#I’ve been offered another promotion and I don’t want it

[adoreinbloom]

x

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Realistically, Steve knows the band won’t hang around Chicago forever. He knows they’re out promoting a new album; knows they’ll have to move on and that Eddie has to go with them. It doesn’t stop him from wanting Eddie to stay; to live in the quick familiarity he’s built within Steve’s little found family.

Eddie and Robin seem to have already created their own secret language, all gestures and movement and eye contact Steve picks up on but can’t quite read. He’s already picking on the Party like he’s known them their whole lives; ruffling Dustin’s hair, elbowing Mike, throwing his arm around Will’s shoulders, and giving Lucas little shoves. 

It’s easy; so easy to get caught up in how charismatic Eddie is. Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off him, and Eddie knows. He keeps making comments, throwing winks in Steve’s direction, seeing right through every wall he’s ever built around himself and Steve is caught between being obsessed with it and terrified. 

He stops drinking after the one beer, worried he’ll make things weird if he gets anywhere near tipsy, opting to stay as far away from the possibility as he can. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

Lucas is chatting animatedly with Jeff, Max sitting close by, twisting braids into El’s hair. Dustin, Mike and Will appear to be grilling Gareth and Freak about dungeon and dragon campaigns Eddie used to run. Nancy has her arm looped through Robin’s, but her attention is on the phone in her hands, as Eddie and Robin talk about what touring is like.

“Where else are you going on this tour?” She asks as Steve tunes back into the conversation.

“This isn’t really a tour, we just haven’t been on the road in a while and we just stopped the album, so we lined up a few shows to get our feet wet before we hit the road for real this summer. One more show out in LA on Tuesday, then we’re done until May, for now.” Eddie explains.

“We’re in LA on Thursday!” Robin exclaims, and Steve’s stomach drops because, yeah. LA on Thursday. He trains his eyes on the glass in front of him, not willing to actually look at anyone they’re around. 

“We could totally meet up again if you guys are able to swing it?” Freak offers, and Steve forces a little smile onto his face and nods.

“We can figure it out later,” Eddie says after a few beats, and Steve is grateful for how the conversation rolls onto the next topic. When he finally looks back up, though, Eddie’s still looking his way. Steve hits him with what he hopes comes off as a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to pay off the way he hopes.

Once the tab is closed and the staff is tipped well, Steve catches Eddie’s elbow on their way out the door. “I would like to meet up in LA, if you’re interested. I didn’t mean to get weird about it, it’s… I’ve been in my head a bit about that game since it was announced.”

“Oh, hey, no worries. We’re in LA the whole week, then we’re heading home. So no pressure, honest.” Eddie hooks his hand over Steve’s softly.

“Well, we should get in Wednesday, but we could totally do something after the game or even Friday?” 

Eddie smiles and nods, patting over Steve’s hand. “Text me about it.”

“I can do that. How much longer are you guys in town for, anyway?” Steve asks.

“Ah, the dreaded question comes,” Eddie’s playful, and it makes Steve’s face heat up. “We’ve got just under another 24 hours in the Windy City before hitting the road again.”

“Oh,” It pulls his chest in a way he wasn’t expecting, in a way that shouldn’t be happening for a rockstar he was adjacently aware of in high school. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Harrington,” Eddie’s teasing again, and it does nothing to help the blush on Steve’s face. “You can’t possibly miss me this much when I haven’t even left yet.”

“Shut up,” Steve shoves him away then, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout, only for Eddie to pull him in with an arm around the shoulder.

“We can grab brunch or something? We leave around 8 to avoid rush hour, so I’ll have to be in the bus by 6, or I’d say dinner.”

“Brunch works for me.” 

~~~~

The trip back to the hotel doesn’t go as Eddie expects; everyone is silently chatting amongst themselves, nodding and tapping along to the music and not causing a scene. He almost points it out, but elects not to bring unwarranted bullying upon himself instead. The guys had been giving him shit about Steve near constantly, so this was a nice change of pace after the last few days.

There was actually quiet as he made his way back to his room. A hot shower finally restored warmth to his bones the hockey arena had stolen, and he was drying his hair when he heard his phone vibrate with a text notification.

Steve: anything you're craving for brunch tomorrow so I can pick a place?

It’s practically too easy to flirt with Steve; he sets up lines without even seeming to realize. But Eddie still can’t get a real gauge on how Steve feels about the flirting, so he sidesteps the easy pass he could have made about Steve being enough of a meal, in favor of actually answering.

Eddie: French toast?

The next series of texts come before Eddie even moves his hands back to the towel over his hair.

Steve: sick, I’ll pick you up around 10:45

Steve: you mentioned going home, did you mean like, back to Hawkins?

Eddie twists his hair up in the towel, and lays down on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on before firing off an answer.

Eddie: nah, I’ve got a place in Nashville and no reason to go back to Hawkins anymore. My uncle moved to Indy, so that’s usually as close as I get.

Steve: any reason you moved to Nashville?

Eddie: are we playing 20 questions?

Steve: sorry.

Eddie bites his lip, and only hesitates for a moment before flipping over onto his belly and hitting the FaceTime button. Steve answers on the second ring, looking embarrassed, but Eddie doesn’t let him get a word in.

“My mom was born and raised in Memphis, but she always told me her favorite city was Nashville. I was there with her a few times when I was little and she’d just, like, light up. And music is so heavily engraved into every inch of the city, it’s hard to not find inspiration everywhere you turn. So. I bought a place in Nashville the minute I had enough saved up, and it’s kind of my home base now.” Eddie explains, watching as Steve’s face softens and he relaxes into his chair listening to Eddie’s answer. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

“I really wasn’t trying to be annoying, “ Steve looks ready to keep going with an apology, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Why do you play hockey?” It stops Steve dead in his tracks, and he genuinely looks confused for a moment. Eddie almost offers to drop the topic, but Steve fumbles his way into an answer.

“My, uh. My dad wanted me to play before I was even born. Because he played. Professionally for a few years when I was growing up, then he went on to coach.” Steve explains, and it sounds a little rehearsed. Eddie’s sure it’s something that comes up often if his father played and coached. “Gotta keep the Harrington legacy alive, I guess.”

There was a bite to Steve’s words that wasn’t lost on Eddie. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

Eddie can see Steve working over how he wants to answer before he shrugs and sighs. “Because it’s all a show for him. The part we don’t talk about is how I got hurt and benched most of my senior season and he cut me off when I didn’t get full rides. Convinced me it was better to not go to college at all, despite the other scholarship offers, than to not get promised a spot on the ice. Convinced me to self-sabotage so I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get into the league at all.” Steve pauses, then, and lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, that’s so unbelievably whiny of me. I love getting to play professionally, and I don’t take the opportunity for granted.”

“Not whiny. Dads can be the fucking worst.” Eddie offers, gently, and is grateful when Steve doesn't press on that particular bruise.

Instead, he takes his turn to ask a different question. “Why music?”

“This is lame, but the answer is once again my mom.” Eddie rolls his eyes at himself, but he smiles. “She was a musician. There were always instruments around and music was always playing and we traveled for her to perform. I knew my whole life I wanted to be a musician like her, but it wasn’t until after she died that I figured out that songwriting… telling stories and painting pictures with words and melodies and making people feel something…” Eddie trails off, lost in the thought.

“I’m sorry you lost her. It sounds like you enjoyed your childhood with her.” Steve offers, hopes it doesn’t sound like a forced nicety, but Eddie smiles and his nerves ease.

“She was a force to be reckoned with. Firing on all cylinders at once, chaos and home bundled into one.” Eddie’s soft a quiet for a moment, and Steve appreciates the silence by taking in how relaxed the other is to be talking about his feelings; it’s a refreshing break from many of his experiences with teammates or opponents who don’t know how to get emotional in a healthy way. Eventually, though, Eddie clears his throat. “Anyway. Back to 20 questions,”

“I wasn’t trying to start a game, really, I just… like talking to you,” Steve admits around a blush, tucking his chin into the collar of his shirt in an effort to hide the shade of his cheeks, but Eddie’s smile says his cover is blown.

“ANYWAY!” He announces louder, then taps at his chin. “Favorite and least favorite teams to play and why, go.”

“I’m not a dog.” Steve laughs but thinks about his answer anyway. “Favorite is probably the Flyers in Philly. Their fans are absolutely brutal, and their mascot is hilariously terrifying.”

“I have seen many a Gritty TikTok, so I completely understand,” Eddie gives him a few beats before he prompts. “Least favorite?”

“The Kings. LA. Billy Hargrove.”

“The…, what the fuck? How many guys from Hawkins are professional hockey players?” Eddie asks, because honestly, how had he not known there was more than Steve?

“He’s technically from LA, which is why he went back, thank God.” Steve mumbles, before dropping his head back against the wall behind him. “But, for whatever it’s worth, there’s me, Billy, and Tommy Hagan in the league.”

“Well isn’t that a fun bunch to surround yourself with,” Eddie muses out loud. Tommy and Billy were two of the biggest assholes Eddie had ever met, and it sounded like Steve wasn’t too fond of the other pair either.

“I actually…” Steve trails off, before trying again. “I was going to invite you guys to come to the LA game, but I’m really not sure it would be a good idea, so I’m… I’m actually going to ask you guys not to come, if that’s not too much of a dick move? I can get you tickets to literally any game you want for the rest of the season, just. I don’t think it’s worth it to get Billy started, and if he’s heard any of the press about us, I’m already going to hear it even if you’re not there.”

“Homophobe extraordinaire still, then?” Eddie guesses, and Steve chokes out a laugh, before covering his mouth and holding up a finger to ask for a moment to compose himself.

“He's… a lot of things.” Is the response Steve opts for, but Eddie can tell there’s more there. Whatever the two of them are doing, it doesn’t feel like Steve is ready to elaborate, so Eddie moves on. 

“I think it’s your turn.”

~~~~

Nothing changes after Corroded Coffin leave Chicago, though. Not in the ways Eddie had expected, at least.

Steve still texts him throughout the day, answers his Facetimes whenever he’s available. Eddie makes him the playlist he promised, and Steve gives feedback on which songs he likes and which ones he really doesn’t, after Eddie promises to not take Steve’s opinions personally. Which, to be fair, he tries really hard not to.

The concert in LA comes and goes, and Steve seems to send him every TikTok he comes across from the show. It’s a refreshing break, as every few videos in Eddie’s feed are of him cheering for Steve at the game, or Steve watching from sidestage in Chicago. 

A text from Robin eventually confirms their arrival in LA, and Steve and Eddie make plans to meet up after the game. Since Steve had expressed concern about Eddie going, he decides to just watch from the bar they agree to meet at. Televised games make it easier to track the puck, but Eddie decides he likes being there in person better.

Eddie’s sipping absently on his beer and in the time it takes him to look down at a text from Chrissy, several of the people around him react to something. Eddie looks around to make sure someone in the bar hadn’t passed out. When he looks back at the screen, absolute mayhem has broken out on the ice. The refs are trying to separate players from one another, and Eddie’s scanning through the numbers on each Blackhawks jerseys before he finally spots Steve, slightly off to the side from everyone else. The camera pans away from him, zeroing in on the fight, now between a Blackhawks defenseman and none other than Billy Hargrove. 

Billy’s helmet and gloves are off, teeth shining with blood as he grins like a psycho and starts to skate in Steve’s direction. One of the refs pulls him back, though, escorting him into the penalty box while another Kings player gathers his helmet, stick and gloves and clears them to the bench. 

The camera finally pans back to Steve, who is now sitting with his back against the boards. He’s got a gloved covering the lower half of his face, but his white jersey is covered in blood. A ref and the Blackhawks goalie are kneeling on either side of him as someone else speaks with him. The camera zooms in as the TV crews work to make out what is happening, just in time for Steve to lower his hand and shows off a gnarly gash along the side of his face. He leans forward a little and spits out blood onto the ice, and the TV jumps to the announcers in the booth. 

The volume is off, but they show a slow-motion replay of the few moments Eddie’d missed; Steve passes the puck off to another player on his team, just before Billy slams into his side. The impact sends both of them into the boards and down onto the ice. Billy swings his stick around and cracks Steve in the face with the blade heel. Steve reacts, throwing his whole arm into Billy’s face, before a sea of white Blackhawks jerseys sweep in and suddenly Billy’s a few feet away, with players from both teams piled up.

Eddie’s hand hovers over his phone; has no idea what to do in this situation. Texting Steve is useless; it would likely be hours, if not days, before he even thinks about looking at his phone. He doesn’t want to bother anyone, but he’s… well, he’s stressed. Even if Steve isn’t interested in him the way Eddie’s interested in Steve, they’ve still built a weird little friendship and that was an awful lot of blood.

So, Eddie ends up firing off a text to Robin. It’s just a simple 'let me know if there’s anything I can do,' but his phone lights up with a call immediately.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m not back with him yet, but just… meet us at the hospital, if you can?” She asks. While her voice waivers a bit, she’s calmer than Eddie expected her to be.

“I’ll be right there.” He agrees, hangs up and exits the bar before the game even returns from commercial break.

[kingkatsuki]

— sleazy

Everyone thinks Red Riot is such a nice hero, but really he just loves fucking his cute, unsuspecting fangirls.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, non-con/dub-con, implied!drugging but could just be seen as intoxication, unprotected sex, teeny tiny bit of assplay, Kirishima promises to wear a condom but doesn’t, creampie, public sex.

Word Count: 2.5k.

“You’re so lucky!” You heard the voices around the table when the Red Riot had offered to buy you a drink.

Suddenly finding it difficult to speak when you gave him a nod in response, grateful that he’d looked down at your glass of wine as an indication of what to order you because you weren’t sure you would’ve been able to answer if he’d asked.

You felt hot as it seemed as though every set of eyes in the vicinity were on you now— from the women who wished that he’d picked them, to the men that he’d come in with standing around the bar. The angry blond more formerly known as Dynamight seemed to be glaring at you from across the room, shaking his head slightly before downing the rest of his whisky.

“Don’t worry about him,” Kirishima grinned softly at you as he handed you a glass, “He always looks like that.”

Kirishima had this perfect way of making you feel at ease, the friendly tone to his voice paired with kind eyes made it easy for you to melt into him. Silencing any objections you’d usually have if a guy leaned down to tug your chair closer to him, or wrapped their arm around your waist during a first date. It was different when it was Red Riot— you felt like you already knew him. From your television screen to the huge billboards that were up all over the city to promote his latest collaboration. The man that you followed on social media and religiously liked his posts, not that you’d told him that— although with another few drinks inside you, you might.

“You look gorgeous tonight, you know,” His warm lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans closer to talk to you over the loud bass of music in the club, “I just had to come and talk to you.”

You don’t even question it when he lays a huge palm on your bare thigh, his thumb disappearing beneath the hem of your dress. Ghosting against the lace of your panties as you give another glance around the bar to see if anyone is looking— the only set of eyes that match your gaze are the same crimson ones from earlier, Dynamight still watching intently as he nurses his drink.

The fact that the Red Riot has asked for your number, bought you countless drinks and given you his undivided attention has you bursting with glee. Certain that none of your friends will believe you, instead wishing they’d come to the bar tonight to see for themselves when you tell them that you’re courting the number twelve hero.

“It’s so loud here,” His palm squeezes your inner thigh and you can’t stop your heart from pounding against your ribcage, making it difficult to breathe as his warm breath fans your skin, “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

“Yeah, sure.” You find yourself nodding as he helps you stand, certain you weren’t this drunk before.

“Whoops—” He grins as he grabs your hips, his fingers brushing the curve of your ass as he keeps you upright, “I’ve got you.”

And it’s that moment you feel his hard bulge pressed against the small of your back. Even in heels he dominates your size, towering over you as a pure wall of strength and muscle as he guides you through the crowds. Stepping down a quieter hall that leads towards the bathrooms as he presses you against a wall, large palms still planted firm on your hips.

“I’ve wanted you all night,” He sighs, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against your neck, “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“This is too fast,” You mumble, already feeling his fingers dipping beneath your skirt to grab your ass.

“Aw, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” He seems so sincere when he looks down at you with worried eyes, “Shall I call you a cab home? I just thought you wanted to have some fun.”

“I do, but—”

“But you’d prefer Dynamight or someone, huh?” His eyes droop, “I get it, that always fucking happens when it’s someone I really like—”

“No! I like you too,” You panic when he takes a step back, trying to step forward as you stumble into his arms.

