#anyway please let me know if you read any of these

[pathologicalreid]

what goes bump in the night | s.r.

in which Spencer's struggling with violent nightmares after prison, and you find yourself on the receiving end of his tossing and turning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: reader gets whapped in the face. don't like don't read, please. blood, prison arc, black eye, a lot of guilt. therapy. word count: 1.89k a/n: (this wasn't a request but shout out to the anon who told me i had to repost this after i deleted it) this is some dark shit but i have to admit i do think about the possibility a lot. take care while reading my loves.

Several years in the BAU had inadvertently trained you to wake up at any slight movement or noise. While some might call it paranoia, you considered it to be a finely tuned skill.

Spencer didn’t sleep talk before prison, and even now, he only mumbled in his sleep when he was having a nightmare. Normally, he didn’t move, he just tossed his head around and begged for whoever he was seeing in his nightmare to just hold on. Tonight was different, he sounded like he was pleading for someone to leave him alone, and he was thrashing more than usual.

You knew there was a risk of waking him, but you reached out and gently shook his shoulder anyway. “Spence,” you whispered, not wanting to hurtle him out of his darkened dreamscape.

There was no response. No sign of him coming even close to waking up.

His thrashing became worse, and his mumbling became even less intelligible like something was covering his mouth in his dream. Reaching out from your side of the bed, you tried to grab his hand, hoping it would be something that he could use to ground himself. Gripping his hand, you said his name again, more forcefully this time.

The pain didn’t even register at first. The first thing you recognized was the sensation of having something stuck in your eye, a small twinge in the outer corner that sent your hands flying to the side of your face.

Oh.

With your uninjured eye, you looked up to see Spencer, awake. Breathing heavy, sure, but awake. Very slowly, his breathing slowed, but he had seemingly forgotten that he was sharing a bed with you until you felt liquid trickling from your nose and scrambled to the bathroom before you got blood all over the sheets.

His wide eyes followed your shadow through the bedroom, putting the convoluted puzzle pieces together as he came out from under his nightmare-induced fugue state only to find a different type of panic. You faintly heard him curse and rustle the sheets as you shut the bathroom door harder than you intended.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your right eye was tearing up as a result of the impact, and your nose was trickling blood down your face. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, you pressed them to your nose, blinking the tears from your eyes to the sound of your heart beating through your chest.

Spencer knocked on the bathroom door, followed by a larger thud that you assumed was him leaning his head against the door. “Can I come in?”

You tried not to sniff, hating the sensation of your nose being covered, you responded, “It’s your bathroom.” Your tone was far too blasé, and Spencer was going to see through it immediately.

“That’s not what I asked,” he told you, a slight tone of desperation ringing through. You knew what he wanted to know; he was asking if you were comfortable with him being in the same room as you – if you’d feel safe with him in the same room as you.

Leaning your head back, you took as deep of a breath as your body would physically allow you before you answered, “Yeah, you can come in.”

Before you had even finished speaking, Spencer had opened the door to the bathroom, letting the light stream into the bedroom, “Fuck,” he murmured when he saw you, “Hey, don’t lean your head back. You don’t want the blood to run down your throat.”

“Okay,” your voice quavered, watching him lift his hands like he wanted to guide your head down until he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands – he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. Leaning over the sink, you let coagulated blood fall from your mouth, watching it go down the drain before you looked up at Spencer, who watched on in horror at the mess he had created. “Can you grab more tissues?” You asked him, giving him a job to busy his idle hands.

Instantly, Spencer grabbed a handful of tissues and held them out for you, within your range of motion. Still leaning over the sink, you took the new tissues and held them to your nose, haphazardly dropping the soiled tissue in the basin beneath you. “I don’t… What-“

Cutting him off, you spoke, “Do you still have those ice packs? The first aid ones from last year,” you made a new request, giving him a job to perform so that he wouldn’t apologize to you. He’d apologize until he was blue in the face, but you still wouldn’t know how to respond.

He nodded, crouching in front of one of the cabinets and filtering through a first aid kit, hoping to produce a disposable ice pack for you to place near your eye. With the timidness of a newborn foal, Spencer set the plastic on the counter next to you.

Your boyfriend watched as you carefully peeled the tissues from your face, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, only to quickly replace the tissue when you noticed a trickle of fresh blood making its way down your philtrum. “Aren’t you supposed to pinch it or something?”

“Yes, you can pinch the bridge of your nose to staunch the bleeding,” Spencer said, grabbing your discarded Kleenex and putting them in the garbage bin. He watched intently as you reached up your free hand to pinch your nose, “Does… does it hurt?”

Giving him a quick shake of the head, you met his eyes through the mirror, “I don’t think it’s broken,” you told him, avoiding answering most of his question.

He loosed a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” he murmured, keeping an eye on you as you wondered how terrified he must have been to invoke the name of a deity he didn’t believe in.

Once you were finally able to drop the last of the tissues in the sink, you were faced with an even worse reality. There was no way of escaping the black eye that you already had forming, the tender skin would be further marred with time. “I think it looks worse than it actually is,” you offered meekly, reaching to your side and grabbing the ice pack off of the counter. You popped the center of it before wrapping it in a towel that Spencer had set out for you.

Holding in a hiss as the towel touched your face, you allowed your eyes to wander across the rest of your body. Your shirt had drips of blood on it, but the larger issue was red encrusted all over your face. With the urgency of a sloth, Spencer took a different towel from the drawer and ran it under the tap, wringing it out before holding it up, “May I?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, thankful for your newly cleared airway as you extended your neck, giving him the access he needed to wipe the blood from your chin and neck. “Spence-“

“I’m so sorry,” he interjected, his movements faltering as he let his hand drop to your shoulder.

You shook your head, crinkling the icepack in your hand, you blinked rapidly, hoping to clear your vision. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” you told him, it was the truth. He had obviously been having a violent nightmare, and you grabbing him had likely triggered a fight or flight response.

Spencer sighed dejectedly, “I burst a blood vessel in your eye. I’m so…” his voice trailed off in the middle of his sentence, leaving you unsure whether he was going to apologize again or go off on a self-deprecating tirade. “I hit you,” he breathed, abruptly yanking his hands away from you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Setting the washcloth on the counter, he put his hands up in surrender and stepped away from you.  

Leaning against the bathroom counter, you wished for an inkling – anything you could say to him that would prevent his auto-villainization. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Saying you hit me sounds so…”

“Wrong? That’s because it is,” he said harshly, and you could almost see the storm of self-loathing that was brewing in his mind.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on the icepack before looking up at him, “but it makes it sound like it was intentional. You didn’t hit me, you… thwapped me.”

Spencer loosed a shaky sigh, “I’m not so sure that’s better.”

“Would you prefer bonked?” You proposed, looking at him and hoping for a small smile, but being disappointed when you were met with the same haunted expression. “It was an accident,” you insisted, reaching out your unoccupied hand and taking his hand in yours, “I am fine.”

He scoffed dismissively, “I should have had a better handle on myself.”

You frowned, “You were asleep, Spence. You couldn’t have had a better handle on yourself. It wasn’t on purpose, and you’re taking care of me now,” you told him softly.

“But you’re scared of it happening again,” he challenged you.

When he had come home, you knew he had been changed. Not necessarily for the better or for worse, but he was most certainly changed. You had heard everything in bits and pieces, what had happened in Millburn, what had happened with Cat, but nothing had prepared you for the harshness of your new reality. He was capable of harming others, but that didn’t mean you thought he’d hurt you again. “You’re disappointed in yourself, but you don’t believe you get to feel that way. You’re projecting onto me,” you told him, taking your hand back.

Spencer flinched back, “Don’t profile me.”

“You, Spencer Reid, would never knowingly lay a hand on me,” you insisted, you believed it. You believed it even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The two of you sat in an angst-filled silence before he stood up straight, gently starting to usher you into the bedroom. Handing you a t-shirt from your drawer to change into, you could see his internal struggle as he grabbed a pillow from the bed and made his way toward the door.

Despondently, your shoulders slumped forward, “Where are you going?” You asked softly, hating to watch him leave your shared bedroom over this.

“I’m sleeping on the couch. I’m gonna… I’ll try to set up a meeting with my therapist in the morning. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you with wide, sad eyes, “You’re okay?”

Your heart ached at his voice as you nodded, opening your arms for him and letting out a sigh of relief when he returned to you for a hug. Reaching your free hand behind him, you rubbed his back comfortingly, “We’re going to make it through this, mark my words.”

He nodded in affirmation as he pulled away, “For my own peace of mind, I’ll sleep on the couch for a while.”

You accepted it, knowing that he needed to deal with this in his own way, he closed the door behind him, effectively leaving you alone. Laying back on the pillows with your icepack still clutched to your face, you sighed, wondering how long it had been since your boyfriend felt any semblance of peace of mind.

[fairyhaos]

◈ love of my life // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: technically requested by lots of people bc everyone wants jeonghan fluff, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, crack, mutual pining, almost-confessions

warnings: light swearing

summary: in which your relationship with jeonghan isn't exactly platonic and isn't exactly romantic... but rather, it's a secret third thing.

It has to be at least two in the morning when Jeonghan's ringtone blares throughout his bedroom, and he rolls over with a groan, grappling blindly at his nightstand before finding his phone and pressing it against his cheek. 

“Who is this and what do you want?”

“Jeonghan, let's go on a date.”

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come. 

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not four in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have. 

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved. 

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face. 

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs. 

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow. 

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you. 

He isn't. 

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

 Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile. 

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself. 

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you. 

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[gojos-version]

Best friends?

Pairings- Y/N x Satoru Gojo

Summary- You and Satoru are best friends and got into a very interesting (and lewd) activity! Endings soft.

Warnings- Smut, mating press, pet names (sweetheart, baby, princess), kissing, tummy bulge, porn without plot (kinda)

Word count- 525

Proof read ✅

a/n- HIIIII I had alot of fun writing this, i was thinking of doing smut with plot but decided not to and yes i made this at 4am 🥺🥺anyways this is my 2nd fic! Feel free to drop any requests <33 my inbox is open :)

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

Friends weren't supposed to fuck each other. They weren't supposed to enjoy it this much. 

But it's hard not to enjoy it when Satoru's hips are ramming into yours with a lewd plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! Your eyes unfocused and bleary as he continued his merciless thrusts. "F-fuck! S-so good- shit!" Satoru whimpers into your neck, one hand holding your hip to stabilise it and the other on top of your tummy right where you can feel him deep inside of you. The tummy bulge making itself prominent with each thrust he slams into you. Your legs burn as you hold them to your chest to feel him oh so deep inside of you. You feel your eyes roll back into your head and your back arching, "S-satoru- s-slow down- a-ah!" You almost scream out. "S-shit she's so loud, listen to her" Satoru grunts, listening to your wet pussy making the most pornographic sounds you'd find in a fake video. But oh it was so real. Your slick covers both of your thighs and drips on the mattress under where you're both connected.

"C-cant! A-ah!" You moan out, your body feels like jelly all you can do is just sit there and take it. "N-no baby, please hold on- please- f-fuck!" Satoru cries out into your neck. Heat feels both of your bodies as you get closer and closer. Something snaps making Satorus thrusts somehow even faster. "I-im g-gonna! S-satoru-!" You scream out gripping his shoulders. "Yeahhhhh atta girl, come for me..let go you can do it- shit!" He hisses feeling himself on the brink. And oh it feels so good. So right but so wrong. But at this moment you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Your body feels like it's on fire, like electricity shooting throughout your body as pleasure overtakes all your senses. "I-i'm! O-oh! S-satoru-" you gasp out, clenching around him as you feel yourself give into the white pleasure taking over. Your eyes roll back and shut seeing white, as you start shaking. You don't even feel Satoru finish inside of you for the nth time tonight.

"S-shit baby are you okay?" Satoru whimpers out, holding you close to him. You open your eyes and blink foggily at him, he kisses your forehead chastely. You wince as he pulls out softly feeling his cum drip out of you. There was so much of it, it was almost like a pool. "Let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart." You feel his body leaves yours but he's back before you know it, cleaning you off. "I'll run a bath for you, alright princess? Then we can rest." Satoru says, looking up at you for confirmation and you nodded your head softly. After he runs the bath, he picks you up bride style and slowly puts you in the bath, sitting behind you and massaging your hair. It feels too good. He was your best friend but right now it feels like you're more than that. You probably are after having sex, right? You feel your eyelids close as you hum softly. Maybe being more than best friends wouldn't be so bad.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊ੈ

Masterlist <3

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 7

Authors Note: GUYS my laptop crashed last night I am SO SORRY! But now its out and ready for y'all to read it...this chapter is lowkey like a filler episode but it was necessaryyy! Also y'all are so funny messaging me after I posted that this chapter would be up in 2hrs and then I was MIA, LMAO! Anyways, I LOVE Y'ALL <3 lemme know how you like it :)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary : After battling with multiple special grade curses, y/n spends some time in the hospital so Shoko can run some tests to get to the bottom of the burning question: what was that cursed energy? With all of these thoughts swirling around y/n's head, she decides to discuss the incident with Gojo.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: mention of d*eath, nightmares, pain, protective satoru

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Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @simplyyyuji; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; if you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know by leaving a comment :)

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat. “For the safety of all sorcerers, y/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”

A silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. Yaga’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white. Utahime’s face was pale, her jaw set in anger and disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re going to kill her for something she hasn’t done? Based on hearsay from a cursed spirit? This isn’t justice—this is murder!”

Gakuganji’s gaze didn’t waver, and his words didn’t hesitate. “This is protection.”

Yaga’s voice was a low growl. “This is cowardice.”

Utahime stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she turned to Gakuganji, eyes blazing. “Do you really think Gojo is going to stand by and let this happen? You’re sentencing her to death, and you know damn well he won’t allow it.”

Naobito’s smirk widened. “Let him try. No one is above the rules. Not even him.”

Yaga stepped forward again, fists trembling with barely contained rage. “This isn’t over. There’s still time to change your minds.”

But Gakuganji remained unmoved. “The decision is final. The execution will proceed as ordered.”

Yaga’s shoulders sagged, a mixture of anger and helplessness washing over him. Utahime stood frozen, eyes filled with disbelief, before she turned and stormed out of the room, unable to bear it any longer.

As the doors slammed behind her, the weight of their decision settled over the room like a shroud. Yaga stayed behind for a moment, his eyes burning into Gakuganji’s, before he finally turned on his heel and left.

The clock was ticking. And now, the countdown to your execution had begun.

—

Gojo was walking down the hall, on his way to meet with the second-year students for training. He was flipping through something on his phone when Utahime turned the corner in a hurry, her face twisted with anger and urgency.

"Satoru!" she shouted, her voice sharp and breathless. "We need to talk. Now."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "Utahime, is there a spider in your equipment locker?" He teased her, not yet understanding the severity of the situation.

Her glare could cut through steel, but there was no time for banter. "They’ve ordered y/n's execution."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His smile faltered, slipping away completely as her speech sank in. His heart did a sharp, painful pang in his chest, the kind he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Execution. 

For a split second, he said nothing, and Utahime watched his playful facade crumble as the realization settled in. His eyes widened with fear as his emotions bubbled up inside him.

“They—what?” His voice was dangerously low now, barely concealing the anger simmering beneath. His fingers curled tightly into fists, drawing blood which dripped onto the wooden floor. “Who?”

"Gakuganji. The higher-ups. The clan leaders. They’ve decided she’s too much of a threat, and they have sentenced her to death—by the end of the week," Utahime replied, her tone desperate but harsh. "I came to tell you as soon as they decided. We have to do something, she doesn’t deserve to die…"

Gojo’s mind raced, but the burning anger inside him was sharper than anything else. "Of course, they did," he muttered, and forced a bitter laugh. "They really think they can get away with this again, don’t they?"

Utahime watched him closely, worry flickering in her eyes. "You can’t just charge in there, Gojo. You need to be smart about this."

Utahime’s words still rang in his ears—execution—but all he could see was red.

He had faced cursed spirits, fought beings that would bring terror to most, but the idea that they thought they could kill you? That they believed they could take you from him—from this world, was nothing short of absurd.

His mind was made up. He wouldn’t waste time marching down corridors—with the clap of his hands, space bent around him. 

The familiar sensation of teleportation washed over him, and in a blink, the meeting room came into sharp focus. 

—

The room was exactly as Utahime had left it earlier—Gakuganji, Naobito, and the other higher-ups still seated, discussing plans that would never come to actuality. 

They barely had a moment to react before Gojo materialized before them, his presence sucking the air out of the room.

The tension was immediate. 

All eyes snapped to him, the weight of his overwhelming power pressing down on every corner of the room. Gakuganji, seated at the head of the table, locked eyes with Gojo, his face hardening.

"Gojo," Gakuganji began, but Gojo cut him off.

"You made a decision without consulting me. You actually think you can kill her?" Gojo’s voice was ice, sharp and dangerous. His sunglasses were now his hand, and his anger-filled eyes scanned the room.

Naobito shifted in his seat, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "You’re too late. The decision is final. Even you—"

"Shut up, idiot." Gojo snapped, his voice a razor's edge. His gaze was cold and unyielding. "You think this is about rules? You think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you people are all cowards, I’m not worried about dealing with you."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, like the calm before a storm. The pressure of Gojo’s Infinity (which he was amplifying on purpose) began to fill the space, growing heavier, suffocating, pushing down on the higher-ups until they could barely breathe.

