#at least I know that they don’t reply because they can’t

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[frostbitebakery]

for @ferretrade

.Hashmarks

“I’ve seen a few troopers commemorating their kills with those,” Aayla comments, pointing her stylus at his collarbone where his shirt has slipped down.

It’s absolutely sweltering on this planet whose name Bly is saving in his long term memory just to avoid it in the future. Breathing feels like swallowing water, sitting still has him sweating more profusely than the 16-hour battle sims they endured during training. So of course his temp-regulating undersuit is shot to hell and their quartermaster is a mean bastard trying to teach him a lesson in taking better care of his stuff.

Bly had wanted to cry and beg for mercy.

Instead he had narrowed his eyes, nodded once in menacing silence, and turned back to his duties, hoping to instill at least some fear and regret in Q.

Aayla, his cruel savior, had crinkled her nose at him and offered a very large, very billowy shirt when he had sweat-squelched his way to their command tent. “It’s Quinlan’s, originally,” she had explained at his curious look. “He didn’t want it anymore.”

“Too many sleeves?” Bly had guessed hazardously.

So now he’s sitting in shorts and a billowy shirt at their shared desk, the collar constantly slipping off his shoulder because Vos is huge, and it’s an all-around aggravating situation. Except Aayla who’s lovely and can do no wrong, obviously. But who’s also taking an interest in his tattoos which Bly is not prepared for since his brain is actively melting.

“They’re for my batch mates,” he thus replies to her inquiry.

While the frown is settling into her features, her eyes flick down to count the marks.

Bly kind of wants to cringe. Oops.

“I thought batches were… decanted,” bless her for stumbling over that word, “in fives?”

He leans back, shrugs deliberately which has the added bonus of the shirt hiding the hashmarks again. “Now, yeah.”

“Cody, Wolffe, Fox,” she counts, her eyes boring into him. She’s like a massif with a bone, and there are moments Bly wants to be a chew toy. Sadly, this isn’t one of them. “I’m sorry about Ponds,” she says, means it with all her heart. “And you. I thought that was your batch?”

“Now. Yeah,” he repeats, half-smile lifting one side of his mouth. Does his best to not let the relief be palpable for her senses.

.Lightning

“Does it really have to mean anything when it looks this cool?” He almost cracks his neck trying to look at his back in the mirror. Lightning bolts strike out from his spine, wrapping around his upper arms like electric wings.

So cool.

“Your body, your choice,” Aayla says diplomatically.

Never mind the nay-sayers.

.Tic Tac Toe

“Ow,” Bly groans.

“Fucking tubie,” Squid hisses at him, bloody hands doing stuff way too fast for him to follow, “stop crying, it’s just a flesh wound.”

Holy hell, but the spots in front of his eyes do seem to grow larger. “You’re holding my innards,” he points out just as Squid throws away something bloody. “Don’t I still need that?”

“That was a wound pad, stupid.”

Wow, the black spots are in color now. “Mind the regs, soldier,” he slurs out.

Squid pulls a bandage - when did he do that? He’s incredible. He makes tattoos and medic stuff! - way too tight. “Commander Stupid,” he relents with another harsh pull. Bly pouts at him. “Congrats, you won the game.”

Bly weakly fist bumps the air. “Yay.”

.327

“Well,” he huffs out with a chuckle, leans back against the hull, “they’re my everything. Body, heart, soul. I’m ready to die for them.”

“They’re ready to die for you, too,” Aayla says quietly.

“Yeah.” He watches her roll the mug a trooper, long gone, made for her between her hands. “Wish they’d stop that.”

.Splinters

Squid wipes away the excess ink with ease and practice. “Well, it looks as stupid as you wanted it to. My work here is done.”

“Are you sure you can’t see the tattoo underneath?”

“Of course.” Squid pulls off the stained gloves, throwing him a judging side-eye. “No one will know what exactly you “hearted”, Commander.”

.Text

“Out of my way,” Aayla reads off his hand while he is unfairly under the influence of way too many drugs, “Rippin off my flesh, so you can’t recognize me, anymore.”

“I was an angsty youth,” he explains, maybe still sore about Wash forgetting the g in ripping.

She nods sagely. “That explains your taste in music.”

“I love polka.”

“No, the other one—“ She pats his hand which she’s still holding. His hand is so lucky. “Never mind. When you get out of here I’m introducing you to grunge and taking you flannel-shopping.”

His head is already nodding. His body is awesome at responding. “You’re like my sugar daddy,” he compliments her. Her and her twin. No, that can’t be right. He blinks and there’s only one Aayla again.

She snorts at him. “Showing you the holonet has been a mistake and keeps me up at night.”

.Flowers

“I wanna be a hi—,” Bly hiccups, fumbles with his drink before it goes all over Cody. “Hibi—“

“Hibiscus,” Fox suggests more drily than his drink.

“That one! I wanna be a hibiscus in my next life.” Just chilling in the sun all day, getting watered.

“I wanna be a spexcel sheet,” Cody says to the soaked through napkin which is stuck to his face but also to the table.

“We know,” the rest of them say in unison.

Man, being a hibiscus would be amazing. He will not remember this by morning.

Bly sits up in alarm at that revelation, spills his drink over Cody anyway. “I will not remember wanting to be a hibiscus,” he says, keeps his voice from wobbling by the skin of his teeth.

“You could write it on Cody the spexcel sheet to remember,” Wolffe suggests, pats Cody’s head when vague grunts of agreement sound from the napkin.

“Or,” Fox drawls out with a slow grin.

.

Bly very carefully tugs on the bandage with squinting eyes. The foil and adhesive separating from his skin is loud as fuck but needs must when it comes to facing the fallout of a drunken night. The bandage slowly reveals tender but well-healing skin, gold and a dark brown accentuating his skin.

He stares.

“This is not a hibiscus.”

[pochaccoups]

cw — sfw, fluff, mingi is sick and sulky, reader is smaller than mingi

It’s not entirely weird for Mingi to be waking up at 11:27 a.m. Sure, he’ll get up at seven or eight on a day full of schedules, but there’s also days where he sleeps until two, three, four p.m whether it’s from jet lag or after staying up late writing. What is weird is the fact that he’s been asleep since eight p.m. yesterday.

A text from your boyfriend is what lets you know he’s finally awake, and you’re up from the sitting room couch in an instant, darting to your shared bedroom.

He’s got the covers pulled halfway up his face with just his eyes poking out to stare at his phone screen and you wonder how a six-foot-something man can look so small.

“Morning, baby,” you say, slinking over to his side of the bed so you can sit on the edge next to him.

“Morning,” he replies, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was quite literally in front of you, you’d be convinced that someone had kidnapped your boyfriend and replaced him with a complete stranger—one with a voice so deep that it rumbles when he speaks.

Your eyes widen and you giggle, but you can’t say you’re surprised at how he sounds. His voice is notorious for dropping several octaves in the morning. Usually it’s sexy, but given that he’d spent the entire day before complaining about a sore throat, you can’t find it in you to feel anything but pity for the poor boy.

“So, I called your doctor and he said you need to stay home for the next four to five days at the least,” you tell him, reaching for his muss of silver hair to tangle your fingers through it softly.

“What-no, I’m really fine!” he whines, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. “I have to practice for the comeback, I can’t take a break right now.”

“You’re not taking a break, Gi, you’re going on sick leave. You kept me up all night with your sneezing and coughing,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, only to melt as soon as he gives you his big, round, puppy eyes.

“But it’s just a cold…”

“Well, the doctor ordered it. Besides, I’ve already called Hongjoong and your managers. And I took work off today and tomorrow so I can stay home with you.”

For a split second you swear his eyes well up with tears. “You did?”

“Of course,” you tell him. When Mingi is sick, he turns into a four week old puppy because he can’t be left alone, or a newborn baby who needs a pair of eyes on him at all times so that he doesn’t suffocate to death. So when you tell him you’ll go make him some food and tea, he wraps his excessively giant hands around your body and clings to you, like letting go of you would mean he’ll succumb to his illness.

“Gi, you need fluids. Please let me go,” you remind him, but he only holds you tighter and you know it’s partly out of spite and partly because he’s just like this—a velcro boyfriend.

“Mingi, I’ll be two minutes, then I’ll come right back, okay?” you tell him.

“No, you won’t, I know you,” he says, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. It’s a permanent feature of his face by now.

“I will! Why else do you think I took work off, huh?”

He’s silent then, and a moment later his arms fall loose, and he lets you go, but you leave a kiss on his forehead as an act of promise to him and shuffle back out to your kitchen.

Spurred by your boyfriend’s neediness, you gather leftover rice from the fridge, chicken broth, and a handful of vegetables with haste and start to boil the concoction that your mother taught you how to make, the one that got you through not just fevers but through heartbreaks, losses, and cold winters.

“The most important ingredient,” she would say, “is a sprinkle of your heart”—though Mingi deserved more than just a sprinkle.

The kettle boils away and your stew bubbles with life in no time. It’s also no time before a giant, warm, sniffling body plasters itself to your back and buries his face into your neck, practically bending in half to do so.

You can’t say you don’t see it coming. Still, the spirit of your mother possesses you when you drag out his name to scold him.

“Why aren’t you in bed, dummy?” you question, though you’re careful not to have any real aggravation in your voice toward him. Admittedly, you adore the way his body heat wraps around you like a blanket, although you’re sure that’s just his fever.