“You do?” He coos, holding you tight, “I’m so lucky I found you.”

It’s embarrassing when he tugs you into the men’s bathroom, sets of eyes watching you with knowing looks from the urinals as he opts for a stall. Locking the door as he presses you against the sink, allowing you to look at him through the reflection in the mirror as he pulls your top over your breasts.

“You’re fucking stunning,” He groans, cupping your breasts as you grind yourself back against him. Alcohol inebriating your senses as he strokes your body, wondering whether you should just tell him to slow down now.

“It’s too much,” You mumble, unsure whether he put something in your drink as your head pounds.

But this is Red Riot, he wouldn’t do that, would he? He’s a Pro-Hero tasked to protect you from sleazy people like that, to make sure you’re safe.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He coos, “I’ll take good care of you.”

“We shouldn’t,” You slur, “Not here.”

“Oh? But I bought you all those drinks,” He mumbles against your neck, “I thought you liked me.”

“I do!” You panic, catching the forlorn look on his face.

“You do?” His eyes immediately brighten, “I’m glad because I like you too, sweetheart. A lot—”

He has you feeling like a giddy, lovesick schoolgirl as he reaches under your skirt to pull down your panties. Letting the fabric settle around your knees as he works on unbuckling his jeans. A large palm splayed on your back to push you over the sink as he guides the leaky tip towards your slit.

“Wait,” You mumble, trying not to slur your words, “Condom.”

You miss the look of annoyance that flashes through Kirishima’s eyes in his reflection in the mirror as you turn to look back at him before that same smile spreads on his face.

“Of course, sweetheart. What do you take me for?” He’s cooing at you as he reaches into his wallet to retrieve a large foil packet, ripping it with his teeth as he leans down to put it on, “Safety first, yeah?”

And the tip of his cock nudges against your ass, feeling the slickness of lube from the latex smear against your bare ass as you cling to the porcelain. Holding on as you watch him in the mirror as he slides the condom onto his cock.

“There,” His hand smooths along your ass, rubbing the lube against your skin to get it off his hand as he pushes his hips forward.

He’s big. The swollen tip enough to have a lump in your throat as you forget to breathe, wiggling your hips in a feeble attempt to reduce the ache.

“Shh, baby. I know, I know.” He coos, pulling back to fist his cock, “Let’s try again, yeah?”

But you don’t notice the devious smirk on his face, or the way his eyes glint with intent as he slides the annoying latex off his thick cock. Discarding it to the floor like trash as he wraps his cock in a large fist again, tapping the leaking tip on your slit before sliding it through your folds. Letting it catch against your tight entrance again as he can finally feel you without a latex barrier.

“Is this okay?” He hums, keeping his tip pressed against your quivering hole.

You nod in response as you try to remember to breathe, taking in large gulps of air as you feel him slowly push his hips forward.

“I’m gonna need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” He pushes.

“Yeah, I want it.” You groan as he immediately pushes forward, feeling the tightness between your thighs.

“Oh, shit.” His eyes roll back as he groans at the feeling of your walls sucking him in. He’s far less kind now he can truly feel you as he cants his hips forward without a moment for you to adjust, the pain comes sharp and fast as he stretches you out on his cock.

“Ow,” You choke, your head lolling forward as you try to breathe, the ache between your thighs throbs sharply as Kirishima feigns sympathy.

Telling you what a good girl you are for him, what a good job you’re doing, that you’re his favourite. Clever lines he’s rehearsed time and time again, and it just so happens that they’re working on you just like they have a hundred times before on other girls.

You think you’re special, and in this moment you are. He’s picked you.

“God, your pussy feels so fucking good.” He grunts, warm palms heavy on your ass as he spreads you apart to see his cock buried deep inside your walls. The messy tuft of hair at the base tickles your skin as he pulls his hips back to give an experimental thrusr, “Taking me so well.”

You’re a mess as he fucks into you, your tits bounce with every rough buck of his hips as he presses you into the porcelain sink, your cheek leaves a messy streak of foundation against the mirror as he sets a brutal pace. Telling you it’s because he’s worried someone could come in and see you like this, that he wishes he could have you for longer to really take care of you.

And you believe every line.

“God, sweetheart. Your pussy feels amazing,” Kirishima groans, his thumb brushing the tight rim of your ass as your body jolts in surprise. Embarrassed and terrified at the same time.

“Not there, please—”

“Oh god, baby. I would never.” He shakes his head, but presses down harder against your tight hole, “Relax, Red Riot’s got you, yeah?”

His words are soothing as you try to focus on the pleasure, trying to block out the sound of footsteps outside and the way your cunt clenches around him every time someone rattles the door handle.

“Fuck, you’re clamping down on me, sweets,” He slurs, drunk on pleasure, “You’re tryin’ to milk me.”

He sucks air sharply through his teeth as he bends his back to watch his cock disappearing inside you, the slap of his balls against the swell of your thighs sounds inside the dingy bathroom as your legs shake. Balancing yourself in heels as you try to stop the sink from digging into your hips uncomfortably, certain you’ll have bruises in the morning.

“Gonna cum, shit— gonna fill this little pussy up.” He groans, and you’re certain it’s just words. Dirty talk to help get himself off as he prepares to cum inside the condom, “You want that, baby? Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” You find yourself playing into it, your walls throb around him as he works you towards your own release.

“That’s my girl,” He grins, reaching around to press messy circles against your puffy clit, “Gonna stuff you full of my cum.”

“Oh my god,” You repeat, clinging to the sink to keep yourself upright as you feel yourself on the edge of your release. The familiar pleasure building between your thighs as Kirishima leads you into bliss, “Kiri—”

“Red Riot, call me Red Riot—” His fingertips dig into you bruisingly as your cunt begins to convulse.

“Red Riot!” You mewl, “I’m cumming, Red Riot—”

“Oh shit, you want the entire bar to hear you, don’t you?” He grins, spanking your ass as your cunt spasms around him.

Kirishima fucks you through your climax, roughly thrusting into you as you feel the tip of him as deep as he can go. Kissing your cervix with each forward motion as he focuses on his own pleasure, his own desire.

“Hurts,” You choke out as you try to ignore the throb between your thighs or the way your skin digs uncomfortably into the porcelain.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart. Almost there—” He groans, ignoring your pleas, “Gonna fill you up.”

It doesn’t take him much longer to find his own release, his balls tightening as they begin to empty warm, hot spurts of cum into your pulsing walls. His hands smoothing down your back before reaching around to palm your naked breasts before pulling back.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groans when he pulls out to see strings of your slick connecting his softening cock to your folds.

And that’s when you feel it.

Warm globs of his cum slowly seeping out of your quivering walls, dribbling down your inner thighs and dropping onto the dirty floor.

“Did you— the condom?” You ask in confusion as you turn your head to face him, noticing the shiny gleam of his cock in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom as he gives you a cheeky grin.

“Oh, it must’ve ripped,” He shrugs, sticking himself back into his boxers with no care about how messy he is, “Sorry about that, sweetheart. You’ll be okay, I’m clean.”

Kirishima has just enough manners to pull your panties back up, even though you don’t have a chance to clean yourself up. Feeling his warm cum continue to drool out of you and collect in the lace of the crotch as you shuffle uncomfortably. Tugging your skirt back down as you fix your top, hearing Kirishima buckle his belt again as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I’ll call you yeah, sweetheart?” He presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before unlocking the door to the men’s bathroom stall and stepping outside. Leaving you standing alone in the room as you stare back at your disheveled reflection.

It’s only when you look down at the ground where you notice the drops of his cum that had fallen to the floor, and beside them the discarded condom still in the perfect roll from the pack.

That he hadn’t even bothered to put on.

[feelbokkie]

❤️Red❤️

☀️Feelbokkie M.list ☀️

Red: Passion, Love, Anger

pov: 1st person

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

description: You've been with Chan since before he moved to Korea to pursue being an idol. 13 years later, you've reached your breaking point.

pairing: chan x fem!reader

warnings: break up, swearing, yelling

word count: 2,030

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

Part 2

🖍️Crayon Box M.list🖍️

“Congrats on a successful comeback!” Chan and I clink glasses before I take a sip of my red wine. 

For the first time in a while, it’s just the two of us on a date. He’s been busy prepping and promoting Stray Kids’ most recent comeback which means we rarely got to spend time together. I can’t remember the last time we actually got dressed and hung out somewhere that wasn’t in his studio or his dorm. With how busy he is and my schedule as an English teacher, we don’t get a lot of moments like this. We would compromise and I would just join him wherever he was during my free time. Sometimes, I would take my grading and do that while he worked on music just to be near him.

“Thank you! I wouldn’t have been able to get through it this time if you weren’t there supporting me every step of the way.” Chan smiles, placing his hand in mine.

We’ve been together since we were 14, right before he decided that he wanted to become an idol. 13 years later, we’re still together and he’s made his dream a reality. After 4 years of being long-distance, I decided to attend university in Korea and then become an English teacher. My parents and friends thought I was crazy to upend my life and move to a foreign country for someone with a “pipe dream.” But I believed in him, and in the end, he accomplished what he set out to do. Now, my parents complain about how we’ve been together so long and Chan still hasn’t put a ring on my finger. I can never win in their eyes.

“Chan, are you busy next Saturday evening? The school is honoring me with an award and I would love it if you could make an appearance.” I take another sip and wait for his answer. Even though he has a bit more free time, he still has his duties to do.

“I have a few interviews and stuff in the morning, but after that, I’m all yours. I promise. Congrats on getting that award. I’ve seen how hard you work for those kids, you deserve it!” He offers me a big smile, light twinkling in his eyes. The same look he’s had on his face when he looks at me since we were kids.

It’s easier for us now that we’re public with our relationship. We were scared at first and didn’t say anything when his dating ban was first lifted. He didn’t want fans to turn their backs on him since he had been in a relationship the entire time and I didn’t want the negativity that comes with dating an idol. Eventually, we decided last year to just go public so we could have some sense of normalcy. The response was surprisingly positive and we no longer had to sneak around at events or in public. I could sit with him or stand with him at award shows. He could make a quick stop at the school I worked at to bring me lunch.

“What’s the award for?” He asks bringing me out of a daze.

“We can talk about it later. Tonight is about you.” I put my glass down and reach for his other hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about with me, you were there literally every step of the way.” He takes both of my hands and brings them to his mouth, placing a long kiss.

“Well, if you insist…”

***

Chan never showed up. We agreed earlier in the week that he would come to my apartment and we would go together. A few days ago, he sent me a text saying he would meet me in front of the school. I waited outside in the cold until one of my coworkers came to tell me that they would be starting soon. I even texted Changbin to make sure nothing had happened, and he said that Chan had been home all day working on music since they came back from their interviews. He forgot, plain and simple as that. And for whatever reason, he wasn’t answering his phone. It was humiliating. My coworkers had been talking about the award all week and if Chan would show up. I must have looked like a liar when I had to spend the rest of the night saying something had come up.

I let myself into Chan’s dorm and make my way straight to his room. I open the door without knocking and close it behind me. Surrounded by pure darkness, I take a deep breath. He’s asleep. I love that for him, everyone knows how little sleep he gets normally. But at the same time, he promised to be there. My hand frantically searches the wall looking for the light switch. My eyes take a few seconds to adjust when the lights finally come on. I stare at Chan’s sleeping figure. My eyes pan to his desk. There’s a notebook open with a pen sitting in the middle. A telltale sign that he was just working on music. I clench and unclench my fist, trying to calm myself down. My eyes settle on a pillow that’s laying on the floor. I pick it up and chuck it at Chan’s peaceful figure.

“What… what the hell?” He stirs in his sleep, looking at where the attack came from.

“I asked for one night. One. Fucking. Night.” I pick up his balled-up shirt from the floor and threw it at him, landing a perfect shot on his face.

“What are you talking about… Oh, shit,” He sits up and takes the shirt I threw at him off his face.

“You forgot, because of fucking course you did!” I couldn’t help but laugh. It’s not funny, but I don’t know how else to react at this point.

“Y/N—” He stands up quickly and makes his way toward me. I take a step back.

“I gave up everything for you. I moved to another country where I barely know the language. I studied the only thing I could. I took a job that I don’t want, just so I can stay here and be near you.” 

“I know—” He reaches out for me and I smack his hand away.

  “My parents and friends thought I was crazy for leaving everything I know for a boy who was trying to become an idol. I ruined those relationships for you, do you realize that?” 

“I do, but—” His jaw twitches, controlling his anger.

“I’ve been there for every award show, performance, and interview—And even when I couldn’t, I made sure that you knew that I was still at your side rooting for you. I stayed late with you at the studio and the practice room even if I had work the next day, just to spend a few moments with you. I asked you to come to one event for me and you forgot because of fucking course you did. I’ll always be second to you and your career.”

“That’s not fair—”

“I love you with every fiber of my being but I am so sick and tired of giving and not receiving, Chris. I cannot keep doing this.” I whisper. The anger that’s been brewing in my body all night finally settled.

“Then don’t!” He snaps eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flared. I jump at his tone. When Chan is mad, he’s scary. He’s never gotten this mad at me before. I blink at him slowly.

“So that’s it? You’re not even going to fight for this? For us? You’re just willing to throw away 13 years, just like that? After everything we’ve been through?” Do not cry.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Y/N? Do you want me to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend? Because I am. I’m so sorry that I’ve been neglecting you and taking you for granted. But you came here with the intention of attacking me. You wouldn’t even let me get a full sentence out to defend myself.”

“So then this is all my fault?” Do not fucking cry. Not here, and definitely not now.

“You’re trying to push all the blame on me when you’re just as much to blame for all of this. I didn’t ask you to move here and cut off your friends and family. I don’t make you come to all of my things. I ask you if you want to come and you always say yes. I appreciate that you did that, I truly do. But do not use something against me that you decided to do on your own free will. It’s not fair. I drop the ball sometimes, I’m human. You’re going to fault me for one mistake and try to end things?”

“It’s not just one mistake.” I breathe.

“What?” His voice finally drops.

“This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

“What are you talking about?” His expression softens back into the normal Chan. The calm one. The one I fell in love with all those years ago.

“Over the years, I’ve invited you to things. To meet my friends. To meet my coworkers. To my college graduation. But I was really understanding. Our relationship had been private for so long and you were either touring or in another country working on promotions. But what’s your excuse now that we’re public and don’t have any of those things going on? There’s always going to be something that comes before me and I can’t—I won’t do this anymore.” 

The room falls quiet. I press my lips tightly and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to gain the courage to walk away. After a few more seconds of silence, I finally turn around to leave. I feel Chan’s tight grip on my bicep, preventing me from taking another step. He loosens his hold and slides his hand down to my hand.

“Please, don’t leave me. We can fix this—I can fix this.” Chan whispers. I don’t turn around. I can’t turn around. If I do, I’ll never leave. And I need to leave for my sanity.

“I told you last year that this was your last chance. I can’t keep giving you last chances, it’s not fair to me. And seeing how quickly you were willing to just end it a few minutes ago, I don’t think I want to. I’m sorry, Chris.” I shake my hand out of his grip and quickly leave his room. I shut the door and lean against it, taking deep breaths as my tears pour down my face.

“Fuck!” I hear Chris’ muffled, yet clear, voice scream through the door followed by a thud. And another one. I heard the sound of something breaking on the other side of the door. I cry harder, fighting the urge to go back in there and calm him down, stop him from destroying his room.

Jisung, Changbin, and Hyunjin rush into the hallway, concerned about the noise coming from their leader’s room. They all stop and stare at me with confused looks on their faces. Their eyes shift between each other and then back to me. I don’t know what they expected, but I’m sure it wasn’t this.

“Y/N noona, what’s…” Jisung starts to ask but stops when I quietly shake my head. I did into my purse and pull out my key to the dorm. I yank it off the keyring, looking at it one more time before looking up.

“Can one of you give this to him when he calms down? P-please?” I stick my hand out with the key and watch as Hyunjin hesitates to take it.

“Noona—” Changbin starts as I finally move away from Chan’s door, the sound of destruction slowly fading in the distance. When I make it to the front door I stop and turn to face the three younger boys.

“I hope we will be able to stay in contact. But I’ll understand if you want nothing to do with me. Thank you for all your years of friendship.” I quickly bow before leaving the dorm.