Gakuganji, for all his pride and authority, felt it too—a bone-deep fear creeping up his spine.

"I’m not asking you to reconsider," Gojo continued, his tone terrifyingly calm. "I’m telling you. This execution order? It’s not happening. If you try to go through with it, I’ll personally make sure that none of you live through that day."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Naobito, usually one to revel in conflict, remained quiet, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest of his chair.

Gakuganji’s voice, however, remained steady, though there was a hint of something less certain beneath the surface.

"Gojo, you’re walking a dangerous line. You may be powerful, but even you can’t defy the entire jujutsu world! The consequences—"

"Consequences?" Gojo let out a bitter laugh. "You really don’t get it, do you?” 

His words lingered, thick with intent, and the threat was real. Everyone in the room knew it. 

Gakuganji, Naobito, all the higher-ups—they may have held their positions for years, but no one, not even them, was foolish enough to believe they could challenge Gojo and come out alive.

For a moment, Gakuganji held his ground, his gaze locked with Gojo’s. 

But Gojo didn’t flinch. His cursed energy was a crackling storm, barely contained, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. One wrong word, one defiant move, and he would obliterate them all without hesitation.

"You may be strong, Gojo," Gakuganji finally said, his voice low and measured, "but strength alone doesn’t make you invincible. Y/n is dangerous. If her power continues to grow unchecked—"

"Her power isn’t the problem here," Gojo interrupted again, stepping forward. The very air seemed to ripple around him, warping with the sheer force of his presence.

"You’re just scared of what you don’t understand. But killing her won’t solve anything. You did the same thing with Okkotsu and Itadori. How has that been working out for you, hmm?"

Naobito scoffed, but even he didn’t meet Gojo’s gaze.

"And what would you do, then? Let her walk free while her cursed energy spirals out of control? What happens when she becomes a threat to all of us? We don’t even know what she is—A special-grade curse addressed her directly, that will not go unnoticed!"

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening.

"I’ll deal with her. Not you. Not any of you cowards. Me." His voice dropped, lower and more menacing than before.

The room grew even quieter, the weight of Gojo’s declaration pressing down on the higher-ups like a physical force.

"And if you do not cancel, or at least defer her execution?" Gojo continued, his smile returning, but this time it was pure danger, laced with the promise of violence. "I’m siding with y/l/n."

He turned and began walking slowly towards the door. Before leaving, he paused, casting one last look over his shoulder, his voice dripping with promise.

"Consider this your only warning. Try to execute her, and there won’t be a Jujutsu world left to follow your orders."

And with that, he left the room.

—

Gojo stalked down the hallway, the echo of his footsteps drowned out by the whirlpool of thoughts crashing in his mind. 

The faint light from the overhead lamps reflected off the polished wood floors, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls, but Gojo was lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the world around him. It was rare for him to be in this state—this quiet, this uncertain. 

For someone as powerful as him, doubt wasn’t something he entertained often. But now, that doubt gnawed at him, an insidious presence that had wormed its way into his mind.

Execution. By the end of the week.

The words rattled around in his skull like a curse of their own, echoing with a cold finality he couldn’t shake.

No matter how many times he tried to reason his way out of it, the same truth remained: they had sentenced her to death.

You.

He let out a sharp breath, his chest tightening painfully as his mind spiralled. 

Gojo was many things—arrogant, cocky, reckless—but he was not naive. He knew exactly how the higher-ups operated. He had dealt with their politics, their cowardice, their obsession with control for years—he dealt with Itadori’s execution sentence and Okkotsu’s…But this? This was different.

His usual air of ease and invincibility felt strained, replaced by a heaviness he wasn’t used to carrying. The decision of the higher-ups was gnawing at him, and for the first time in years, he felt... uncertain.

As he rounded the corner, lost in thought, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Satoru?"

The soft sound of his name pulled him from his thoughts, and his heart skipped a beat as his worried eyes met yours. 

The way you said ‘Satoru’ just now, gentle and familiar, struck something deep inside him. When his eyes met yours his heart fluttered again—-there you stood, your eyes bright, practically sparkling in the dimly lit hallway.

He felt a pang in his chest that caught him off guard like a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until now. But your gaze—those sparkling eyes—seemed to hold the light, a warmth he hadn’t truly appreciated before. 

‘When did I start noticing such small things about her?’ He thought to himself.

The smile he plastered on was instinctual, a façade to hide the turmoil inside. "Hey," he greeted, his voice lighter than how he felt. "What brings you here? Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?"

But you weren’t fooled, not even for a second. Your eyes narrowed, observing him with that sharp intuition you always possessed, though a soft, breathy laugh escaped your lips. "Hey…is everything okay? You looked like a dear in headlights for a second there."

Your words pierced through the casual wall he had built up, and he felt exposed under your gaze.

You could read him too well. It didn’t help that this was the first time you’d crossed paths since that moment on the bench, heightening the already charged tension between you.

He tried to brush it off, letting out a short laugh. "Wrong? Nah, everything’s fine. I’m just, you know, dealing with the usual—saving the world, being ridiculously good-looking, that sort of thing."

Another breathy laugh left your mouth. Your eyes softened as your gaze met his again, your presence grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. "Are you sure? Please don’t lie to me—there is already so much going on…"

For a moment, Gojo stood there, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat.

His instinct was to shield you from the truth, to protect you from the weight of what was looming ahead. But looking into your eyes, he couldn’t lie to you—not about this. 

His smile faded, and for the first time, you saw the worry etched in his expression.

"The higher-ups," he started, his voice quieter now, "they’ve made a decision. One that... involves you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but the concern on your face grew. "What do you mean? What decision?"

Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"They’ve ordered your execution," he said, the words heavy on his tongue. "By the end of the week."

The hallway seemed to grow colder as the gravity of his words sank in. Your eyes widened, the colour draining from your face as you felt your stomach drop. 

"Execution? But... why? I haven’t done anything—"

"I know." Gojo’s voice was firm, his gaze locking with yours again.

"This isn’t about what you’ve done. They’re scared of what you might do, what your power could become. It’s all paranoia and fear—they do this a lot—and they’re using it as an excuse to get rid of you before they even understand."

You took a shaky breath, and your hands trembled slightly. "And—um—you’re telling me this because...?"

"Because I won’t let it happen," he said, stepping closer, his voice growing sharper with intensity.

"They think they can decide people’s fates like this—this is the third time they've tried to dictate when someone’s life ends, and I’m done with it. I’ll protect you—those cowards can’t beat me."

For a moment, you just stared at him, your emotions swirling beneath the surface—fear, confusion, but also trust. 

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I believe you."

Gojo felt that pang again, a deeper one now, knowing what he had to do to keep you safe. The stakes were higher than ever, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure how this would end. But as long as you were involved, he knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t let you face this alone.

And he wouldn’t let them take your youth away.

—

The night was still, but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. You sat at the edge of your bed, the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting pale shadows on the walls. Every thought seemed to tighten the knot in your chest. 

‘How could I stop this?’ You thought, with your execution day looming over you like a dark cloud, suffocating every plan you tried to form. Running wasn’t an option… was it? 

You clenched your fists, your knuckles white. Each idea seemed to spiral into a dead end, no matter how much you turned it over. 

Could you appeal to the higher-ups? Or should you run before the inevitable happened? Each option left you trapped—an inescapable fate drawing closer as your chest began to tighter with each failed idea.

Finally, exhaustion weighed heavy on your eyelids, pulling you into sleep. But sleep wasn’t an escape—The nightmare returned.

This time, it was different—darker, more vivid. 

You were back in the forest, the same one from that night. The air was thick, suffocating, pressing down on your skin like a weight.

Soon enough you felt the pain creeping in slowly, building in the pit of your stomach until it felt like fire burning through your esophagus. You stumbled forward, struggling to breathe as the searing heat spread through your limbs. But then… you saw him.

The figure from the dream wasn’t a blur anymore. His face was clear.

He wore a long, dark robe, his black hair tied back loosely. His appearance was calm, almost serene, but there was something sinister in the way he carried himself.

His robes shifted slightly in the wind, the wide sleeves brushing against his side. A slow, sickening smile spread across his lips, the kind that sent a chill down your spine.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by the pounding in your head, the pain radiating through your body. It felt like your bones were cracking under the weight of his presence.

The agony became unbearable, and you screamed—high and desperate.

Your eyes flew open, and you shot upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat.

The scream had escaped your throat, ragged and raw. Your body was trembling uncontrollably, the phantom pain still lingering in your spine as if his cursed energy had left its mark.

Before you could steady your breath, there was a knock at the door, sharp and urgent.

“Y/n—are you alright?”

Gojo’s voice, usually playful, was unmistakably laced with concern. The sound cut through the haze of terror clinging to you.

You sat frozen for a moment, heart pounding in your ears, your mind still caught between the nightmare and reality. The pain, although fading, still clung to your nerves. You heard the knock again—firmer this time.

"Hello there? Y/n? I'm coming in."

"Uh—No! I'm okay!" You stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and Gojo stepped into the dimly lit room, his figure casting a long shadow on the floor.

His usual air of confidence followed him in, but there was something different this time. His bright blue eyes, often filled with mischief and amusement, now gleamed with concern as he took in your state—sitting on the bed, drenched in cold sweat, body trembling from the remnants of the nightmare.

“Satoru! I could have been naked!” You shouted at him.

“I couldn’t be so lucky,” he joked, but his tone quickly changed,

“You just screamed bloody murder, I doubt you’re okay, and with this whole execution thing, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He said softly. Without waiting for permission, he closed the door behind him and walked over to your side, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I… I had one of those nightmares again. That's all,” you whispered, your gaze shifting down to your trembling hands. It felt ridiculous to admit, but the dream had shaken you to your core, and no amount of forced composure could hide that. That pain…

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. He crouched down beside the bed, bringing his face level with yours. His presence, as overwhelming as it always was, somehow brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the lingering haze of fear.

"You’re still shaking," he noted quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What was it about? The same thing as before?"

You hesitated. How could you explain? You didn’t want to admit the truth—the figure, the pain, the overwhelming sense of dread that had seeped into every part of you.

You didn't want to sound weak or paranoid, especially not in front of Gojo. But then again, this was Gojo—he had a way of seeing through you no matter how much you tried to hide.

“It was… him. The same man from the forest,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I could see him. It was clearer, and the pain—God, it felt real.”

Gojo’s expression shifted slightly, something hardening behind his eyes, though his voice remained gentle. “What did he look like?”

You swallowed, the memory flashing vividly in your mind. “He was wearing a dark robe, his black hair was tied back. His eyes—they were so cold, almost… empty. He looked at me like I didn’t matter, like I was nothing.”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Gojo remained silent. He stood up slowly, his hands slipping into his pockets, as though he was trying to make sense of what you had just said.

The moonlight caught his profile, casting his expression in shadow, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

His silence unnerved you. You weren’t used to Gojo being anything but playful and brimming with confidence. This quiet, almost contemplative version of him sent your mind spiralling further into doubt.

“Gojo?” you ventured softly, your voice fragile in the stillness.

His eyes flicked toward you, sharp and calculating, as if weighing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and serious. “This man—he’s not just in your nightmares, is he?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t wanted to admit it—not to yourself, not to anyone. But Gojo’s words peeled back the thin layer of denial you’d been hiding behind.

“He… he feels real,” you whispered, the confession trembling on your lips. “Every time I dream about him—-the forest, it doesn’t feel like just a bad dream.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. "And the pain?"

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “It feels like it's happening all over again, like he’s reaching into me, twisting something inside. I don’t know how to explain it… but it’s more than just a dream.”

Gojo took a slow, deliberate breath, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his proximity grounding you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, deep in thought.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, unsure if you even wanted to ask the question. “Do you think it’s a curse? That he left something behind?”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering over his temple as if trying to dispel a headache. “It’s possible,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “If he’s who I think he is, then this isn’t just a nightmare. It’s a memory.”

Your breath hitched. “A memory? You think this is real? The the man—and this pain?”

Gojo finally looked at you, his expression hard, more serious than you had ever seen him. “Y/n. If he marked you in that forest, then this pain, these dreams—they’re not coincidences. He’s using them to get inside your head—-causing you to relive memories.”

The thought made your blood run cold. "But why?"

Gojo straightened up, his eyes flickering with something dangerous, something protective. “I don’t know yet. But don’t worry, nothing will happen to you any time soon.”

His words should’ve brought you some comfort, but the weight of it all pressed down harder. “What if this is beyond even you?”

Gojo’s expression softened, but there was a steely resolve in his voice as he replied, “Y/n, I know it feels overwhelming. But remember, I’m the strongest.” He leaned closer, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “No one can touch you while I’m around. Trust me.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, the conviction in his tone wrapping around you like a shield. 

But—no matter what he said, you couldn’t shake away the overwhelming emotions you felt rising in you. Nothing you did could stop the hot tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

You looked from your lap up to his icy blue eyes, your own filled with the tears threatening to fall. 

“Satoru…I’m so scared.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper in fear of it breaking as tears began to roll down your flushed cheeks. 

For all his bravado and playful banter, seeing you in distress ignited a protective fire in his chest.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern. He leaned closer, taking in the way your eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the quiver in your lips that spoke volumes. 

In that instant, he was reminded of humanity—of how fragile life could be—how easily joy could be overshadowed by fear. It was a feeling he often masked with laughter and teasing, but now, facing you, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern.

“Hey, hey,” he said, brushing a thumb gently beneath your eye, catching a stray tear.

“It’s okay to be scared, but you have nothing to worry about with me around…”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at his reassurance and your skin burning under his touch.

His closeness was intoxicating, each heartbeat echoing in your ears as you focused on the way his gaze held yours, a mixture of intensity and something deeper.

Gojo's thumb lingered a moment longer, the connection between you crackling with unspoken words. There was a tension that thickened the air, a magnetic pull urging you closer despite the chaos swirling around. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the familiar scent that grounded you yet made your pulse race.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, almost husky tone that made your breath hitch. “No one is going to touch you. Not now, not ever.”

The way he leaned in just a fraction more, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin, made your heart pound louder.

“I don’t want to die.” You confessed, your voice shaking, and more tears fell from your eyes. The admission hung in the air, raw and exposed, filling the space between you.

His gaze intensified, and for a moment, you could see the concern etching deeper lines on his face.

“You won’t,” he assured you, his tone fierce yet tender. “Not on my watch.”

Gojo’s smirk returned, hinting at his playful teasing, but beneath that was an intensity that promised more. He was strong, powerful, and yet here you were, baring your fears to him, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet safe. 

You wanted to pull back, regain control, but the moment was intoxicating—everything around you fading away, leaving only the depths of his blue eyes and the promise of something more.

He leaned back, a cocky grin returning to his face. “Besides, did I mention I’m the strongest?”

Your heart fluttered at his confidence. “Yeah, I how could I forget.” You said, letting out a small laugh.

“Good! Now, wipe those tears away!” he said with a playful look plastered on his face.

“I’m going to be up for the next while, so if you need someone to sleep wiitthh you, just yell for me.” He said before walking out of your room with a small wave. 

As the door clicked shut behind Gojo, a mix of warmth and anxiety settled in your chest. You hugged your knees, feeling the weight of your fears creep back in, but his words echoed in your mind—’Trust me.’ 

Clinging to the flicker of hope he had ignited, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you weren’t alone in this fight.

With that thought, you closed your eyes, letting the promise of his protection guide you into a restless sleep.

—

The next morning dawned heavy with an unspoken tension. You walked beside Gojo as you made your way to the rendezvous point—an abandoned shopping mall on the outskirts of the city.

The rising sun cast long shadows across the crumbling structure, its shattered windows reflecting fragments of light onto the cracked pavement.

The once-bustling space now stood eerily silent, a shell of its former life. Broken glass crunched beneath your feet, and the distant groan of metal filled the heavy air. But it wasn’t the mall's haunting emptiness that had your nerves on edge.

It was the conversation ahead.

Gojo’s usual carefree attitude seemed slightly subdued as you both walked in silence. The steady rhythm of his steps beside you was the only thing grounding you in the moment.

You could feel his presence like a buffer against the dread curling in your stomach, that unspoken tension between you two hovering just beneath the surface.

It was a quiet intimacy that neither of you acknowledged, but it was there—palpable, real.

Without a word, Gojo’s hand brushed lightly against your back as if offering reassurance—an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.

His touch lingered, warm and solid, sending a wave of comfort and something else—something deeper—through you. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he.

His fingers grazed your spine, then slipped lower to rest against the small of your back, his hand staying there, the weight of it subtle yet unmistakable.

The gesture was almost protective as if reminding you that he was there, and no matter what happened, you weren’t alone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears.

As you continued walking, Gojo slowed down beside you, his hand sliding from your back to rest lightly at your waist. The contact was brief but intentional, his fingers curling just enough to hold you close. You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him.

Gojo had lifted his blindfold without a word, the black fabric slipping up to reveal his piercing blue eyes, startling against the morning light. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. 

His expression, usually so teasing and carefree, had softened, and in the intensity of his eyes, there was something deeper—something unspoken that made your pulse quicken.

Neither of you said a word. There was no need to.

He gave a soft, almost wistful smile before letting the blindfold slip back into place, the casual mask he always wore settling back over him like a second skin.

His hand lingered at your waist for another fleeting second before he finally moved it away.

The moment passed, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you reached the central atrium, you spotted the others—Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, joined by Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. 