“Missed you too much,” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose and lips against your shoulder.

“I told you I’d be two minutes,” you sigh.

“It’s been more than that already. You lied. I knew you’d lie.”

“It was hyperbole for ‘I’ll be super quick’.”

“Then you should have said that.”

You place your wooden spoon down on the counter, turning to face your boyfriend with a fond smile on your face.

He looks adorable. Unbelievably so. Mussed up white hair, a dusting of pink on the apples of his cheeks and the pointy tip of his nose, puffy eyes that still sparkle at the sight of you. You might be the luckiest human on the planet.

You bring your hands up to his face, grabbing at each of his cheeks and squishing them gently between your fingers.

“My poor, sick princess,” you coo, watching his dimples make an appearance when he gives you a goofy, content smile. “Do you wanna watch a movie? Or a show maybe?”

He nods his head, still smiling so sweetly.

“Go pick something and I’ll finish up your soup,” you offer.

“Can I have a kiss first?”

You stare at him, unamused, though you know this very well—Song Mingi cannot live without your kisses. It’s why he was crafted with the softest, prettiest, heart-shaped lips, so that you could kiss them over and over and over again until the end of time. There are exceptions, however.

“I’m not catching your virus! Is that what you want?”

“No, no, on my forehead again!” he clarifies, his features suddenly muddled with worry because he would suffer from this cold for the rest of his life if it meant you would be healthy for the rest of yours. You wonder, though, if he knows how badly you wish you could take his cold and suffer it for him.

“Oh, well then yeah, duh,” you say, standing on your tip toes and gently pulling Mingi’s face towards you so that you can plant an overly long kiss on his burning forehead and pull away with a “mwah!” that leaves him utterly beaming.

Finally satisfied, he shuffles off back to the room, leaving you to brew his tea and serve up the stew into two bowls.

You grab flu tablets from the medicine cabinet, noting that they’re almost all gone and you’ll need to go to the pharmacy to get more. For today you have enough, so you place them on the tray along with the stews and tea and make your way back to your bedroom.

Mingi is curled up under the covers again and it’s so cute that you hate to disturb him, but he unfurls himself and sits up as soon as he sees you with a tray in hand.

“What are we watching?” you ask, slowly settling on the bed next to him and laying the tray down on the mattress.

“I think Attack on Titan, if you want to,” he says, full of fondness as you hand him two tablets to take.

“Oh, right, you’ve been wanting to watch that! Of course I want to,” you tell him, because you could never pass up the opportunity to see Jean Kirschtein in action again. You’ve missed him dearly since the show ended, though you have no doubt of the sulking and pouting you’ll get from Mingi when he comes onscreen.

Your boyfriend’s eyes go comically wide when he tries your soup and you laugh because he almost chokes on it.

“Is it that good?” you chuckle.

“It’s really good,” he responds.

“Good, because I put all my love into it.”

He hums, his face glowing pink as he eats another spoonful. “I can tell. Thank you for making this. And thank you for taking care of me. And for putting up with me.”

“Anything for my princess,” you giggle. “But I’m not ‘putting up with you’, idiot. Is it hard to comprehend that someone cares about you, Mingi?”

He stares up at you with his shiny eyes as though you hand-crafted the very sun, moon, and stars and placed them in the sky yourself.

“I love you,” he says, a mere whisper. It’s three words he’s said to you a million times, but right now, with his walls down and him vulnerable, it’s worth a million times more.

“I love you too,” you reply, leaning over to smack your lips against his temple. “Now watch the show!”

And he tries, he really does—but your little hospital patient is fast asleep by the third episode.

[thestrongestkikufuku]

a business proposal, p. 3

» part one, part two, part four, part five, part six - ⟡⋆˙

» contents - ⟡⋆˙ fluff, crack, au, satoru gojo x f!reader, ceo!gojo, reader works in the same company, made up character 'rin' as your bestie, suguru geto as the secretary, gojo being persistent and a lil shit, curse word, chaos

» word count - ⟡⋆˙ 5.5k

» notes - ⟡⋆˙ hi hi dear readers!! welcome to part 3 of the business proposal inspired fic! this one is a longer one, i kinda got possessed while writing this, lol, i haven't slept at all and it's almost 7 am >.< i've had some challenges on what to take from the show without making this too long because i really want to get started on the whole "fake dating" process, while also slowly building up the relationship. but in the next part we will uncover and explore more of the relationship so stay tuned!! :D anyways, happy reading and if you want to be added in the taglist for upcoming parts please let me know!! :D<3

» m.list - ⟡⋆˙

The next morning, Rin dragged you out of bed early with a wide smile on her face. “Come on, we’re going shopping!” she announced, practically bouncing with excitement.

You were initially confused but quickly became caught up in Rin’s infectious energy. She took you to all the high-end boutiques, insisting on buying you the most exquisite clothes. You protested, but Rin waved away your objections with a grin. “Consider it my treat! You deserve to be spoiled.”

By the time you both arrived at a charming little café, your makeup has been done, and you were wearing a stunning new outfit, complete with elegant accessories. “Rin, this is amazing,” you said, beaming at her. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

Rin laughed nervously. “Heh, well I did say I owed you for when you stepped up, right?” she replied sheepishly, her eyes darting around the café. “Now, let’s sit and have some coffee.”

You chatted happily, sipping your drinks and enjoying the cozy atmosphere. It wasn’t until Rin glanced at her watch and her expression tightened that you felt a sense of unease.

“[name], listen carefully.. There’s something I need to tell you,” Rin said, her voice suddenly serious. “Satoru Gojo will be here soon.”

You spat out your drink as panic surged through you. “HUH?! SATORU GOJO?! WHAT—”

Rin nodded, looking equally panicked now that she’d said it out loud. “I didn’t have a choice! He realized that we were friends and asked to meet you.”

“Then you should’ve pretended not to know me!” You exclaimed, your heart racing.

“I tried! But then he said he’d find out on his own! God, [name], he’s so scary! What if he discovers you’re his employee!?” Rin's voice was rising, her eyes wide with anxiety.

You both sat there in a shared moment of panic, glancing around the café as if expecting Gojo to walk in any second. 

“You could’ve at least warned me!” You exclaimed suddenly, your mind spinning with the sudden pressure, a mix of fear and frustration bubbling up inside you.

“Then you wouldn’t have come here!” Rin countered, her voice tinged with desperation, “but that doesn’t matter now, he thinks you owe him an apology.” She bit her lip, clearly regretting her decision to drag you into this.

“W-what?”

“Just say you're sorry! Nothing could go wrong, right?” Rin offered you a forced smile, meant to reassure you, though it only fueled your panic. Her attempt at comfort was painfully unconvincing, and you could see her own fear mirrored in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ll be going now.”

“You’re leaving?!” Your voice rose in disbelief.

Rin hummed as she rushed to gather her things then handed you a big paper bag, “don’t forget to wear the wig.”

“Wha—”

“I’m so sorry.” Rin shot you an apologetic smile before running off, leaving you alone to face the impending storm.

“Wait! RIN!” you called out after your friend, but she was already gone. “Shit—” 

You fumbled with the bag Rin left, searching frantically for the wig she mentioned. You found it nestled among the clothes she bought you, hurriedly pulling it out and attempting to adjust it over your hair, praying you'd be ready before Gojo walked through the door.

Your hands trembled as you struggled to fit the wig over your hair. “Come on, come on,” you muttered under your breath. 

The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, each tick echoing loudly in your ears. You stole quick glances at the entrance, half-expecting to see Gojo's distinctive figure appear at any moment. The café seemed to shrink around you, the cozy atmosphere now suffocating with the impending arrival of Satoru Gojo. Every passing second felt like an eternity, your heart pounding in your chest as you imagined the scenarios that could unfold if he saw you right now.

Finally, with a shaky sigh of relief, you managed to secure the wig in place, patting down the stray strands, hoping it looked convincing enough. 

The café seemed quieter now, the soft hum of people’s conversations around you contrasting sharply with the rapid beating of your heart. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you mentally rehearsed what you might say to Gojo if and when he arrived. Apologize? For what exactly? Rin’s vague explanation had left you more confused than reassured.

Just then, the door to the café swung open, and in walked a figure that made your breath catch in your throat. It was him—Satoru Gojo, unmistakable with his white hair and striking blue eyes.

He scanned the room casually at first, his gaze drifting past you without a flicker of recognition. But then his eyes doubled back, focusing directly on your table, slowly approaching to take a seat in front of you.

You sat there in tense silence, acutely aware of Satoru Gojo’s presence across from you. His gaze was inscrutable, his expression calm yet somehow piercing. Panic churned in your stomach as you wondered what he was thinking, what he might do next.

After what felt like an eternity, Gojo broke the silence. “So, how much did Miss Takahashi pay you to impersonate her?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question. You hadn’t anticipated this direct approach. Frantically, you searched for words, trying to gather your thoughts amid the rush of adrenaline.

“I-I…” you stammered, your mind racing. “I didn’t want to do it at first, but she offered me 90,000 yen,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Gojo arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “90,000 yen, huh?” he mused, leaning back slightly in his chair. “You tried to scam me for merely 90,000 yen?”

“Going as a replacement isn’t technically a scam, now is it?” You nervously attempted to defend yourself, the words stumbling out amidst the tumult of guilt and panic.

Gojo's gaze hardened slightly, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he regarded you thoughtfully. The weight of his scrutiny made your throat tighten, regret seeping into your every nerve.