—

Buy me a coffee?

[thecuddlycauldron]

🔮🍄🦋☁🦋🍄🔮

Essence

🔮🍄🦋☁🦋🍄🔮

My name is Willow (inn nii skii akk) and I am an Indigenous woman living on the rez with my husband! I have been practicing magick for about 15 years.

I am a constantly evolving and growing eclectic witch! While I am always trying new things and excited to learn, I stick to my roots and my culture as that’s where I feel safe, happy, and most at home. These parts of me are very sacred and I like to keep certain practices between my husband and I.

I’m here because along the lines of what I’ve said, I want to expand my knowledge and branch out in new ways. I’m excited to help other people where I can!

🀧｡🕯☾˖⋆🔮⋆˖☾🕯｡🀣

Stuff I do

🀧｡🕯☾˖⋆🔮⋆˖☾🕯｡🀣

I do single card readings, from both my tarot decks and my oracle decks. I will get back to you within one week ideally. At the bottom of this post I have a list of what decks I work with, so you can request which one you are drawn to, or it’s fine if I choose something for you too! Within four days I’ll strive to have your reading done and send it to you in the messages here (post it if you’re on anon) with a picture of your card included. Please remember, I work full time in the harm reduction field and that will always be first priority.

My readings are not meant to tell you what to do, by any means! I would just like to offer a fresh perspective and help you to look at things from another side using my life experiences, my cultural beliefs and my own interpretations. I strive to be accurate but believe in keeping things as positive as possible, as I’ve learned the cards always want the best for you. So while you may sometimes hear something you don’t want to, remember there is a reason.

Information you can send me for your reading (Optional): First name/initials, your zodiac sign, first name/initials and zodiac of however else is involved.

♡ I will always do your readings with the same compassion and empathy that I have been lucky enough to receive. ♡

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EVERY CHILD MATTERS

I do have a “tip jar” set up, so if you enjoy your reading please donate what you can as all of it will go to the Orange Shirt Society, which raises awareness about survivors of residential/boarding schools as well as promotes healing of Indigenous peoples and nationwide reconciliation. This is a cause dear to my heart and which has affected my family. It’s very appreciated if you’re able to donate but remember, there is no pressure to do so! I will never ask nor expect tips for any of the work I do here.

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Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments or concerns, I’d be happy to help ♡

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

Tarot cards: Nicoletta Ceccoli’s deck; Dreaming Cat Tarot; Luna's My Melody Tarot; Luna’s Cinnamoroll Tarot

Oracle cards: Gentle Creatures Wisdom Deck by Dan May; Fantastic Being Manifestation Deck by Rebecca Lefebvre; Universal Folk Oracle by Anita Inverarity; Love Your Inner Goddess by Alana Fairchild

[thebadgerclan]

I Can See You

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: Secrecy is necessary...for now...

Based on “I Can See You” by Taylor Swift.  Italicized lyrics are taken from the song!  This song has SUCH secret romance vibes, and I thought who better to write something for it than Aleksander

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see ya, do ya?  And I’ve been watching you for ages, and I spent my time trying not to feel it

It was impossible not to be attracted to the General.  Almost everyone at the Little Palace had felt it at one time or another, both men and women longed for a scrap of the General’s attention, and somehow, you had caught his eye.  It was something you’d noticed, that the General’s gaze would linger on yours for just a second longer than it did with others.  You had caught him looking at you from across the room at dinner on multiple occasions, and that simple action lit a spark within you.

You had spent years pining after the General, try as you might to douse your feelings for him.  But it was useless.  He was devastatingly handsome, and behind his cold, dark exterior, you could see hints of brightness.  How you’d enter the War Room to find him reading a novel, how you’d see him out a window, walking, his face to the sun, a gentle smile on his face.

Everything had changed one day, when you’d been walking through the corridors, a folder in hand to deliver to the General.  He was walking in the opposite direction, and the world came to a stop when his hand brushed against yours.  You locked eyes with him, and he subtly nodded towards a nearby door.  It was then that he asked you to officially join his War Council, an offer that you eagerly accepted.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, and it’s something I like

Something had changed, everyone could see it.  You sat at the General’s right hand, a position of honor.  He was more open with you, happier.  He even told you his name, Aleksander, and asked you to call him that when it was just the two of you.  He invited you to dine privately with him to discuss the war and strategy, and in council meetings, when  he handed you a folder or a document, his touch would linger for several seconds, and when his eyes met yours, they blazed with unspoken words.

It was during one of these private dinners that Aleksander made his move.  Instead of pulling out your chair like he’d done before, he pulled you into his arms, his hands spanning across your back.  “Tell me to stop,” he said, and you looked into his eyes, seeing adoration, attraction, and passion there.  “Y/N, tell me to stop.”  “No,” you responded, and in that moment, your fate was sealed.  Aleksander kissed you then, lips soft against yours, arms tightening around you.

Aleksander was happy to take what you gave him, his kiss wasn’t insistent, there was no intention to escalate the night beyond this.  When you pulled away, your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were wide.  “Y/N,” he sighed.  “How long I’ve wanted to do that…”  “How long?” you asked, and he chuckled.  “Far longer than I care to admit, my dear.”

They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best that we move fast and keep quiet

Now that you and Aleksander were…whatever you were, secrecy seemed appropriate.  If word got out that you were together immediately after your elevation to being the General's second, people would whisper that you’d only gotten the promotion because you were sleeping together.  Which hadn’t even happened yet; the last thing Aleksander wanted was to pressure you.

So you moved in secrecy.  You crept through the halls, a lantern in hand, avoiding the guards that patrolled the corridors by moonlight.  When you arrived in Aleksander’s rooms, he took the lantern from your hand and pulled you into his arms, kissing you sweetly.  “My love,” he cooed, making you smile.  “I’ve missed you.”  “I was with you all afternoon, Sasha.”  “Yes, but not truly with me,” he said with a warm smile.  “This is what I’ve wanted all day.  Just you in my arms.”

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head.  Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet

Just because you hadn’t been intimate with Aleksander yet didn’t mean you didn’t have fantasies.  They were fantasies that kept you up at night, that drew your hand between your legs, that had you biting your lip to keep from moaning and waking everyone in the Little Palace.  Aleksander on top of you, Aleksander licking your cunt, Aleksander taking you from behind, you riding Aleksander, Aleksander, Aleksander, Aleksander.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?  What would you do if they never found us out?  What would you do if we never made a sound?

The lines in your relationship were clear: behind closed doors, Aleksander was completely and irrevocably yours.  He would worship at your feet if you asked him to, he was that smitten.  But in front of others, you were a General and his second, professional to a tee, never letting the two parts of your lives cross.

But you wondered what would happen if one day during a council meeting, you reached out to take his hand.  Would he go along with it, kiss your knuckles as he loved to do?  Would he squeeze your hand before carrying on the conversation?  Or would he pull his hand back, deny you his touch until you were alone?

Would your relationship remain a secret forever?  Would you continue to sneak into Aleksander’s rooms at night and sneak back to yours before dawn?  Would you have to bite your lip and silence your cries of pleasure at night so no one would find out about the two of you?  You understood why secrecy was needed at first, but as time went on, you found yourself wanting more.

‘Cause I can see you waiting down the hall for me Seeing Aleksander waiting at the end of the corridor that led to his rooms always filled you with joy.  You sped up your steps until you were running towards him, leaping into his embrace.  Aleksander held you tightly, smiling against your hair.  “Hello, my love,” he muttered, kissing your brow.  “I have your favorite dinner waiting for us.”  You grinned, taking his offered hand and entering his rooms.  Rooms that were slowly becoming yours.

And I could see you up against a wall with me

It was the first time you had almost gotten caught.  Aleksander had caught you on your way back to your room, where you seldom slept anymore, and pressed you into the wall, kissing you soundly.  He pressed his thigh between your legs, making you gasp.  “I want you,” he breathed against your lips, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps approaching down the hallway.

Aleksander leapt away from you, straightening his kefta while you smoothed your hair and hoped you weren’t too flushed.  A young Inferni and his friends hurried past, barely noticing you and Aleksander.  When they passed, you both broke out into laughter, and Aleksander took your hand.  “I think we should go to my rooms, love,” he said, and you nodded.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie.  Passed me a note saying “meet me tonight”

He’d pressed the note into your hand at the end of the War Council meeting, and you only unfolded it when you were alone in your room.  Y/N, I could see you being my addiction, and it’s an addiction I no longer want to hide.  Come to my rooms before dinner, my love.

You did, finding Aleksander waiting anxiously in his sitting room.  “I’m done hiding us,” he said, taking your hands in his.  “I love you, and I don’t care what anyone thinks about it.  So, if you want, I want to dine with the other Grisha tonight, with you at my side.”  For months this was all you’d wanted, and you eagerly nodded.  Aleksander smiled, kissing you softly.  “We’ll see about getting your things moved to my rooms, too,” he said, linking his arm with yours as you made your way to the dining hall.

[ineffable-sideburns]

In this post, I'm going to tie numerous observations on screen together to make a single season 3 prediction

it relies on this premise, which i'm about to build a case for:

the way the characters interact with the story is informed by the mythical/historical figures they are directly and indirectly coded as, but it’s not always in the way you’d expect, and some characters are coded in more than one way. we can still use these relationships as Clues to postulate where the story might go and how the characters will interact with one another.

this is by no means exhaustive, obviously. i’ve seen people say that Crowley is coded as Jesus, Aziraphale as Mary, and numerous other figures. i’m just pointing out some things i’ve noticed that I haven’t seen brought up as often.

we’ll start with Crowley, then go on to Sandalphon and Saraqael, then Gabriel, then Aziraphale. yes, it'll all lead up to something and i chose these characters in this order for a reason.

Crowley

so we obviously know he’s coded as Ashtoreth when he dresses up as Nanny Ashtoreth in season 1. yes, we will note that in the book, it’s very vaguely implied that Crowley and Aziraphale both hired Ashtoreth and Francis

in season 2, when trying to get the deets on bae, Beelzebub offers Crowley a “hefty” promotion and then later tells him “you could be a duke of hell".

in researching Beelzebub, at some point I found out about Milton's Unholy Trinity in Paradise Lost, which includes Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Astaroth as the first heirarchy in Hell, and which has (seemingly) lent that idea to demonology in general.

Astaroth is often referred to as the "Great Duke of Hell."

so now with season 2, Crowley has been coded in the show as both the feminine and masculine demons derived from the eastern goddess Astarte.

note: coded != Crowley is literally Astaroth/Ashtoreth. it means we can infer things about the story through the coding

the obvious would be him becoming a duke of Hell somehow in season 3. i personally am not convinced the story will take that route, and it would be sad to see him end up back in hell. this coding is the least compelling for me. it could just be a Milton reference, or maybe, since at this point in season 2, we don’t know why Beelzebub wants Gabriel, this could be a Clue that Beelzebub was sincere. maybe it just shows how powerful Crowley could have been if he’d accepted the deal. or maybe it just adds weight to parallel the decision Aziraphale makes later when offered his own position of power. people have analyzed Crowley and Ashtoreth/Astarte before, and the book/show discrepancy is always brought up, so i'm ignoring that and just addressing the added layer of Astaroth coding. anyway, let's move on to the more interesting observations.

Sandalphon and Saraqael

i’m doing these two together because i’ve found what i believe to be a major connection between them based on Neil’s answer to this ask, a shared trait their mythical figures have, and Saraqael’s actions in the show.

when Sandalphon is introduced in season 1, we learn that he was smiting and turning people into salt during Sodom and Gomorrah. then we see the direct connection Saraqael has with Sandalphon at the end of season 2, when Michael asks her to turn Maggie and Nina into salt pillars and her hand flys up.

but that’s not secret, is it?

you know what is, though?

the fact that she immediately recognizes Metatron in his human form, looks scared shitless for multiple shots, and then proceeds to act like it never happened when he starts addressing all the angels. she doesn’t let anyone know that she recognized him.

do check out this post by @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer with more shots and analysis of her reaction to Metatron.

still don’t believe me and think that reaction is nothing?

well, let me tell you something both the mythical figures Sandalphon and Saraqael have in common.

they both saw Metatron in his human form.

according to one source, Sandalphon was Metatron’s twin brother, and Sandalphon, like Metatron, was originally human.

in the book of 2 Enoch, Sariel/Saraqael was one of the angels who brought Enoch (human!Metatron) to Heaven.

if Sandalphon had been in that room at that moment, he’d also be secretly recognizing Metatron.

obligatory: remember what I said at the beginning of this post? we are using this coding to analyze the story and how the characters interact with it and eachother. you don’t believe that Sandalphon or Metatron were literally human at one point in GO? that’s fine. i’m just giving a reason why the author may have chosen Saraqael and Sandalphon to serve the same purpose in this scene

it isn’t crazy to think that a lot of the historical lore was used to inform the characters, and if you think it is, at least read about Gabriel first.

Gabriel

Gabriel is being coded…as the actual archangel (fucking) Gabriel. (and as Lord Jim from the novel of the same name by Joseph Conrad - the book Aziraphale glances at before choosing to call Gabriel Jim. but you can google the plot of Lord Jim and how it relates to Gabriel on your own time. it’s too much to get into right now.)

Gabriel is an archangel with the power to announce God’s will to mankind. He is associated with messages, vision, telecommunications, and revelation…

…and in the Bible he announces the birth of John the Baptist, and later, Jesus.

30 And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God.

31 And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS

Luke 1:30-31

"hey Sithis dude you will not believe this… God now grants that you may conceive seven more children…yippe!!”

let’s get back to that thing about him delivering messages and revelation though.

Gabriel starts off season 2 carrying a box to the book shop (that we think was empty but later find out had a fly in it as well as a message scrawled on the bottom about where his memory is)

he also tells Aziraphale that something terrible was going to happen to him so he had to give him something. you can take that as being the fly, and consciously it probably was, but throughout season 2 Gabriel is unconsciously and unintentionally giving other people messages.

ex.

technically, a message “delivered” (dropped) by Gabriel, found by Muriel

after Crowley not-so-nicely commands Gabriel to remember, Jimbriel says, in a voice that shifts to sound like God’s voice, “I remember when the morning stars sang together and all the angels of God shouted for joy." Crowley recognizes this as what God said to Job, and then another flashback of Job begins.

later, during another vision caused by Crowley mentioning the word tempest: "There will come a tempest then darkness and great storms and the dead will leave their graves and walk the earth once more, and there will be great lamentations... every day it's getting closer."

in the Hebrew Bible, Gabriel appears to the prophet Daniel, and explains his prophetic visions. in Good Omens though, Jim IS the prophet having prophetic visions through Gabriel.

when in the book shop with Aziraphale, Jimbriel starts to hum every day, which is what causes Aziraphale to search down the pub with the jukebox playing that song on repeat. we know from what Terry and Neil have said about every day that it’s the song of the apocalypse, but none of the characters know that, Gabriel included.

what does a song do?

each message the archangel of (fucking) messages delivers is unconscious. not how you’d expect him to live up to his name, right? of course, if they are actually God’s messages, it makes sense that they’re useless, vauge, and well, ineffable. one last thing: spiritually, Gabriel’s messages and prophecies are often believed to be delivered through dreams (or in other words, the unconscious)

edit: this post by @noneorother actually inspired me to look at the mythology of archangel Gabriel, so it’s crucial you check it out. i’ve also seen a post somewhere that posits Gabriel shouldn’t even have some of the memories that go by really quickly before the flashbacks of him and Beelzebub, but i lost the link to it.

edit II: just wanted to add this post by @drconstellation, which analyzes the symbols coded into Jimbriel's clothing.

Aziraphale

it’s hard to ignore the fact that Aziraphale’s name is similar to Raphael, and that we’re missing an archangel Raphael. i’ll link some analysis on the meaning of Aziraphale’s name and share a quote from Terry, but this has all been said before. i want to look at who Raphael is mythologically to see if there’s similarities in Aziraphale’s character, and i also want to see if we can find out the relationship between Gabriel and Aziraphale, and why the latter was a suitable replacement.

Terry said about the name's origin:

"It was made up but... er... from real ingredients. [The name] Aziraphale could be shoved in a list of 'real' angels and would fit right in..."