Their expressions were somber, eyes scanning the area as if expecting trouble. They had sensed something was wrong when Gojo called for a private meeting at such an unusual location.

Yuji raised a hand in greeting, his usually carefree smile missing. "Hey, y/n. What’s this about, Gojo-sensei? You’ve got us all gathered like we’re about to face a special-grade curse or something."

Nobara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as they flitted between you and Gojo. "Yeah, spill it already. This place gives me the creeps."

Maki remained silent but alert, her arms folded tightly over her chest. Panda and Inumaki exchanged glances, their postures tense as if bracing for bad news.

Gojo stepped forward from your side, his tone deceptively light despite the gravity of the situation.

"I won’t sugarcoat it. This isn’t a mission. It’s about her." His gaze flickered briefly back to you before scanning the group. "The higher-ups have ordered her execution."

The words hung in the air like a curse, and you felt the weight of the moment press down on you as all eyes turned your way.

Yuji’s eyes widened in shock. "Execution? What for?"

Nobara’s voice was sharp with outrage. "What the hell? Are you serious?"

Maki’s eyes narrowed as she pieced it together. "This is about that cursed energy inside her, isn’t it?"

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight. "I…I think so. I can feel it in me—it's like a separate entity that I can’t fully control." Your voice wavered slightly as you met their stares.

Panda’s calm voice cut through the rising tension. "So, what’s the plan? There’s no way we’re letting them go through with this."

Gojo smirked, though the usual playfulness didn’t reach his eyes.

"That’s where you all come in. We need to figure out how to get the higher-ups off her back. Either convince them she’s not a threat, or we buy enough time to find another solution."

Nobara clenched her fists, fire in her eyes. "Screw convincing them. Let’s just storm the place and tell them where they can shove their execution order."

Maki snorted and rolled her eyes. "That’ll go over well, Kugisaki."

Before anyone else could respond, a sudden, oppressive wave of cursed energy washed over the mall, freezing the air. 

The sheer force of it made your breath hitch, an ominous pressure settling over your chest like a vice. Even Gojo tensed, the usual carefree ease in his posture evaporating as he lifted his head, sensing the disturbance.

Megumi stepped forward, his demon dogs stirring, responding to the dark energy. "That’s not normal. Its presence is overwhelming."

Yuji’s reaction, however, was the most telling. His face had gone pale, and his fists clenched at his sides as he whispered, "It’s him…"

You barely heard the words, but the look on Yuji’s face—the fear in his eyes—told you everything you needed to know.

Nobara reached for her hammer, her grip tight. “Who the hell is it, Yuji?”

Yuji’s voice shook as he spoke, his eyes locked on the darkened hallway ahead. "Patchface. He’s here."

The cursed energy surrounding you wasn’t just powerful. It was dark, malicious, and suffocating. The air felt thick with malevolence, pressing against your chest as if daring you to move. 

Suddenly, your vision swam, and the world seemed to warp for a second. You blinked, your heart racing, and then—you saw him.

That grotesque figure, pale and scarred, with that same patch of disfigured flesh sewn over his face like a grotesque mask. He stepped from the shadows, his smile sickly and twisted, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

“Ahhhhh, perfect, perfect, just perfect!” The patchface curse’s voice was sickeningly joyful, his tone unnervingly light, like a child about to unwrap a gift. 

“I get to fight my natural enemy, Yuji Itadori, the famous Satoru Gojo…” He paused, his eyes darting to you, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“And you… the new experiment…I don’t think I can touch your soul…but oh god, I wonder how your soul feels, y/n y/l/n,” he purred, his voice dripping with twisted curiosity. “Oh, this will be so fun!”

His grin widened, and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of something darker, something far more dangerous than his playful demeanour.

His gaze flitted between the group, but it kept landing back on you.

“Let’s see how well you break.”

[vishnavishivaa]

Heartbreaking Memories

I wondered if I should edit this small OS after I had written it, but realized that you all deserve to read this the way I wrote it. It is raw, and it came entirely from the heart.

*************

Shiva quietly watched Sati fretting across the landscape of Kailasha, not saying a single word, even as She was starting to rage. He understood Her fury, but this was not a time to let it fester. It was not even the time to be angry, but yet, this had to happen. This pain that His Sati was going through had to happen, and it tore at His heart, tore His very essence, as it is. While He would rather shield Her from all pain, Shiva knew well that being Jagadambika also came with that caveat of having to go through all of this, as had been ordained before the very beginning.

"Swami, I want to go to my father's house."

Shiva sighed quietly within, and shook His head, deciding to try and persuade Her from going. He wanted Her to stay, but what had to happen will happen. Sati had seen all the Devas, Gandharvas, Yakshas, all celestial beings, flying past with their families, joy evident in their mien. Being the curious person She is, Sati had enquired from Her elder sister Rohini what festival was happening, and had heard the truth. Now, She was insisting on going to the one place She had not been invited to.

"Sati, I don't think you should go," He said gently. It was not right as well, given that there had been no invitation. Seeing Her looking irritated, He quickly continued, "My love, we have not received any invitation from your father. It would not be correct to go under these circumstances."

"Swami, that is my father's house," Sati responded adamantly. "I want to go and ask him why we were not invited. How can any sacrifice be done without you?"

"Sati, please understand. You cannot go, my love. It is not right to go anywhere when we aren't invited; even if it is to your own father's place."

"Swami, I grew up there, I spent so much time there. Please Swami, let me go. I want to ask why Pitashree did not see it fit to invite You, who are the Lord of all the Universes."

"Daakshayani, how does it matter? Everyone is mine anyway. Even if not offered to me, it is still offered to me," He explained affectionately. "There is nothing in this Universe that is not mine and there is nothing in this Universe that is mine."

"Swami, please do not confuse me with your words. Give me permission to leave. This is about my honour, for that is what You are. I need to ask Pitashree why he chose to exclude you."

"Daakshayani," Shiva sighed and got up from His position, knowing She had decided to be stubborn, given the mulish expression that adorned Her charming face. Even that expression was enhanced due to it being visible on Sati's moon-like face, He thought, walking towards Her and holding Her by the shoulders, gently kissing Her forehead.

"I will send Nandi and the Ganas with you," Shiva said quietly, hugging Her once, His heart thudding within Him. He could only hope now, for what was written could not be undone.

***

Shiva froze, when He felt a shot of energy enter Him. He sat up straight, closing His eyes as He felt Sati's fury of destruction enter Him. He realized that Daksha had pushed Her too far, and the raw energy in Her form had awakened, now taking a lesson of almost everyone there. He could feel His limbs trembling, and He gave in to it, for this was His Sati.

For Her, anything would He do.

He could feel Sati's Aadi Svarupa, that of Sarvaloka Aadi Shakti, growling in fury and talking, but all He could sense was pure numbness from within Him. Tears sprung in His eyes, as He knew the tragedy that was about to happen, and yet was helpless, unable to prevent it. This was Her Leela, and it would be wrong to interfere.

In a flash, flames enveloped His Sati, and Shiva felt them envelop Him as well. He allowed the burning fire to dance around Him, as He felt His Sati's energy return to Her Mula tattva, and Her body collapse.

His chest was filled with the horror of what His soul had witnessed, and He felt a cry tear from within Him, a new feeling to Him. He opened His mouth, His howl of pain tearing the fabric of the Universe He Himself had created, as tears slowly made their way down His cheeks, as He felt His other half leave Him in the form of Daakshayani Sati, dissatisfied with the father She had chosen.

"SATI!"

His wail had caused the Universe to tremble, caused planets to move off their axes, turned Universes upside down, and yet, all He could do was let out painful bellows, one after the other. His Sati had left Him, and nothing could ever be the same again.

*****

This memory was the first one that had filled Shiva the moment those beautiful eyes fell on Him. The young woman of barely thirteen, yet entirely Aadi Shakti, now stood next to Her father. Those dark orbs that were beyond any Universe now gazed at Him with a resplendent devotion that His heart's strings tugged hard. He knew who She was, for She had always beem Him more than He Himself was. Her lively gaze, the soft smile on Her lips, and the awestruck expression on Her face reminded Him of Sati, heartbreakingly so. And yet, there was an entirely new aspect to this form of His Shakti, one He felt He would see as time went by.

Shiva steeled Himself. This was going to be a hard journey, for Parvati and more so for Himself.

'Your pains will be mine, and all the fruits will be Yours, Uma. For You, I will do anything.'

********

@ahamasmiyodhah @mahi-wayy @yehsahihai @theramblergal @krsnaradhika @ramayantika @achyutapriya @thegleamingmoon @nidhi-writes @houseofbreadpakoda @hum-suffer @kanhapriya @kaal-naagin @krishna-priyatama @willkatfanfromasia @celestesinsight @arachneofthoughts @idllyastuff @mahaswrites @braj-raj @krishna-sangini @krishna-premi @chaliyaaa @tripurantaka Please please let me know what you all think. I want your feedback!

[gothic-thoughts]

Hello! 👋🏾 Your knight!Ghost and Princess!reader was so fun to read｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

If you feel like it, Could you do a continuation? Like where ghost escorts her through the village because she kept complaining about it( and maybe they do something semi-public, like in the carriage or any alleyway)

Or maybe something risky in the palace, or just furthering their escapades in her bedroomJust some ideas!

I write too, so I get if you're not inspired by this or if you are and it takes a while lol

just hope it sparked some ideas(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

All of them did thx sm 🙏🏾💙💙 I made this story a lot deeper than it was 😅😅 long story incoming

Part 1 is right here, but it's not required to read this tho

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The Truth

Ghost Riley x Black Fem Reader Angsty Smut

MDNI, Virgin!Reader, Princess!Reader, Black Knight!Ghost

CW: a lil angsty corruption kink??, semi-public smashing (castle library), afab parts, talking through it, fingering, riding

Word Count: 2525 (give or take)

Even after Ghost touched her in the bathtub, the Princess was still hellbent on seeing the fountain near the village entrance or the village in general, and not just from her balcony. The Black Knight wasn’t verbally rejecting her request anymore, opting to stand there with folded arms and cold eyes.

"What the hell is so special about that damn fountain, anyway?"

“I don't know! I’ve seen people throw coins into it after making a wish and I have to try it! It’s unfair!”

"What’s unfair is you being so hellbent on getting yourself killed. Are you in denial at how dangerous your town is?”

“Ugh, now you sound like my father; it's our village, why would my people want to hurt me?”

He raised his eyebrows as his eyes widened.

"You...think... the people in this village actually care about you?"

“Um, of course they do.” She laughs, backing up, “Did you forget I’m the princess? They may not know me to love me, but they surely care.”

"Oh they care alright— they care how easy you’ll be to rob... or worse.”

“Oh please, Simon, that’s a bit dramatic.”

“The moment you walk out there unprotected, they'd rip you apart. Just be thankful you haven’t been caught by anyone out there when you sneak out."

“I don't believe that...”

"You don't believe it?"

“No.”

“Jesus, your father’s a worse King than I thought. Makes sense he’s an even worse father.”

“Hey! He may be a pain, but watch your tongue.”

“I’ll watch my tone when he goes back in time and tells his daughter what people do when they’re desperate, especially the people in this town. Because I can tell you holding people for ransom, robbing and even killing is never off the table— they might even do it for fun.”

“Simon, stop!”

He laughs, “You know what, I’ll teach you myself. Maybe there’s a book in the library on betrayal and human nature.”

“You mean any book in there that I somehow haven't read a thousand times?”

“Let’s go, it'll give you something to do besides complain and piss me off all night."

Ghost steps out of the way to reveal the door across her room, gesturing for her to take the lead, allowing (Y/n) to lead. Once in the library, the Princess walked through the biology books, calling out everyone that she’d read already— and she was right, it was most if not all. They then moved to the history book aisle, her fingers skimming past all the books' spines while her guard followed close behind silently, watching.

“Find anything yet?”

She groans, turning to face him. “Of course not, maybe because I read all these already! Ugh, besides some of them are missing.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean missing?”

“These books have been lost for forever, I think.”

“And nobody has tried to look for them?"

“I don't know, my father told me they went missing around the time he became King.”

“Around? Lost? What could've possibly happened to these books for them to just disappear?"

“I don't know, perhaps they were lost in the move...”

He almost laughs, "Lost in the move?"

“Don’t laugh! He’s not of royal blood, he was elected in by the old King before he passed!”

“Oh, I know; the biggest news in the land was when a common blacksmith took his place.”

“Simon—” 

“But you’ve never seen a bookstore, so you wouldn’t know that most books don’t look like...” He gestures to the golden spines on the shelves, “...This. So a common blacksmith couldn’t have bought them.” 

“I... I-I don’t know! I never really noticed or thought about until now... I was too young and they’re just books so I never asked again...”

"Good, you're learning.”

“Why would he hide books...?”

Ghost crossed his arms, giving (Y/n) a look as if it were a rhetorical question.

"Do you really have to ask? There is a reason he keeps you in this castle, isolated and dumb like this."

She blinks, “...Because I'm young...?”

“Because your father knows what those villagers are capable of."

“But all the times I snuck out, the few people I met were nice... They had to have known, the only I don't wear is my jewelry.”

"Why’s that?”

“In case something falls off while I'm sneaking out and leaves evidence to my routes...”

He chuckled, "You may be craftier than I initially thought."

“I'm naïve, not stupid.”

The Princess starts to walk to the bookkeeper’s desk to see if the books are over there, impressing Ghost with her newfound determination. She climbs over the desk and crouches under to look for the books and to her surprise, there is a stack of missing books sitting right where the bookkeeper would be standing. She gasps and grabs them, standing back up to place the 10 books on the desk for Ghost to see while she reads off the titles.

“So, she...” (Y/n) trails off, “The bookkeeper knew about this too...”

"Do you trust her?”

“I trust all the staff... at least I did.” The Princess gasps, “That's why he hired you to watch me— cuz a Black Knight wouldn't be as lenient with me as a palace guard.”

He smiled and uncrossed his arms. "You're catching on, Princess. Well done."

“Should I read them...? I feel like it maybe too much information, especially in one night.”

“I could give you a summary of what might be in those books.”

“What, then tell me!”

"Do you really want to hear my thoughts, Princess?”

“Yes, all of them, everything.” 

“You aren't going to like it.”

“That’s probably why it was hidden from me, isn’t it?”

The Princess carefully jumps back over the desk and adjusts her nightgown before walking over to the lounging area of the library, causing a sly smirk to slowly form on his lips somewhat amused by her eagerness. She sat on the couch closest to the fireplace while Ghost stood in front of the couch opposite of her, silently gathering his thoughts before walking closer to (Y/n)’s sitting form.

"Your people are not kind." His boots thumped as he walked closer, “You're smart to sneak out at night because not only will the guards bring you back, but your townspeople are some of the most aggressive, opportunistic people I've ever encountered."

(Y/n)’s smile fades, eyes widening as they search his eyes for any sign of a joke.

"Maybe it was the King before your father or the one before that, but your father has yet to try to do anything about it.”

“Well, he—” 

“And he won't." He knelt before the couch and looked her straight in the eyes, "And you know how I know?"

She swallows thickly, shaking her head. Ghost leans closer, his hands gripping the arm of the couch as he leans forward.

"Because in the time he became king to right this second, he had a goddamn daughter that's now 20 years old.”

Her jaw dropped with a sharp inhale. Her eyes slowly drifted to the floor where he was crouching, heart panging as a sick feeling of guilt bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

“He had over 2 decades to do something about the people in this town— but didn't. And now here you are, sitting in this palace not knowing a goddamn thing about the place you're meant to rule.”

“He wouldn’t, he’s just... He....”

“Now, I don't blame you, how could I? You're the only one who's in the dark about all this because he doesn't want his ‘precious daughter’ hurt.”

“See? He cares... about me at least...” 

“And I don’t doubt he was going to keep this from you until you became Queen to make it your burden."

“What, no... My father—”

“Planned on teaching you nothing before shoving you into your new position? That's why I hate him-- that's why I could give a damn about consequences, ‘cuz there are none. Not even for touching his daughter in her bathtub."

(Y/n) gasps, looking back up with wide eyes and a burning face, the sight forcing an amused smirk to appear under the Black Knight’s mask.

"Oh don't look so horrified.” He rested his hand on her thigh, caressing the inside just like he did in the bath, “Remember, you tried to seduce me first."

Her thighs tremble, closing under the blue silk of the sleeping gown, “Then you already got your revenge; you don't have to taunt like this.”

"I'm not taunting you, Princess. Merely telling you all my thoughts, just like you asked. And I do so enjoy how easy it is to get a rise out of you.”

He continued to rub his hand along her inner thigh, a sly smile under that skull mask of his.

She scoffs, “But when I do so, it's wrong...”

"You need to be careful how you go about things, Princess.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Yes. For example, your method of 'accidentally' forgetting your towel is a very subtle tactic and if I was one of your stupid palace guards, I would've fallen for it. But mine...” He suddenly gripped her thigh firmly and separated it from the other, making her gasp, “Is much more direct.”

“Then.... You should teach me more...”

He chuckled softly and shook his head, his hand started to slowly slide further up her thigh, “And what makes you think I'd be willing to teach you a goddamn things like this?”

“Because you're the only one that's taught me anything.”

He paused for a second to think. 

"Put your legs on my shoulders and lean back."

“R-Right now?”

“No time like present. Especially, we’re less likely to get found.”