“You pretended to be another person,” Gojo began, his voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge of disappointment. “You deliberately wasted someone’s precious time for your own benefit. If that’s not a scam, then what is it?”

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with guilt and sincerity. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just... I needed the money, and Rin... I-I wish I could make it up to you, but there’s not much I can do..” 

There was a long moment of silence before you gathered the courage to speak again.

“But,” you continued, your voice wavering slightly, “if there's ever anything I can do, please let me know, and I promise that I’ll do everything in my power to help you out.” you said, forcing enthusiasm into your voice.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Gojo stared at you with a penetrating gaze, his expression unreadable. The weight of his scrutiny made you shift uncomfortably in your seat, unsure of what to expect next. 

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you ventured cautiously, “Are you... Still mad at me?”

“In what way do I look like an archaeopteryx?” Gojo questioned suddenly, a serious expression settling over his features.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked in confusion. “Uh... what?” you asked, baffled by the sudden shift from serious to whimsical. “I.. Is that why you’re angry?”

“It is not why I’m angry,” Gojo replied firmly, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back slightly in his chair with a small huff. “It's just that I've never heard such nonsense before. So I was caught off guard, yes.”

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, that? I.. I just said whatever popped into my head because I wanted you to stop asking me to marry you.”

“Whatever popped into your head?” Gojo echoed, the seriousness of his expression unwavering.

“Look, I got nervous okay? I-I just really tried to play my part, I really didn’t mean anything by it.” you stammered, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I-If there's nothing else you want to talk about, we can just wrap this up and forget that all of this has happened.” You suggested tentatively, hoping to diffuse the awkward tension.

But before you could move to gather your things, Gojo’s voice cut through the air, unexpectedly serious. “Wait,” he said, raising his hand slightly, “let me see your phone.”

Confused, you hesitantly handed him the device, watching as he quickly tapped on the screen. 

“Really? ‘Don’t Answer’?” Gojo asked with a brow raised, turning the screen towards you to reveal his contact name. “You should save my name instead, and from now on you have to pick up my calls, no matter what.”

“But—”

“If you don’t answer or try to disappear, I’ll come find you.” He said, suddenly holding up a small, quaintly designed business card that read 'Sweet Delights Bakery' in playful, elegant script, adorned with a whimsical illustration of a cupcake.

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you couldn’t ignore. The seriousness in his tone left no room for doubt—he meant what he said.

“I-I... How did you...?” you stammered, feeling exposed and caught off guard.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You dropped it earlier,” he replied casually, as if revealing an obvious fact. “So you own a bakery?”

You sighed heavily, “not me, it’s a family business.. My father owns it.”

“How intriguing. Perhaps I’ll drop by sometime to see your handiwork.” He mused, giving you a cheeky smile.

Your throat tightened as you processed his words, slowly taking your phone back. 

“Okay.” You mustered out weakly, your fingers trembling as you hastily typed ‘Archaeopteryx’ as his contact name.

“Also, what’s your real name?”

“Oh, it’s—” You hesitated, a knot forming in your stomach. You knew you couldn't reveal your real name, not when you worked for him, that could mean trouble if he finds out about it. “Um... my name... it’s...” You faltered, searching for an excuse. “It’s Mei.”

“Mei?” Gojo repeated, his eyebrow quirking up in curiosity.

“Yes.. Mei,” you confirmed, trying to sound convincing. “Just... call me Mei.”

Gojo studied you for a moment, his gaze calculating. “Alright then, Miss Mei,” he said finally, his tone unreadable. 

Relief flooded through you as Gojo entered the fake name into his phone. You thanked whatever luck you had that he didn’t press further. 

—

That same night, exhaustion finally overcame you, the events of the day had left you emotionally drained, and you eagerly welcomed the respite of slumber with open arms. However, the peace was short-lived.

A sudden ringing shattered the silence, jerking you awake. Disoriented and groggy, it took a few moments to register the persistent sound of your phone vibrating on the nightstand. With a sigh, you fumbled for it, quickly pressing the button to answer the call.

“Hello?” you managed to croak out, your voice thick with sleep.

“Ah, Miss Mei, you're awake.”

Confusion swept over you. “Hm, what? Who’s prank calling me—”

“This is not a prank call, Miss Mei. Are you.. Are you half asleep?” His voice held a hint of amusement.

“I’m not Mei—” squinting at the bright screen in the darkness, you see the contact name, ‘Archaeopteryx’. You jolt up on your bed, running your fingers through your hair in frustration, “—a-ah, sorry! You just surprised me, that’s all.. Um.. Why did you call?”

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get a new number to cut me off, that's all,” he said casually, his tone bearing no hint of remorse for the disruption he had caused. “Goodnight.”

“Wha—”

Before you could formulate a coherent response, the line went dead. Staring at your phone in disbelief, frustration bubbled up within you. It was late, you were wide awake now, and there seemed to be no reason for Gojo's late-night call other than to unsettle you further.

Tossing your phone back onto the nightstand, you buried your face in your hands, feeling a mix of irritation and helplessness. 

“He’s crazy, he’s actually crazy.” You muttered under your breath, glancing at the clock. Your eyes widened upon seeing the time—4 a.m.

“UGH, this guy is so annoying!”

—

“Do you think there’s anyone else who goes on ten blind dates a day?” Gojo’s voice broke the silence, glancing at his friend.

“No.” Geto answered bluntly, a playful smile forming on his lips, “and I can assure you that you’ll set a new record for the most blind dates in the shortest amount of time.”

Gojo snorted, rolling his eyes at Geto’s remark. “I just don’t get it,” he began, his brows furrowing slightly. His relaxed and playful expression slowly morphed into a serious one. “These girls.. They’re all beautiful. But every conversation feels rehearsed, as if they’re all saying what they think I want to hear, it’s creepy.”

“It’s most likely because they want to impress you, Satoru.” Geto countered calmly, offering him a reassuring smile, “but I don’t doubt that you will find someone eventually. Besides, they seemed a little better than the fake ‘Rin Takahashi’.”

“Well, at least the fake ‘Rin Takahashi’ wasn’t boring.” Gojo retorted, sighing heavily as he threaded his fingers through his white locks. “There’s just... Something about her..”

Geto hummed softly, nodding thoughtfully as he considered Gojo’s words. “So what will you do?”

—

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, you found yourself immersed in the usual rhythm of work. The hum of conversations and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards provided a comforting backdrop, a return to normalcy after the whirlwind of emotions stirred up by the intense situation involving Satoru Gojo.

Just as you were engrossed in a particularly challenging task, your phone buzzed insistently on the desk. Glancing at the screen, your heart skipped a beat when you saw ‘Archaeopteryx’ flashing brightly. Dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising panic.

“Hello?” you ventured cautiously.

“Hello, Miss Mei,” came Gojo's voice, cool and composed. “I was thinking we should meet up to talk.”

Your mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in a chaotic whirl. Why did he want to meet? What does he want to talk about? You struggled to find words, your throat dry as you searched for a response.

“Um, yeah, sure,” you managed finally, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the turmoil inside. “When?”

“How about tonight?” Gojo suggested casually. “I know a quiet spot not far from your place.”

“Tonight?” you echoed, anxiety tightening its grip on you. “I-I'm not sure if—”

“It’ll be quick,” Gojo interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just a chat.”

“I-I’ll be working late, I’m helping my father close today.” Trying your best to steer him away from the idea.

Gojo’s voice remained calm and determined. “No worries. I’ll wait for you. See you then.”

Before you could protest further or ask for more details, he ended the call abruptly. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you reeling with uncertainty. The clock on your desk seemed to tick louder, each passing second heightening your nerves.

Fighting to steady your trembling hands, you took a deep breath, attempting to focus on your work. But Gojo’s unexpected request echoed in your mind, stirring a whirlwind of questions and apprehensions. What did he want to discuss?

—

Later that evening, you found yourself helping your father close up the bakery. The warm scent of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air, mixing with the soft hum of the ovens cooling down. Despite the familiar surroundings, a knot of anxiety tightened in your chest.

As you wiped down the counters, a sense of dread crept in, intensifying with each passing minute. Thoughts of your impending meeting with Gojo gnawed at your mind like an insistent itch. What did he want to discuss? And why was it so urgent that he requested a late-night meeting? Uncertainty burdened your shoulders, diverting your attention from the usual tasks at hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your father's voice interrupted your thoughts gently. He glanced at you with concern, his eyes catching the weariness in yours. “I’ll be heading upstairs now. Is that alright?”

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Oh, yeah sure. You go ahead.”

His brow furrowed slightly, sensing there was more beneath the surface. “You sure?” he pressed gently, crossing his arms on his chest. “You seem a little.. Distracted? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” you assured him, avoiding his gaze as guilt pricked at your conscience. How could you explain the mess you'd unwillingly gotten yourself into? “I just... Have some things to sort out with work. It’ll be fine.”

Your father studied you for a moment longer, his expression softening slightly, “alright, if you say so,” he relented, sensing your reluctance to share more. “Just take care of yourself, okay? And call if you need anything.”