For instance, Islam recognizes the Archangels Jibril, Mikhail, Azrael (see also the annotation for p. 9 of Reaper Man ), and Israfel (the subject of Edgar Allan Poe's well-known poem of the same name), whereas from Christianity we get such names as Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel.

the excerpt above was taken from here

NOW that that’s out of the way, who is archangel Raphael, the mythical figure?

Raphael’s name means “god heals.” it’s believed he helps people heal and overcome their struggles spiritually, physically, and mentally, and that he protects people on their journeys. he’s also considered to be the angel of joy, love, marriage, matchmaking, and travels.

as an example, in the Book of Tobit, God sends Raphael on a journey with a man named Tobias so that he can meet and woo his future wife. Raphael is also sent to heal her and Tobias’s blind, ageing father.

all the people and things i can count just off the top of my head that Aziraphale has healed or protected:

Anathema (healed)

Anathema’s bike (healed)

the dove he accidentally killed (technically healed by Crowley in the book)

Jimbriel (literally tells Jim he promised he would protect him)

Maggie and Nina when the demons enter the bookshop (tells them he will protect them)

bonus: in a scene cut from season 1, he stops a baby’s stroller from crashing

…and one he couldn’t:

collection of gifs of Aziraphale being full of joy:

you just have to look at Aziraphale smiling, especially at Crowley...

...to know that he represents joy and lo--

oh, but wait, he’s known for hooking people up, right? in case you forgot: Maggie and Nina va voom? originally his idea

similarly to the book of Tobit story I mentioned earlier, who did Aziraphale protect on his journey to meeting his beloved?

remember: the characters don't know they're being coded as anything and they don't know what kind of story they're in, so while Aziraphale didn't know he was going to be reuniting two lovers when he protected Jim, he played the role Neil made for him. it doesn't matter that he didn't know in the same way that it doesn't matter that Crowley could have (potentially) been powerful, or in the same way that it doesn't matter that Gabriel's messages were delivered unconsciously.

one more thing. Raphael heals people spiritually, physically, and mentally, right?

so is it any surprise that Aziraphale thinks he can heal the *ahem* spiritual corruption in Heaven?

we're going to tinfoil hat theory-land now ya'll, but I swear all of these observations are leading up to something cohesive...

Why did Aziraphale replace Gabriel?

i'll spare you all the long theories about Metatron's reasons, although i quite like the idea that Metatron was listening in ever since Aziraphale opened the portal to discorporate the demons attacking the bookshop, and he saw Aziraphale use his halo to declare war in order to protect Maggie and Nina. this shows Metatron that when pushed into a corner, or when it means protecting someone, he can force Aziraphale's hand...even to war.

But can we find a link between Gabriel and Raphael mythically to explain it instead?

if you've made it this far, you know i've got an answer for you. i withheld one detail about Gabriel earlier. in Christianity, he is often associated with blowing the trumpet at the end times to announce Judgment Day.

"okay, so?"

well, do you remember the quote from Terry and the excerpt from lspace I mentioned earlier? when mentioning the origins of Aziraphale's name, the excerpt mentions both angels in Islam and Christianity. the counterpart to Raphael in Islam, is Israfil/Israfel...

who blows the trumpet to signal the Day of Judgment.

"but Aziraphale wouldn't do that!"

he wouldn't intentionally do it. he's not a villain.

you remember who didn't intend to start the apocalypse in season 1, but who was there and given a role to play, regardless of whether he wanted to?

…the one who said no to heaven and hell and refused to be their pawn this time around when offered powerful positions by both?

Aziraphale, after nuking some demons with his halo, with painful foreshadowing: "I think I may have just started a war."

obligatory reiteration: the way the character-coding manifests is not literal, and it isn't always in the way you'd expect. there may be no literal trumpet. but i'm just pointing out the potential symmetry with season 1 in it being Aziraphale who "starts" apocalypse II.

one last thing: Raphael protects people on journeys, and helps them overcome their struggles — but now Aziraphale is on his own journey, and he will have to overcome his own moral struggles (ironically what Crowley helped him with)…alone.

[prokopetz]

Hey! So I ran a one-shot of Eat God and we had a blast. I have some feedback to offer from both myself and my players (This was actually a while ago but I’ve been busy as hell so I’m only writing it up now, so I might have forgotten some things). 

First off, character creation was just as fun as advertised. My player’s all loved getting to choose their character’s traits and appearance and designing their deicidal muppets. The game’s mechanics also made it extremely easy to create looney-tunes style shenanigans, which both I and the character’s took full advantage of. 

At one point a character with the roving limbs trait was running away with a barrel containing another character (I put the character in the barrel) balanced on their legs while their top half distracted the town guards, a completely different character slipped into the sewers I hadn’t thought about and I had a chance to throw a surprise alligator at them, and a theocratic pastor said that he “carried God with him in his heart” (which ended exactly as anthropophagically as I had expected it too). I also got the great quote from one of my players “I swear to the god I want to eat.” 

I have a few critiques, a few suggestions for things to develop for future editions, and a few questions. My first critique is that I think that having tokens for obstinacy is a little distracting, since you keep track of everything else about your character on paper (we ended up using Sprite flavored tic-tacs that one of the player’s had in their bag) and would be better done on the character sheet. I also think the game could use a formal turn structure for high-pressure situations. It’s a game that promotes chaotic play, and with people popcorning in it got a bit loud and overwhelming. 

For future developments, I think that having more specific action types like attack, help, investigate, etc. would be helpful. Specifying the mechanical effects tied to some of the abilities, like being able to “stun” someone with Primordial Power and Dizzying Display, having a general movement speed that would be doubled by Fast Feet, being difficult to harm with Defensive Dermis, etc., would be useful for the GM. And more examples of NPC abilities would be useful, if only to have something to base homebrew on. 

There are also a few questions I had. First, is there a specific time scale for actions taken in a high-pressure situation like combat? 

Second, I assume that you count the unmodified roll for calculating calamity? Because I don’t believe any roll over a character’s facet would have no chance of triggering calamity, and similarly don’t believe that positive modifiers would increase the chance of calamity. 

Lastly, a general lesson I learned as a GM that I do not hold against your game: be careful how far you let your characters stretch the limits of their abilities in low pressure situations if you’re too socially anxious to retcon in high pressure ones. 

Ultimately I think it’s a great game and everyone had a great time. I meant to run another session but didn’t find the time, so I might have more feedback when I finally get around to that. For credits sake I’m Kendall R., my players wanted to be credited as Noc, Ladybug, and Brynne.

(With reference to this post here.)

I appreciate the feedback. With respect to your questions:

First, is there a specific time scale for actions taken in a high-pressure situation like combat?

There is not. Defining a more formal conflict framework with a specific round length is a potential addition to a future revision, albeit not one I'm committing to adding at this time.

Second, I assume that you count the unmodified roll for calculating calamity?

Dice rolls in Eat God are generally not modified in any way; the value of a particular die is the number you rolled on that die. Effect modifiers (which I assume are what you're referring to here) apply to the roll's Result, which is the number you get from carrying out the procedure described in "Rolling and Reading Your Result"; any comparison which does not explicitly refer to a roll's Result is referring to the values the dice are physically showing.

[talenlee]

The Fundamentalist As Liar

Earlier this year I wrote about Michael Winger, a truly awful stain of a man with a more successful Youtube channel than mine so who’s so big and smart now huh and I wrote about that man’s particular tendency to claim sight unseen the illegitimacy of positions against him. What this usually means is that he argues that Atheists aren’t really Atheists, because,

then he presents a list of unconvincing reasons and eventually cooks down to ‘they just want to sin.’ Like, one of the favourites of this position is the idea that look, all the things you want to say about the arguments that have convinced you, those things aren’t that important because they’re just a smokescreen, a rhetorical assertion that stands in place because there’s a real, simple, emotional demand: I believe this because I want to believe this.

And I think, based on experience and reading a lot of these ding dongs’ writing reaching back two centuries, that uh, that’s because that’s how their worldview works, so they assume it’s how everyone’s does.

The Fundamentalist Christian is a liar who believes everyone believes lies.

I haven’t done any kind of comprehensive study. I haven’t met every Christian Fundamentalist. What I have to offer on this is the story of my experience and also my experience of all the people I’ve met since who slotted neatly into the mental software I was already running. Software is the best comparison I can make, where the fundamentalist viewpoint is a platform that runs some pretty reliable programs on top of it. Those programs are great, and you know it’s an operating system since it can run conflicting programs alongside one another without necessarily having any kind of fault in memory handling. My point is that I can open up any apologist channel in the year of our lord 2024 and hear one of the same small pool of bullshit narratives presented with the same bullshit assumptions built into them.

When you see the arguments used over and over again, when you correct flaws in the argument, over and over again, you quickly lose the ability to imagine that these people are aware of what they’re arguing and whether or not the argument is just a cloak of words they throw over how they feel about things. There are some really egregious cases of it, such as Ken Ham and Kent Hovind, who have been making the same arguments my entire life and contend with correction by ignoring it and repeating the same script when you’re not in the room.

But there’s also the apologetics of those who want to be seen as serious or big thinkers, the kinds of nobodies who think that they have the presence and awareness to attack actual scholarship, and they dress themselves up with a sense of seriousness, a sort of vast pomp that gets really pissy when you remind them that the book they’re trying to argue is infallible has a zombie apocalypse and multiple talking animals in it. ‘Well you would bring those up,’ they sneer as if reminding them of things that are true is somehow a low blow, an unfairness in the conversation. Oh, you, you’ve shown how unsophisticated you are by pointing out a book full of obvious fictions has obvious fictions in it, and if that was all this is that would work! It is pretty dumb to treat a book of folklore as if it’s a history textbook and demand it hold to that standard!

But they usually get around to admitting they think the talking animals are real.

There’s this one that’s really famous because there’s a serious-sounding condescending prick named William Lane Craig promoting it, the ‘Kalam Cosmological Argument.’ The argument runs as follows:

Everything that exists has a cause

The universe exists

Therefore the universe has a cause

And people keep looking at this and going: Well hang on, hang on, what says the universe has a cause? what about uncaused events? What about philosophical infinities? what about- when the much simpler response is ‘that’s fucking stupid.’ Because they don’t mean ‘the universe has a cause, period,’ they mean ‘the universe has a cause,’ deep breath, then subtle mumbling, ‘and that cause is the Christian god who I personally believe in as the best explanation for everything.’

And so you have this seriousness being used to adorn and address something which is really just being used to smuggle not into the idea of an actual philosophical point but rather recentre on this person’s fanfiction interpretetation of a few divine figures in a book of folklore in which, again, there are talking animals, unicorns, a global flood and a bunch of lies about prophecy.

Oh yeah, the lies about prophecy. Man, Christians love talking about how much prophecy Jesus fulfilled. They’ll tout lists, which they then are confident you won’t look at because if you do you find they’re very unsatisfying and tend to include things that haven’t happened yet. But more damning than that is if you look at the prophecies and go back to where they say they’re from, and then ask, say, a Rabbi who speaks the language of the book, you’ll find that uh, actually, that’s not what the Bible is about.

And then they introduce the idea of dual prophecies where there’s a prophecy about this thing that happened and the Rabbi’s version of events is true and supported, and then the other version with the rewritten words is actually also about Jesus, and please ignore the way that again, they change the wording. And this is serious. This is serious adults who get mad at you for not respecting their obvious fucking scam bullshit, because they believe it.

And they probably do!

That’s one of the funniest things about liars, they tend to wind up believing their lies. Oh sure they’ll know they made things up but the lie doesn’t sit in the brain over time and eventually they rewrite it, over and over, until eventually they’re not really lying, they’re basically telling the truth, they were telling the truth, and I don’t know what you mean about rewritten words. And then they’ll remember you as being rude or hostile or sad or angry and oh look at that they don’t have to worry about whatever it was you said. This is very consistent behaviour.

You may have heard this phrase, the idea that one’s faith is being tested. This is the idea that having to confront that reality sucks is a direct contest with the faith that people embrace. ‘You just gotta believe’ and ‘fake it till you make it.’ And what do they do about it? They lie. And any time you talk to someone about this kind of testing, they’ll usually say something like ‘well everyone is tested like that,’ which nobody seems to think is a problem. Like, hey, is it that universal that everyone winds up seeing mistakes and then everyone tells themselves it’s no big deal? It has the same energy as a person asserting ‘well look I’m straight and as a straight person I’m sure we all want to kiss that person of the same gender as me, that’s obvious’ and you have to be like okay, you know what that means right?

The assertation that people know what’s wrong rather than that they’ve proven wrong is very satisfying if your entire moral framework is based around your personal disgust. This means you wind up with a social framework that doesn’t just say ‘you’re right,’ but asserts even further, you are default. Christians Fundamentalists are so used to this default status it smooths over their fucking brains. The arguments don’t need consideration they just assert themselves, and then lie to themselves afterwards about the questions.

This is why they think so many things that people can’t readily choose are choices, and then that choices that people make are illegitimate because they veer away from the default.

Every Christian chooses what parts of the Bible to ignore. Even Fundamentalists. The Christians who aren’t Fundamentalists ignore that the Fundamentalists they claim to despise are using the same book and know it better than they do. And I mean this, they all choose what to ignore. For example, one of the most bananas things I’ve ever heard from a fundamentalist is that no, slavery isn’t bad, and it’s not bad because God told them how to do it, so clearly he’s okay with it which means it doesn’t follow at all, even in the American South that slavery was bad. Which is pretty amazing to consider because that’s a guy who doesn’t choose to lie to himself about that part of the book.

(Don’t worry, he’s got other bits he’s making shit up about.)

It was a breathtaking claim. After he said it I asked him how mum was doing, and he told me she’s doing fine and he looks forward to seeing me again soon.

Been a few weeks stewing on that one.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[nanowrimo]

Unlocking the 8 Secrets of Web Novels

If you’re looking to try something new this Camp NaNoWriMo, why not a web novel? Participant Eitan Estheim talks about what a web novel is and how to get started on your episodic writing adventure! The act of writing has been with us for a long time, but that doesn't prevent us from learning different ways to approach it, especially when we take advantage of the new technologies that are emerging.

Web novels (and their variants) are original stories that are published on the internet in chapters, instead of offering the finished product from the beginning. They resemble self-publishing because the author takes care of the entire process (writing, editing, publishing, promotion), and fanfiction because they maintain close contact with the readers.

Generally, authors usually offer their content for free on the internet. However, some authors will publish in advance on Patreon to offer incentives and get monthly paid subscriptions as if it were the Netflix of books.

I've been doing this for a while now and, although I don't have the impact of other writers, that hasn't stopped me from learning a lot in the process. With this in mind, I'm going to tell you what I’ve learned, both on my own and thanks to others.

1. Choose where to publish your web novel. Nowadays, there are several platforms such as Wattpad, Royal Road, Tapas or Kindle Vella, among many others. Some are more suitable for romance and contemporary stories, while others highlight fantasy or litRPG. Keep this in mind before deciding where you want to start.

2. Be prepared. Unlike other ways of publishing a book, a web series requires regular updates. This means you need to create content frequently. As a result, many authors choose to have several weeks of chapters prepared. This ensures they can continue publishing while writing the next chapters, along with all the additional tasks that this entails.

3. Be realistic with your time. Referring to the previous point, we need to take a moment to consider everything we must do: write new content, make sure it's in good condition for publication (editing), promote on social media, etc. Many of us have jobs and responsibilities, so we must be aware of how much we can accomplish each day.

4. Every story is unique. What works for one author may not work the same for another. Some decide to publish short chapters from Monday to Friday, while others prefer to do it once or twice a week. Consider your situation and learn as you go to figure out what works best for you.

5. Take care of yourself. If you push yourself too hard, both in external obligations and in your own projects, you will reach a point where you will exhaust yourself (and that's if you're lucky). Just like in life itself, prioritize your physical and mental health, fulfill your responsibilities, and give yourself the opportunity to write under the best possible conditions.

6. Share your story. Maybe you're like me and prefer to dedicate your time to writing, planning, and editing because that's what you enjoy the most. It's understandable, but how will you get others to read your work? Get moving! Use social media, Facebook groups, and other methods because if you want others to value your work, you must make them aware of it.

7. Find your balance. Just like in any other writing project, there will be times when you write less and dedicate more time to editing or preparation. You may have periods where you write less, but that doesn't mean your productivity is lower; it just means there are other equally important tasks you must perform. Finding the right balance will allow you to progress in your short, medium, and long-term projects.