Looking down at him, the Princess slowly leans back on the couch and places the soles of her feet on him, the chill of his armored shoulders making her shiver. He smiled under his mask as his hand slipped under her gown to trace small circles on the inside of her thighs. He slowly lifted the silk over his head and pulled her hips closer to the edge of the couch cushions until he was sure she couldn't see his face before finally tugging his mask under his chin. She gasps when he tugs her underwear to the side before gripping the armrest of the couch at the feeling of his warm, plump lips wrapping around her tiny bud.

Ghost’s tongue gently caresses sensitive clit in circles in a way her fingers have never done. She looked down at her dress where his head was with a slack jaw in shock at his ability to make her feel this good already. His fingers were one thing but this was another. Every lick and swirl of his tongue was another whine or squirm from her, causing Ghost to grip her thighs even firmer.

“O-Oh my gods... How are you...?”

“Hush... Shh...” His voice was muffled, his mouth refusing to stop, “Just feel...”

“But it’s too good... I don’t know what to do...”

She could feel her smirk against her folds before sucking harder until her legs tremble as they try to close around his head. Try. He closes his eyes as he angles her hips upward to be able to push his tongue inside, slurping and flicking her insides with soft grunts from under her sleeping gown. (Y/n)’s hips buck and stutter until she finally cums with a yelp of his name.

He retracts his tongue from her and watches her cunt pulse while listening to her pants and gasps from inside the silk. He then drags his tongue across her folds one last time, cleaning off her excess slick before pulling his mask back up and standing up to nonchalantly sit next to her quivering body. She pants, turning her head to aim her glassy eyes at him. 

“Wh-what now?”

“Now...” He slowly undoes his belt, “You’re gonna sit on my lap and give yourself some pleasure.”

“But I thought the man was supposed to be on top of the woman.”

Ghost chuckles, “That’s one way of doing it. But I don’t wanna be too rough on you for your first time so I’ll let you take over. So c’mon, you’re wet enough.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widen as his hand reaches into his pants and pulls out his hard cock, letting it stand erect from his pants. She takes a deep breath.

“So that’s why you...”

“Ate you out? Part of the reason; it’s also just a way to get you even more turned on.”

The Princess slowly climbs onto Ghost’s lap and straddles him while holding his shoulders to keep her soaking wet cunt hovered above his tip. His chin was angled up, observing how her nervous gaze looked all around, seemingly worried about his size so the knight softly grabbed her hips to get her attention.

“Oi.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Relax... Remember, you’re in control and I’m right here.”

With that notion, she slowly lowered herself onto him, biting her lip to keep her discomforting groans from echoing in the library. Her fingers dug into the metal of his shoulder armor as her body adjusted to him—  the slick from her earlier orgasm helping like he said it would and more than she thought. Her face contorted in displeasure, her eyes shut tight from every inch but suddenly fly open when his cockhead hits something inside her— something his fingers and tongue hit, but somehow even better. The Black Knight stifles his laugh with a groan.

“You felt that huh?” His voice drops to a whisper, “Hit it again.”

With the guidance of his hands, the Princess lifts and drops herself on his cock, hitting her spot over and over again and understanding what he meant by giving herself some pleasure. Her eyes flutter shut again as she creates her own slow, steady rhythm up and down on his lap, her ass lightly slapping against his thighs with each drop. Ghost groans, making her open her eyes in time to see his head tilt back on the couch with his own eyes shut.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better....” He pants, “Never fucking better, just keep going.”

“Can I go faster?”

“Fuck, please yes.”

Her hands grip his shoulders harder and she bounces faster, whimpering at the way his thick, veiny shaft drags against her walls. His pants come through his mask, making his hands tighten on her hips. The Princess leans forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder to which he pulls her closer, pressing their chests together. His arms wrap around her and his hands hold her ass cheeks to help her bounce faster, their grunts and moans softly echoing off the walls along with the slapping crackling of the fireplace. It wasn’t long before her hips started to grind back and forth on his lap to fight off the growing pressure in her body.

“No, keep going. That’s a good thing.” He murmurs, loving the fluttering clenches around his cock, “A great fuckin’ thing, keep doing that ‘til you’re done.”

“What about—”

“I’m the teacher, all you gotta worry about is keeping that pretty voice down.”

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(a/n): sorry its so late loves, I got a cold and then a job lmao🤣😂

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 6

Chapter summary: They say drunken words are sober thoughts, and Joel is about to hear all about yours.

A/N: Hello hello, HE wednesday is back!!! Im so excited about this chapter, it might be the longest one so far. I wanted to wait until i had chapter 7 completed before i posted this but I can’t wait any longer for y’all to read this, i appreciate the comments and reposts you guys have been giving me SO MUCH, it fills my heart 🤍 anyways enough yapping, enjoy!!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Alcohol consumption.

Series masterlist

You're halfway down the cereal aisle, arms full of groceries because, as usual, you convinced yourself you didn’t need a basket. Just a few things, you thought—when have you ever had that kind of self-control?

You shift the items in your grasp, trying to keep them from toppling over, when you hear a voice behind you

“Oh, bless your heart, need some help with that?”

You turn to see a blonde girl about your age, her smile warm and her Southern drawl as sweet as honey. She’s holding a basket in one hand and offering you the other

You chuckle, a little relieved. “Please. I thought I could manage, but I clearly overestimated myself.”

“Here, take mine,” she says, handing you her basket. “I’ll grab another.”

Before you can thank her, she’s already grabbed a new basket from nearby, her movements quick and effortless.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” you say, feeling the weight lift from your arms.

“No trouble at all,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“—I know who you are,” she cuts in, her smile widening. “Our dads are friends. Your’s always braggin’ ‘bout you.”

You chuckle at that. “Yeah I think he’s mentioned yours too, Bill and Frank, right?”

“That’s them,” she grins. “We live just a few blocks down from your place.” As you both walk down the aisle together, she glances over at you with a curious look. “You just moved back, right? How’re you liking small-town life?”

“I’m… taking it day by day,” you say, half-joking.

“That bad, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

She gently touches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Got any plans this Friday?”

“Not really, why?”

She gives you a grin that could charm the pants off just about anyone. “A few of us are going out. Just some drinks, a few laughs. Maybe a fun night out is what you need.”

You think it over for a moment. Sure, you’ve kept in touch with your college friends, but since moving back, you haven’t really hung out with anyone besides your parents. And, well… Joel.

The thought is enough to convince you. “Yeah, alright. I’m in.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven. You won’t regret it, promise.” She winks and turns down the next aisle, leaving you with a lighter heart and a basket full of groceries.

It took a while, but you finally dug out the perfect black top from the back of your closet. Paired with some flared jeans and a leather jacket slung over your arm, you had yourself a killer outfit.

You hopped down the stairs, hearing the hum of Charlotte’s car idling out front.

“Mom! Dad! I’m heading out now, I’ll be back around midnight!” you call, pulling the jacket on as you reach the bottom step.

Your mom emerges from the kitchen, a towel in her hands, mid-dry. “Heading out where?”

You sigh, already regretting the interaction. “With Charlotte, mom. I told you earlier.”

“Oh, Charlie! She’s a darling. She’s doing the pageant this year, you know? Took a bit of convincing, but she’s a star. I’ve got all my money on her winning. That body, that face—she’s got it in the bag.” Her eyes flick over you then, slowly dragging up and down your own body. “Glad you’re hanging out with her, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.”

You’re used to the digs—decades of practice, really—but lately, it’s been harder to brush off. The grip you have on your emotions feels like it’s slipping more every day.

Still, you hold back the biting retort on the tip of your tongue. Not worth starting a third world war over this.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You turn and walk out the door, heading straight for Charlotte’s car, ignoring the sting of her words as best you can.

The car ride there flies by. Charlotte, despite your previous judgment after your mom mentioned her being a pageant girl, is beyond fun. You do karaoke the whole way there, getting to know each other a bit better in between songs. She’s not just sweet but also insanely smart. She’s finishing up nursing school and has her entire future pretty much planned out. You envy her a little for that last part.

Once she parks in front of the bar, she turns to you and says, “You ready to wild out?”

You laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface, trying to play it off. “Always ready to wild out.”

Stepping out of the car, you smooth down your top and follow Charlotte toward the entrance. The place is a little louder than you anticipated, music spilling out into the night air along with bursts of laughter. It’s a small town bar, but it’s packed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink first!” Charlotte grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd with ease, like she’s been here a hundred times before. You feel the warmth of her energy, the way she confidently navigates the room, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

At the bar, Charlotte orders for both of you, flashing the bartender a bright smile as he hands over two drinks. She passes you one. “Here’s to new friends,” she says, raising her glass.

“To new friends,” you echo, clinking your glass with hers before taking a sip. The burn of alcohol feels like the start of something good, a buzz already settling in.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice cutting through the noise. “So… any cute guys on your radar tonight?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not really here for that.”

“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be someone.” She gives you a teasing nudge, but when you hesitate, her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’ve got a guy already?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and suddenly, Joel flashes in your mind. You try to shake it off, but Charlotte’s quick. She catches the flicker of emotion on your face, and her smile shifts into something more knowing.

“Oh, girl… you do, don’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face heats up, and you take another long sip of your drink to cover it. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte leans in, her smile turning mischievous. “Uh-huh. Sure it isn’t. Spill—who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, feeling a little ridiculous. You came out tonight to get away from these thoughts, not drown in them.

“Complicated usually means interesting,” she says, taking a sip from her own glass. “Is it someone I’d know?”

You hesitate. The thought of saying Joel’s name out loud feels… wrong, somehow. Like it’ll make everything you’ve been wrestling with real, something you can’t just shove aside like you’ve been trying to. You shift in your seat, tapping your fingers against the cool glass.

“Maybe,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “But it’s not a good idea. He’s older. Like, way older.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not judging. “Well, you’re an adult, that shouldn’t be much of an issue. If the chemistry’s there, it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that, he’s also a family friend. I don’t even know if he’d be interested, you know? It’s just too messy.”

Charlotte gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. Messy’s never fun.” She takes a deep breath before flashing you a soft smile. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to feel guilty about liking someone, even if it feels complicated.”

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, absorbing them. You know she’s right, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

“Come on,” Charlotte says, pulling you from your thoughts. She stands, taking her drink with her. “Let’s dance. Forget about the complicated stuff for a while.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, okay.”

You follow her to the dance floor, the thrum of the music vibrating through your body as you try to let yourself go, to let the rhythm take over and drown out the noise in your head.

A little while passes before Charlotte’s friends finally arrive. She spots them first, waving them over from where you're both standing near the dance floor.

“Over here!” she calls out, her voice rising above the music. “Guys, this is the girl I was telling y’all about.”

You turn to see a group heading your way—two girls and a guy, all dressed up but casual in a way. The girls reach you first, both of them with that same easy warmth Charlotte exudes.

“This is Amber,” Charlotte says, gesturing to a brunette with big doe eyes and gorgeous caramel skin.

Amber flashes you a wide grin. “Hey! So nice to finally meet you. Glad you survived a car ride with Charlotte, without any permanent hearing loss, I hope?”

Charlotte gasps, playfully smacking Amber on the arm. “Excuse me, my car concerts are a privilege to experience.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, the karaoke was the best part.”

Amber raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “See? She gets it.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes before motioning to the girl beside Amber. “And this is Josie,” she introduces, pointing to the girl with sleek black hair and striking hazel eyes.

“Hey there,” Josie says, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You chuckle, feeling instantly comfortable around them. Charlotte then glances over her shoulder at the guy lingering behind the girls—a tall, brown-haired guy with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, and this is Alex. He’s Amber’s brother” she adds, nodding toward him.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Alex says, stepping forward with a relaxed grin. “Charlotte’s been talking about you all week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “All good things, I hope?”

He nods, his voice smooth and calm. “All great things.”

His energy is different from the girls—more laid-back—but he’s just as welcoming.

The rest of the night is exactly that—effortless fun. Laughter flows as freely as the drinks, your mind slipping into a peaceful place that you haven’t felt since you got back. It’s a feeling you cling to, desperate to keep it alive for as long as you can. Like being wrapped in a bubble where everything is light, easy, and uncomplicated. You don’t want it to burst.

But eventually, thirst creeps in, and you find yourself craving another drink. You make your way to the bar, Alex trailing behind you.

“You having fun?” he asks, once you both have drinks in hand.

You nod, smiling as you prop your head up on your closed fist. “Actually, yeah. A lot more than I expected.”

Alex chuckles, leaning against the bar, his eyes studying you in that way you’ve seen before—soft but curious. “Well, contrary to popular belief, us small-town folk know how to have fun too.”

His smile is kind, warm. It suits him. You take a moment to really look at him, now that you're out of the haze of the dance floor and the dim lighting. He’s undeniably handsome—those soft features, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. He feels safer, easier. A lot more inviting and open than… fuck.

Even as you take in all of Alex’s best features, your thoughts drift elsewhere. To a man whose presence has been ingrained in your brain for the past month. The way his rough edges make him so different from Alex. How his gaze isn’t soft at all, it lingers like a weight, heavy and consuming in a way that you can’t shake off.

Fuck.

You’re sitting here, comparing this sweet, charming guy to Joel, trying to convince yourself to like Alex more. You should. He’s age appropriate, and your dad would love him. It would make everything so much simpler. But no matter how hard you try, Joel lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to leave you alone. You haven’t been able to escape him, not even with a handsome guy straight-up flirting with you at a bar.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink, lost in the mess of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice pulls you back to the moment, concern etched on his face. “You alright? Where’d you go?”

You force a smile, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” But the truth is, you’re spiraling, and you desperately need air. Suddenly, all the drinks you've downed feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything looks hazy and blurry, and you just need space.

Once the bartender hands you your new drink, you turn to Alex. “I’m uh… I’m gonna go get some air. Would you let the girls know for me?”

Alex looks at you for a second, sensing there’s more to it, but he concedes. “Sure, take your time, I’ll let them know.”

With that, you step outside.

The cool midnight air hits your skin the moment you push through the doors, instantly grounding you, but it doesn’t quite settle the buzzing in your chest. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight that’s been sitting there for weeks.

Joel.

You hate that it’s him filling your mind right now, after everything. You should be enjoying this—cute guy, fun night, no strings attached. But instead, all you can think about is the way he makes you feel.

It’s frustrating, and you’re tired of carrying it around in silence.

You’re realizing now, with an empty glass in your hands, that this last drink might’ve been a mistake. Without fully thinking it through, you pull out your phone and scroll to his name. You hesitate for only a second before hitting the call button. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it goes to voicemail.

You should hang up—calling was a bad decision in the first place—but leaning against the wall of the bar, staring up at the sky, you can’t help the words that spill out.

“Hey…” Your voice is low, slurred with alcohol but steady enough. “I went out with a friend tonight, Charlotte. I’m sure you know her. We came to this small, crowded bar that I don’t feel like going back into, and there was this cute guy, dazzling smile, pretty puppy eyes, you know the kind. God, he used to be my type too—me from a couple of months ago would be screaming to go give him my number. But he was talking to me, and I just… I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. It was like he was missing something, a bit more of a drawl or a patchy beard or kicking me out of his house randomly ‘cause he started touching my leg.” You chuckle softly. “But it’s not just him, Joel, it’s all of them. Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… I don’t know, not you. And it’s funny, ‘cause you don’t care. I’m here losing sleep over insignificant glances and touches and whatever, and you’re walking into my house to watch the damn game with my dad like it’s nothing. Like this is all nothing. Which I guess it is. It makes me a bit stupid to be acting like there was ever something here to begin with.”

You pause, your chest tight, mind buzzing.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing is stupid. I should probably figure out a way to get myself back home.” You pause again, biting your lip. “Please delete this in the morning and let’s never talk about it again, okay? I’ll be mortified. Goodnight.”

Your breath hitches as the words tumble out, and you clench your jaw, suddenly embarrassed by your own admission. But it’s too late. You’ve already hung up.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror as Joel steps out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. The day has weighed on him—long hours, sun beating down, the usual aches and stiffness creeping into his bones. He runs a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up glass, the lines on his face more pronounced tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he pads barefoot across the room to his nightstand, reaching for his phone. There’s a part of him that wants to just lie down and shut the world out for a while, but old habits die hard, and checking his phone before bed is one he can’t seem to break. He unlocks it, thumb absently scrolling through notifications until your name flashes across the screen, and a voicemail icon blinks at him.

He freezes.

Your name.

For a moment, Joel just stares at it, thumb hovering above the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since the other night at your dad’s house—since that awkward, tension-filled game that still sits heavy in his mind. It would’ve been easier to keep the distance if you weren’t always… there. But you were.

He hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn’t listen.

But then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Joel presses play and brings the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, a soft crackle before your voice comes through, and he feels something knot tight in his chest.

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet, a little slurred, like you’ve had a few too many. His brows knit together as you continue. You start talking about the bar, about a guy. A cute guy. A pang of something ugly twists in Joel’s gut, though he forces himself to keep listening.

"...used to be my type too… me from a couple months ago would be screaming to go give him my number."

Joel exhales, hand gripping the phone a little tighter as he leans back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him. He swallows down the strange burn in his throat when you laugh, your words sinking in deeper with every second.

It’s when you mention the comparisons—how no one quite measures up to him—that something flickers across his expression. You shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be thinking this, and yet… here you are. His jaw clenches when you talk about him touching your leg. He remembers that moment, how he’d pushed you away, forced that distance between you both before it got out of hand. But the way you bring it up now makes his pulse quicken, heat rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

"Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… not you."

