s assistants, Yaga, is waiting for you. His stern expression stands out starkly against the backdrop of worried faces, and his face is etched with lines of fatigue, making him look older than he is. His lips are set in a thin line, and the dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn’t slept well.

"Y/N, we need to talk," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Oh, okay,” you say timidly.

As you follow him to a nearby office, your heart sinks with each step. The corridor feels longer than usual, every footfall echoing like a drumbeat of impending doom. The walls are adorned with framed certificates and company accolades, a testament to the empire Takemi Gojo built.

"What’s going on?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, the knot in your stomach tightening, a cold sweat forming at the back of your neck. You can barely hear yourself over the pounding of your heart.

Yaga closes the door behind you with a heavy sigh, the sound resonating ominously in the confined space. He looks uncomfortable, his eyes avoiding yours as he gestures for you to sit. The room feels stifling, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"Please, take a seat," he says, his voice softening slightly, though the underlying gravity of the situation remains.

You lower yourself into the chair, your fingers clutching the armrests as if they could anchor you in the storm of uncertainty.

Yaga sits across from you, his posture rigid, hands clasped tightly on the desk. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and resignation.

"With Mr. Gojo gone, the company is undergoing some restructuring," he begins, choosing his words carefully. "It's been a challenging time for everyone, and difficult decisions have to be made."

His words hang in the air, each one a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. The knot in your stomach tightens further, and you swallow hard, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow.

"Since you were Mr. Gojo's personal secretary, your position is being terminated," he continues, his tone tinged with genuine regret. "We no longer need your services."

A silence envelops the room, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner. The framed accolades on the wall seem to mock you, a stark contrast to the harsh reality you're now facing.

Your heart plummets into a deep abyss, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a boulder. A cold, hollow feeling spreads through your chest, and it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room.

Your mind races, images of unpaid bills and your daughter's innocent face flashing before your eyes. Panic bubbles up inside you, threatening to spill over.

You can't let this happen.

You think about the sacrifices you've made, the sleepless nights, the constant juggling of responsibilities.

Who would you turn to?

Your family isn’t an option, you don’t really get along with your mother… she has her own set of issues, leaving you with no support system to lean on. There is no one you can reach out to… no one except...

Naoya.

The mere thought of Naoya sends a shiver down your spine.

You promised yourself you’d never go back to that lying cheater. He’s manipulative, always finding ways to twist situations to his advantage.

You remember how he tried to get you to crawl back to him, using your daughter as a bargaining chip.

How he used to make you feel like you were the one at fault for everything, gaslighting you into questioning your own sanity.

When you caught him cheating, he didn’t even apologize. Instead, he blamed you for being too busy with school and your daughter to take care of his needs. He claimed that if you had been a better partner, he wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere.

Even after you left him, he continued to try to control you. He would show up unannounced at your door, demanding to see your daughter, only to criticize your parenting and suggest that she would be better off with him.

Ironic, considering how he wants nothing to do with her. She barely even recognizes his face.

He missed both her birthdays, all her doctors’ appointments – he was never involved in anything. The man can’t even change a diaper.

Being an attorney himself, he has used his legal knowledge to delay the court date for child support, knowing full well that you were struggling to make ends meet. Every time you thought you might be free of his influence, he would find a way to pull you back in.

You can't let yourself fall into his trap again, but what other options do you have?

The thought of begging him for help makes your skin crawl. You can almost hear his smug voice, telling you how you were always too proud for your own good. The humiliation would be unbearable, and you know he would use it to his advantage, tightening his grip on your life even more.

But is there another way out?

Hopelessness claws at your insides, making it hard to breathe. Your daughter deserves better than this. She deserves a stable home and a mother who isn’t constantly worried about how to pay the next bill. You have to find a solution, and fast.

Taking a shaky breath, you struggle to keep your voice steady, the words barely escaping your lips.

"But... I need this job." Desperation laces your tone, each word a plea. "I have a daughter to support. I can't afford to lose this job. Please, there must be something I can do."