8. Take care of your readers. Remember what I mentioned about Patreon? It's not only a way for authors to receive some compensation for their work, but they also offer incentives to their followers. Most choose to offer chapters in advance, but they can also provide exclusive access to Discord/Guilded servers, EPUB/PDF files to continue reading on other devices, unlimited scenes, and a variety of other things. Just think about what you would like to have as a reader, and I'm sure you'll come up with many ideas. All of us here know how complex and exhausting writing can be, regardless of the project we're working on. However, it's equally rewarding to see our story taking shape and sharing it as if it were our own TV series. You just need to mold it in the way you desire and keep on writing!

Eitan Estheim, a passionate web serial writer hailing from Spain, is a humble virtuoso of storytelling. From an early age, armed with nothing more than a trusty notebook, Eitan embarked on a literary journey fueled by lots of chocolate. His insatiable thirst for knowledge knows no bounds, as he tirelessly hones his craft to captivate readers. Eitan's web books, spanning fantastical realms and heartfelt LGBT dramas, written in Spanish and English, mark the beginning of his promising writing career. Follow his journey on Patreon! You can also visit his website, Tumblr, Instagram, or Pinterest. Photo by MART PRODUCTION from Pexels

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XXV

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: A veil comes down in Shibuya, with tragic consequences.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 9.8k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: ok i’m ngl i doubt this is what you all are expecting when it comes to shibuya pomegranate ink version but oh well it does what it needs to for narrative purposes. sorry

“The situation is definitely strange,” you said, using one of the needles you hadn’t cursed yet to clean under your nails. “I mean, what reason would there be to put a curtain down on Shibuya?”

“I don’t know,” Tullia said. “A part of me is worried, because this is so out of the ordinary, but at the same time, can you believe it? This is my first mission since my promotion!”

Ever since your classmates had heard that you and Todo had recommended them for Grade 1 status, they had been over the moon about it. Maki, especially, had been close to tears when she heard the news, hugging you tightly and thanking you over and over again for it. You had assured all of them that you really believed they deserved it and weren’t just doing it because they were your friends, and from that moment onwards they had been showing off in front of you, like they wanted to prove that they were worthy of the designation.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t count towards one of your supervised missions. I’m the one who gave you your initial recommendation, so I can’t give you another one, you see,” you said. Tullia shrugged.

“It’s okay. I’ve missed working with you, so it’s not a big deal! It’ll be just like old times,” she said. You wiped off the needle and then cursed it before putting it away with the rest of them, making sure the pouch was securely closed and then setting it in your pocket where it usually stayed.

“Hopefully, Gojo’s able to take care of it and we don’t have to do anything. As much as I’d love to go on a mission with you again, I don’t know if I like the situation here. If I had my way, we’d be somewhere else, doing nothing,” you said.

“Can you detect something with your cursed signature detection?” she said. You shook your head.

“Not with that veil in the way. I’m sure if we go in, I’ll be hit with it all at once,” you said.

When a mysterious veil had fallen over Shibuya station, several sorcerers had been called to the scene. There were five teams that you could think of off the top of your head, though you knew there were a couple of other, unrelated sorcerers also around: one consisted of Naobito, Maki, and Nobara, another was Nanami, Megumi, and Ino, a third was Mei Mei, her brother Ui Ui, and Itadori, the fourth was Kusakabe and Panda, and the final team was you and Tullia. However, all of you were meant to be on standby — Gojo was the one who would go in and take care of things. He was strong enough to do whatever it took, so you weren’t worried.

“Oh, so you’re just generally having a bad feeling,” Tullia said.

“Aren’t you?” you said. “This whole thing isn’t right, especially since Mechamaru was revealed to be a traitor. There’s something going on, and I don’t doubt that those disaster curses have something to do with it.”

“It’s Gojo, though. Do you really think he’ll have any issues, even if he is fighting those things?” she said.

“That’s actually very fair,” you said. “You’re right, I’m worrying about nothing. Sorry to bring down the mood.”

“Not at all. I’d be surprised if you weren’t worried; after all, our team is just the two of us, so if we have to go in, then we only have each other to trust,” she said.

“There’s no one I’d rather have by my side,” you said. It made sense that you and she were assigned together once again; she was the reason you could use Composition, so there was no better place for her than with you. Besides, your techniques worked well together, as you specialized in ranged attacks and she was stronger in close combat, making you effective at fighting alongside one another.

“When will we know to go inside?” Tullia said. “I don’t want us to be late or anything.”

“I’m sure one of the assistant managers will let us know,” you promised. As if you had summoned them just by speaking, your phone rang. When you looked at the caller ID, it showed Ijichi’s contact, his picture the selfie you had taken of the two of you when he had dropped you off on your first official mission as a Grade 1 sorcerer proper.

“It’s time now,” he said briskly, hanging up before you could even say anything. You didn’t blame him; he had to pass on the same message to the others, and there was no time for politeness in such high-stakes situations. Instead, you put your phone away and turned back to Tullia.

“Ijichi says it’s time. Are you ready?” you said. She patted herself down.

“Tetrodotoxin, cyanide, good old bleach, arsenic, and — look what Gojo got for me to celebrate my promotion!” she said, pulling out a glimmering glass bottle. “Botulinum toxin! It’s the stuff they use for botox, but apparently in large doses it’s one of the most poisonous biological substances known. This is definitely going to be good.”

You grimaced. “Please keep that close to you at all times. It’ll kill anyone else that comes in contact with it.”

“I know, I know. I’m very responsible with my poisons, both because some of them are massively expensive and because they’re so dangerous to other people,” Tullia said. “Do you have everything?”

“I’ve cursed all of my needles,” you said. “That’s all I can do.”

“Let’s get going, then. We shouldn’t waste time,” she said.

“Wait. Tullia, you’re sure about this? I’m a Grade 1 sorcerer, so I have to go, but you’re just a student. You can stay back if you want,” you said. “I always ask so much of you, and you always put me first. You can decide not to this time. I won’t be mad.”

She waved you off. “I’m a Semi-Grade 1 now, so I need to start doing this kind of thing more regularly anyways. Come on, if Ijichi told you to come inside the veil then there’s probably a real reason he did so, so we shouldn’t dawdle.”

“Okay. See you on the other side,” you said.

“See you on the other side, Y/N,” she said.

Then, before you could hesitate further or second guess yourselves, you stepped into the veil, leaving the outside world behind, taking that leap into the unknown without looking back — because you were sorcerers, and that was what sorcerers did.

Almost before you had even finished entering the veil, you were bowled over by the immensely malevolent presences lurking in the area. The concentration of curses was greater than you had ever experienced, even greater than it had been during the Night Parade, or maybe it wasn’t that there were more curses but rather that those which were present were on a different level entirely.

And that familiar presence. It was only because Tullia was there and things were so similar to what they had been last Christmas Eve, but you realized where you knew that cursed signature from.

“Suguru Geto?” you muttered.

“Hm? Did you say something, Y/N?” Tullia said. You thought about telling her what you had just figured out, but there wasn’t a point, at least not until you had more information confirming it. Though you didn’t think you were mistaken, there had to be some other explanation for the familiarity of the residuals beyond a dead man walking once more.

“Never mind,” you said. “Now, what should we—”

“Nanami! Y/N! Gojo’s been sealed! Did you hear me? Nanami! Y/N! Gojo has been sealed!”

It was Itadori’s voice which interrupted your thoughts, his screams echoing from somewhere far away. You looked at Tullia for confirmation, but it was evident that she had heard him too, judging by her blown pupils and the panicked set to her mouth.

“Gojo’s been what?” she whispered.

“Sealed?” you said. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

Gojo was Gojo. He was your teacher. He was more than that, actually, he was like a part of your family. Your whole family, even. He was the man that had saved you from your previous life and taught you how to be strong. He was strong; he was strength itself, personified. So what did it mean for him to be sealed? How did that compute?

“It’s probably temporary,” Tullia said. “Right?”

You swallowed, shaking your head to clear it. This wasn’t the time for thoughts like this. You were in charge of both yours and Tullia’s wellbeing at the moment, and you were in an incredibly volatile area. You had to set aside your emotions and focus on the logic of what was happening.

“I don’t know how it’s happened, but yes, that’s correct. No method of permanent sealing exists, so if the curses have managed to seal Gojo, then we can definitely undo it. We just have to find him and get him out of their grasp,” you said.

“That should be our priority, then, yes?” she prompted. You were grateful to her for the steady guidance, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to go on if you didn’t have her cheery self with you. It was not just her cursed energy that was so vital to your operation; her optimism managed to counteract your occasionally more pessimistic outlook, ensuring that you could think clearly even when you just wanted to wallow in despair.

“Yes. We’ll have to be careful, because if these curses were capable of sealing even Gojo, then who knows what else they can do? There’s no doubt that Mount Fuji and the plant curse will be here, as well as the patchwork curse that Itadori and Nanami had to fight, plus whatever other allies they have. Whatever happens next, it’s going to be difficult,” you said.

“When is it not?” Tullia said rhetorically.

“This time is different, though. This time, it doesn’t matter if we risk death. We have to keep going. We cannot win if we don’t have Gojo, so we must be prepared to give up anything and everything if it means saving him,” you said.

“Okay,” she said. “Where should we go first?”

“The station,” you said. “That’s where I detect the most signatures gathered together, so it’s a sure bet that he’s there, too.”

“Lead the way,” she said, downing an entire bottle of arsenic and then tossing it to the side, following after you as you raced towards the station at top speed, taking the stairs two at a time until you reached a tiled room which seemed to be devoid of anyone. Skidding to a stop, you motioned for Tullia to do the same.

“It looks empty,” you said. “But someone’s here. Be on your guard; whoever it is, they’re powerful.”

When you thought about it, this signature, too, was one you recognized. There was a hot, angry edge to it, pulsing with rage and fire as it stalked around the room in search of something to explode at. It was none other than the volcano-head you had met at the restaurant the other day, but for some reason, he was staying concealed for the moment. It was only a matter of time before he picked up on yours and Tullia’s presence in the room, though, and then you were definitely in trouble, so you put your finger on your lips and jerked your head towards the stairwell, indicating for Tullia to follow your lead. If you could just sneak out before he noticed you…

“You’re not the person I wanted to see, but I suppose you’re good enough for the moment, Y/N L/N,” the aged voice of the curse rang out as flames burst in the stairway, trapping you in the room with the curse as he rounded a corner and revealed himself, looking as grotesque as he had the day you had met the first time.

“Mount Fuji,” you greeted tersely. “You never told me your real name, so I hope you’re alright with me calling you that.”

“It’s Jogo!” the curse screeched, steam pouring out of his ears. “My name is Jogo, and don’t you ever refer to me in such a demeaning way again!”

The heat from the fire Jogo had set in the stairwell was so high that it was making your skin burn from just the proximity to it, so reluctantly, you took a step forward, away from the fire but consequently closer to the curse.

“Fine, Jogo. What have you and your lot done to Gojo?” you said, brandishing a needle and holding it in front of you protectively. It was more a placebo than anything; you doubted a single needle would be enough to take out this curse, unless you were able to use Dissection and aim at one of the weak spots that would then be made apparent.

“Satoru Gojo? We sealed him in a prison realm. Who’s going to save you now, huh?” he said, leering at you with blackened teeth, smoke belching from the crater atop his head.

A prison realm. Well, that type of thing was probably the only reliable way to deal with someone like Gojo, but it made rescuing him a lot more painful for you. Even if you managed to obtain the realm in which Gojo was contained, you’d have to then figure out how to unseal him, and then you’d have to hope that the manner in which you went about doing that was something that you could actually manage to accomplish.

“We’ll get him back,” you said. “Don’t think that we won’t.”

“Not if I kill you here and now,” Jogo said, flames dancing at his fingertips when he spoke. You spun your needle between your fingers, a new nervous habit you had picked up on recently.

“It doesn’t matter if you do. Even if Tullia and I are gone, someone will get to him. If it’s not us, then it’ll be one of the others. I don’t have to be the hero who saves him. As long as he’s saved,” you said. “So go on. Do your worst, if that’s what you’re set on doing. But just remember that by killing me, you are forfeiting any chance of Sukuna coming to your aid.”

It was a bluff. You had come to this conclusion while you were talking: you did not want to die. Maybe it made you a coward, but you didn’t want to get hurt. You didn’t want anyone you cared about to be injured. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want your friends to die. But your words were true in one way: it didn’t matter if you did die, in the end, even if you were scared to. You were not the one who would turn the tides of this battle.

Except there was something only you could do. Something that Sukuna needed you for. This was where your importance came from. That was why they wanted you. It wasn’t because you were strong. It wasn’t because you were a particularly talented sorcerer. It was because for some reason, the King of Curses had decided you were a person he could not kill.

Lava bubbled over the rim of the volcano on Jogo’s head, dripping down his forehead like sweat, his eye glazing over as the flames in the staircase grew to an all-time high. You grabbed Tullia’s hand and squeezed it, trying to communicate without words what you wanted to say. He’s angry. He doesn’t care. Get ready.

Discreetly, she took out another bottle of arsenic and drank it. You thought that it was just about time for the botulinum toxin, but it wasn’t your cursed technique, so you wouldn’t presume to dictate to her what she should and shouldn’t be ingesting at any given moment.

“You’re right,” Jogo said. “I can’t kill you, at least not until we awaken Sukuna and figure out what, exactly, he wants from you. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you in the meantime, does it? Yes, that sounds like a good plan. I’m sure Sukuna will be pleased to see you burnt beyond the point of recognition, anyways; after all, I’ve heard that he harbors no love for you.”

You had no response to this. You had picked up on the intense hatred Sukuna had for you, too — it seeped out of his very being, so potent it took on a life of its own, like every cell in Sukuna’s body had its own equivalent dedicated solely to despising you, that vitriol braided into every fiber of his being. Jogo was likely correct; as long as you were still alive, Sukuna would probably delight at seeing you in pain.

“What do we do?” Tulla said under her breath as Jogo began to cackle.

“We fight, and we win,” you said.

“That’s it?” she said.

“Always is,” you said wryly. She scoffed.

“Do we just go improv?” she said.

“I have no idea what his abilities are, so we’re going to have to,” you said. “Do you trust me?”

“More than anything,” she said.

“And I trust you, so it’ll be fine. We can do this,” you said. “Just follow my lead, and I’ll follow yours. Deal?”

“Deal,” she said.

“I forgot!” Jogo said, clapping his hands together. “There’s nothing stopping me from killing her!”

He pointed at Tullia, and out of nowhere, large wasps manifested behind him, buzzing and dancing through the air towards her. You threw your needles at them, and though some made contact, there were so many in the swarm that it didn’t matter. Although Tullia tried to dodge and avoid them, it was futile — they followed her every step of the way, Jogo watching her keenly, watching how her feet slid against the freshly-washed tiles, and how she struggled to swat the insects away.

You took advantage of the moment to use Dissection on him, identifying his weak spots while you had the chance to. His eye, the volcano on his head, his jaw, and the nape of his neck glowed green, and you did not hesitate to fling a needle at him, aiming for the largest target: the volcano.

Right when the needle was about to strike, a chasm opened in the ground below him, spewing flames that melted the needle into a useless heap of metal at his feet. At the same time, in unison, the wasps emitted a piercing sound, surrounding Tullia, covering her entire body and then detonating, smoke and flame and ash billowing up in clouds around her.

“No!” you screamed, physically feeling the loss in your stomach. Tullia’s cursed energy, which you had grown accustomed to always being connected with yours, was suddenly gone, leaving you barren and empty. It made your movements unsure, your mind foggy as you tried to compensate for what had just been stolen from you.

Jogo took advantage of the moment to wrap one searing palm around your bicep, burning the flesh away with a smug grin on his face. You kicked and wailed, trying to pull free, but he held fast. You used your free hand to pull out a needle and stab it into his hand, but it was like you were suffering from a withdrawal or a hangover. You had grown so adapted to Tullia’s cursed energy that without it, you were nothing. You couldn’t do anything. You had been healing and fighting when you were only supposed to do one, and now that you didn’t have a buffer there to deal with the repercussions of it, you were facing them all at once.

“Let go of me!” you sobbed. Purple blood streamed from Jogo’s hand as you dragged the needle through his wrist, and he growled at you, upping his temperature so that this needle, too, evaporated into nothingness.