His heart pounds harder at that, the breath he didn’t know he was holding finally releasing in a quiet exhale. Damn it. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. And he wasn’t supposed to like hearing it.

Your voice wavers when you say it doesn’t matter, that the whole thing is stupid, but Joel knows better. He hears it in the way you trail off, that vulnerability you can’t quite hide when you tell him to delete the message, pretend it never happened.

The voicemail ends, the room falling into an almost oppressive silence as Joel lowers the phone. He’s still staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the delete option, but he can’t bring himself to press it. He should. You told him to. It would be the smart thing to do—erase the evidence, keep things clean between you two, never bring it up again.

But instead, Joel lets the phone fall to his chest, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard. His pulse still thrums in his ears, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. He knows he should forget it, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late for that.

A gnawing worry creeps in, pricking at the back of his mind. The slur in your voice, the way you sounded just… off. The mention of getting home by yourself.

He tells himself it’s just concern, that’s all. You’d been drinking, probably too much, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least make sure you were alright?

But even as he gets up, throwing on an old t-shirt and grabbing his truck keys, Joel knows it’s not just that. There’s a deeper pull, something he can’t shake, and it’s not only about your safety. It’s about you, being near you, even when he’s spent weeks trying to keep that distance. The line he keeps redrawing in the sand has blurred so many times now, and yet, here he is, crossing it again.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he drives, headlights cutting through the dark, each street he passes tightening the knot of anticipation in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, irresponsible. He’s trying to justify it—hell, he could call Charlotte, or maybe your dad, someone else to check on you. But no, he’s out here, already halfway across town, and that says more than he’s willing to admit.

Finally, he spots you. The dim glow of a streetlight casts a faint circle around where you’re sitting on the sidewalk, head resting on your arms, knees pulled up close to your chest. You look small, lost, and it tugs at something inside of him.

Joel pulls up slowly, parking a few feet away, his eyes locked on you through the windshield. For a second, he just sits there, watching. You’re still, unmoving, save for the occasional shift of your shoulders. He debates turning around, leaving before you even notice, but he knows that’s not an option. Not now.

Stepping out of the truck, Joel takes a breath, steeling himself before approaching. His boots scuff softly against the pavement as he gets closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He clears his throat softly. “Hey…” His voice is low, careful. “You alright?”

You lift your head slowly, blinking against the bright light of the streetlamp as your eyes meet his. For a second, you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Then your soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you really here or am I that drunk?”

He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just like that, all the worries and the guilt, the pressure to do what’s right, it’s all gone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because you're sitting there in front of him, beautiful as ever, looking up with those glossy, wide eyes that make your usual sweetness seem even more disarming.

So he let’s go. Just for tonight, he can enjoy this feeling instead of shoving it down.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You try to stand, but your heels betray you, and before you can fully straighten up, you’re stumbling. Joel’s right there, catching you without a second thought, just like he always is. His hand wraps around your arm, steadying you, like it's second nature.

“I need to stop tumbling down every time I’m around you,” you mumble, slurring your words with a hint of frustration in your humor. Your brows furrow in concentration as you focus on taking the small, careful steps toward Joel’s truck. “I swear I’m usually not a clumsy person.”

He chuckles, his hand still holding onto you as if it’s where it belongs. “It’s alright. I like you tumbling onto me.”

There’s a subtle warmth in his words that he doesn’t even try to hide now.

He helps you get situated in the passenger seat before rounding the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though. For a second, he just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking toward you and then away, not knowing how far he’s allowing himself to go tonight. He needs to say something, move this goddamn situation forward somehow.

You break the silence first, your voice softer now, pulling him back from the spiral. “Joel… You didn’t have to come get me.”

His fingers flex on the wheel, jaw tightening. He knows he didn’t have to come. He shouldn’t have. But Lord, the second he heard that voicemail, his mind spun into a frenzy—your voice all slurred and honest in a way it never had been before. You sounded… lost. He doesn’t want to admit how incapable he felt of doing nothing in that moment.

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, blinking slowly like you’re trying to figure him out. He can see the alcohol buzzing behind your eyes, but there’s clarity there too, something cutting through all that fog. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft, hesitant. “Why did you come?”

He swears he hears the crack in his own chest before he even opens his mouth. Why the hell did he come? He knows the answer. He knows what you’re trying to get him to say. But he can’t say it, not without giving something away he isn’t ready to give. So he falls back on the one thing that’s easy. “Because you called,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I—” He hesitates, the words sitting on his tongue like they’ll choke him. “I was worried.”

Worried. It’s weak, but it’s the best excuse he’s got.

Your gaze softens, and it’s like you see right through him, see all the bullshit he’s trying to keep up. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” you murmur. “Act like you’re just worried about me because of… whatever. I’m not stupid, Joel.”

His heart stutters in his chest. His first instinct is to argue, to push back, but something about the way you’re looking at him makes him pause. He clenches his jaw, trying to harden his expression, but you’ve always had this way of seeing past that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages, though his voice comes out more defensive than he means for it to.

But you don’t back down. You never do. “I think I do. I think you do too.”

Joel’s heart starts pounding harder in his chest. There’s a moment where everything feels too quiet, like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for him to do something—say something that’ll either make this all blow up in his face or force him to admit things he’s been burying for weeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, trying to break free from whatever hold you’ve got on him.

He starts the truck, the sound of the engine a relief. “We should get you home,” he mutters, trying to steady his voice, even though everything inside him feels like it’s tipping over the edge.

But as he pulls onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, he can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to keep his distance, trying to convince himself this is just him doing what’s right, being a good man. But the truth’s gnawing at him, clawing its way up, no matter how much he pushes it down: He didn’t come here just to get you home.

"Can we get something to eat?" Your voice startles him, bringing him back from the place he just mentally went to. “I’m starving.”

“Um… sure. What do you feel like?”

“Anything greasy and fast. Something that’ll soak up all the bad decisions I made tonight,” you joke, but there’s something in your voice, a vulnerability that Joel doesn’t miss.

You end up at a late-night drive-thru, ordering burgers and fries. He pulls into a quiet spot and turns off the engine, the warmth of the food filling the truck. It’s quiet for a moment, the air between you heavier than it should be.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to look at you.

You don't answer right away, staring out the windshield, your fingers playing with the edge of the fry wrapper. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’ve just… been feeling off lately.”

Joel’s not sure how to respond. He’s used to your bratty quips and playful banter, but this—you letting him in like this—feels different.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice low, gentle. “Sometimes things just get… heavy.”

You nod, taking a small bite of your burger before setting it down, barely touched. “It’s been weird being back home. Everything’s familiar, but nothing feels right, you know? Like I should fit here, and I don’t.”

He shifts in his seat, turning slightly to face you. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, surprising even himself with the admission. “Felt like that for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

You look over at him, really look at him, and for the first time tonight, there’s no walls between you. No snarky comments, no tension bubbling beneath the surface. Just two people who’ve been through a lot, trying to figure out how to navigate the mess.

“You? Really?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He nods, glancing down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, really. Even when everything seems like it’s where it’s supposed to be, it still doesn’t always… fit. It’s hard to explain.”

For a moment, you just sit there, sharing the silence. It’s not awkward, though—more like a mutual understanding, something deeper than words could convey. Joel finds himself relaxing, letting his guard down more than he intended.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you say softly.

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t leave you out there like that, darlin’” he replies, his tone soft but firm.

You return his smile, small but genuine. It makes Joel feel like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t a mistake after all. It’s not about crossing lines or getting too close. It’s about being there for you, like he wants to be, like you need him to be.

And somehow, that feels right.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n , @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan @loveisacowboy @sageluvsjoel

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [4]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.1k

[1] [2] [3] [4]

nothing much to say this time but this is not beta read, my friend who was supposed to read it is unfortunately unavailable, idk if the argument makes sense in the end cause I personally run from confrontations so idk how to write good arguments so yeah.

This is a bit shorter than the previous chapters but the next one is longer again since-- GUNSHOT

ANYWAYS, Happy reading!!

Also I hope I got the taglist right, please if you don't want to be in it, do tell me. If anyone else wants to be added to the taglist, please comment down below.

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud

___________

In all of your years working for Bangtan, as one of their staff and the youngest stylist, you've been included in every life events and celebrations there is. Birthdays, first wins, comebacks, everything there is even something as important as family dinners. You've never skipped or forgot a single member's birthday, period.

But as Guwon stands before you, a plane ticket to Jeju in hand with the departure scheduled tomorrow and returning just a day short before the tour, you find yourself at a crossroad. It’s Jungkook's birthday tomorrow and Jimin has planned a small party tonight at their dorms before the formal celebration at the company the next day.

While you've been trying to rectify the awkward air between you and the maknae since his confession by starting conversations, the maknae only replied to you with silence before promptly vanishing in two seconds flat.

But despite the strain in your relationship, you could never think of not attending his birthday. You'd never thought to be petty enough to return his energy. His present was already wrapped in a pretty bow under your bed for a week now for Christ's sake!

“I-I can't… It's one of their birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His smile falls. “Can't you just give your gift today? Surely they can party for one night without you.”

It was a genuine question, logical and true but for some reason, his tone raised concerns within you. You swear to the highest heavens you could hear a bit of irritation hidden beneath dejection.

You winced. “I can't, I'm really sorry… I-I can pay you back what you've spent for the trip. I'm really sorry, I just never missed any of their birthdays. I swear I'll make it up to you next time!”

Guwon's shine dulled the further you went on and your heart twinged with guilt. In another universe where some humans gained animalistic features, he'd have dog ears pressed to his skull, staring at you with wide and glistening eyes.

You waved off the image immediately, disturbed.

“It's also my fault for not asking for your schedule. The tour is next week and then you'd be away from me for months so I kind of… panicked. I'm sorry.”

He should've known better than not to do research on your bosses , a voice at the back of your head scoffed and you waved the thought away as you put a hand over his. 

“I should've notified you as well. Tell me if those are refundable or not, I'll pay you back.”

He waves you off. “Cute but I've been raised well to know not to ask a lady to pay for my mistake, so don't worry that pretty head of yours about not being able to go.”

The date continued and thankfully, no dead air remained and conversation eased out of the both of you. Guwon sorted out his reservations early on, he'd stopped eating every once in a while to pick up his phone to either receive a call or respond to an email.

With how often he answered the chimes of his phone and how long it took for him to finally put it down, you figured he must've prepared a lot for the week and it made you feel more guilty every time he did it.

Today, he brought you both to an indoor park he rented for an hour for a picnic. It was on the outskirts of Seoul and he also cooked most of the food placed between you both, his mother however, was responsible for the side dishes.

Speaking of mothers, yours called earlier to congratulate you on whatever it was she was adamant on keeping secret but you already knew what it was and you were glad Jungkook’s mother gave birth on such a perfect day almost 21 years ago.

Guwon was planning to propose to you during the trip.

It left a bitter taste in your tongue. Sure you had expected to be married to him at some point but you barely knew the man outside of his colorful stories, and knew none of his actual behavior in his home. You haven't even visited his house yet for a vibe check so why is he rushing too fast?

Despite the guilt in your heart, relief is more palpable knowing you'd have more time to figure out if you truly want Guwon in your life.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took a glance at it.

[17:29] Jinnie: I'll pick you up at your apartment by 6.

[17:29] Jinnie: please be prepared😊

Seeing the t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ friendly smile attached at the end of his message, you're suddenly reminded of the present. You hadn't told any of them of your date today, something that had drawn out longer than you thought it would. You frowned, fingers drumming on the side of your phone as you pondered on what to reply.

You had promised to help with the food yet here you are, out of town and on a picnic date inside a garden observatory.

“Who is it?” Guwon asks, seeing the frown on your face. Your mind immediately picks up the odd tone he has.

“Their oldest, Jin. We're supposed to cook together before the rest comes home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the birthday was tomorrow?”

“Oh, we're planning a small party before it, just his closest friends.”

Guwon nodded, eyes distant and thoughtful as he took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What time are you expected?”

“Their eldest said he'll pick me up at six.”

He looked at his watch and frowned deeper. “It's already 5:30. Maybe I can drive you to their dorm instead?”

You immediately shook your head. Remembering the promise you had with Jin and Jungkook. The maknae had recently begun to look at your direction again yesterday after Hoseok had talked to him, inviting Guwon would ruin the smallest progress you’ve had. 

Not to mention, you can't reveal their dorm location even if he is to be your husband. Company rules and you've signed an NDA.

“Company rules, can't reveal their location.”

“If we're going to be a couple soon, I'm going to need to know more about these guys you're hanging around. I don't trust them.” He says as he turns to the picnic basket to take another sandwich out, unable to see the twitch in your eye. 

“Well, you have to learn how to, they’re my bosses and my best friends.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. I mean,” He scoffed. “Did you notice how they look at me whenever I’m around? That rapper—Yun–Yoonmi stared at me like I’m an insect he stepped on.”

Anger boils deep within your soul and you’re sure it's visibly contorting your face at this point but the man didn’t notice it and continued chewing on his food.

“Besides, their location is pretty well known already, no? Just a couple searches away, why be so secretive about it?”

You refrain yourself from frowning and it takes all of the energy within you to not react as wildly as you would’ve. It was amazing how the illusion of something good could shatter with only a few words and you set down the sandwich in your hand.

There's something terribly humbling upon realization that the man you're talking to is indeed, a man.

Noticing the shift in the air, he set down his cup of coffee with a slight raise to his brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It's true though, I just think it's pointless to try to hide it when some people already know, so what's the use of trying to hide their dorm?”

Where's Jimin and Taehyung at times like this?

You dreaded the conversation you're about to bring up to your mother once she calls, and could hear her scolding you for having such high standards. Guwon being indifferent to the possibility of being stalked, and your boys’ privacy being breached immediately raise red glaring flags over his head.

A lawyer himself who shrugged at the threat of crimes, the joke just writes itself.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm just… trying to understand why you didn't want me to interact with them after our second date. It makes a man overthink, know?”

Whatever thread you were holding onto, a sliver of hope that you might've misheard or misunderstood him, decayed within you and you picked up your phone to stuff into your bag.

You had hoped, wished, that after your deep talk on the night Seokjin had scolded your ass to the nines he'd understand your dynamic better with the boys or at least try. You could already hear Yoongi's drawl out ‘I told you so’ as you packed up, even imagine him bringing up Namjoon’s statistical analysis and how I should've listened to it.

“If you're implying what I think you are implying then I don't think we should meet each other anymore.”

Tossing the food back into the basket carelessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stand, only for his hand to shoot out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“Wait, I-I'm sorry! I just got… jealous, that's all.”

Even with the apologetic look displayed clearly on his face and the fear swimming with them, nothing could bring back to life the trust you had on the man and you pushed his hand away.

“I can't stay with someone who can't understand why those boys are important to me, sorry Guwon but we're over. Don't you ever contact me again.”

“You can't possibly be breaking up with me because I said what I felt? Over them? Really?!”

You don't even recognize the man sitting opposite you.

He knew, he saw how close you are with them and even sat through the stories you told him during your dates. Guwon knew you cherished every single boy in the group yet he disregarded it all because of jealousy? If that isn't a warning, then you might be blind.

“It's like I never even knew you at all.”

He scoffed. “Same with you. Can't believe I actually believed your words telling me you were friends but I saw how those boys treated you!”

Sure your relationship with your bosses is unusual but it was built from hardship and loneliness from being taken away from home and surrendering their time for a glimpse of fame in a field where they're at a huge disadvantage. It was special in ways not many could fathom because in their head, what reason would there be for a man to befriend a girl other than having the intention to fuck them?

It was the mindset of the old and “ wise” and it had infuriated you to the nines.

For him to reveal himself as one of those old cogs when he expressed himself as a gentleman and be convinced by his act of kindness, even the word disappointing could express how greatly upset you are.

“Bet you've slept with all of them at least once, hell, I don't even know why your mother bothered when you're already busy whoring yourself for seven men.”

Anger flooded your veins, it was hot and rampaging under your skin. Before your mind could even register your actions, your hand had already moved, making contact with his cheek in one swift motion. The slap echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence of the observatory.

Even after seeing the angry red mark beginning to mar his skin, your anger remained.

“Goodbye Guwon, I hope we never see each other again.”

Walking away was easier said than done.

You got picked up by Guwon earlier and since you've run far enough from the indoor garden, away from your supposed ticket back home, you're now waiting for an uber at a small library sequestered between towering and loudly designed buildings. You had half a mind to ask your friends that lived nearby for a ride but decided against it.

They might be busy with their own family. 

Unlike you.

As you sit there waiting for your ride to come, your mind takes you to your mother and her genuine glee at the thought of you getting married. Ever since your second date, she had been sending you photographs of weddings for inspirations, links to event places and tailors, and flower shops where you could have your bouquet arranged. She was beyond ecstatic, if she heard what had happened, she would be devastated. 

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, the volume catching the attention of the bookkeeper who was quick to shush you.

As you waited longer with only the deafening silence of the library to accompany you, doubt began to form at the back of your head. 

Was breaking up with Guwon really the right choice? 

An angry, louder voice screamed at you for doubling down on your decision. You knew your boys longer than you knew him, if the trip had gone through, Guwon would've proposed to you despite the short time you've known each other. Something you didn't want. Not to mention, he would've gone through the idea while contemplating on your loyalty.

So yes, it was the right decision!

But you were to be married .