Yaga looks at you with a mixture of pity and helplessness.

"I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. I want you to know that this decision wasn't made lightly," he says gently. "You’ll receive a severance package, but today will be your last day. Please ensure you pack up your things."

The finality of his words feels like a punch to your gut. You nod numbly, not trusting yourself to speak.

As you return to your desk, each step feels heavier than the last as the weight of the moment settles over you like a suffocating blanket.

You begin packing your things, the mundane task giving your hands something to do while your mind spirals.

As you place the last of your personal items into a cardboard box, a sudden realization hits you.

You remember leaving some of your things upstairs in the supply room.

With a heavy sigh, you lift the box and head towards the staircase, your footsteps echoing through the now-quiet hallways, the usual office buzz replaced by an uneasy silence.

The trip feels familiar, but solemn this time. A bittersweet feeling surges through you, knowing that the countless trips you’ve made to the supply room will no longer be interrupted by Satoru’s playful teasing.

Thinking about those interactions now, you feel a pang of confusion.

Why had Yaga been the one to deliver the news?

Was Satoru now the CEO?

If he was, why would he fire you?

The questions swirl in your mind, creating a storm of confusion and anxiety.

As you approach the supply room, the realization that Satoru’s office is right next door makes your heart pound faster.

Just then, you hear raised voices seeping through a crack of his office door. Recognizing Satoru’s distinct tone, laced with anger, you can't help but pause, curiosity getting the better of you.

“What do you mean I have to be married with a child to inherit?” Satoru's voice echoes down the hallway, sharp and incredulous.

The response is muffled, but you can make out the words.

“...stipulation in the will…necessary condition…”

You pause, your heart pounding as you listen. This was clearly a private conversation, but the gravity of Satoru’s words piques your interest. You inch closer, straining to hear more, your breath held in anticipation. Satoru's voice rises again, frustration clear in every syllable.

“This is ridiculous! My father can’t control my life from beyond the grave. How am I supposed to find someone to marry and have a child with on such short notice?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you strain to catch every word. The lawyer’s voice is calm, almost rehearsed.

“I understand this is a lot to take in, Mr. Gojo. But the terms are clear. To claim your inheritance, you must fulfill these conditions. Otherwise, the company will pass to the next eligible heir.”

There's a tense pause, followed by the sound of something heavy crashing onto the desk—likely Satoru’s fist. His voice, strained with frustration and anger, echoes through the room.

“Next eligible heir? There is no other heir! My father knew that. This is just his way of trying to control me, even in death.”

The lawyer remains unflappable, his tone steady and professional. “You have a year to fulfill the requirements. Perhaps you should start considering your options.”

You hear the rustling of papers, a clear sign that the lawyer is preparing to leave. You instinctively back away from the door slightly, your mind racing with the implications of what you’ve just overheard.

As the door creaks open, you quickly shuffle into the supply room, your heart pounding. Peeking through the crack, you see the lawyer exiting Satoru’s office, his face a mask of resigned professionalism.

As the lawyer walks away, your mind begins to whirl. The weight of your current situation crashes over you. The thought of losing your job, your only source of income, terrifies you.

Your mind latches onto Satoru’s predicament—needing a wife and child to secure his inheritance.

You fit that description perfectly.

You are a single mother, and marrying Satoru, even if just for show, could solve both of your problems.

But could you do it? Could you really propose such an audacious plan to Satoru Gojo? Your heart races as the idea solidifies in your mind.

It’s this or Naoya.

Desperation gives you the push you need, reminding you of your daughter’s innocent face and her future depending on your next move.

Once the lawyer is out of sight, you take a deep breath and steel yourself. This is your chance—perhaps the only chance—to keep your job and provide a better future for your daughter. The enormity of what you're about to do makes your stomach churn, but you push the fear aside, focusing on the opportunity.

Taking another steadying breath, you knock on the office door and enter.

Satoru's furious gaze snaps to you, a tempest of emotions swirling in his icy blue eyes. Anger is the most prominent, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can see the muscles twitching.