“I don’t think so,” he hissed. “You’ve been an impertinent little bitch, and even though I can’t kill you, I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”

“She said to let go!” a familiar voice said, and suddenly a fist was ramming into Jogo’s head, knocking him back and sending him flying across the room. He slammed into a wall, and cursed energy flared through your body once more. “Use Composition on your arm before you lose it, quickly! I’ll be fine, I’ve had enough poison that you could probably heal an entire army and I’d be alright.”

“Tullia?” you said. “How did you—?”

“As soon as I saw him using fire, I dosed up on arsenic,” she said as you took a tiny bit of her energy to heal your arm, which Jogo had burnt to the bone. The flesh and muscle regenerated around it, not even a scar left due to the perfection of Composition as a Reverse Cursed Technique. “It’s fire resistant, so I was able to survive the insects’ initial onslaught. It’s not a permanent solution, but it worked in a pinch. Now come on and get your head in the game; you’re a Grade 1 sorcerer, for crying out loud!”

Her clothes were tattered and singed, her hair uneven and choppy, entire chunks missing from where it had crumbled away entirely. Her face and body were covered in burns, but burns could be healed, hair could be regrown, and clothes could be changed. She was alive, and that was what was important.

“Right,” you said. “I’ve been doing a bad job at showing that, haven’t I? Okay, listen, his weak spots are the volcano, the eye, the nape of his neck, and his jaw. He’s been melting the needles I throw at him, though, so I’ve been out of luck in trying to fight him because of that.”

“I guess you could say he’s too hot to handle,” she said with a snicker before composing herself. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, still reeling at her death and then at the fact that she wasn’t dead at all. She took another drink of arsenic, giving you a firm nod.

“I can probably go hand to hand and aim for those weak spots, but I doubt I’m strong enough to do any significant damage, and I don’t have Sukuna’s protection the way you do,” she said.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you said. “I’m going to do it myself. You just have to protect me. Distract him when he starts to hurt me again, and I’ll hit him before he can even think about killing you.”

This time, you did not even wait for Jogo to attack first. You went on the offensive, Tullia staying close enough to you that Jogo did not dare send a wide-ranging attack towards her for fear of catching you in the crossfire. You tossed out a handful of needles to serve as a distraction, but like all the others, they liquefied once they got within an arms’ length of Jogo.

Volcanic openings appeared in the ground in front of you as you ran, spitting out lava at random. There was no time to think as you leapt and swerved — you were acting purely on instinct, each footfall nothing more than guesswork. The wrong one meant death. The right one meant survival. But who could tell which was which? The ends of your sleeves caught on fire at one point, and you had to beat them against your side in order to put them out, but even then you could not pause, not when you were so close, not when there was no escape, not when this confrontation could only end in one of two ways: your death or his.

You reached him first, punching him in the jaw. Without the specific refinement and cursed energy of your needles, it didn’t exorcise him instantly, and anyways he was a special grade, so one hit wouldn’t have been enough to do the job regardless, but it did cause him pain. You could tell because he groaned at the contact, and his mouth hinged open for a moment, hanging there as he breathed fire at you, more steam pouring out from his ears when he did. You ducked out of the way of the blast, and before he could redirect his attack, Tullia kicked him in the back of the head. You rolled to your feet in the meanwhile, digging your fingers into his neck, gouging into it, his flesh and blood stuck under your nails when you pulled away to backhand him and then flip over the volcano that opened beneath your feet.

You continued like that, the three of you settling into a rhythm of sorts. You would strike, and then Tullia would attack before Jogo could turn his ire upon you. Then, right when he was about to retaliate against Tullia, you would lash out once more. He was at a definite disadvantage, not because of skill but because he could not kill you. You knew for a fact that if it were not for Sukuna’s threat weighing on his mind, he would’ve annihilated you already. But he could not, not if he ever wanted to be successful in his eventual goals, and you and Tullia abused that fact, pummeling him without care, dodging whatever he sent your way — or sometimes not even that. You could not count the amount of times that one of you burst into flames, barely managing to put it out in time to keep fighting.

There was a kind of clarity that you felt in that moment. You were no longer Y/N L/N. You were no longer anyone. And neither was Tullia; she wasn’t a person but an extension of yourself, as you were an extension of her, as you were both two halves of a greater whole and Jogo was the unspoken third which you could not exist without. Dissection and Composition and the burning body in between you. The healer and the empty glass and the fire-like-wine which filled you. There would be no one to fight without him. There would be no one to heal without him. That was the truth of sorcerers and curses: you both could not exist without one another, like a cyclical, self-contained plague. Who would you kill if not your counterpart? It was in your nature. You were born to fight Jogo, as Jogo was born to fight you. And if not him, if not you, then another, and another, and another, until one side could possibly win — if a victory which led to erasure could be considered as such.

If there were no curses, there would be no sorcerers. If there were no sorcerers, there would be no curses. There was no curse theory or scientific backing to support this thought. It was just something you knew in that instant, as you fought Jogo. It was one of those things you felt, a truth that resounded in your bones as surely as the fire which danced along your skin every time Jogo counterattacked.

You were beating him. He was weak now, but still frenzied, still overtaken by the rush of the fight, adrenaline and arrogance overtaking his reason, his higher-order thinking. It shouldn’t have been this simple, but for that one precious second, you allowed yourself to believe it. You allowed yourself to believe that maybe you and Tullia had really done it, that you had managed to exorcise a special grade of this magnitude. You allowed yourself to believe that you could move on and return to seeking out Gojo now.

“Domain Expansion,” Jogo gasped out, raising his hands, not to attack but for another purpose entirely. He must’ve given up on not wanting to kill you. He must’ve realized that there was this other way that he could wipe you out without having to worry about you anymore.

“Tullia!” you shouted desperately, shoving at her, trying to push her away with all your strength, no longer worrying about Jogo. “Tullia, run! You have to run!”

It was too late. She gazed at you, and you could see in her eyes that she knew what was happening, that she understood it was too late for her to escape, just like it was too late for you. As a mountain began to form around you, she embraced you, pressing her cheek to yours, her lips to your ear.

“Until the end, we keep fighting,” she said. “Even if we’re in his Domain, we keep fighting. Right? We’ll weaken him enough that maybe — maybe one of the others can do it, can get rid of him for good.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke. “Yes.”

“Thank you for being my friend,” she said.

“Thank you for being mine,” you said.

“Coffin of the Iron Mountain!” Jogo declared, rejuvenated by the power of the Doman Expansion, even though by all rights it should’ve drained him further. As the Domain completed, you and Tullia found yourselves standing inside of an enormous volcano, rocks crashing down and lava bubbling in the corners.

“Hold on a second. You said that that curse could perform a Domain Expansion. What if it pulls that out? Does she have any counter to that?” Nanami said. “If she doesn’t, then it’s totally irresponsible of you to send her. Even more irresponsible than I ever thought you’d be.”

“Um,” Gojo said. “Y/N? Do you have a counter for that?”

“Wow, Gojo,” you said. “I can’t believe you didn’t think of that. Thank you for the concern, Nanami, sir, but as the case may be, I actually do have something I can use if things come to it, so I’ll be alright.”

You had learnt it from Noritoshi. He himself had never had the strength to accomplish it, but he had talked to you about it one day, back before you had even come to the school. He was the academic type, and he had studied the theory so carefully that he managed to explain that secret of the Big Three clans to you in the simplest way. He had been so skilled at explaining it to you, in fact, that you had managed to replicate it before even he could, much to his chagrin.

He had still been proud of you, vowing to work just as hard so that he could do it, too. The way that the Big Three clans countered Domain Expansions, even when they weren’t strong enough to lay out one of their own: you were the only outsider that had the knowledge, and even then it was only because you would one day be a Kamo. Though you generally detested the clans, you supposed you had them to thank for this one thing, for the reason why Jogo’s Domain did not immediately kill you.

“Falling Blossom Emotion,” you said, a layer of cursed energy creeping over you and shielding you from the flames and rocks of the volcanic Domain. Thus protected, you shifted to take stock of Tullia, knowing that unlike you, she didn’t have a defense against the sure-hit effect of the Domain.

Fire was licking up her legs and arms, but she was alive, determination sparkling in her eyes. The arsenic was probably the only reason she hadn’t completely burnt away yet, but you both knew that that would not last forever.

“You have a way to protect yourself?” she said.

“I do!” you said.

“Good!” she said.

“The arsenic seems to be protecting you for now. We just need to weaken him enough that he can’t maintain his Domain before it wears off, and then I can use Composition to heal you before we keep going,” you said.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” she said. “I can’t die quite yet, you know. I still have to tell someone that I love them.”

Together, stride for stride, heartbeat for heartbeat, the two of you did the exact opposite thing you were supposed to do when in a Domain: you sprinted towards the caster. The Lord of the Iron Mountain, the volcanic curse Jogo, that damned creature which you should’ve been fleeing from, but instead of doing that, you ran right towards him, you needles guiding the way, the air shimmering from the heat, the fire slowly overtaking Tullia’s body, her lower lip trembling from the effort of holding her screams in.

“You dare to challenge me in my own Domain?” Jogo shouted. “I will crush you like the insects you are! Let it always be remembered who the true humans are!”

He truly had forgotten about Sukuna, or maybe he no longer cared. The latter seemed unlikely, though; more accurately, he was probably so caught up with the rush of the battle that everything came second to the tantalizing prospect of winning.

Rocks came crashing down in huge landslides. They slid off the cursed energy of Falling Blossom Emotion without touching you, which meant that Tullia bore the brunt of it, raising her charred forearms to protect herself from the volley — but they just kept coming, in larger and larger quantities and sizes. But still, you kept going, kept running, because what else was there to do but that? What else was there to do but run?

“Y/N,” Tullia called out from behind you. “You have to be the one to do it! Keep going. Ignore whatever happens to me, okay? You can’t shut down again, because you are the one that has to do it!”

“Wait,” you said as a boulder twice even Todo’s size pinned her legs to the ground. “Wait, no, that’s not right!”

“Go,” she said. “If you don’t forget about me, he wins! Keep going!”

Elakshi was sitting by herself on a bench, slicing an apple and eating it as she went. You sat across from her, waiting for her to speak. She had been the one to suggest the meeting time and spot, so you thought it was only fair for her to say something first, but she waited until after her entire apple was finished to talk.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” she said. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” you said, bemused at how intently she had been eating the apple, to the point that she had not noticed nor cared that you were there, too. “I think we both want to talk about the same thing.”

“Your weakness?” she guessed, using a napkin to wipe the juice off of her knife. “That’s what I’m here to tell you about, even though my classmates would be furious if they knew.”

“Do you think so?” you said.

“We have one more year of exchange events against each other, don’t we? I’m just making it harder for myself if I tell you this. That’s part of the fun to me, though, and besides you’re the one that saved me, so at minimum I owe you for that time,” she said.

“You don’t owe me. I was just doing my job,” you said. “I’d appreciate it if you told me what you and Noritoshi figured out, though.”

“Love,” she said, getting straight to the point. You almost jumped at the directness with which she now spoke. “That’s your weakness.”

“My weakness…is love? I don’t see how that works,” you said.

“Call it love, or empathy, or what have you. It’s all the same concept: we can hurt you the best by hurting your friends, the people you care about. That’s when you get distracted. That’s when you give up. You have a heart that bleeds for others, the kind of heart that’s always wanting to help someone else, but not everyone in the world deserves to be helped, and sometimes, you have to abandon your friends for the greater good,” she said.

“Huh? Why would I do that? What good is there in abandoning the people I care about?” you said. She wrinkled her nose.

“There it is again. That’s the reason why you threw yourself in front of that branch for Maki Zenin. That’s the reason I knew you’d fall for my bluff and try to heal me, even though no normal sorcerer would ever care that much about their opponent. There is no version of you that doesn’t jump before that branch, just as there is no version of you that doesn’t stop to use Composition on me,” she said.

“Of course not,” you said. “You’re my friend, and I care about you. And Maki is Maki. All I knew at that moment was that I could not let her die.”

Elakshi considered this. “Your emotions, your love for others, makes it impossible for you to see the big picture. You saved Maki in the moment, but you took yourself — a Grade 1 sorcerer — out of the fight, therefore putting everyone else at risk. You healed me in the moment, but you left yourself and Tullia vulnerable to my retaliation. I admire you, and this definitely isn’t me saying that you aren’t strong or something, but if you ever want to work past this, then you have to come to terms with the fact that there will be times when you can’t protect someone.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m meant to be a healer after all,” you said. “I’m so used to trying to save everyone that I end up saving no one.”

“I’ve been in a lot of hospitals in my time,” Elakshi said. “Can I tell you something I’ve learned? Even the best doctors can’t save everyone. In truth, I doubt anyone can.”

You had to leave Tullia behind. You had to exorcise this curse here and now, and to do that, you had to leave her to what very well could be her death. You had to keep going, had to keep running, and when you reached Jogo, you would have to kill him. There was no way around it. That was simply what you had to do.

You reached him and stabbed a needle into his throat before he could even think to melt it. He uppercutted you in return, and then it became the most lethal sparring match you had ever been in, every movement a brush with death, every second weakening you and strengthening him. Now that you were in his Domain, the roles had reversed. You could not keep up, and furthermore, Tullia’s energy was waning. She was dying, actively dying, and it did not just have a mental effect on you but a physical one, too: without those extra reserves to boost you, you grew exhausted at an exponentially faster rate.

Finally, Jogo reached for you, and you were not quite quick enough to avoid it. He grabbed your neck and squeezed, lifting you in the air and laughing as you kicked your legs and slapped at his hand in an attempt to free yourself.

“It’s time, Y/N L/N,” he said. “I’m going to set you on fire. I’m going to burn your memory into this world, so that you are remembered for years to come. Sukuna will be pleased with that, don’t you think?”

What did you even do now? How could you escape this? What could you even do? Your needles were useless against Jogo’s heat. Your only ally was almost dead. Your cursed technique wouldn’t do much good, either, as you already knew his weak spots — it was hitting them that was the issue.

There had to be a way. What was something only you could do? What was something that only Grade 1 sorcerer, Y/N L/N could do?

Peace settled over you as you understood, in that moment, the way that you could defeat Jogo. As Jogo readied himself to set you on fire, you strengthened Falling Blossom Emotion to defend yourself and then smiled, knowing that you could not care for the consequences of your actions, knowing that you could not hesitate or this really would be the end for you.

“Tullia!” you shouted with what little air you had left, praying that she’d hear you. “One last time. Nothing after this matters, so one last time, please let me take your strength from you!”

In response, your cursed energy lit up from the force of hers, as brilliant as the sun at midnight. The botulinum toxin, she must’ve had just enough power left in her body to drink it all at once, not knowing what you needed it for but having enough faith in you to go along with what you said anyways.

“Give it up, girl,” Jogo spat, the volcano on his head pouring out even more lava as you glared at him, Falling Blossom Emotion the only reason you hadn’t combusted yet. “That defensive technique of yours is about to fail, and then you will be nothing more than ashes. Why prolong your misery? You can’t do anything to me that matters.”

“I am Y/N L/N,” you said. “I am the girl who brought someone back to life. I can do anything. Composition!”

You clamped your hands down around his wrist, ignoring how your palms were burning from his body heat and holding them steady, using your Reverse Cursed Technique on him. It was an old factoid you remembered Ieri mentioning to you once, that Reverse Cursed Techniques were actually destructive to curses instead of beneficial, and you bet everything you had, everything Tullia had, on that being true.

Amongst all other Reverse Cursed Techniques, Composition reigned supreme, mostly because of its eponymous ability: the one which allowed its users to compose instead of just join. Maybe that was the reason it was so effective against Jogo, or maybe it was because of Tullia’s botulinum toxin fuelling you, or maybe you were really just that strong. Likely it was a combination of all these factors, but the reasoning behind it didn’t matter as much as the result did.

Almost as soon as you activated Composition, Jogo’s entire arm disintegrated. You thudded to the ground, the burns on your neck and palms throbbing with pain as you scrambled to your feet once again, resting your hands on his shoulders, pressing them into his skin. Your insides curled at the scent of your own flesh igniting, but this time, you did not falter, staring into his eye with the insane delight that came from the newfound mastery. His earlier vicious conceit had been replaced by naked fear, and this time, it was your turn to laugh at him.