Your mother was so happy to have finally matched you with a guy you attended three dates with. The thought made your heart clench, she was excited to see you on the altar and has most likely spread it around your town with pride. She was about to have three married children.

Gods, you don't want to imagine the conversation later on, she'd be distraught.

Your phone buzzed and you dreaded looking at the screen to see your mother's name. Luckily, it was Jin instead.

           [18:01] Jinnie: where are you?

           [18:01] Jinnie: knocked on your door but the neighbor said you were out.

           [18:02] Jinnie: you're late😒

           [18:02] Jinnie: I'm going to have them deduct your pay this month for making me wait

           [18:03] You: I'm sorry your highness for disappointing you, please forgive this servant of yours🤧

           [18:03] You: was on a date

           [18:03] You: not that it matters anymore, I broke up with Guwon

           [18:04] You: does it even count? I mean, we weren't official, he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend yet.

You paused, face souring as you realized what you've just typed. 

Guwon hadn't asked for your hand officially even after three dates, he had the chance on your second date during the stroll but he didn't. Despite this, he went and asked your parents for their blessings when he hadn't even asked you first.

           [18:04] You: wow I just remembered that

           [18:04] You: then he had the audacity to propose to me!

There's a pause in between his usually instant replies and you had an inkling he's already spreading the gossip around the group somehow.

           [18:08] Jinnie: wow there's a LOT to unpack there

           [18:08] Jinnie: but worry not

           [18:08] Jinnie: I'll have Jimin get us the strongest drink there is for later

           [18:09] Jinnie: we'll drink that sorrow away and you're going to tell me what the hell you meant by proposing while not being official 

           [18:10] You: I don't think I should tell you that…

           [18:10] You: considering… ya know

           [18:11] You: also don't you guys have an early schedule tomorrow?🤨

           [18:12] Jinnie: bold of u to assume I don't want hear how massive of a failure he is

           [18:12] Jinnie: nothing better than hearing your enemy’s downfall😌

           [18:13] Jinnie: also what do you mean ‘you guys’??? 

           [18:13] Jinnie: you're literally our make-up artist!

You scoffed at the message but before you could type up a reply, the notification from your uber app popped out to inform you about your driver now waiting outside the library and you walked out.

           [18:23] You: and just because I'm your make-up artist, doesn't mean I should let you all get away with this

           [18:23] You: and I won't even drink much :pp

           [18:24] Jinnie : if I ever see you stumbling around the house, you owe me 100000

           [18:25] You: WOW

           [18:25] You: AREN'T YOU RICH ALREADY????

           [18:25] Jinnie: money is money😌

           [18:26] Jinnie: just get ur ass over here already before I add more zeros to the bet

The smell of Jin’s cooking, both spicy and something savory, welcomed you first before the sound of sizzles did. At the sound of the door closing, Jin appears round the corner with an apron hung from his neck and a tong stained with red bean paste in the other.

Despite the disappointed look he's going for, reminiscent of a mother who caught her daughter coming home past curfew, the relief you feel upon seeing his handsome face after earlier was palpable and the knots in your stomach loosened.

“I should have your pay deducted for showing up late.”

You winced. “Sorry boss, can I appeal for a heartbreak discount on that?”

“Only if you give me a hug and cry on my shoulder.” 

He opened his arms wide, plush lips widening into a smile when you approached to wrap your arms around his torso. The fabric of his sweatshirt was soft and the scent of new laundry overtook his usual scent of freshly baked cakes and gentle vanilla perfume, it almost made you boneless in his hold. Moreso when he started stroking your head while the other ran up and down your back with his palm, fingers still wrapped around the tongs.

He didn't pull away despite the awkward position with him bending down and practically melting against your smaller form. In your years of being friends, you could never recall Seokjin being the first to pull away from a hug and once more, you're grateful for that.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll do it while cooking, we might burn whatever you're cooking if I told you all about it here.”

He shook his head, his rubbing motions on your back turning into gentle pats. “We can just order it online if it does, I even bet that they'll still eat it even if it was. Hoba was relentless today.”

His nails raked through your scalp and you resisted the urge to shiver. 

“He was being an ass towards you guys. Then when I defended you all, he accused me of sleeping around.”

His first instinct was to curse the man down to his ancestors who bred with each other until he was born, but stopped himself when he realized what he's about to say and cleared his throat.

If his arms coiled tighter around you, you only leaned into him further.

“Normally I would say "I told you so" but I know Yoongi has it covered later. So I'll just say—"

"Don't you dare. Jin don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"I knew it."

He let out a cry when your hand slapped his arm but it quickly dissolved into a fit of squeaky laughter and he pushed your head back under his chin before you could even continue hitting him. Hand continuing their petting as you let out an annoyed groan.

“My mom was so excited! God. I hate that bastard for disappointing me and her. She was sending me links to wedding planners and dressmakers because apparently he was supposed to take me to Jeju tomorrow and propose.”

He stills in your arms, the hand in your hair stopping its motion as his breath hitched in his chest. It took him a moment before he recollected himself and continued to pat your head, pressing a kiss on top of your crown.

“I'm sure auntie will understand, I know that she would've wanted you to find a good man like she and your sister did.”

A voice at the back of your head told you he was referring to himself but you threw the thought away as soon as it went.

“Personally, I would've taken the ticket and ditch him.” He laughed and you hit his arm with a barely concealed grin. “All I'm saying is that free things should be used and if it's gifted then better! You get to decide how to use it so refund it!”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Just say Kim Seokjin of BTS asked for a refund and they'll immediately accept it.”

Pulling away, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, earning you one last laugh as you walked to the kitchen where the sizzles of the food being fried on the pan had long been muted. Jin followed you with an onslaught of words spilling from his lips, justifying and detailing how he would've done in your place as you placed your bag down on the island counter before reaching for the spare apron.

Hearing his rants filling the silence made it easier to relax, made forgetting how upset you were at Guwon a walk in the park.

It was familiar and his voice, despite his fiery indignation, was oddly comforting.

Soon enough, your conversation halts and you both position yourself over the counter, following his orders mindlessly; which is mostly dicing the vegetables and the slabs of meat he marinated last night in soy sauce and spices. 

You found the repetitive motions of chopping soothing and silently thanked the man now hovering over the saucepan, gently stirring the seaweed soup. 

As if sensing your eyes boring holes on the back of his head, his ears reddened and he looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“W-what is it? Wh-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just admiring how huge your shoulders are and how reliable you are.” 

You recalled how dearly he cared for his group despite the exhaustion from practicing singing and dancing the whole day. Despite being the youngest in his family, Jin took on the mantle of the oldest brother in the group easily and selflessly provided for his members alongside Yoongi and Namjoon. If it were anybody, you were sure the boys would've been sick or had long given up, especially when the company was about to file bankruptcy in their earlier years.

From the bone shattering dances, exhausting practices and routines stretching from dawn till dusk, you were thankful Seokjin was there to catch the others when they fall.

It was a hard task nobody would've assumed since selfishness is a built-in trait of a human yet Seokjin proved you wrong when he stayed up every night despite the muscle cramps and exhaustion weighing his bones to cook for his members, taking the role of the eldest like it was a second nature despite being the youngest in his family.

He barked out a half-hearted laugh as his red ears brightened from the compliment. “I already know that of course!”

“Thank you for everything, Jin.”

His face crumpled when he laughed bashfully, the bright hue in his ears crawling to dusk his cheeks as well. It didn't take long before he recovered and like clockwork, in reaction to being flustered by compliments, he got defensive and raised the saucer threateningly at you.

“Ya! If you're planning to compliment me, at least be original! I'm done hearing about how wide my shoulders are from ARMY and how reliant I am from the others! We've been together for years, do better and be original with your compliments!”

It was a joke, obviously.

But staring at the older man childishly brandishing his cooking utensil like a bludgeoning weapon, you couldn't help but ponder about what truly pulled you into him only to realize that you've never truly dove deeper than surface level details. It was disappointing to find out how shallow you've been when expressing your appreciation for the man.

Like he said, you've always pointed out how reliable he is but never have you pointed out the small things such as the warm food he claimed have been extras and the hot soups sectioned off for you on cold days.

He was the first to approach you on the first day despite being the member who mostly kept to himself, asking you if you wanted to celebrate their Rookie of the Year win with them instead of the rowdy staff behind you. 

The first one to build a bridge leading to this deep companionship you had with the rest of the members, have you really never thanked him for that?

“You're so caring and humble despite your background and where you are right now. If it was anybody else, they would've left the boys to fend for themselves once they were able to yet you didn't stop cooking for them, for us. I don't think I have ever met a man so down to earth and as loving as you are,” You paused. “Well, except Jimin but if you want something more original I'd say I love your hands even when you think they're weird because they—”

You didn't even realize Jin crossed the distance between you both until his hands clasped around your lips, silencing you completely.

Unlike earlier with only his ears blushing, his cheeks now glowed red, the flushed skin spreading down to his neck, continuing past the collar of his dark blue pajamas. When your eyes meet, you find his glistening with unshed tears no doubt touched by your hastily put together declaration of your appreciation for him. 

When it was clear you wouldn't continue your rant, his arms fell to your shoulders and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

His violent heartbeats thudding against his chest was the first thing you've heard before you registered the stuttered exhales and his gentle saccharine scent filling your senses, clouding your brain completely. For a moment, it was just you and him in the kitchen, hugging a little longer than friends should be.

But then again, since when have you guys ever drawn the line on how platonic touches should last?

“God… You gotta stop doing that.”

“I'm just following what you told me like a good dongsaeng and I think I did exceedingly well on it. Does that guarantee a deduction on my pay deduction?”

There's an odd, invisible weight that lifted off of you, something you didn't even realize you were carrying. But there's also a tinge of guilt pinching the edges of your heart.

Jin was the first to approach you, and the first to confess four years ago. He was all shy looks and sweet smiles, his sweet words accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that must've cost him more than he could've gotten from being an idol of a new group. 

When Jin loves, he gives his all and doesn't think twice to give half of himself as well. In a way, he and Yoongi were alike, just with different approaches.

He was open and unapologetic while Yoongi was subtle and often silent.

His laugh twinkled in your ears but it dwindled later on, as if he remembered something towards the end of his mirth. “You're driving me crazy, how am I supposed to move on when you're this lovely?”

Hearing him confirm your suspicion about his crush—is it even called that at this point?—relieved you from an unknown anxiety most likely sparked by Jungkook's words a few nights ago. Why are you even relieved hearing him still liking you when all you've done is hurt him?

“You're such an idiot, you know that?”

“Love makes you do the stupidest thing but I don't think I've ever regretted ever falling for you.”

He pulls away, a gentler, softer smile now tugging his lips up.

“God, you made me sappy! My god, my soup!” 

Even without the warmth of his embrace, you could feel it radiate in the small space of the kitchen. You continued your work as Jin fuzzed about the seaweed soup behind you, bathing in the domesticity of it all.

Your phone vibrates loudly in your bag on the island counter. Wiping your hand on your apron, you opened it to see Jimin’s messages.

           [18:56] Mimi: seokjin hyung told me to buy the strongest alcohol 

           [18:57] Mimi: any idea why he’s being weird?

           [18:57] You: I’ll tell jin that you called him weird

           [18:57] You: but yes

           [18:57] You: I’ll tell you all later why

           [18:58] Mimi: 🤨

           [18:58] Mimi: not if I get you drunk in the first ten minutes

           [18:58] You: I’d like to see you try, pretty boy

Your phone vibrated again. Namjoon had texted you, seeing the preview you rolled your eyes.

            [18:59] Joonie: Seokjin hyung didn’t say but I already figured it out

            [18:59] Joonie: You'd hear enough from Yoongi hyung later but

[18:58] Joonie: I told you so

[18:58] You: I hope you trip and fall on shit🥰

[18:59] Joonie: Love you too, noona😁

[18:59] You: blocked🚫

“I'm not seeing enough chopping, young lady. Get back to your station!” Jin jokingly scolds. With a laugh, you return to your spot.

By the time some of the boys arrived—except Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, no doubt pre-gaming somewhere—it was already ten and some of the dishes were plated, ready to be eaten in the dining room. If it wasn't for both your and Jin's advanced thinking to ready the bowl of rice and their plates beforehand, they would have starved to death as Yoongi dramatically puts it before blaming Hoseok for draining them out the whole day.

The man in question just laughed in response before shrugging and rebuking their ‘accusations’, saying it wasn't even that hard. To this, Yoongi grumbled under his breath and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, the maknaes entered, cheeks all flushed except for Jimin who was holding up a bag full of canned alcohol as if it was game from an all-day hunt.

You thanked Jimin silently for drinking the birthday boy tipsy enough to make the dinner energetic instead of the awkwardness you thought it'd be due to what happened a few days ago. There's fleeting eyes you've caught in between jokes he made, either pouring with adoration or longing, you tried to not to pay it much mind.

But of course, the alcohol pouring could only go for so long before you're all lounging in the living room to talk about anything that comes to mind. It was half an hour short from the clock tickling to twelve, signifying Jungkook's actual birthday.

The conversation started off tame with Taehyung questioning the animals who sleep standing to something more elaborate with Yoongi asking everyone's opinion about some decrypt conspiracy theory surrounding the rich of the west. It was all fun and games when Taehyung, lost in his own mind running with the most random thought, sluggishly pointed at you and asked:

“Wh-why aren't you checking your phone? G-Guwon hyung haven't been texting you yet?”

Many heads turned to you who was practically boneless in between a tipsy Hoseok and a still sober Yoongi. You didn't even need to look to know the look of concern Jin was throwing your way.

But everything was hazy, your head throbbing from the alcohol. The words slipped past your lips before you could think about it.

“We parted ways… He accused me of sleeping around when I said I didn't want to go on a trip with him tomorrow ‘cause I didn't want to skip Jungkookie's birthday.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and Yoongi nodded, face indifferent as usual. Despite the reaction of the boys on both sides, not everyone in the circle held the same opinion it seems.

“You didn't have to decline it, noona. You-you’ve been with us for years, missing one wouldn't hurt me much.”

Jungkook's voice was softer as if he had sobered up from the revelation and you waved him away.

“What are you saying? I couldn't leave when we weren't alright.” You glimpsed at Jin before continuing. “Besides, he was planning to propose and I'm glad he couldn't anymore.”

In your drunken mind, the information didn't carry much weight but the pin drop silence following your words did, you guessed that it must've been. However, it didn't last long when Taehyung jumped up to his feet and punched the air as if Korea just scored the final score in FIFA.

The boys look at him with wide eyes, shocked by his reaction. Jimin recovers and tries to tug him down but a drunk Taehyung is determined, with a will stronger than a monk's resilience and patience, no one could stop him from doing what he wanted.

And that was bumping his glass on your forehead, a little harder than it should've been if he was sober and you reel back, a hand over your forehead.

“Noona! you're free again! Do you know what that means?!”

“Ok that's enough for you tonight. Let's get you to bed.” Jimin says, chuckling awkwardly as he stands behind his best friend, wrapping his arms around his waist before dragging him away.

“Why? Can't I just congratulate noona from recognizing something was off instead of ignoring it like most do? Noona,” He turned to you, bottom lip jutted out. “It's not bad that I'm celebrating right?”

Seokjin’s laugh was nervous when he rose to usher the man away as well. “Alright, lets all calm down so we don't accidentally say something while drunk.”

“Fuck yeah! I-I don’t even know why I even believed his lies, he’s a lawyer for fucks sake!”

“Not that it ever stopped you before. I still don't understand why you couldn't have married one of us instead.” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly irritated.

Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold and everyone sits up, alert and ready to interfere if their youngest decides to let the alcohol take control of him. Your brain clears once it registered the annoyance in his voice, heart dropping to the soles of your feet.

“Jungkook—”

“I just think it's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You told that to Jin-hyung four years ago and have repeated it ever since. We’re all adults now, we can handle a little rejection and who’s to say we can’t date when we’re the only idol running the company. You say it's because you don’t want to choose but aren’t you just instilling false hope in us?” 

He stood as he grew more agitated but Jin pushed him down, eyes stern as he stared down at their youngest. Seeing the conflict brew between them, the growing guilt built by years of spending time with them reawakened.

It tied your stomach in a knot and felt like a building had dropped onto your heart.

As if sensing your emotions, Yoongi’s hand found your shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You’re not thinking straight so stop it,” Jin excuses as he turns to you with an apologetic smile. “He’s just drunk, he doesn’t—”

“I know what I’m saying and I think you’re being too biased here hyung!”

“Jungkook…” Hoseok calls from next to you, voice low, a warning.

“You too! She’s also your friend, why aren’t you pointing out how she’s just playing with us? Why are you only calling me out?”

“Because you’re being a stupid drunk right now, Jungkook. Stand down .” Yoongi ordered, voice firm and warning. His arms are crossed as he stared their youngest down but the maknae wasn’t intimidated by it, if anything, the fire in the older man’s eyes only fueled the anger boiling within him.

In years you’ve watched over them, never once has Yoongi scolded their youngest past Run BTS contents, leaving the reprimanding to their oldest and leader. For him to call him out and seeing them grow agitated by each other’s presence, dread loomed over you with your nightmares threatening to come true. 

This isn’t how tonight’s party was supposed to go.

“Isn’t there anyone who’d agree with me at how absurd all of this is?!” His head snapped at Namjoon who’s watching with a careful eye. “Hyung, surely you can also see it!”