“I will,” you promised, forcing another smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

As you watched him leave, a sense of apprehension settling in your chest. You immediately gather your things as you hurried to the small employee restroom tucked away in the corner of the building. You hastily pulled out the wig stashed in your bag and swiftly put it on, adjusting the unruly strands until they framed your face nicely. A quick touch-up of makeup followed, just enough to subtly alter your features, transforming you into the fabricated “Mei”. It was a disguise borne out of necessity, a guise to navigate the unforeseen entanglement Gojo had dragged you into. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you glanced at your reflection in the dimly lit mirror, reassuring yourself that you looked different enough to pass unnoticed.

Stepping back into the bakery’s main area, you locked the door behind you and ventured into the cool night air. The street lamps cast long shadows as you made your way to the agreed-upon meeting spot, a quiet café not far from your workplace. Each step felt heavier than the last as you trudged towards the building. The café was nearly empty when you arrived, only a few lingering customers left, sipping their drinks. Spotting Gojo at a secluded table near the window, you approached cautiously, the click of your heels against the tiled floor barely audible in the hushed atmosphere.

He looked up as you approached, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before a faint smile touched his lips. 

“Hello, Miss Mei.” Gojo greeted smoothly, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. “You look different tonight.” he remarked casually, sipping from his cup of tea. His eyes, however, bore into yours with an intensity that made you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“It’s been a long day,” you deflected, forcing a smile that felt stiff on your lips. “So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

Gojo set his cup down, his expression growing serious once more. “This isn’t really a place to say such things but,” he began as he leaned closer, “I want us to start dating. With marriage in mind.”

“What?” Your eyes widened at his sudden request, shock evident in your voice. “Dating? Marriage?”

Gojo leaned back, observing your reaction with a calm demeanor. “I know it sounds sudden, but hear me out. My grandfather has been pressuring me to find a wife. And he's been... Relentless, and frankly, it’s driving me insane. He has set up countless blind dates, all of which have been less than ideal. All I want for you is to pretend that you’re in a relationship with me, just to calm him down a little.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “You want to fake date me to get your grandfather off your back?”

He nodded, his expression sincere. “Exactly. And you wouldn’t even have to do much—just attend a few family gatherings, maybe a couple of events. It would give me some breathing room and hopefully that’ll convince him.”

“I..” you stare at him for a moment, disbelief spreading across your features as you shake your head, “no.. No way! I won’t.”

Gojo’s eyebrow quirked up at your outburst, “why not?”

“Why— you have been calling me a fraud— a-an imposter! And now you want me to do it all over again?!”

“Well, I figured you’d be the best person for the job.” Gojo shrugged casually, taking another sip of his tea.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re good at pretending to be someone else,” he replied nonchalantly. “You managed to fool me, didn’t you? Besides, you already know how to handle difficult situations. This will be a walk in the park compared to what you’ve already been through.”

Frustration bubbled up inside you. “You think this is some kind of game? This isn’t just about fooling your family. It’s my life too.”

Gojo’s expression softened slightly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think you could handle it. Look, you wanted to repay your debt, right? Not to mention all the precious time I’ll save. It’s a win-win situation, is it not?”

You bit your lip, feeling cornered. “It’s not that simple, you know? Pretending to be someone I’m not, pretending to be in a relationship… It's exhausting and emotionally taxing.”

“I get that,” he said, his voice sincere. “And I’m willing to make it worth your while. Whatever you need, I can help with. Financially, professionally, you name it. Just think about it. Whatever Miss Takahashi offered you, I'll double it.”

You sighed, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. The logical part of you recognized the potential benefits—paying off debts, helping your father out, gaining influential connections. But the emotional part of you recoiled at the idea of diving deeper into this charade.

“I-I’ll think about it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and you could feel Gojo’s gaze on you, waiting for more. But instead of elaborating, you found yourself standing abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gojo,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you bowed at him. “But I have to head home now.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Gojo sitting alone at the table. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the café, but you didn’t look back. 

—

The soft glow of your desk lamp illuminated the paperwork strewn across your desk as you worked on a project that was due the next morning. Your eyes felt heavy with fatigue, and you longed for the comfort of your bed. The clock on your wall ticked away, reminding you just how late it had become. With a sigh, you decided to wrap up for the night, stacking your papers neatly and turning off your computer.

Just as you were about to head to bed, your phone buzzed on the desk. The sudden noise startled you, and you glanced at the screen to see ‘Archaeopteryx’ flashing brightly. Your heart sank, a mixture of dread and annoyance bubbling up inside you. Why was Gojo calling you so late?

Reluctantly, you answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Mei,” Gojo’s voice was as smooth as ever, but there was an underlying urgency that made you uneasy. “I’m outside your house.”

Panic gripped you instantly, suddenly feeling more awake. Oh, god why now? You weren't even in your disguise; you were just yourself, in your pajamas, your face completely bare.

“W-what? Why are you here?” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It’s been a few days since our last encounter, and I needed to talk to you,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to show up unannounced. “Can you come meet me outside?”

You glanced around your apartment, your mind racing. “Um, I... I’m not really... prepared for visitors,” you said, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

“I won’t take long,” he insisted. “Just a quick chat.”

You hesitated, weighing your options. The last thing you wanted was for Gojo to see you like this, without the wig and makeup that turned you into “Mei”. But you knew he wouldn't leave easily. Taking a deep breath, you decided to face him.

“Okay, okay, just— give me a minute,” you said, trying to keep the anxiety out of your voice. You ended the call and quickly looked around your apartment for anything that might help.

There was no time to put on the full disguise, but you grabbed a nearby hoodie and a pair of sunglasses, hoping that it would be enough to obscure your features. With a final deep breath, you headed towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you exited your apartment complex, your eyes caught sight of Gojo’s car parked under a streetlamp, his figure leaning casually against the hood.

Gojo looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately narrowing at your makeshift disguise. “Interesting choice of attire,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” you retorted, pulling the hood tighter around your face. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

Without a word, Gojo reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a neatly folded document. He handed it to you, his expression serious. “This is a draft of the contract for our arrangement. I had it drawn up to outline the terms clearly.”

You unfolded the document, your eyes scanning the formal language and detailed clauses. It was all there in black and white: the terms of your fake relationship, the things you had to do, the financial compensation. Everything was meticulously planned out.

You looked up at Gojo, disbelief and frustration now evident on your face. “You seriously expect me to agree to this?” you asked, your voice rising. “No. No way—”

“When you were apologizing to me the first time, you said you’d help with whatever I needed. Or was that all an empty promise?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, quickly silencing you. You remembered that moment vividly, the desperation in your voice as you tried to make amends for your deception. 

“That was different,” you countered, shaking your head. “I didn’t know you were going to ask me to lie to your family.”

“Is it really that different?” Gojo asked, his tone calm but insistent. “You wanted to make things right, to repay a debt. This is your chance. And it’s not like you’ll be doing it for free. The compensation is generous.”

“No!” You countered stubbornly, your voice firm and resolute. “Find another woman.” 

With that, you turn on your heel, ready to march back to your apartment. But before you could take another stride, Gojo moved swiftly. His hand shot out, gripping your arm gently but firmly, halting your retreat as he turned you around

“Let go,” you demanded, trying to pull your arm free, but Gojo's grip didn’t waver.

“Please, just listen to me,” he implored, his voice low and urgent. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t truly need your help.”

“Mr. Gojo, I can’t,” you asserted firmly, meeting his eyes with a mixture of resolve and apprehension. “I have my reasons.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “And what are those reasons?”

Your mind raced as you stood silently in front of him, Gojo's intense gaze fixed on you. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer you couldn’t easily give. You couldn’t reveal the true reason—the fear of him possibly finding out about your true identity, which could jeopardize your entire career. And as the CEO of the company where you worked at, Gojo held a significant sway over your professional future. The mere thought of it sent chills down your spine.

“I—”

Your words come to a stop, your heart pounding in your chest as you see a figure approaching from behind him. Dread washed over you as you recognized your father, returning from his late-night snack run. Panic surged through you, a rush of adrenaline urging you to act swiftly. Without thinking, you quickly pushed Satoru Gojo behind the dumpster with more force than you intended, but Gojo’s swift reflexes pulled you down with him, and you landed awkwardly on top of him.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around you blurred into insignificance. Gojo's expression was a mixture of surprise and amusement, his lips quirking into a half-smile despite the awkwardness of the situation. His hands instinctively held onto you, one arm around your waist and the other supporting your back, his breath warm against your cheek.

As your father entered the building, oblivious to the unfolding scene, you scrambled to your feet, hastily brushing off your clothes in an attempt to compose yourself. The urgency to maintain appearances clashed with the lingering closeness you felt with Gojo, leaving you flustered and uncertain of how to proceed.

“S-sorry,” you stammered nervously, extending your hand to help Gojo up from the ground. His half-smile remained, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he accepted your gesture, grasping your hand firmly.

“Thanks.” Gojo murmured as he started to pull himself up.

But just as he rose to his feet, his expression suddenly shifted, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. Before you could react, Gojo swayed unsteadily, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, panic seizing your heart as you knelt beside him. His body lay limp on the ground, unconscious and eerily still. Fear gripped you as you checked for any signs of injury, your fingers trembling as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. Did he hit his head too hard? Is he...?

Panic washed through you as gently shake his shoulder. “Gojo? Gojo, wake up.”

But there was no response from him, his eyelids remained shut.

“Shit!”

—

The memory of Gojo collapsing haunted you, the image replaying in your mind. Though he appeared remarkably well now, considering the events of last night. But you couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at your insides as you sat across from him in the small meeting room. You both had agreed to meet to discuss the contract for the fake arrangement—something you had been adamant about not signing.