But beneath the fury, there's a raw, palpable hurt. The loss of his father, the sudden pressure of the inheritance stipulation, and the looming uncertainty of his future all collide in his expression.

His normally confident demeanor is fractured, the vulnerability barely masked by his rage. You can see the telltale signs of a sleepless night—dark circles under his eyes, his usually impeccable hair disheveled, and a stiffness in his posture as if he’s holding himself together by sheer will.

“Y/n, not now,” he snaps, his voice strained and sharp, eyes blazing with frustration.

Despite the torrent of emotions flashing across his face, you stand your ground, summoning every ounce of courage you possess.

“Let’s get married,” you blurt out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can second-guess yourself.

The room falls into a deafening silence, the gravity of your proposition hanging heavily in the air.

Satoru’s eyes widen, the anger dissolving into pure shock. His mouth falls open slightly, and he blinks rapidly as if trying to process what he just heard.

“I’m sorry… what did you just say?” he finally manages, his voice a mixture of disbelief and confusion, the tension in the room palpable.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of your bold declaration. You can see the gears turning in his mind, the initial shock giving way to contemplation. His eyebrows draw together, and he tilts his head slightly, studying your face as if searching for any hint of a joke. The intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken.

“Let’s get married,” you repeat, this time with more conviction. “You need a wife and a child to fulfill the stipulation in the will, I fit those criteria. We can help each other. It would be mutually beneficial. You get to keep your inheritance, and I get to keep my job.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes flickering with a myriad of emotions—confusion, curiosity, and a hint of something softer, perhaps hope.

“You’re serious?” he finally asks, his voice quieter now.

“Yes,” you reply firmly. “Think about it. You wouldn’t have to worry about finding someone else, and it solves both of our problems. It’s a win-win.”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. A faint, incredulous smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he lets out a huff of a chuckle.

“Well, I didn’t expect to be proposed to on the day of my father’s death,” he says, his voice heavy with irony but still managing to inject a touch of humor despite the emotional weight he's carrying. “And I have to say, this is probably the least romantic proposal ever.”

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze steadily. “This isn’t about romance, Satoru. This is strictly business. No emotions attached.”

Satoru's expression shifts, the playful sarcasm replaced by genuine contemplation. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he processes the gravity of your proposal.

“And you’re okay with this?” he asks, his tone a blend of skepticism and intrigue. “A fake marriage? Living a lie?”

You nod, your resolve unwavering. “I need this job, Gojo. For my daughter, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Besides, it’s not like we’d have to pretend forever. Just long enough to satisfy the will’s requirements.”

Satoru leans forward, his eyes narrowing as he studies you intently. “Okay, but what about the press? This is going to be highly publicized and scrutinized. They’re going to make things difficult. Do you think you can really handle it? The media, the constant scrutiny? It’s not going to be easy you know.”

You square your shoulders, determination hardening your resolve. “I can handle it. I’ve dealt with difficult situations before, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. We both have a lot at stake here.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched into his features. He leans back, scrubbing his chin with his hand as he ponders your words. The room is silent for a moment, filled only with the sound of his contemplative breathing. Finally, he speaks, his voice laced with doubt.

“You do realize what you’re signing up for, right? This isn’t just a casual arrangement. We’ll have to convince everyone that this is real. That means living together, attending events together, and putting on a convincing act at all times.”

“I understand,” you reply firmly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to provide a secure future for my daughter. We can work through the terms together.”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, eyes narrowing slightly as he considers the implications, weighing the potential fallout against the benefits. For a moment, his gaze softens as he studies you, a flicker of admiration passing through his eyes.

He sees the determination and resolve etched into your features, and it strikes a chord within him. Then, as if unable to resist, a mischievous glint appears in his eyes as he lets out a low hum.

“But are you sure you can leave emotions out of it? You might end up falling for me, you know,” he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, a shiver rakes down your spine. Shaking your head, you stand firmly.

“Yeah, not happening. I think I can manage, Gojo. This is purely a business arrangement. No emotional entanglements.”