Throughout the exchange, Namjoon had sat back and watched the interaction from the sidelines instead of interfering on the first hint of a fight breaking out. Even when the situation becomes a little aggressive, he stays silent but you don’t doubt that he’d be the first to stand if the disagreement becomes volatile and inching towards physical.

That's what he always has done, observed and let the high rise of emotions eventually tides down to a calm on their own. He's a leader, he's supposed to be fair and to do so, he must first understand both sides before taking action. He also trusts his own team to temper their own ire after years of being together.

But now that he's forced to join the argument, he sighed and stood. Seokjin stepped away as he approached their youngest with both hands placed on his shoulders to sit him back down. 

Obediently, Jungkook follows.

“While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it's a bit unfair that you’re blaming her for being scared.” Jungkook opens his mouth but a firm shake of Namjoon’s head shuts him up. “Don’t start again. There’s a power imbalance here kid. If her choosing someone could cause a problem, we’d get off scot free but not her. In the eyes of the company, she’s disposable—”

“But she’s not.”

“She is. In their eyes at least. By having her around causing problems for us, she’s nothing but a thorn in their side that they should remove. If she had dated one of us and eventually broke up, it would cause an awkwardness and riff between guys especially if it ended on a bad note and BigHit won't stand for it. You know how important this job is for her, right?”

They stared at each other for a long while, both unrelenting in silence. You all waited with bated breath, Namjoon was the only one who could diffuse the situation and if he fails, then who else could possibly calm the maknae down?

Turning to the clock, you bit your lip at the time.

It was nearing Jungkook's actual birthday, three minutes short before both hands ticked to twelve.

Which meant it would have to start during the denouement of an argument. The thought planting discomfort in your stomach. Such a happy celebration shouldn't be welcomed like this.

In the midst of raised voices and pointing fingers, Taehyung has completely sobered up from where he sat between Jimin’s thighs, staring beady eyed at the situation in his friend’s arms. Sensing your gaze, he turned to you with a sheepish, apologetic smile when Jungkook's heavy sigh broke through the silence.

His head fell to his chest as Namjoon removed his hands from his shoulders yet his eyes remained on their youngest’s hunched form.

“You get what we're trying to say now, do you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Anything you want to say, gguk?” Namjoon was talking to him like he was a kindergarten teacher and you both were kids who fought on the sandbox for the shovel, warm and understanding but the disappointment in his tone is clear as day.

Jungkook doesn't reply but he shoots up to his feet, surprising Hoseok next to you, with eyes still trained on the floor.

When he did look up to meet your gaze, it was brief and cut off by a deep bow. You reached your hands out, trying to stop him from doing so but Yoongi took one of your hands and pinned them down between his and your thighs.

Jungkook never had to bow for you and it felt wrong seeing him bent down to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry noona, I—” He trails off.

In his speechlessness in a room full of people who—while understanding where he comes from—stood behind you, he clams up and then in a flash, he’s gone, bolting from the living room and skipping up the stairs. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoing like the clock ticking down to his birthday.

The argument has been dissolved, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, it made you feel queasy having everyone back you up without reprimanding you as well. It was true, what Jungkook said. 

Weren't you practically leading them on by not choosing anyone? No matter how unintentional it must be, if he thinks that way then maybe everyone else in the group does, just silently.

You turned to the clock again. A minute closer to the next day.

Frustration made you want to pull your hair out but the long, lithe fingers that have entangled with yours in the middle of it all, forbade you from doing so. As if he could hear the internal debate between logic and emotions, Yoongi gave you a comforting squeeze.

But it didn't feel right, you shouldn't be sitting on your ass while Jungkook blamed himself for expressing his own opinion, sure it was a bit aggressive but you understood his frustration.

“Jungkook!” You called out, rising to your feet to follow him when Yoongi tightened his hold on your wrist and shook his head.

“He needs time to process, leave him be.”

Yet despite this, you shrugged his hold off and followed the youngest’s heavy footfalls upstairs and presumably into his room. You caught onto him in the hallway, with the door to his room opened and half of his body already inside.

“Jungkook, let us talk.”

“I-I don't want to see you right now, noona please.”

The desperation to correct the wrongs gives you a short burst of energy and you catch his wrist.

“Jungkook please, I—”

You heard the joyful chime of the clock downstairs before you heard the sweet jingles of bells.

Then you felt it.

Electric jolts shoot up from your connected hands, waking every cell and your mind awake and you almost keel over from the wave of relieving warmth washing over your body. There’s now a low hum accompanying the bells chiming in the background, the soft harmony between them sending shivers down your spine. 

You've thought of first meetings like those scenes in Hollywood movies where a kaleidoscope of colors explodes behind your eyelids, like fireworks celebrating the precious moment where the protagonists finally meet and fireworks shoot up to the sky. They talked of a brief moment of reprieve from reality, the world slowing down and feeling the most calmed you've ever been with your soulmate in hand.

Like your soul finally recognizing its pair and suddenly, everyone became a blur in the background.

Yet when you stared back at Jungkook's mirrored astonishment, your stomach bottomed out.

Because no way in hell, after all this time, you're soulmates.

[epic-kotlc-crossover]

Survive

This is the second chapter of the Cyclops saga!! Hope you enjoy :)

(or cry. i did when I read this.) -cricket

Tags: @myfairkatiecat @ham-cheese-toastie @bookwormgirl123 @thesfromhms @justalunaticfangirl (let us know if you want to be tagged in the future!)

Fitz hadn't had his adrenaline so high in ages. He'd fought in a war, but this felt more... real. Instead of a bunch of people trying to kill each other—over a woman, even—he and his men were fighting against a cyclops.

A real life, hungry, cyclops.

"The rest of our crew wait for us!" Fitz roared out over the commotion. "If we get killed, they're as good as dead."

He lifted up his sword to the cheers of his men. "How great is your will to survive?"

600 lives to save. No backup. Fitz thought, narrowing his eyes and trying to think of a way to defeat the cyclops. I only have to kill him.

At the word "kill" he faltered, thinking of the infant. If he kept taking lives, how long would it take for him to become a monster?

This is different, Fitz reminded himself. But... instead of killing, maybe we can just maim him a little.

He reminded himself to reach out to Sophie as soon as this was over. She always helped.

Anyway.

"Don't die on me now, not when we're so close to coming home!" He charged forward, and managed to nick the cyclops on the leg, eliciting a howl. Fitz grinned, satisfied.

"Surround him!" The chorus of soldiers cried out. "Attack him from behind!" As they constantly stabbed and slashed at the cyclops, Fits was scanning for any way to take Polyphemus out.

He came up empty every time, and soon the thrum of frustration set in. Blood was flying everywhere, and he saw with grim satisfaction that the source of most of it was the cyclops.

"How great is your will to survive?" Fitz didn't know who said that, but it reminded him of why he was trying to survive.

Sophie.

Marella.

Ithaca.

Stay in his blindspot! Strike his heels! Fitz transmitted out the orders.

He's strong, but he's slow, he thought to himself. How could they use that to their advantage?

"No dying on me now!" He yelled. "We just need to take one life and we're free!"

He must've jinxed it.

A scream pierced the air, and Fits instantly realized that it wasn't the roars of Polyphemus that he'd been hearing for the past minutes.

No, he realized in horror, it was one of his men.

"He's got a club!"

That was....Dex. No. No, no no, no. Not Dex.

"He's got a club!" Someone screamed again.

"Captian, what are our orders?" Keefe asked urgently.

"Captian?"

"Captain!?" That was Dex. Fitz rushed over to where his friend lay on the trampled grass. Dex looked like he'd been stepped on, which he actually might've.... His torso was bleeding from several gashes, and his legs were totally crushed.

"Dex..." Fitz started, tears burning in his eyes

"Captian--" he said, then coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Please don't forget to--" he coughed a little more-- "greet the world with open arms. For me?" Dex pleaded.

Fitz nodded shakily.

Dex's chest fell still.

Fitz vaguely registered tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at his best friend.

Dex was dead.

Six people were dead.

He was snapped out of his trance as another one of his men yelled for him. Seven. Sven people died under his command. He stood up, shifting his sword around his hand. The cyclops was going to pay.

Only, before he could do anything, Polyphemus collapsed, a cloud of dust rising from where he lay.

Fitz grinned sadly. He'd forgotten about the lotus flowers in the wine. At least not too many people had died, yet.

We have to do what it takes to survive.

[jttw-oc-maiden-of-the-water]

Pride & Insolence

//This scene came in my head and I needed to write it down before I forgot it.

Maybe one day… when I have to drive and desire, I’ll make a comic; MOD//

Taglist;

@tunadunanana @szynkaaa

((If anyone else wishes to be added (or removed) please let me know.))

Story summary;

Bèiké gets summoned by the party for the first time to help assist with a nasty Yaoguai, and the “Tranquil Princess” surprises the Monkey King with her method of handling the situation.

This story is 18+, it deals with mature topics, themes of punishment and psychological torture and threats of assault. But please read with care.

—————————

The monk had been captured again.

It was weekly at this point, but saving the virtuous Tripitaka was truly a challenge this time.

The Water Yaoguai that had snatched him while he was getting some water had taken him beneath the waves at the mouth of a great river that fed into the Ocean. This Yaoguai called himself the Bā tuófēng yěmán rén (八駝峰野蠻人) ((eight hump savage))

While normally Zhu Baije and Sha Wujing had no issues fighting in the water, they were both better suited for the fresh waters of rivers, lakes and springs and where their unfortunate master was being held was where the ocean began. The salt stinging their eyes, the force of the tides making it hard to stay in position.

They tried thrice to save their master, and failed thrice, much to the increasing annoyance and Frustration of a certain Stone Monkey who wasn’t used to being useless in a fight.

He was about to fly off to conscript the help of the bodhisattva, QuanYin when he was stopped by his companion and a women who’d been sharing his frustrations - the Phoenix Maiden. She pulled out a Silver Pearl and voiced that Maybe they could ask the lady of the waters for help.

The Monkey laughed at first, having seen the adopted princess a couple times while he was in Heaven, and shook his head. There was no way the slender woman in pretty fabrics, who spent her days listening to the whales moan out their songs would know anything about combat.

The Phoenix Maiden scowled at him and mentioned that at the very least, she could move the water away. She could make it so the Monk was no longer imprisoned underwater.

The Monkey paused as he thought through the pros and cons, and then nodded.

And so, the Phoenix Maiden dropped her Pearl into the water and said the incantation the entire party was taught.

Everything was still for a moment before there was a rippling of water from beneath her and the Maiden’s face appeared from the blue. Pausing to look up at her from the water before rising halfway out of the waves to look upon the person who summoned her. The blue of the waves covering her modesty, and her hair rid of all the clips, pins, flowers and ornate styles Sun Wukong had remembered her having. Only the pearls remained.

“You summoned me.” Not a question, not a demand for an explanation… simply a calm statement. But one the Phoenix Maiden took as a question anyway as she began to hurriedly explain the situation. Zhu Baije and Sha Wujing filling in any blanks when they came to sullenly join the group once again in defeat.

The Maiden of the Water didn’t so much as blink as she listened to the situation, though when she heard the name of the Yaoguai they were facing, her brow furrowed a bit, then looked at the river that emptied into the Ocean. “You are sure that this Yaoguai set up his domain in the ocean? Not the River? It does pass the border?”

“Yes Princess! You can feel the salt stinging your eyes and the currents trying to drag you further out to sea!” Zhu Wujing snorted in irritation, though still doing his best to remain respectful before the Royal Maiden.

The Maiden nodded, turning to the ocean and contemplating her next move.

“What’s the Plan Bèiké? Is the Lady going to break down the door and demand a Kowtow?” The Monkey snickered

“You Stinky Ape! How Dare You-“ Zhu Baijes outburst was interrupted when the Lady simply got to her feet and stood so only her ankles were still submerged in the water.

“You always were amusing Great Sage. After your rampage, the Jade Palace was so quiet.” She shook her head and murmured. “You were always Brave too, I haven’t heard that name from anyone but my mother in near 700 years… I miss hearing it from others… I’ll give you pilgrims permission to use it. It’s easier to speak than my other titles…”

“Still…” She raises her hands as the ocean begins to rumble and bubble. And with a great burst of movement, the Yaoguai’s Palace - and the floor on which it sat - was rejected by the ocean and spat out, floating on the surface, resulting in cascading waterfalls and massive waves that beat the shore from the displacement.

“Demanding a Kowtow does sound… reasonable… this Yaoguai in particular - if it is the same one who has lived here - was supposed to stay in the river. If I recall correctly, the dragon in which he insulted drew out Clear boundary and territory lines… it appears those have been ignored. Truly insolent.”

She turns to the group, and smiles. Though it strangely empty, not reaching her eyes. It made it all the more chilling. “Stay here… I will deal with this personally seeing as it pertains to my domain… it would’ve have come to me eventually anyway even if he hadn’t been so brave has to interfere with a journey tasked by the Merciful Buddha.” She shakes her head. “Do Not enter, no matter what you hear. Once I open the doors again you may come in and retrieve your master.”

Sha Wujing stepped forward. “My lady I must protest, as a member of the royal family, I can’t in good faith allow you to enter such a hostile place alone.”

The Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ - with the same smile on her face - gently patted the larger warriors arm. “Good faith or not, it is My order, please follow it. He won’t be able to hurt me, he is of my domain.”

The displeasure was clear on Wujing’s face, but he nodded all the same as he took a step back and the Maiden took one step forward before melting in with rest of the waters. Leaving the reluctant party behind… minus one.

———————————————————-

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

———————————————————-

The Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ didn’t bother to knock. Simply reforming into a human form on the inside of the door, in the greeting hall. She didn’t bother to wear her royal regalia, wearing a simple and plain Haori made of water to cover her modesty, her hair down and absent of the pins, jewelry and clips that a woman of her status was entitled to, save for the silver pearls that were ever present on her body and entangled in her hair.

She debated on summoning her trident, but decided against it… The signature weapon would succeed in sending a message sure, but what she had planned… the threat wasn’t necessary.

The water that still filled the greeting hall came up to her knees. It was truly a lovely greeting room… too bad it belongs to a shameless beast. The tranquility of what the hall could’ve been was ever ruined by the sounds of panicking servants in the distance. Most likely surprised at seeing their underwater palace suddenly above the waves.

She flicked the water from her fingers into the air, causing everything to still. And her voice rung out. “Bā tuófēng.”

The resulting silence was deafening, and the Water Maiden knew that she was heard.

Heavy footsteps beat against the floor before the door swung open and the Yaoguai, Bā tuófēng yěmán rén entered the room, and upon seeing who stood in his Greeting hall, Froze.

Becoming a maneater had done him no favors, his normally obsidian and golden scales now a sickly shade, his once dark eyes now had a white film over them as they bulged out of his skull, his great fangs now chipped and a disgusting yellow, his proud fins shriveled and torn, his once strong body now twisted, flabby and bent. The eight humps that once stood high on his head like a crown, were now wilted and puss-filled.

The Maiden gave almost a mournful sigh at seeing how the once proud warrior had fallen… all because his Pride couldn’t accept his wrongs. “Oh my dear Bā tuófēng… Time has not been kind to you…”

The Yaoguai snapped out of his shocked state and immediately fell into a Kowtow. “My Lady!” His voice was raspy and gruff, thick with mucus and bile. “You’ve come to grace my hall! Truly a prosperous day!”

“What were you doing in the ocean Bā tuófēng? Have the years made you forget that you were banished from it?”

The Yaoguai froze before looking up at her, taking in her expression as she gazed coolly back down upon him, waiting for his answer. “M-My Lady! The River didn’t offer the nutrition I needed! I’m still so close to the shore! Surely that dragon can allow me a bit of territory…. Perhaps… PERHAPS! If YOU were to help plead my case! I can take back what I once had!”

“That river is prosperous… it has been for years… it just doesn’t have easy access to your preferred food, does it?” She narrowed her eyes. “How many fishermen and children have you eaten Bā tuófēng? Did you learn nothing from your banishment? I see you’re still a useless beast.”

“You Damned Wench! I will not be subjugated! I Will have the power I deserve! I am Bā tuófēng yěmán rén! A woman shall have no rule over me!”

The Yaoguai jumped back and began to laugh as he began to summon the water to move to his will.

“Oh virtuous Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ! The bitch who refuses her role as the fairer sex! I shall show you what power is! You’re not the only one who can wield that trident!” He cackles again, spittle flying from his mouth. “And when I defeat you! I shall take you as my wife and we will feed on that monk as our wedding feast! I’ll teach you the joys of marriage.”

The trident formed in his hand it glowed and rattled with the power of the water and he went to lunge at her, ready to prove his strength.

To show the Maiden of the waters he was no normal Yaoguai! To teach that royal wench that just because she held a crown and a title, she was just another powerless princess.

One hit was all it should take, her slender body would break.

Just one H-

“Enough.”

His body froze. Paralyzed.

The trident burst into liquid, melting from his grasp.

He tried to break free of the paralysis, but he wouldn’t budge. It only made him fight against the invisible hold harder.

The Water Maiden watched him struggle for a few moments before sighing. “I knew you were never the wisest… but you’ve surprised me all the same Bā tuófēng. Normally, I would simply pass my judgement and be done with it. The pilgrims need to continue their journey and I have other responsibilities to tend to. The world has plenty of water to be managed you know. It’s hard to be everywhere at once…”

She took a few steps closer to him before gravity released its hold on her body and she began to float, going to sit in the air in front of his frozen form so that her face was level with his.