As you read through the document again, your brow furrowed with determination. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the clauses once more.

With a sigh, Gojo leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. “You know, I was supposed to sign a crucial contract this morning. But thanks to yesterday's little incident,” he paused, rubbing his temples as if in discomfort, “I had to clear my entire schedule for the day. Missed that meeting, lost that contract.”

Your heart sank at his words, guilt and frustration knotting in your stomach. “I-I’m really sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen.”

“Yeah, well, here we are,” he replied curtly, his tone sharp with irritation. But then, a glint of mischief flickered in his eyes, a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “But.. If you just accept my offer, I won’t sue for the damages. And I’ll still pay you what I promised.”

His casual threat hit you like a punch to the gut. The implication hung heavily in the air, undeniable and unsettling. You glanced down at the contract, the words swimming before your eyes. This wasn’t just about signing a piece of paper anymore; it was about conceding to his terms under pressure.

“Mr. Geto,” Gojo began, his voice firm and sharp, “contact the legal and tell them to proceed with the lawsuit right away—”

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll sign it!” You interrupted, your voice edged with frustration and resignation.

Gojo’s smile widened into a satisfied grin as he leaned forward to give you the pen. “Good choice.”

As you reluctantly added your signature to the contract, a sense of defeat settled over you. The ink dried with finality, sealing the agreement that bound you to Gojo in ways you never imagined. The weight of his expectations and the consequences of your actions bore down on you heavily.

After Gojo gathered the signed document and tucked it away with a sense of finality. “Well, that settles it then.” he said as he stood up, his gaze lingering on you thoughtfully, “I’ll call you later to schedule another meeting with you soon. There's a lot of things we need to go through and talk about.”

You nodded weakly in acknowledgment, still processing the whirlwind of emotions and decisions made in such a short time.

With that, Gojo turned towards the door and left the office without looking back. The quiet click of the door closing echoed in the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the signed contract that now bound you to an uncertain future.

The feeling of regret settled in as you stared at the empty chair where Gojo had been just moments before. 

“Oh god, what have I done?”

» taglist - ⟡⋆˙ @megumisthirdog, @inluvkai, @ieathairs, @roscpctals99, @laviefantasie, @snwvie, @sanriosatoru, @reagan707, @keaugh, @cc1306, @shadowheads-shitshow, @pinkprincessglitterzombie

[saphronethaleph]

The Deal

“Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi,” Palpatine said. “Learn to know the dark side of the Force, Anakin, and you will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

“What did you say?” Anakin asked.

“Use my knowledge, I beg you…” Palpatine pleaded.

“You’re a Sith Lord!” Anakin said.

He reached for his lightsaber, then paused.

“That story you told, about Darth Plagueis,” he said. “You mean – that was true? He really did discover a way to save people from death?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Palpatine agreed. “And I will-”

“So,” Anakin interrupted, frowning. “How do you know it? You said his apprentice murdered him in his sleep.”

“Because he taught everything to… his apprentice… before dying,” Palpatine explained.

“Again,” Anakin said, patiently. “How do you know it?”

“I was that apprentice!” Palpatine explained.

“So you killed your master in his sleep, and you ordered me to kill your apprentice, Dooku,” Anakin said. “You know, Chancellor, this isn’t a great job offer.”

“But think of what you have to gain, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “I can save your wife. Isn’t that what matters?”

“...yeah,” Anakin agreed, still frowning. “So when did Plagueis die?”

“About… fifteen years ago, now?” Palpatine said. “Maybe sixteen? Something like that. Why does that matter?”

“Just wanting to make sure I’ve got all the information, Chancellor,” Anakin replied. “Who have you been healing? Because I don’t actually think you’ve got any loved ones.”

He made a face. “Obi-Wan once took me aside and told me about what to look out for when an older man was going to try and touch me in the wrong way.”

“You see?” Palpatine asked. “He doesn’t trust you!”

“I see his point, though,” Anakin said. “Because you don’t have any loved ones that I can think of, like I say… so who have you been healing?”

Palpatine frowned.

“...why does that matter, Anakin?” he asked.

“Because it sounds like you learned how to do this at least fifteen years ago and you’ve never actually tried it,” Anakin clarified. “Which really sounds like you can’t do it, or even if you could before your medical license has expired.”

“I most certainly can!” Palpatine said, his patience fraying slightly. “Anakin, I am trying to help you!”

“Okay, then,” Anakin replied. “Teach me now.”

Palpatine made a face.

“If I do that, then how will I know you won’t betray me?” he said.

“...you’re saying that the only thing that would keep me from betraying you is if you don’t teach me the healing technique,” Anakin said, nodding. “So you’ve got no reason to get around to teaching me. I know how to lure an Eopie, Chancellor.”

“It will take too long to teach you, anyway,” Palpatine declared. “We can’t do it tonight. It won’t fit.”

“You’re really trying to help me, huh?” Anakin said. “Because all the visions I’ve been having about my wife dying are about it happening soon…”

He stopped.

“Actually, how do you know about that? I don’t think I ever told you.”

“Oh, please, it’s obvious that you’re married-” Palpatine said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean about the certain death bit,” Anakin explained. “It’s a bit of a guess.”

He frowned, visibly thinking. “And, uh… okay, so what you’re saying is that… you’re a Sith, you want to take direct control of the Jedi, and that’s because of the war against the Separatists, who were led by Count Dooku. Who was your apprentice… and then for me, personally, you want me to turn to the Dark Side so you can teach me a healing technique you’ve never actually used yourself, while you’ve killed the last two people who worked directly with you the moment they were no longer useful to you.”

Palpatine looked pained.

“That’s a very negative attitude, Anakin,” he said.

“I want to make sure I’ve got all this straight, is all,” Anakin replied.

Mace Windu’s commlink beeped, in a specific pattern that indicated it was a member of the Council.

“Windu here,” he said, raising the device to his ear.

“Master, I quit,” Anakin told him. “Also I married Senator Amidala at the start of the war, Palpatine was the Sith Lord, and I’d quite like to sleep for a week at some point. I’ve had a very long day.”

“...what?” Mace asked, a bit overloaded himself.

“Like, I’m pretty sure my day has had the sun go down three times so far,” Anakin went on. “Also the Chancellor exploded when I killed him. It’s okay, he was shooting lightning at me, that makes it fair.”

[jerzwriter]

Money, Money - Tobias x Casey HC

It took me three years to write the story of how my messy kids finally got their act together and ended up together. By the time they did, they had a solid foundation of friendship underneath them, and they were so in love. I imagine the honeymoon period was intense; however, nothing is perfect, and transitioning from friends to so much more comes with its challenges. So, I decided it's time to finally write those stories, too. I think this one would take place about a month after they got together. I hope you enjoy it!

Book: Open Heart (Late Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 2,500 Summary: Tobias and Casey are finally together, and madly in love; things are going smoothly until Casey learns something about her new boyfriend... and she's not pleased. How will they work it out?

A/N: Above, also, participating in @choicesjunechallenge2024 - “You’ve got to make up your mind.”

Tobias x Casey Masterlist Open Heart Masterlist Full Masterlist

It was a perfect Sunday morning in the roomie’s cozy Boston apartment. At least, Jackie thought so. With two of the five roomies working – and Bryce conspicuously absent – the place was quiet for a change. Even better, Sienna and Aurora had prepared a delicious breakfast to enjoy for no more than a promise to do the dishes. Sitting at the table in her raggedy old t-shirt, shoveling homemade waffles into her mouth was as good as it gets.

“These are so good,” she drooled.

“Thanks,” Sienna replied proudly. “I saved this new recipe for our next girls’ day.”

“Girls’ day less one,” Aurora clarified.

“I know,” Sienna frowned. “I’m really happy for Casey, but I miss her since she's dating Tobias. I feel like she’s never here anymore.”

“Because she’s not, and we all know why that is,” Jackie snickered.

“I know,” Sienna chuckled. “I was just hoping she’d be home a little more often.”

“There are five people in five bedrooms here... Tobias has five bedrooms for the two of them at his place. Can’t say I blame her,” Aurora shrugged.

“Yeah, and the upside is, if they go there, we don’t have to hear them,” Jackie added. 

Aurora raised her glass of orange juice in agreement, but Sienna wasn't sold.

“Still, I’d be willing to sleep with earplugs once in a while to see Casey more often."

“I would, too,” Aurora agreed. The two women turned to Jackie, seeking to make it unanimous, but she stalled.

“All right! And that speaks to how much I love her. I'd do it once in a while as long as I could mock them both in the morning."

"Well, that goes without saying," Aurora smirked.

“Good!! I’ll talk to her!”

“Sienna!” Aurora laughed. “We're just making conversation. I didn’t think it was an actual offer!”  

“Well, why not?” Sienna asked. “She’s only home about two nights a week now. If I happen to be working those nights, I don’t see her.”

“You act like you don’t work with her!” Jackie pointed out when the women were interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming shut.

“I’ll grab the bat,” Jackie whispered.

“IT’S CASEY!” Aurora shouted. “Put the bat down, Jackie!”

“Casey! We were just talking about you! Did you eat? I can make you more waffles if you....”

But Sienna came to a halt when Casey stepped brusquely into the kitchen. With her coat still on, breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring; it was clear that food was the last thing on her mind.

“Casey?” Sienna asked cautiously.

“What did Carrick do?” Jackie snapped, still twirling the baseball bat in her hands. “I’ll kill him!”