“Composition,” you whispered, so quietly that he had to lean in to hear you. “Composition. Composition.”

Every single bit of energy Tullia had lent you, you poured into using your Reverse Cursed Technique on Jogo, watching as it ate away at his body, eyes glowing with the reflection of the fiery mountain of his Domain until he regained his composure enough to break free from you, canceling his Domain Expansion and stumbling towards the staircase.

You weren’t sure if he’d make it or not. You weren’t sure if you had used Composition long enough that he had reached the point of no return, or if he’d be able to regenerate again. You weren’t sure about any of that, but either way, there was nothing you could do about it anymore. You had used every last drop of cursed energy that both you and Tullia shared on him already. You couldn’t do anything now; you just had to leave it up to the rest of your friends, hoping that one of them found him before he regained enough strength to become a threat once more.

Crawling over to where Tullia’s body lay, you gathered her in your arms, listening for her heartbeat. It was there when you pressed your ear to her chest, faint but existent, even though her legs were a mangled mess of blood and tissue, her face and arms burnt beyond belief, dried bloodstains like tear tracks running down her cheeks and nose, a puddle formed from where it had dripped from her ears and mouth.

You hadn’t been careful enough. While fighting Jogo, you hadn’t considered how it would impact Tullia. You hadn’t considered anything bar the thought that you could not let him get away. Tullia, who had already endured so much, had been put through even more because of your carelessness, but she was alive. You had beaten Jogo back quickly enough that she had not vanished entirely in the desolation of his Domain.

There was no cursed energy boosting you when you picked her up. Your muscles and legs threatened to give out with every step, but this was your penance, your way of making up for what you had done to her, for how you had destroyed her as thoroughly as Jogo had.

“Y/N.” Her voice was weak and thin, barely more than a whisper.

“Shh, don’t talk. It’ll only make you worse. I’m taking you to where Ieri and my family members are stationed. They’ll heal you, and you’ll be okay,” you said.

“I don’t think Ieri can heal this,” she said.

“Of course she can’t. But my father, or one of my cousins, any of my family members, really, they’ll all be there and they can use Composition, so they can do it. It’ll be okay, so just be quiet and wait until we get there, alright? I know how much you like to talk, so please promise me you’ll be silent until we reach them,” you said. Your legs were howling as you dragged the two of you through what remained of Shibuya, the eerie silence of what should’ve been a bustling place.

“It’s Halloween,” Tullia observed. “I wish we had just gone trick or treating.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” you said, exasperated. “But you’re right, we would’ve been much better off if we had done that.”

“I had so many cute costume ideas,” she said. “Made a whole Pinterest board and everything.”

“We can do it tomorrow,” you said. “Once we’ve unsealed Gojo and he’s gotten rid of everything and everyone, we can all go trick or treating together.”

“That sounds nice,” she said. “I’d really like that.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I would, too.”

You almost collapsed by the time you reached where the healers were located, thankfully without running into any other curses or curse users. Even though your cursed energy was gone, your senses were still attuned to others’ signatures, and you were able to hide away whenever anyone ran past. That was probably the only reason you made it safely, and even then you barely did. Surviving for so long with zero reserves of cursed energy and no one to heal you, and then physically exerting yourself by carrying Tullia so far, all but wiped you out. It was only by sheer will that you made it to where your family stood, your father barking out orders to your cousins so that they were deployed effectively.

“Father,” you said. The entire ward went silent as they took in your appearance. Your family members, the people that had watched you grow up, the ones who still in the back of their minds thought of you as a delicate flower, a beautiful failure, looked at you, and you wondered what they saw.

You were covered in ash like fine dust, Tullia’s blood smeared all over you just because of your proximity to her. Your neck and palms were burnt, your collar and one of your sleeves nothing more than blackened threads. You were littered with bruises and scratches from where Jogo had made contact with you, and to top it all off, you carried a body in your arms. You didn’t look very much like a girl raised to be a silent lady. To them, you probably didn’t look very much like a L/N at all.

“Y/N,” your father said coolly. You set Tullia down on a free bed and then crossed the room, falling into his embrace. He was stiff, but he held you, and though he was not your mother, though he was not Gojo, he was close enough. He was still your father.

“I know — Naobito told me you chose not to come to the exchange event,” you said, clinging to his shirt, the smell of his cologne so familiar, reminding you of your childhood. “Why? Why didn’t you come for me?”

“You should sit down,” your father said, guiding you to a chair and pushing you down. You did not resist, looking up at him beseechingly.

“You’re here now, though, right? You’re going to heal Tullia, right?” you said. Your father glanced over his shoulder at her, and he did not even go over to inspect her before he shook his head.

“She’s beyond saving. We can’t do much for her anymore,” he said.

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, ignoring his protests. “What do you mean? She’s not beyond saving! I could do it if I had the energy!”

“Yes, you probably could,” he said. “You’re a prodigy with Composition, remember? The rest of us aren’t like that. The rest of us can’t do it. So why don’t you heal her yourself?”

“I can’t, either,” you said. “Not right now. I used up the last of my energy fighting one of the special grade disaster curses. She gave me all of hers so that I could win, but that leaves us in this situation.”

“I see,” your father said. You wrinkled the fabric of his pressed shirt in your hands, leaving dirty smudges on the pristine, starched white. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“You don’t have to heal her all of the way. Just a little bit. Just give her enough energy that I can do it. That’s possible, isn’t it?” you said.

“That’s correct. Even the youngest of your cousins could accomplish that much,” he said. Still, nobody moved.

“Well? Get on with it, then! She’ll die if we don’t hurry up,” you said.

“No,” your father said. You froze, cocking your head. Had you heard him incorrectly?

“...no?” you repeated.

“It’s the same reason the L/Ns didn’t come to the exchange event,” he said. “You claimed that you are not one of us. You chose fighting instead of healing. I warned you that there would be a consequence to that decision, and this is what it is. You fought, and now you cannot save a person that you love.”

“Yet you can!” you said. “I understand what you’re doing. You’re deserting me in the hopes that I come back, that I choose to be a healer instead of fighting on the front lines. But, father, I can’t — I can’t heal without her! If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll never fight again, I’ll spend the rest of my life in Noritoshi’s shadow or three paces behind Naoya or whatever else you want from me, but please. You have to save her. Just do this one thing for me, and I will go back to being the daughter you want.”

“None of the L/Ns will lay a finger on her,” he decreed. “Do you understand? This is what happens when people don’t accept their roles in the natural order of things. You tried to rebel against the place you were given, and now Tullia will pay the price.”

“No,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. “Punish me. I’m the one who did something wrong, so punish me for it if you must, but leave her out of it. Please leave her out of it. She didn’t do anything. She saved me, father, she’s saved me so many times that I can’t count it. She is my Composition. I cannot use it without her. You have to save her.”

“If you cannot use Composition without her, then perhaps you are not meant to use it at all. No one can have both. Dissection or Composition; didn’t I tell you that you’d have to pick? You made your choice. I made mine,” he said.

“None of you?” you said, looking at all of your family members. The younger ones turned away in shame, while the older ones held your accusing look levelly. “Not one of you will go against him and save her?”

The only response you got was a lingering, resounding silence. The people that had raised you were turning their backs on you. You understood their message: you were no longer one of them. You were not a healer; you were a fighter. You had chosen your path. They had chosen theirs.

“Get rid of the girl’s body,” your father said. “She’s taking up space. We don’t know when the next injured sorcerer will arrive, especially since I just received word that Sukuna’s manifested.”

“I’ll take her,” you said. “But you will all regret this. I swear to you, I will make sure that you do.”

“Where are you going with her?” your father said. You held Tullia, taking comfort in only the fact that her pulse was shallow but steady, that she was still breathing, though she had long ago gone unconscious.

“If you won’t save her,” you said coldly. “Then I will find someone else who will.”

“There is no one else that can save her,” your father said.

“Actually, there is,” you said. “One person. There is one other person who can do it.”

Your father’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean—”

“I do,” you said.

“Y/N, think this over,” your father said. “He won’t help you.”

“Well,” you said. “It seems that neither will you.”

You were probably the only person in Shibuya that hoped he hadn’t vanished yet. You were probably the only person in the entire world that was actually happy to see him, happy to see those black marks still curled over the face which resembled Itadori’s so greatly. Because it wasn’t Itadori’s, this was as plain as day — even if the markings vanished, you’d still be able to tell the difference between your cheerful underclassman and the King of Curses.

“Sukuna!” you called out. He turned from where he was crouching by Megumi’s side, the expression on his face transforming from rage at your impertinence to rage at simply your being. No, he could not kill you, but it was hard to remember that in his presence, hard to remember that he still needed you for something.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, the name like poison on his tongue, ostensibly because it was a reminder of his first defeat, the time that he had lost to another woman of the same name. “How can you be so bold as to show your face here?”

“I know what you want from me,” you said, putting Tullia down and kneeling before him. Shock flashed across his irises, and his hands twitched, but he did not otherwise react.

“Is that so?” he said. “And what is it that I want from you?”

“A body,” you said. “Right?”

It was while you were using Composition on Jogo that you understood it. You were the only person in the world that could utilize the Reverse Cursed Technique to the extent that you did, so that had to have something to do with what Sukuna wanted from you. But what could a being capable of using his own Reverse Cursed Technique, even on other people, want from that? It was specific to Composition, that was clear.

“A body,” Sukuna said.

“You’ve manifested in a vessel that fights you every step of the way, but by using Composition, I can take someone else and alter them into being exactly the carrier you want,” you said. “Isn’t that correct? That’s why I can’t die yet. There isn’t anyone else in the world who has such potential with Composition, who will eventually have the power to heal someone’s body into another, more evolved form entirely.”

Sukuna was silent. You bowed your head, knowing that what you were offering was foolish and selfish, that you were all but spelling the world’s destruction with this, that in essence you were aiding the King of Curses, the most evil creature in the world. You were telling a monster you’d give him what he wanted, for the sole sake of saving one person.

“Please heal her,” you said. “I’ll give you what you want. I will compose the perfect body for you. If you don’t believe me, then I’ll even make a Binding Vow. Just — just please save her. I can’t do it without her.”

A deal with the devil. The world for your friend. Elakshi was right; maybe love was your greatest weakness. Maybe you shouldn’t ever try to save anyone. But you had to at least save Tullia, who had always saved you, and this was the only way you could do it. Your family had forsaken you. Your reserves of cursed energy were gone and would probably take days to recover back to even their base level. Only Sukuna was left.

“Just as I expected, you don’t know the slightest thing, Y/N L/N,” Sukuna said. Involuntarily, you raised your head and met his eyes, which were as red as the sky before a storm. He grinned at you, his teeth unnaturally sharp like demon-fangs. “I already have the body which I require, so I don’t need to make that kind of contract, with you or anyone else. Besides, how can you expect me to heal that girl?”

“What? What do you mean?” you said. As you watched, invisible slashes cut through Tullia’s body, thousands upon thousands of them so that her remains did not even resemble a person anymore, so that she was nothing more than a fallen heap of blood and cloth and poison sitting before you.

“As you can see, she’s already dead,” he said, and then he burst into a fit of deep, full laughter. You screamed in horror at the sight, something shattering in the back of your mind, in the corners of your soul — the link to Tullia’s energy, which you had come to depend on, was gone forever, and this time, it wasn’t coming back. Nobody could heal her now. There wasn’t even a her anymore, just scattered pieces of what had once been one of your best friends.

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw up, convulsing from the strain, your very body rejecting what had just happened. She shouldn’t have died. You should’ve saved her. There should’ve been some way, some manner in which she could’ve lived. When there was nothing left in your stomach, you dry heaved until you couldn’t breathe, and then blackness crept into the corners of your vision.

The last thing you felt before you passed out entirely was a taloned hand grabbing onto the back of your neck and the familiar sensation of teleportation. You were dimly aware of being thrown beside someone else, and then there were shouts — Ieri? Your father? You didn’t know — and then there was nothing. Blissful, calm, blank nothing.

[gnrbitch]

Does she have alcohol? pt2

warnings: None!

(Contraband is the name of Y/ns band btw!)

a/n: Album name (choose whichever album you want!)

——

Los Angeles, California

Y/n and her band mates never kept the promise of hanging out with Slash, being too busy doing shows around the US and promoting their record.

Contrabands album, a/n had exploded in the months after its release. So that means Slash was seeing Y/ns face everywhere he went, making quite difficult for the guitarist to shake her off his mind.

And Slash was annoyed, not at the fact that Y/ns band got famous, he frankly didn’t care. He was annoyed at the fact that everyone else was able to come across her, except for him.

I mean how was that even possible? He thought to himself as he looked at a magazine with a photo of Lars and Y/n. Had she forgotten about him? Or did she just think he was weird? Slash thought. Maybe he just wasn’t as lucky, or maybe, he should’ve just asked Lenny for her phone number when they were at the studio.

~

The club was dark, Slash didn’t even know why he was here to be honest. Well he did, Duff had offered to pay for his drinks if he went out with them. So there they were Slash, Duff, Matt and Gilby sitting in a booth drinking. Obviously the other boys had some girl under their arms, but not Slash, he had just broken up with Renee in hopes that he would come across Y/n and finally be able to take her out. And he really didn’t have any interest in another girl if it wasn’t Y/n.

“Look who it is!” A male voice called out. Slash looked up from his drink to see James standing there along with all the other guys from Metallica… and the guys from Contraband. “Hey man!” Duff said “…Hey aren’t you the guys from Contraband?” he continued drunkly pointing at Sydney, Sammi, Benny and Mikey. “Yea man, we are” Sammi said, also pretty drunk. “Well shit! I love the record guys” He laughed.

“Sit down man” Slash spoke to the guys, now internally panicking at the fact Y/n might be here. Do I smell bad? Do I look good? Is my hair greasy? When was the last time I showered?

“Yea man let me just- hold on” “Y/N OVER HERE!” Sammi yelled to the bar. Slash had never turned his head so fast in his life.

And there she was, drink in her hand, flared leather pants, and a muscle shirt on. And the closer she got to them, he noticed she didn’t have a bra on. And he felt hot.

“Hey guys, i’m Y/n” she said, giving that pretty smile that had been in Slash’s head. She walked over to Slash’s side of the booth and sat next to him.

“Hey Slash” she said, putting the same emphasis on his name like she did the last time. “How have you been?” She said, leaning over so he can hear over the music. Slash smiled, letting his eyes roam her face before answering. “I’ve been good”, his eyes landing on Y/ns lips. “Even better since i’ve been seeing your face everywhere”

This made Y/n smile, which made Slash smile, cause god he loved to see her smile. “So seeing me on a magazine is better than the real thing? i’ve got to say im offended Slash.” Y/n said, giving him an overly exaggerated offended look on her face, obviously trying to hide her smile. Slash licked his lips before responding “See i didn’t say all that, maybe if I knew where to find you I could’ve seen ‘the real thing’.”

“um… do you guys know each other?” Gilby asked suspiciously looking at the pair, this was the preppiest he’s seen Slash in months.

“Oh yea we go wayyyyyy back” Y/n said with a teasing smile, looking over at Slash. “No way! how come i’ve never heard of this lady then man?” Duff said with a drunkly look on his face.

“She’s just fucking with you Duff” Slash responded, “We met when I went to New York to work with Lenny.” Duff and Gilby gave them a little “ohh” , and Slash’s attention was right back on Y/n.

“Where to find me? I’m every where baby” Y/n purred, answering his response from before. “Comon Y/nn, don’t make this hard on me” Slash said giving her a pleading look. Y/n smiled “Fine. Just for you though”. She took out a lip liner from her bag and grabbed a napkin, writing her number on it.

“Call me tomorrow morning” she said handing Slash the paper. “Why tomorrow morning?” He asked, finding it weird that she wants him to call her at such a specific time.

Y/n smiled, “Cause I wanna talk to you, obviously”

Slash looked over her face again, happy with her response.

——

Here’s part 2!!! hope you guys liked it 💟

[akariamai]

Interview

Summary: You admit on live television your old childhood crush on Bruce Wayne.

Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1014

You waited for your name to be called up towards the stage; being invited to The Tawny Show permitted your nerves to spike. It wasn’t the first time you were interviewed, in fact you did them for years promoting the projects you’ve been a part of. However, there was something about being backstage of The Tawny Show only cemented the reality of your rise to stardom.