He chuckles softly, the sound unexpectedly warm and genuine. In that brief moment, teasing you gives him a fleeting sense of relief from the immense pressure he’s been feeling.

“If you say so,” he murmurs, still grinning.

As you look at him, you notice the subtle signs of emotional fatigue etched into his features—his teasing doesn’t have its usual edge. The slight sag of his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes. It strikes you that although Satoru Gojo can sometimes be a privileged ass, he’s also a regular person with his own burdens and struggles.

Maybe there really is more to him than you originally thought?

The playful light in his eyes slowly dims, replaced by a steely resolve. He straightens in his chair, the humor fading from his expression as he leans forward, all business now.

“Alright,” he says, his voice steady and determined. “We’ll draw up a contract – I have a friend who’s a lawyer, I can arrange a meeting. And I’ll get started on the arrangements to have you and your daughter move into my place.”

You nod, feeling the tight knot of anxiety in your chest finally loosen. The realization hits you – this is actually happening.

Satoru Gojo, the heir to the Gojo Corporation, is agreeing to marry you?

It's almost surreal, like stepping into a dream – or perhaps a well-orchestrated scheme. But it’s real, and it’s happening.

Relief floods through you, washing over the stress and uncertainty that had been weighing you down – for the first time in what feels like forever, you see a glimmer of hope, a tangible solution to the myriad of problems you’ve been grappling with.

To secure a future for your daughter, to stabilize your life, all you have to do is deal with Satoru Gojo.

Easy, right?

“Agreed,” you say, your voice steadier now. “But first things first, we need to lay down some ground rules. We set clear boundaries.”

“No emotional entanglements,” he reiterates, his voice firm.

“Exactly,” you agree. “And no touching,” you add resolutely, crossing your arms defensively.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah… that’s not entirely realistic in public. We’ll need to look convincing. Hand-holding, maybe a kiss or two for the cameras.”

You feel a flush rise to your cheeks at his suggestion. “A kiss or two?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. “This is a business arrangement, Gojo. Not a rom-com.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Relax, I’m not asking for a love story. Just enough to keep up appearances. It’s a business arrangement with a touch of theatrics. Think of it as...method acting.”

You narrow your eyes at him, not missing the amusement dancing in his gaze. “Fine.” You mutter reluctantly, “But only in public, and only as much as necessary. I’m not playing house for fun. No funny business.”

“You have my word,” he grins, placing a hand over his heart in mock sincerity. “Strictly business. No funny business. Well… maybe just a little,” he adds with a wink.

You narrow your eyes at him, your resolve unwavering. “I’m serious Gojo, you better keep it professional when we’re alone. I’m not here for your entertainment.”

Satoru chuckles softly, the sound rich and surprisingly genuine. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave. But you might want to practice that smile of yours. You know, the one that doesn’t look like you want to kill me.”

You groan and roll your eyes, “I’ll work on it… anyways, what’s next on the agenda?”

Satoru hums thoughtfully, reaching for a notepad and pen. “Since we’re on the topic of appearances in public… we should probably arrange a public announcement of our engagement.” He taps the pen against the pad thoughtfully. “Oh, and we’ll need to come up with a convincing story of our love and make sure both sides match… meaning we’ll need to know enough about each other to pull this off – our likes, dislikes, habits…”

“Gojo,” you interject, pulling his attention back from his thoughts. “There’s something else.”

He pauses briefly and raises an eyebrow, signaling you to continue.

“My daughter,” you say, your voice steady but laced with concern. “She’s my top priority. I’ll need her to have a stable environment. We need to discuss her care and routines. She’ll need her own room, and I need to ensure she has everything she needs, including a full-time nanny.”

Taking a deep breath, you clench your fists and steel yourself, pulling your gaze up to meet his. “That is one of my conditions. Will you cover the expenses of her childcare? Just during our agreement, of course.”

Satoru’s expression softens slightly, a flicker of empathy in his eyes. He sets down the notepad and pen, giving you his full attention.

“Of course,” he replies, his voice sincere. “We’ll make sure she has everything she needs. A stable environment is important for both of you, and I’ll take care of the costs for her childcare.”