“Jackie! Why do you automatically assume Tobias did something!” Aurora scolded before turning to Casey. “So, what did he do?”

Casey glanced at each of her friends in astonishment. After taking a shaky breath, she exclaimed, "He's rich!" Her coat fell in a crumpled heap on the kitchen floor as she turned on her heel and stormed into the living room. She threw herself onto the couch, repeating, "He's fucking rich!"

“Uhm, this is news to you?” Aurora asked.

“And... that's a bad thing?” Sienna followed.

“Leave her alone, guys,” Jackie said with what momentarily appeared to be sympathy. “It’s easy to see how she could have missed it. You know, a five-bedroom townhome in Boston, the $80,000 Jaguar and $90,000 Genesis. It’s pretty hard to tell he’s not just your average dude struggling to get by.”

Casey's eyes went wide. “That’s how much those cars cost!”

Jackie pinched the bridge of her nose with disgust. “Sometimes I question why I’m friends with you.”

Sienna glared at Jackie as she sad beside Casey. “I think what Jackie’s trying to say... in her very Jackie way... is... how didn’t you know he was rich?”

Casey leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. “Obviously, I knew he was well off. I’m not that dumb! But I figured he had successful doctor kind of money. I didn’t know he was loaded, old-money, practically 1% kind of rich!”

“Casey?” Aurora questioned. “He’s a Carrick of the DC Carricks...he is 1% kind of rich. Or at least his family is. How did you not know that?” 

"Aurora, you're rich. That might matter to people in your family's social circle. But I was a poor kid from South Philly. Back-to-school shopping meant digging through a Hefty bag of my older cousin's hand-me-downs. The Carrick family wasn't exactly on our radar."

“But you’re into politics,” Aurora countered. “His last name is Carrick. He's from DC. It never crossed your mind?”

“It’s not the most common surname, but there are more than a few Carricks in the world. So, no,” she said on the verge of tears. “It never crossed my mind.”

“Oh, boo-hoo-hoo,” Jackie interrupted. “You’ve met a hot guy who worships the ground you walk on, gives you the most incredible orgasms of your life, and he’s filthy rich. My heart aches for you, Case!"

Sienna shot Jackie another silencing glare. “What Jackie’s trying to say... in her very Jackie way... is.... how exactly is this a bad thing?”

"Guys, you know me. My family was poor; my mom's medical bills nearly destroyed us. I despise how the capitalist system works. It nauseates me that the richest 0.1% of Americans control $20 trillion in wealth while the bottom 50% only control $3.7 trillion!"

“How does she know those stats?” Jackie whispered.

“Jackie! Stop,” Casey interrupted. “The bottom line is, I’m in love with the enemy!”

“He’s not the enemy,” Aurora said with a roll of her eyes. “Really? My family is wealthy. Does that make me the enemy, too?”

“No,” Casey said, abashed. “It’s just that amount of wealth and the power that comes with it... it makes me very uncomfortable.”

“So at least no one can say you're in love with him because of his money,” Sienna offered. “That’s a good thing. But are you are in love with him, right?"

“Of course! You know how much I love him!"

“Then wouldn’t holding his wealth against him be as messed up as if he held your lack of wealth against you?” Sienna replied.

“He can’t help what family he was born to,” Aurora added. “Trust me, I know.”

“I see your point,” Casey agreed. “But it makes me so... uncomfortable. How would I even fit in in that world?”

“You fit very nicely into his world," Jackie noted. "And isn't that all that matters?"

“What will his family think of me?” Casey worried.

“You won’t know until you meet them,” Aurora stated. “But from what I hear, his mom is so happy he’s settling down, I think you’ll do just fine!"

“Have you discussed any of this with Tobias?” Jackie asked.

“No... not really. He told me he was one of the Carricks, and I sort of had a panic attack and rushed out of his place.”

“Wow," Jackie sputtered. "You handled that like a champ!”

“Jackie!” Sienna scolded. “Casey, we're always willing to listen to you, but the person you need to talk to is probably sitting home stressing out right now.”

“Yeah, his very expensive home,” Jackie offered.

"I feel like an idiot," Casey sighed. "What do I say to him now?"

"You'll figure it out," Aurora smiled. "But if I were you, I'd go back over now, don't let this fester."

~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, a weary Casey stood at Tobia's front door. Leaning against the frame, he met her with tender eyes but remained silent.

“May I come in?” she muttered, reaching to touch his hand.

“You want to?” he questioned.

“I’m here, aren't I?"

He kicked the door open, and Casey walked through, heading straight to his living room. Tobias poured two glasses of water, handed one to Casey, and then sat beside her in silence, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“All right, but from where I stand, you have nothing to be sorry for... but I wouldn't mind an explanation.”

“Tobias, I didn't know that you were one of the Carricks. I knew you were well off, obviously, but I never thought you were, like, old-school money, and... that's difficult for me."

“Really," he half-chucked, placing his water on the coffee table. "That’s a selling point for most...”

“Well, I’m not most,” she sighed. “Tobias, I haven't gone into detail about my family, but I grew up poor. My dad had to work three jobs to keep a roof over our heads when my mom got sick, and her medical bills nearly left us on the street. I know what it’s like living in poverty and the inequities that come with it. It dictates how safe your neighborhood is if you can eat healthy foods, and god forbid you to get sick; it can literally determine who lives and dies. The system is so fucked up, and I hate it.”

“All right,” he replied calmly. "But I can see those things too.”

“Can you? Because you see those things as a spectator, I grew up in the game. I know what it's like to attend an inner-city school. My parents tried to shield me, but I'd hear my mom lying in bed in agony, and they'd put off going to the hospital because they just couldn't afford another visit. It shaped my worldview and I've wanted to do what I can to make things more equitable."

"I know," he interrupted. "And that's one of the things I admire about you."

"But, don't you see? I've always been distrusting of those with vast wealth; I'm very uncomfortable with the concept, and this isn't easy for me."

Tobias fidgeted beside her. "So, does this change how you feel about me? Do you still want to be with me?"

"Tobias, of course not! I love you, and that doesn't change, but I'm frightened. How will this impact us?"

“Personally, I don’t think it has to impact us at all unless we allow it to."

"I think that's a little naive," she said, her face beginning to falter. "Think about it, will I fit into your world?"

"Casey," he said, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. "You are my world."

"Tobias," she sighed.

"No, let me finish. You mean everything to me, I couldn't care less what you have or don't have. What matters to me is you and the person you are. And while I'll admit, I'm spoiled and like some luxuries, have you exactly seen me hitting up country clubs? I'm much more comfortable at a local bar or at a Red Sox game."

"Yeah," she snickered. "With your season tickets to the Red Sox."

"One of the luxuries I like," he sighed. "But that doesn't make me a bad person, Casey."

“You know, even before this, I should have seen it. How do we mesh our existence? Tobias, I shop at the discount racks at TJ Maxx. There are weeks I have $40 in my pocket until payday... the inequity between us is....”

“It’s not a problem for me.”

"But do you see, it would be easier for you," she replied with tears in her eyes. "Like if you wanted to go on vacation with me, I can't afford to go. I probably won't be able to for a long time."

"And you think I'd ask you to pay?"

"And you think I'd be OK with not paying?"

"Casey," he began, his tone turning serious, "you're the woman I love, and it's obvious you're not gold-digging here," he chuckled softly. "We can discuss how we'll handle this more, but no one has ever meant as much to me as you do. I know we're still new, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, and I don't expect anything in return, and I'm not about to use my money as a power play. I see you as my equal in every way, and if I haven't shown that well enough, then that's on me, and I'll do better. But please, Casey, don't let this come between us."

"Oh, Tobias," she sighed. "You've never done anything to make me feel like I'm anything less than your equal. This… this is on me. You must think I'm a reverse snob."

"Nah," he chuckled, standing up to pour them something stronger. Casey accepted the drink with a smile.

"I think you have valid concerns. Inequity within relationships can be a big thing. But I'm confident we could work through it. As I said, you're my equal."

“What about your family? Will they accept me?”

"Funny you should ask," he chuckled. "You assume my entire family is rich. My dad's side was the Carricks, but my mom's side sounds a lot like your family growing up. I was immersed in both worlds, which came with its own challenges. But I'm not blind or indifferent on this topic. As for the Carricks," he snorted and took a long drink, "We can talk all about the joys of growing up a Carrick one day. I honestly don't care what anyone thinks; you are the person I want by my side."

"You sure?"

"Casey, the family that matters to me, I know they'll love you. And even if they didn't, it wouldn't change how I feel."

Tobias shook his head and began to laugh, catching Casey by surprise.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm just thinking... I always worried someone might want me for my money. I never thought someone would dump me because of it."

Casey looked up with concern. “Oh, Tobias. No! No, no, no,” she said, hugging him tight. “I’m not leaving you. That never crossed my mind. I love you too much. But how do we make this work? We are bound to have different ideas, and what if we have a family of our own one day? This will really matter."

"Family?" He smirked. "You want a family with me? I can't even get you to officially move in with me."

Casey rolled her eyes. "I'm here all the time."

"Unofficially. I have yet to see a change of address form."

Casey playfully shoved him, and he dramatically fell back, giving her the opportunity to jump on top of him. Feeling better, she took a deep breath and nuzzled against his chest.

“Do you give a lot of money to charity?”

“Yes,” he chortled.