“Please give a warm welcome to surprise guest [Reader].” Tawny’s voice rang out and you mustered as much self-confidence as you could before elegantly walking towards her idol. Tawny gave you half a hug before taking a seat on her fluffy pink couch. “It’s so nice to see you. You were phenomenal in your new movie.”

Your cheeks flushed maroon, “Thank you for inviting me. I am overjoyed you loved the movie. The crew poured so much heart and dedication into the production.”

“And it shows, doesn’t it everyone?” Tawny Young turned to her audience, who agreed with the sentiment, “This production wasn’t your first appearance on the big screen, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, “I’ve been in the acting gig for several years now. Smaller roles and such. I’ve starred in several ads for multiple products and been in an assortment of movies and TV shows.”

She hummed in agreement, "You're extremely private when it comes to your background. I've heard rumors that you're a native Gothamite. Gotham Academy was the school you went to, correct? What was it like going to school with such prominent figures of Gotham’s high society?”

You mentioned briefly, “There’s not really much to say. I went to Gotham Academy on a scholarship and usually stayed by my lonesome.” Your peers were not the kindest bunch as you offered no connections to lift them from their current social status. You were raised in the Narrows, an immensely poor and dangerous neighborhood, and were lucky enough to win a scholarship from the Wayne Foundation.

Tawny laughed, “So modest. There must’ve been something from Gotham Academy that’s juicy enough to share. What about childhood crushes?” The room grew quiet as everyone was anticipating the next words out of our mouth.

You thought about the boy you once loved but never pursued. A boy who was too far from your reach and most definitely out of your league. He probably didn’t know you existed during your time at Gotham Academy. Your love for him became a secret only you knew. 

“I did have a minuscule crush on a boy.” You laughed remembering how lovestruck your younger self was. “But I’ve never spoken to him. I was very shy and he was always surrounded by our classmates so I never had the chance to get the chance to talk to him.”

Tawny gasped excitedly, leaning forward to catch the name of your once crush. “Who was it? I'm sure everyone is dying to know.” The uproar of cheers followed soon after from the live audience in the room.

You glance at them for a moment, pondering over the secret you've kept for so long, before redirecting your attention towards Tawny. You no longer felt the puppy love you once held for him but admitting your old crush will bring him unwanted attention. He was already in the limelight at such a young age, born into a rich family and such, but you didn’t want to place more attention onto him nor his family. “Um… I don’t know.”

“Was this lucky fellow Apollo?” Tawny asked, receiving cheers and whistles from the audience. Memories of Harvey Dent narrowly resurfaced as you sparsely had any interactions with the current man. He hung around Bruce Wayne a bunch, establishing her assumption that he and Bruce were friends, but never thought of him as anything more than his past accomplishments and the man he became due to his unfortunate accident. Unease sank into your body as you were aware that once Harvey’s name was mentioned, Bruce’s followed right after. Their names were intertwined with one another.

Tawny’s eyebrows scrunched together, lost in thought of who your younger self fancied, “The Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne? Was he your crush?”

You hoped the blood rushing towards your face was masked by the color of your skin. Wished the topic of crushes was not brought up and left skeletons in the closet alone. There was a brief moment to lie but lying in the face of your fans was not a stance you would take. Your fans were everything to you. They cheered, others not so much, and pushed you to try your very best. Lying was not something you considered lightly. You could only nod before Tawny awed in astoundment and scant amusement.

~~~

Dick Grayson mindlessly found The Tawny Show for a good while before he became obsessed with it. He loved Tawny Young and her surprise guests. It was enjoyable white noise as he focused on finishing the last of his homework. Currently Tawny was attempting to snuff out the childhood crush of her guest [Reader], who appeared to be slightly panicked about the entire affair. It wasn’t too obvious for the average person to notice, but being taught by the world’s greatest detective allowed him to observe efficiently.

Harvey Dent was the first name Tawny named drop. Dick never knew Dent before his accident, only the shadow of the man he once was. His school showcased old photos of the students who previously attended and there he learned of the peculiar friendship Harvey and Bruce once shared in their youth.

“The Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne? Was he your crush?” Tawny asked and [Reader] flushed red before nodding hesitantly. The audience went wild at the thought of [Reader] previously harboring romantic feelings for billionaire Bruce Wayne. Tawny then tried to reel them back into silence to proceed with the interview but by then Dick’s mind began to race. He wondered if Bruce ever knew of the girl’s attraction towards him. The thought of a potential love story brewing in the haze of schoolwork and lunches. It really made the boy wonder.

Masterlist

[katnisspeetaprim]

Who's Your Favourite Pt.4

Hoseok/Actress! Reader

Pevious Part

Summary: Your mom brings up an alarming point...

Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, female reader, reader is from the UK.

Word count: 2649 M.list

It had been a few blissful months since you and Hobi had declared your love for one another. You had been back home for work and audition, and then back to Korea again in that time.

You were home again now and you were currently staying with your mother having not really seen her much in the past year, you thought that you could have a nice time together. When you told her your plan to head back to Korea at the end of the month, she was less than pleased.

‘What do you mean I shouldn’t go?’ You were shocked at her statement, not quite understanding why she would be saying that.

‘Do you not like Hoseok?’ You were almost afraid to ask.

‘How could I have an opinion of him when I’ve never met him.’ She scoffed, taking a long sip of her coffee. You frowned, unsure where this was going. It’s true that your mother hasn’t ever met him or even talked to him on the phone. She didn’t speak any Korean so you never bothered to ask her if she wanted to speak to him. You had tried your best to introduce his character to her though, showing her clips of shows and interviews and the like. She never seemed to have a bad opinion until now...

‘I just find it strange that it’s always you who has to fly to him. Has he even offered to come out here for you?’ You groaned and rolled your eyes.

‘It’s not that simple mom, he is busy right now with promotions!’

‘You’re busy too!’ She argued back, voice raising slightly. ‘ You had to fly back and almost missed an audition because of it. I don’t understand why his career is more important than yours!?’ she was starting to get emotional. You had been working hard and making money for yourself since you were a teenager, and she didn’t want you to throw everything away for some guy you had met not even a year ago.

‘That’s not true! Hobi knows how important my career is to me!’ You snapped back, not willing to believe what she was saying. He had been so excited for you, every time you mentioned something positive happening in your career.

‘Does he?’ she narrowed her eyes. ‘ Then why is he making it hard for you to continue?’ You were silent at her words, eyes focused on you now cold mug in front of you.

‘to me it seems like he’s trying to stop you doing what you love, maybe even isolate you..’ Her voice was soft again, trying to make you understand her point. Tears were falling from her eyes, the thought of her child being controlled in a relationship was too much for her to handle. You were still silent, refusing to meet her eyes. You didn’t want to listen to her, but it was hard to push back the seeds of doubt that she had sewn.

‘What about when it comes time to get a home together? Would he be expecting you to move to Korea with him without argument?’

You silently excused yourself, refusing to answer her last question. You frantically locked yourself in your childhood bedroom so you could think.

Why would Hobi want to stop you from working? Surely your mom was just looking to much into this. He loved you, right?

You didn’t want to think about him that way but the more you thought, the more you realised. The few times you had gone to Korea, there were at least a few opportunities you had missed out on or at least had to be pushed back. You felt the blood drain from your face as the intrusive thoughts filled your mind.

You were due to go back to Korea at the end of the month, but now you were filled with anxiety at the thought of going back there...

You glanced at the time on your phone.  It wasn’t too late in Korea, Hobi had been telling you that he was trying to get early nights so he could be fully rested in the mornings. But you had to hear his voice, needing to get clarification about the whole situation.

You found his contact in your phone. Your finger hovered over the call button, hesitating for a moment before taking a deep breath and just pressing call. He picked up on the 3rd ring.

‘Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight!’ His voice was chipper as usual, not expecting the way this conversation would go.

‘I’m not interrupting anything am I?’ You tried to sound as calm as possible when you asked.

‘I was just about to go to bed, get an early night as I’ve been trying and failing to do.’ He joked.

‘Y/N?’ He spoke again when he got no reply from you.

‘I was thinking Hobi, about when we see each other again.’ You spoke slowly into the receiver. Just spit it out already and get it over with! You thought to yourself harshly.

‘I was just wondering if this time you would want to come here instead?’  You nervously twiddled your hair, waiting for his response. He was quiet on the other end, making you internally panic.

‘I haven’t booked a plane ticket yet so it wont be an issue, plus my mom really wants to meet you!’ You quickly blurted out in a panic. He was still silent. OH GOD. Was your mom right?

‘Hobi?’ You spoke timidly.

‘Sorry jagi, I’m just checking my schedule. We’ll have to push it back a few weeks if that’s ok, but then I’ll be free for at least 3 weeks!’

‘Really!?’ You felt your whole body relax, relief flooding through you.

‘You really don’t mind coming here? And meeting my mom?’

‘Of course not, why would I?’ You could sense the frown from the tone of his voice.

‘No reason...’ You mumbled, not wanting to get into it now that you knew the truth.

‘Jagi...Has someone said something to you?’ He dared to ask.

‘It’s nothing.’ You sighed.

‘Please jagi. If someone has upset you then I want to know.’ He pleaded, pushing you for an answer. You felt guilty for doubting him but it wouldn’t be fair to keep this from him, so you relented, explaining everything that your mom had said and how she made you feel.

‘I’m sorry I let her get to me Hobi.’ You sighed down the phone, feeling silly now that you were actually saying it all out loud. You knew deep down that that isn’t him.

‘Have I really been doing that?’ His voice wavered. He was clearly upset and you couldn’t blame him after how much information you just dumped on him.

‘I swear to you jagi, I never meant any of that!’ He was trying to hold back tears, but failing as he though about how badly he had treated you and he didn’t even notice.

‘Hobi please don’t be upset. I know you didn’t mean it. I’ll  tell my mom it was just miscommunication and she will understand.’ You tried to reason with him, wanting him to understand how you really felt now.

‘Do you mind if I call you tomorrow Y/N? I just don’t feel great anymore...’ He didn’t call you jagi... That was the first time he hadn’t used it since he started..

He was able to calm himself long enough to stop his tears, but your heart was still shattered at the fact that you had upset him for basically no reason. You knew it was probably for the best to let him go for the night, speak tomorrow when you are both much more composed.

‘Yeah if that’s what you want. I love you Hobi, please try and get some rest.’ You tried your best to comfort him, though you knew it didn’t work.

‘I love you too.’ He simply replied, before promptly hanging up. You looked at your phone in disbelief, heart aching.

‘Fuck!’ You screamed, throwing your phone across the room, before curling up into a ball on your bed, silently crying yourself to sleep in the middle of the day.

You stirred awake hours later with a pounding headache. It was about 5pm so it would be the early hours of the morning in Korea right now. You were contemplating getting up, when there was a gentle knocking on your door. Your mom let herself in when she got no response. She took one look at youe dishevelled  state and rushed to your side.

‘I heard you earlier, but thought it would be better to give you space...’

‘Mom I think I screwed up everything.’ You sobbed into her side. ‘After what you said I called and asked him to come here, and he agreed right away!’

‘Well isn’t that good? That I was wring?’ She asked softly whilst frowning, not sure why you were upset.

‘That’s the thing!’ You exclaimed, shocking her as you pulled away.

‘He knew something was wrong so I had to explain. He was so upset mom, I don’t know what to do now.’ You tried your best to calm yourself down, but it was difficult. Your mom looked on with wide eyes, thinking about her next words carefully. She had only bought it up originally because she noticed a pattern, and the last thing she wanted was her daughter getting taken advantage of.

‘I’m sorry he’s upset but I don’t regret saying what I said.’ She spoke confidently. Your head snapped to look at her, glare etched onto your face.

‘What?’ You seethed.

‘If he was trying to control you and I noticed, I would never forgive myself for staying silent. You are my daughter and I prioritise you over everything else.’ You listened to her words carefully, understanding why she did it but it didn’t change the fact that your relationship could potentially be over.

‘Listen. If he loves you like you say he does, then I’m sure everything will be fine.’ She placed her hand over yours on the bed.

‘Yeah.’ You nodded, trying to convince yourself more than her.

‘Just give him the day and call him tonight. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to talk.’ She gave you a sad smile before she got up, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You needed to try  and get your mind off Hobi. Thinking about him all day wouldn’t be healthy. Determined, you went ahead and sat over at the desk in your room and opened your laptop. Maybe doing some work and finally getting back to your agent about things you had put on hold would do you some good.

Over the past few hours you had been working none stop with your agent, going over offers that had come in and even set up a few auditions for some smaller roles here and there. It was an amazing feeling, being recognized for your work and you didn’t plan on giving it up any time soon.

When you finally pulled back from your laptop with a sigh and a stretch, you realised that the room had become dark around you. A quick glance at the clock showed the time to be 1am. Thanks to falling asleep earlier that day, you weren’t even tired now.

You picked up your phone and opened Hoseok’s contact debating weather or not to call. It would be past 9am now over there but he hadn’t contacted you yet. In case he was busy, you settled for  texting over calling.

Y/N

Hey, I hope you’re feeling a little better. Do you have time to talk now?

You just wanted to get this over with, go back to the way it was between the two of you, but to do that you needed to talk properly.

A few minutes had passed and you were starting to loose hope that he would reply, since he usually replies right away if he was able to. Your phone suddenly started buzzing in your hand. You picked it up immediately.

‘Y/N? Isn’t it really late there? You need rest.’ Your heart warmed when you heard his worried tone. Hopefully this meant he was willing to listen to you.

‘I’m fine.’ You whispered, conscious of the fact that your mom was probably sleeping.

‘I just really think we should talk sooner rather than later.’ He sighed down the line but agreed none the less.

‘I have calmed down a lot but I’m still upset that you could think that of me Y/N...’ His voice was steady, you could tell he was trying hard to keep his composure.

‘I know Hobi and I’m sorry. Just after what my mom said...’ You paused, trying to find the words. ‘I couldn’t get what she said out my head and I feel terrible but I had to ask.’ Keep it together, you thought to yourself. Getting upset won’t help anyone.

‘I’ll never forgive myself for doing that, even accidentally Y/N. And the fact that I’ve disappointed  your mom before even meeting her... Ah it’s all a shit show.’ He chuckled dryly, making you grimace.

‘Hobi. Don’t say that. You could never disappoint her.’ He scoffed at your, not believing your words. She’s just worried about me. I am her only child after all.’

‘Yeah.’ He didn’t know what else to say. This was the first time since meeting each other that things had become awkward. Sure you had had minor disagreements over regular couple stuff, but this tension between you was awful.

‘Listen Hobi.’ You sighed as he remained silent.

‘If you still want to come here for me, then that will show my mom that she was wrong.’ You spoke slowly but confidently. Hesitating wouldn’t get you anywhere right now.

‘And I know for a fact she will love you once she get’s to know you!’

‘...Are you sure?’ He asked once your words sank in.

‘Yes! All us Y/L/N ladies are suckers for a guy who can make us laugh, so you have nothing to worry about!’ You smiled as you heard a feint laugh come through the phone, glad you were able to to at least make him smile if nothing else.

‘Shall I book the flights for when I’m free then?’ He asked, effectively moving on the conversation.

‘Yeah, just send me the dates beforehand and I’ll make sure everything matches up.’ You were happy now that things seemed to be on their was to being fixed.

‘Oh and Hobi!’ You caught him just as he was saying goodbye.

‘I love you!’ You let out in a sing song voice, causing him to chuckle.

‘I love you too jagi.’

It had been around 2 months since that phone call. Things were still a little awkward around the subject, so he’d rather you didn’t bring it up at all, which you agreed with. There was no point in dredging things up when it made both of you upset.

Today was the day that Hoseok would be flying out to you for the first time. Now it wasn’t his first time in the UK, but it would e his first time visiting your home town, so you desperately wanted things to go well. You were currently getting your home clean and tidy, as well as prepare a delicious meal for him and your mom, who would be joining you that night. Any minute now she would be arriving to help you prep. You had already warned her the previous night about playing nice with Hoseok and not bringing up the subject. Maybe you should remind her...

*ding ding*

Your phone suddenly went off.

Hobi

Plane just landed! I hope this drive isn’t too long, I just want to hold you again!

And so, operation meet the parents is a go...