Your thoughts drift to your daughter—her wide eyes, her infectious giggle that lights up even the darkest days, and the way she clings to you with unwavering trust. You picture her tiny hands gripping yours, her joyful laughter echoing through the halls of Satoru's grand home.

The weight of the past months’ struggles seems to lift slightly, replaced by a cautious hope. Relief washes over you, but you maintain your composed exterior.

“Thank you.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair.

“She’ll have only the best. I’ll have my assistant compile a list of top-notch nannies, and you can make the final decision.”

You blink, a bit surprised by his willingness to ensure your daughter’s stability. It’s a side of Satoru you hadn’t expected—a softness beneath the confident, often arrogant exterior.

“Thank you, Gojo,” you say again, more softly this time.

His lips curve into a faint smile, one that carries a hint of genuine warmth. "You're welcome. We'll get through this together. One step at a time."

You hold his gaze, finding an unexpected gentleness in his eyes. This keeps happening. Was this softness always there, hidden beneath his confident facade?

As you find yourself lost in the moment, Satoru clears his throat, pulling you both back to reality.

“Alright, sounds like we have a lot of the initial details covered. Let’s finalize everything with my lawyer. I'll see if he’s available tomorrow—the sooner we do this, the better.”

“Right,” you mutter. “It’s a deal then.”

Satoru rises from his chair, signaling the end of the discussion for now. There’s a brief, tense silence. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, the world outside seems to fade away. His gaze rakes over you, intense and penetrating, almost as if he’s trying to read the depths of your resolve.

The intensity of his stare makes you feel flustered, heat rising to your cheeks. The sudden rush of emotions and the close scrutiny make you feel awkward, and you instinctively extend your hand toward him, needing to formalize the agreement to break the tension.

“I appreciate it, Gojo,” you say, your voice a bit unsteady. The gesture feels stiff and unnatural.

Satoru looks at your extended hand, a smirk forming on his lips and mischief dancing in his eyes. He finds your awkwardness oddly endearing.

“You’re welcome,” he grins, taking your hand in his warm, steady grip. The touch lingers a moment longer than necessary, the silence between you filled with unspoken thoughts. His amusement is evident in the twinkle of his eyes, but there’s also a hint of something deeper, a connection that neither of you fully understands yet.

He lets out a soft hum, his voice dripping with humor, “And you should start calling me Satoru now. After all, you’ll be a Gojo soon enough.”

Your eyes widen, and you feel your face flush even more, pulling your hand away from him, his fingers brush against yours, sending a small shiver down your spine. The teasing comment throws you off balance, adding to the whirlwind of emotions you’re already experiencing.

“Satoru,” you repeat, the name feeling unfamiliar on your tongue. “Right. Satoru.”

He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your flustered state. His laugh is low and warm, reverberating through the room like a gentle, mocking caress.

“That’s better,” he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leans back slightly, crossing his arms as he continues to watch you with an almost predatory interest, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a teasing smile.

The atmosphere in the room shifts subtly, charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken yet undeniable, making your heart race just a bit faster.

You try to ignore the fluttering sensation in your stomach, convincing yourself that it’s merely irritation. Satoru has always had this effect on you—his arrogance, his charm, the way he seems to enjoy pushing your buttons. It’s infuriating, and yet, there’s something about him that draws you in, even if you don’t want to admit it. The conflicting emotions swirl within you, leaving you feeling unsteady and vulnerable.

He shrugs, leaning back further with his grin expanding, curling up higher as if he was reading your mind.

“Just remember, sweetheart, this is strictly business. No falling in love with me, okay?”

You scoff, crossing your arms.

“Trust me, that’s the last thing on my mind, and don’t call me sweetheart.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you can’t help but feel a mix of irritation and amusement.

“Whatever you say, darling,” he replies, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

For a moment, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you – his eyes hold yours, a challenge and a promise in their depths, and you can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.

a/n. thanks so much for reading :') → on to the next chapter ꨄ

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