“Would I think it’s enough?”

“Probably not, but we can discuss that.”

“You better believe we will be if we end up... you know.”

“No," he teased. "I don't know. If we end up what, exactly?"

“Shut up," she laughed. "I love you, Tobias, and I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

“I’m sorry for being ignorant about how much this would mean to you. You're right, I’m sure there will be things we’ll have to bridge, but I think we can do anything together, baby."

"So do I," she grinned.

“Now... about this family of ours."

“Oh, God," Casey covered her face, which was turning bright red.

“Don't worry, I'll let that go for now. But, I would love to introduce you to my existing family... what do you say?”

She shifted into an upright position, her eyes meeting his. “Can I wear something from TJ Maxx?”

“You can wear whatever you want.”

“Then I suppose I should bite that bullet.”

“Nice," he smiled. "I’ll make arrangements shortly, but until then," he paused, pulling her close for a long, lingering kiss. "Can I give you something else to bite?"

Casey let out a squeal as he began to tickle her. Jumping to her feet, she rushed to the stairs. "I'll race you to your bedroom!"

"Bedroom?" he challenged. "We're all alone. We don't need to go to the bedroom."

"Bedroom!" she hollered, her voice echoing down the stairs.

"Then bedroom it is," he grinned. "I'm right behind you!"

(And a good time was had by all! lol - Thanks for reading!)

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[whimsyprinx]

gonna be blunt and just say that people make me feel like I’m not worth any effort or that I’m just a joke and I’m really sick of it

[coldvampire]

.

[kavehater]

Wow that was a very good session of haterism this is why I love this account 😻🤞✨

^^ also me cause I’d go right back to her wahoo

[sirensskai]

Character development is realising it’s probably not normal to feel some sort of judged for almost your every move and for every little thing you do or to feel threatened at the thought of even saying one word to a stranger and that you definitely have anxiety or something lol

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[augustinewrites]

your apartment fills with the mouthwatering scents of buckwheat and dashi as you begin to unpack the takeout that's just been delivered. but even with your stomach already growling, you pause, confused.

“kento?” you call to where he’s is leaning against the counter.

“yes, love?”

you count the boxes again, frowning. “why did you order three? is one for your other girlfriend?”

“of course not,” he replies, unfazed by your teasing accusation as he continues to scroll through his tablet. “she doesn't like soba.”

you throw a napkin in his direction when your see the small smirk curling on his lips, shutting off his tablet to look over at you.

you wait, watching him expectantly.

"it's…for yuuji.”

“ah,” you realize, unable to keep from smiling. “your protégé.”

“he’s more like my intern,” he corrects, taking two plates from the cabinet.

you grab a third, following him to the dining table to help him set up. “you fired your last intern because you didn’t like how he organized your files. yet this one is sukuna’s vessel, and you’re bringing him soba.”

nanami pulls out your chair, kissing the top of your head before settling in his own seat. "you don't approve."

"it's not about that. if you say he's not dangerous, of course i believe you.”

he looks at you for a moment, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he figures out what to say.

“i just…don’t want him to feel so alone,” he says softly. “you heard about what happened at the detention center. gojo’s trying to hide him from the higher-ups right now, but we don’t know how long that’ll last. he’s just a kid, and gojo’s has a lot going on. so i— i want to look out for him.”

he glances over at the takeout bag, where the third box is sitting. “i may not be able to protect him like gojo can, but i can at least make sure he’s eating.”

you know he’s been exhausted lately. you can see it in the lines on his face and the slight sag of his shoulders when he trudges home at the end of the day.

yet he still finds time to care for a student that’s not his own.

and oh, if that did not make your heart skip a beat, knowing you were loved by a man capable of such care. you can’t help but watch him, almost unable to wrap your head around how lucky you are.

“you’re staring, dear.”

you sigh loudly, rising from your seat to wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “i think my heart might burst if i find another reason to love you more than i already do.”

he takes your hand, pressing his lips to your engagement ring.

“you love me plenty already. which is why you’ve already set a third plate out to invite yuuji to eat with us, correct?”

_____

“and then nanamin charged in and chopped it up just like this—”

nanami watches you watch yuuji swing a single chopstick menacingly as he recounts their last mission.

“he just charged in, hm?” you ask calmly. “yuuji, you’ll tell me if my fiancé is being reckless, won’t you?”

“yes ma’am!”

the blond sits up, clearing his throat. “surely that’s not necessary.”

“he’s so stubborn, isn’t he?” you ask the boy sitting across from you, even rolling your eyes.

“sure is! he’s pretty bossy too.”

nanami’s scoffs as if he’s annoyed, but secretly…secretly he couldn’t be more pleased.

he’s always wanted to be a lot of things in his life. a good sorcerer, a good employee. a good man.

but all of those things he thought he needed to be to live a full life are irrelevant.

because nothing is more fufilling than being needed and being loved.

[screampied]

can you do soft sukuna after an argument vegas for fluff pretty please i think we deserve it after all you've done to us

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ MAYBE I’M THE PROBLEM﹒⺡ SUKUNA RYŌMEN. ’

sum. gn! reader, angst with c-comfort, he’s a softie at heart, fluff, petnames, ty lucy for beta'ing <3

“what’s with you today?” sukuna furrows his eyebrows, and he lightly grabs your wrist. you face him only to briefly look away with a stubborn scowl. “you didn’t have to do that. i can take care of myself.”

he was referring to earlier…how careless you were, at least from his perspective. throwing yourself in danger just for sukuna. perhaps it was stupid, but at that particular moment—you didn’t have a thought that crossed your mind.

“well, i did,” you mumble, and sukuna bites his tongue from the inside of his cheek. his nostrils flare before he grabs your shoulders.

“what are you not getting? and if you died trying to protect me, then what?” and for a brief moment, it was dead silence. you stared at sukuna, and you can’t remember a time he looked like this. sukuna was … scared. the more you looked into his dark eyes, once full of arrogance and wit — instead, his pupils dilated and widened. his thumbs gently pressed into your skin, and then he continues to speak. “how can you even be calm about something like that?”

“i wouldn’t have to do things like that if you’d just be more careful,” you chastise, a sudden wave of gloom spraying over you. sukuna kept pausing every few seconds, as if he was carefully thinking of what to reply with.

sukuna’s almost got a glare before he sighs. “i told you. i can take care of myse—”

“no, you can’t sukuna. you know how many times you’ve almost died? the countless days where i’d be worried sick about you. if anyone’s reckless, it’s you. and you wonder why i act like this, it’s because i’m in love with you, you idiot.”

you don’t even register your words, it’s as if you’ve been yearning to get that out for ages.

sukuna grows mute, trying to figure if he actually heard what he’d just heard. you…you were in love with someone like him?

the awkward silence was deafening, a single tear strolls down your cheek before sukuna’s face suddenly softens.

he brings a thumb up to your cheek, swiping the tear aside before muttering in a raspy, “you love me?”

“i thought it was pretty obvious,” you grumble, avoiding his eye contact. your heart ached, never in your life have you felt this vulnerable. saying it out loud only made you flustered immensely quick. a soft smile goes against his lips — you didn’t answer his question, but he knew the answer. you loved sukuna. “but whatever.”

“oi. don’t ‘whatever’ me,” sukuna mutters, cupping both sides of your face. he has you stare right into his eyes, the eyes where most see a cruel villainous person, you see the softest eyes imaginable. reserved only for you. “look at me,” and you finally meet his gaze, a smug grin slowly tugs against the corners of his mouth. “you’re in love with me.”

a weird tingly feeling crept up inside your stomach, and you give sukuna a glare. “you know,” he keeps speaking, a soft finger stroking your cheek. “instead of almost dying for me, you could have been normal and just said, ‘i love you’.”

“…shut up,” you grouse, entirely abashed. he found it cute seeing you like this. in the midst of your mini tantrum - sukuna hums to himself, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“hmpf. well, i suppose i love you too, brat,” he utters, watching your face briefly light up at his words. sukuna saying it back couldn’t have made your heart swoon even more, but it did. “and i’m sorry for being so careless.”

you felt butterflies collide inside your tummy before you blink, ears perking at his first initial words and you pout. “you suppose?”

sukuna looks down at you before he awkwardly pats your head. “i … love you,” his voice was a mere soft rasp. studying his stare, sukuna started to grow a tad bit embarrassed. even more than you. as his fingers softly roam through your hair, he leans up close to your face and scoffs. “happy now?”

“i love you more,” you smile, feeling more relieved. he’s taken aback once you hug him. sukuna’s always been so stiff at something as simple as a hug. your frame held his waist tightly, and he’d never admit it but it was adorable.

sukuna scowls. “…. you’re squishing me.”

“shut up and hug me back.” you sigh, only taking this as an opportunity to squeeze him tighter. he was so warm.

usually…sukuna wouldn’t let anyone get this close, yet alone do this. a simple affectionate hug.

he groans, slowly wrapping his arms around you. “you’re so annoying,” and as your head rests against his chest — you look up at him, a soft smile goes against your lips. “pain in my damn ass.”

“talking about your ass isn’t romantic, ‘kuna.” you raise your brows . . . obviously kidding, but he groans.

with an eye roll, sukuna does the unexpected and pulls you up close towards his face. with a perplexed grin, you watch as he grabs you into a chaste kiss. it takes you by surprise, your hands remain flat and still before you wrap your arms around him. sukuna’s soft with you, you made him soft—and he hated it, but a tiny part of him secretly loved it too.

abruptly, he pulls the kiss away before glaring at you. “i love you.”