“But I find the need to mentor you before you take your punishment. You seem to have misunderstood my role in this world…” she gave a girlish giggle and tilted her head, gazing upon the beast in front of her with amusement. “You seem to have misunderstood… what exactly I am…”

She extended her arms out, the water coming alive, glowing and rippling. “I… am water. Despite what many believe, I am not the lady in charge of the waters, I am not the daughter of the waters, I am not even born of the waters.”

She lowered her arms and rested a single hand on her chest. “I, am the personal personification of all the water that flows in this world. I, am Water. And everything that is made of water… is me.”

She laughs again and rests her hands in her lap and she ‘swims’ in the air a little higher to be above Bā tuófēng. A visual that is not lost on him. “I meant it when I said it’s hard to be everywhere at once you know.” Her hands rest on her face, gently pulling her eyelids wider as she looks down on the Yaoguai. “When you are quite literally almost everywhere, it’s hard to be in any one place! If that makes sense, I don’t expect you to understand.”

An eye opens on top of the water beside him, causing him to flinch in his paralyzed state.

It looks exactly like the Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ’s eye…

“To be able to see everything, to always be everywhere!”

Another eye opens within a tiny waterfall that’s still falling from the roof of the room.

“It’s hard to keep your sense of being and identity… being stretched so thin. And eventually - in order to exist in polite society - you have to learn how to tune it out. To focus on where you are now.

Eyes appear on the walls around him.

“Because water is everywhere.”

More eyes open around the room, and dread begins to fill the Yaoguai.

“Water is within most of everything!”

Her human form begins to ebb as she takes on a more liquid form, her hair and body merging with the water that is still in the greeting hall to form a giant figure that dwarfs the petrified Yaoguai. Her voice is still the same.

“And what most so often seem to forget…. Is that Water is apart of most Everyone.”

Bā tuófēng cries out in pain as he feels some skin on his arm slit open, when he looks down, he’s horrified to see an eye blinking back at him… Her eye…

He lets out several more yells and shouts as he feels his body begin to split as more and more eyes emerge on him.

“You wanted to make me your bride? Dear Bā tuófēng, I’m already apart of you…” She giggles once more at her own awful joke. And begins to mess with the blood within his body to prove her point.

When he can’t take it anymore he screams.

“MERCY!!! PLEASE MY LADY HAVE MERCY!! FORGIVE THIS WRETCH!! IVE LEARNED MY LESSON! PLEASE SHOW MERCY!” He sobs out

He goes limp when the pain drains away, falls heavy into the water as the paralysis fades. The water quickly beginning to turn red.

The maiden of the waters almost falls back into her human form, the eyes all around the room close. And she stands over the fallen Yaoguai. Looking upon him with still glowing eyes as he is heaving and panting from the exertion his body was just put through.

She sighs then closes her eyes and steps away from him. Going to stare out a window. “Did you know that the heavens call me the ‘Tranquil Lady’? I was confused by the title at first… storms rage, oceans feed hurricanes, riptides and swift rivers kill the distracted and clumsy, floods are ever unpredictable, and even the mist and fog can cause the most seasoned traveler to get lost forever… For so long, I thought they had confused me with my Royal mother. She is the one who calms the storms and protects the sailors. She’s the one who can even command me to sooth my rage…”

She turns back around and leans on the windowsill.

“And then I realized… it’s because I’m not outwardly reactive. I had them all fooled you see, they thought me incapable of rage, of vengeance, simply because I never saw a point in giving them a visual reaction.”

She began walking slowly to the fallen Yaoguai again, who was trying, and failing, to move.

“The storms that would come and destroy their property afterwards were never associated with me, it’s was simply nature being unpredictable as ever! It was almost insulting if it wasn’t so hilarious.”

She knelt in front of the pitiful soul in front of her. Her voice still in that gentle cadence.

“But I am vengeful my dear Bā tuófēng, I am easily irritated when disobeyed and threatened by someone whom I’ve shown mercy too in the past… I am even quicker to feel anger towards someone who causes disturbances, in my domain especially….”

She reaches down and gently lifts the Yaoguai’s chin, forcing him to look at her. “And even more than the last two, my rage is so intensely summoned, when I am underestimated, and when my position and rank are laughed at. When my Pride, is insulted.”

She drops the Yaoguai’s face none too gently back into the red waters.

“Dear Bā tuófēng, as the Maiden of the waters, it is my responsibility to ensure that all the waters of the world are flowing correctly and being utilized properly…”

She stands and her eyes beginning to glow once more.

“And you, Bā tuófēng yěmán rén… have become a waste of water…. So I’ll be taking it back.”

Bā tuófēng yěmán rén felt pure, undiluted horror shoot through his body like a lighting strike, but was unable to get out a word before a seizuring pain unlike anything he had ever experienced overtook his body.

The screams that erupted from his chest were awful and caused the stones to crack and the windows to burst. They almost drowned out the wet sounds of flesh and bone ripping and tearing… almost.

It seemed to go one forever before it abruptly stopped as quickly as it began.

The Prideful and Insolent Bā tuófēng yěmán rén was no more… his punishment complete.

——————————————————

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

——————————————————

The greeting hall had been painted red.

It dripped from everywhere and the thick scent of iron assaulted the Great Sage’s nose as he watched from his position on the wall as a little fly.

To say Sun Wukong was shell shocked was a bit of an understatement. He had lived for a while and had seen many things. But what he had just witnessed in this hall was something he never could’ve predicted.

He had followed her, ready to defend her… and mainly because he was curious and didn’t like being ordered by the royals…

Even still, he had expected to have to intervene and protect the slender princess from that half rotting Yaoguai.

Part of him was impressed, he didn’t think the Princess whom he’d seen kowtow so easily, whom he’d seen submissively drop her gaze and dance and sing poetry so delicately for the entertainment of that senile emperor had it in her to be so authoritative.

The rest of him…

The rest of him was almost terrified. It made his fur itch and his tail twitch for all he was still in the form of a small fly.

It was a feeling he wasn’t all that used to. Not since the battle of the Samadi Fire… not since the moment who knew he had failed the Buddha’s bet and couldn’t escape the consequence…

This was no delicate princess, this was no “Tranquil Lady”…. And now seeing her, seeing and feeling the aura that wrapped around her like a second skin… he found himself wondering how he had ever been fooled into thinking otherwise.

How did the Heavens not know what she was? Did the Jade Emperor know? Did the Buddha? How had she even come to exist?

Why would she help-

“I am pretty sure when I ordered everyone to wait, you were apart of that conversation…” Came a sarcastic, almost exasperated tone that shook him out of his thoughts.

He focused back on the princess to see her staring right at him with an expression that looked somewhere between miffed and bored.

Knowing he was caught - and not trusting her to not give chase if he ran - he transformed back and somersaulted down onto his cloud, not wanting to dirty his clothes in the blood that covered the Halls.

He shrugged, feigning disinterest. “I already spent 500 years under a mountain for displeasing the Heavens. I wasn’t too keen on what the punishment would be if I had let one of the esteemed Jade Emperors favorite daughters come into harm. Especially one so merciful and forgiving as you.”

She stared at the Monkey King for a tense moment before the princess huffed out a soft laugh and Sun Wukong felt the danger pass. “What a silver tongue you have Great Sage, spare me your spurious sycophancies.”

He gave an exaggerated gasp as he placed a hand over his heart, grinning. “I say my lady! This handsome monkey king speaks no falsehoods and serves only to please! Though I am most impressed that the famously tranquil Yín zhēnzhū gōngzhǔ would so willingly allow herself to get her delicate hands dirty for the sake of justice. I’m so used to the royals having others met out punishments.”

He gestures over her dirtied form. Indeed, in her punishment of the insolent Bā tuófēng yěmán rén, she too had been covered in his blood.

Pointing it out seemed to allow the princess to realize her appearance. She took in her clothes and the rest of the room. She removed one of the pearls from her hair and crushed it in her hand before sprinkling it in the bloodied water.

“I assume my appearance is alarming. Though I usually I wouldn’t consider blood dirty…”

The red water rippled and suddenly the blood began to vanish, the room being cleansed.

“After all… blood is just the water of Life. Even from a Yaoguai, it’s not a dirty thing. It’s simply another form water can take.”

The blood that covered her turned into water once more and the last of the Iron Scent faded away.

Sun Wukong shook his head, finding himself confused by the Being before him, and increasingly glad she was tasked to aid them and not challenge their journey. “When I saw you in Heaven’s courts I took you for a willowy, fragile and humble little thing. You have fooled me! I am delighted! Not many have fooled me! I see now you are capricious! That is much more interesting! You are a most disconcerting woman Bèiké.”

She raised her eyebrow at him. “And a stone monkey that can fly through the sky isn’t? Go save your Master, Great Sage. And be thankful you aren’t of my domain. I would dunk your furry head in icy water if you were.”

He grinned and bared his teeth at her playful threat. His cloud already raising to speed to his master. “Maybe next time princess! If I’m to be greeted with ice, mayhaps I’ll greet you with some fire heated stones down your dress!”

“Awful Monkey!”

He laughed as he dodged a water spicket that shot in his direction and went to go retrieve and console his poor mortal Master.

The “tranquil” Princess could banter and play! What joy!

He couldn’t wait to tell his dear friend, the Phoenix Maiden, and his brothers of his discovery! He wonders if they’d even believe him!

What joy! What joy indeed! The Monkey King had found a fun game!

——————-

End

——————-

//this was not proofread, forgive any spelling errors, the Chinese translation was done on google translate. Please forgive if it is wrong, and let me know if I need to fix it.//

[woahjo]

calllll, can i get some recommendations for your fav women authors? i’m okay w anything <33

YESSSS OF COURSE!!!!

so my number one favorite author right now is mieko kawakami. she primarily writes contemporary feminist fiction about women in their 30s and 40s. i know i've spoken about her a lot, but she writes beautifully about the experience of being a "non-conventional" woman within a patriarchal society. and she writes about loneliness so perfectly. god she's wonderful.

book recs by her: - heaven, this novel is actually outside of what i think she's most recognized for since the characters are younger, but it's a book about two bullied teenagers and the way they make sense of why it happens to them. a lot of it is an exploration of philosophy through fiction and it has one of the most frustrating (in a good way) scenes that i've read. just so so good - breasts and eggs, a book about a woman who wants to have a child without a husband, without marrying, and without a man involved. explores motherhood, families, sexuality, womanhood, and the ethics of having children with a surrogate father who is not involved in the child's life. asks a lot of questions of what it means to be a woman. also worth noting that in japan it is illegal for a single woman to do IVF (and a same-sex couple) and the book explores that. it's DELIGHTFULLY human. i love this book.

another one of my fav authors is octavia butler. she's a science fiction novelist and she often includes allegories about social and racial injustice, capitalism, and colonialism. i even feel like allegory isn't the right word because a lot of it is very in your face. she's a brilliant writer and her work is SO relevant to today's social climate (especially her earthseed duology). her work really draws you into the world that she builds, almost to the point that the taboos she includes no longer feel like taboos by the time you put the book down.

book recs by her (they're series): - lilith's brood / xenogenesis, this is a trilogy and im not joking when i say that it's probably the best series of books i've read. it's about humanity and the aliens that come to "rescue" them on the verge of extinction, humans having practically wiped themselves out with nuclear war. it's really difficult to describe the book any further without feeling like i'm spoiling it, but the novel is an allegory for colonialism and the idea of cultural identity. it's incredible. i was asked to read the first seven chapters for a class and then i finished the whole series in three days. i could not put it down. it's fantastic and by the end of it, you're so drawn into this world she's created that the things that once felt incredibly taboo become so normal. it's fantastic i cannot say enough good things about this series. (the first book is called dawn) - parable of the sower, this one is from a duology, but i'm gonna talk about the first one because i haven't finished the second. it's about a post-capitalism america. it's set in california in 2024, when the american government, currency, and systems have all but collapsed in everything but name. it's absolutely HARROWING the parallels this book has to the current state of america, despite being written in 1993. honestly, she told the future a little bit and it's really frightening. it's told through the eyes of a teenage girl as she starts the religion "earthseed" in an attempt to make sense of the world. the book is absolutely phenomenal. so so so so good.

[royalarchivist]

Richarlyson: You're skinny sir, are you eating well these days?

Pac: Not really. To tell you the truth, I've been eating... I stole, together with my son, we stole some cupcakes from the Federation. I ate some, but I know chocolate isn't the best thing to eat, right?

Richarlyson: 12 kilos D:

Pac: 12 kilos?!? No– what? My god. My god... Am I malnourished, Doctovo? Am I- Am I malnourished?

Richarlyson: You weigh less than a pitbull, sir.

Pac: Less than the singer? Damn... [Laughs]

Richarlyson: [Hits Pac]

[citrushomie]

gumiku as this photo i found on pinterest

[statementlou]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisupdates/754934426217152513/goodbye-faith-in-the-future-world-tour-272024?source=share

did he or did he not lose fans then?

I will answer this because this anon actually brings a concrete question to the table rather than just "hurhur but you're a larrie??" (tell me you can't actually refute any of our points…). Anyway this post shows the decrease in Louis instagram followers between the screenshots taken directly after the release of Faith in the Future in Nov '22, when he changed his bio to promote that album and the tour tickets, and now, when he changed it again to mention the current release. But I'm putting that response under a cut because I'm tired of the actual POINT of all this nonsense getting lost in a sea of made up things people insist are important:

There is no rational argument you can make to say that Louis has less fans now than he did 2, 4, or 6 years ago. You don't need a spreadsheet of details you need to USE YOUR EYES! He has gone from filling theaters to filling arenas and stadiums. His second album made a higher chart position than his first album. His festival has doubled in size EVERY year of its existence. And for that matter: his insta post engagement numbers remain about the same (despite the fact that older posts should have way MORE likes due to having been there longer, even aside from follower counts.) SO WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT HIS INSTA FOLLOWER NUMBER???? Serious question: what does the word "fans" mean if these things aren't what matters? ALL of this quibbling about what he should do to make things better and people can't even see that THINGS AREN'T BAD.

Anyway to address the specific question- (con't......)

NO- HE DID NOT LOSE FANS. HE LOST SOME INSTA FOLLOWERS. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING. As I said above, literally what does it mean to lose fans if that number change coincides with him having higher sales, more audience members, and higher engagement than ever before? Whatever he lost ISN'T FANS. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant factor was something like a bot purge, but also yes: I'm sure a lot of casuals followed him around the time of his big album release and later unfollowed him. That's extremely normal because that's how casual engagement works, and why the definition of fan really matters. Louis and his team understand this and have referenced it repeatedly, talking about how lucky he is to have *us* specifically, to have the kind of dedicated fanbase he has, to have the KIND of fans he does who will allow him to do what HE wants. @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram named the issue of depth vs breadth with regard to fans a long time ago, and pointed out why having DEPTH is so much more important. It's like this- artists who are on top 40 radio have more numbers on things like insta follows, and for a time on sales and tickets. But those aren't FANS- they're people with a casual interest. And as soon as that person isn't being forced in their ears 10x a day, those people lose interest and stop supporting them, stop buying stuff and unfollow, and those artists end up doing the 'opener on the jingle ball' circuit rather than their own tours. One Direction as a whole, and Louis maybe most of all or near to at this point, have something MUCH MORE VALUABLE than that- DEPTH FANS. Louis has fans who will support him even if he takes years to release music, or stops parading around with a pretend girlfriend to stay in the headlines at least once a month, or completely changes his image and genre, and that is UNHEARD OF. It's ASTONISHING and worth SO MUCH MORE. And they get that! THAT is why he always bragging about us, why industry people he works with are always so agog about us, why he will do anything for US- not for randos. He is also growing his breadth- and it's OBVIOUSLY WORKING whatever his follower counts are, but that is always going to be secondary to doing things for THE FANDOM because that is his sustainable business model. That is what keeps him onstage and reaching number one. And not coincidentally, the things they do are also working to grow that- much more valuable- commodity. So the fact that that's exactly what these chuckleheads complain about- that he does things that are just fandom facing or serving rather than everything being aimed at recruiting casual fans- does nothing but betray how completely they, unlike Louis and his team, misunderstand the actual drivers of his (actual, existing, happening) success. Luckily for Louis, he and his team rely on their own data harvesting (they do a LOT of it) and growth metrics (they're off the charts) rather than the smug assumptions of random (mostly quite new to this) fans and the few bitter people leading the complaining about everything Louis does.

[crownedwille]

Are there still Crown Prince!Wilhelm stans out there despite S3 turning it into the number one problem? Please report, we need to unite and no, that doesn't mean that I don't support Wille's mental health and happiness and that I love the monarchy, some people out there must get it

[lighthouseas]

we need more unusual byler aus. like yeah i love a good coffeeshop au or whatever else but i'm talking like give me assassin will and target mike where will can't kill him because he's already associated with him and is falling in love with him. give me burglar will who, upon breaking into mike's apartment and seeing that he has nothing, decides to crash there for the night because mike isn't intimidated by him at all and also wants someone to hang out with for once. give me an au where they're coworkers working boring office cubicle jobs and have been trying to work up the courage to talk to each other since they are next to each others' cubicle. give me byler during the 1600s. give me a byler au inspired by some obscure anime. COME ON GUYS PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU. APPRECIATE UNUSUAL AUS BECAUSE THEY CAN BE SO FUN 🙏