“i love you too, kuku.”

“…..call me that again and see what happens.”

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Image this:

Danny is sixteen. He just found out he is to become King, with a capital K, when he becomes a mature ghost, which is at least 20 years after his death. So he’s got time. Everything’s fine. Except for the Observants pushing his education. Tutors shoving information down his throat like he’s cramming for finals. Princess Dora, Pandora, Frostbite, and even Clockwork checking on him frequently and making a schedule for him to come visit their territories for little learning sessions. Fright Knight has been following his every move. And let’s not forget the other random ghosts he’s never even met before coming to ask for favors or to complain or just give him their problems in general and expect him to fix it.

He can’t even let his frustrations out! All his regular rogues avoid him now! Even Vlad doesn’t want to get involved, but that could be because he’s still bitter about not getting the crown like he wanted.

Good thing he knows a king that has probably been through the same thing.

King Arthur of Atlantis. In other words, Aquaman.

Because Danny wasn’t technically king yet, crowned prince is probably the right title?, he couldn’t just call him up or send a letter asking to meet. So Danny decides to go give the man a visit himself.

Using process of elimination, he was able to find Atlantis after about two months of research and searching. He didn’t have a whole lot of free time, okay?

Turning invisible and flying through the water was a lot easier than he thought. Getting through the barrier was a piece of cake and the castle was obvious to find. What wasn’t obvious to find was the king himself. He wasn’t in the throne room, or his study, or the training grounds, or literally anywhere in the castle. He checked.

No. He finds the king playing some game with some kids in the underwater city.

It was surprising to find him there, especially after the etiquette lessons from Dora, but it gave Danny some hope that maybe he wouldn’t be miserable and burdened with paperwork and boring meetings when he becomes king.

Danny turns visible. They were still invested in the game but the guards noticed him. Spears were pointed at him in a second.

“Halt! State your business,” the guard demands.

The shout caused everyone in the area to stop and look, including the king.

Danny raises his hands in surrender.

“Uh, hi. Sorry to stop the game, I just wanted to talk- sorry, speak to King Arthur, if- if that’s okay? There wasn’t an address to mail to that I could find-“

“It’s okay,” the king interrupts. “Let’s go somewhere private to talk then. Do you have any weapons on you?”

Danny perks up at the opportunity to finally talk to him.

“Yes please! And no, no weapons, sir.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” the king replies with a smile. Danny smiles back widely.

“My king-“

The king holds up a hand to stop the guard’s worries.

When they finally arrive to the throne room of the palace King Arthur turns to Danny.

“Who are you?” He asks in a tone that was a bit more serious than it was before.

“Oh! Sorry. Hi. I’m Danny. Danny Phantom. It’s nice to meet you, King Arthur,” he answers quickly with a nervous smile.

The king nods, obviously thinking about something else as he watches Danny with guarded eyes.

“How can you breathe underwater if I may ask? I’m curious.”

“Well that’s easy, I’m not breathing.”

“You’re… not breathing,” the king repeats with skepticism.

“Yea,” Danny agrees freely. “I don’t have to breathe if I don’t want to. You know, because of the whole ghost thing.”

“Ghost?”

“Yea. Can turn invisible, walk through walls, fly- you know. Haven’t you ever seen a ghost before?”

Danny tries a bit of humor with a crooked smile, but it falls when he sees the contemplative expression on the king’s face.

“Wait, seriously? You’ve never seen a ghost?”

“I’m aware of a ghost named Deadman apart of Justice League Dark but he is invisible to everyone.”

“Really?! I didn’t know that! I need to go talk to him! Where can I find him?”

“Hold on there, guppy. Didn’t you want to talk about something?”

Danny is drawn back to the topic at hand.

“Right, okay, so I was recently told I was gonna be king in like twenty years, which is news to me, and now they are just throwing everything at me with all this information I don’t know what to do with and I’m getting complaints and requests and everyone is expecting so much from me when I’m literally sixteen years old! I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, whether I want to go to college or if I’ll even graduate high school, and they want me to solve territory disputes and create new laws and provide protection for those who want to go into the living plane. I just- I don’t know what I’m doing and the only king I could think of was you, so I guess I was wondering if you could, I don’t know, give me some advice or if I could shadow you for a bit to see what an actual king should do or act. I know it’s a lot to ask coming from someone you don’t even know, but I’m just a bit overwhelmed with everything and I don’t really know where to go from here and was hoping you would at least understand. My friends don’t get it and the other ghosts are kinda afraid of me now because of my title and they wouldn’t get it anyway…” he trails off awkwardly.

Arthur had never had this conversation before. He was honestly flattered and the kid looked genuine. Maybe he’d wait until one of the magic users okay-ed the young ‘ghost’ before revealing any information about himself.

He pulls out a device and throws it the kid. Danny dodges just to snatch it out of the air from reflex alone.

“That’s a communicator. I’ll send Deadman and Constantine your way and call when I get the okay. Where are you located?”

Danny’s toxic eyes were big and hopeful, shining brightly through the water.

“Thank you, sir! Amity Park, Illinois, the most haunted city in America!” He answers proudly.

The king just smiles.

[moonstruckme]

summary: when James moves into your apartment, you need a bit of an adjustment period

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

You go downstairs the way a meerkat pokes its head out of its burrow. Cautious, watchful. When you spot James standing over a sizzling pan in the kitchen, it’s a bit of effort not to sigh, but you go anyway, hunger temporarily taking priority over solitude. It’s just going to have to be another quick meal.

“Hey.” James looks up from a recipe he’s reading on his phone, grinning at you. 

You press your lips together in a smile of response. The girl who’d occupied James’ room before him wouldn’t have bothered to acknowledge you, and frankly, you’d liked her for that. You’d had a mutually ambivalent relationship; you’d both paid your rent, ignored the other’s food in the fridge, and gone about your days as if you each had the apartment to yourself. She had to move out because the maintenance crew tattled on her for having a pet, and though James only moved in a week ago, he’s invited you to hang out with his friends every time they’ve come over. Which is often. (He’s at least considerate enough to always ask first, and you always say yes. Partially because they don’t make huge messes and partially because you don’t know how to reply to a yes/no question any other way.) 

You go to the fridge, tearing the aluminum foil off a half-empty can of beans and shaking it into a bowl. You put it in the microwave. James reaches to turn down the stove, and, like a frightened animal, you flinch away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, only retreating to the opposite counter to give you more room. 

“How’s your day going?” he asks, leaning back on his forearms. 

“Not bad,” you say. Another thing about James is that in addition to his relentless geniality, he’s ferociously attractive. It takes all of your willpower not to let your eyes dip from his face to where his short sleeves conform to his biceps when he leans that way, but your face heats regardless. “Yours?” 

“Pretty good, actually.” He smiles easily. “It’s gorgeous out, have you felt the weather?” 

You shake your head. “I haven’t been out yet.” 

James nods like he knows this already, humming noncommittally. You think you spy a bit of judgment in his look, but you can’t be sure. “So,” he says, “I have something to ask you.” 

You tense. “Okay…” 

“I know you value your privacy, and I totally respect that, but I feel like as your roommate it’s my responsibility to at least ask.” 

You feel your eyes narrowing as you nod for him to continue. 

James schools his face into seriousness, a frown on his lips that looks like it doesn’t belong. “Do you not eat?” 

You laugh, relieved and bemused. “Of course I eat.”

The smile he gives you is strained, clearly for your benefit rather than his. “You sure about that? Because this morning I just saw you have one—one—piece of toast for breakfast, and then for lunch you had…what?” 

You shy, more because of his notice than anything else. The microwave beeps and you use it as an excuse to turn around. “Some cheese and crackers.” 

When you pivot with the steaming bowl, James is looking at you incredulously.

“They’re really filling!” 

“That’s a snack, love, not a meal. Both of those are snacks. Did you have anything else?” 

You hold up the bowl in your hand. “I’m about to have some beans.” 

His laugh is monosyllabic. Appalled. “You’re not serious.” 

You roll your eyes at him even as your face heats. “Listen, it’s not my most nutritious day, but I’ve been in a rush, and…” You were going to say more, but decide against it. “Anyway, there’s protein in the beans, so.” 

James isn’t having it. “And what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Something.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, spill, or I’m going to call your mum and tell her about your big day of—“ He draws quotes in the air, full lips curving he does “—beans and crackers.” 

“And toast,” you joke. James’ smile is small and short-lived. Does he really have your mum’s phone number? He can’t possibly. 

You sigh. “Okay, it’s nothing to do with you, but I…I’m a bit weird about being in the kitchen at the same time.” James’ thick eyebrows meet in the middle, and your shoulders hunch instinctively but you force yourself to finish explaining. “I just want to grab whatever is quickest and go before I make things awkward, or something. But I know it’s stupid.” You shake your head. You could burn the apartment to cinders with the heat from your face. “I don’t own the kitchen. You have every right to be here, and I’ll get used to it eventually. It’s just that you’re new to me right now.” 

James' expression clears. “Oh, you’re shy.” 

You must look even more embarrassed at that, because he hurries to say, “That’s alright, it’s good to know how you feel about things. And now I don’t have to call your mum.” He grins, and it widens when you make a tiny effort to reciprocate. “I don’t mind stepping out of the kitchen so you can cook every now and then.”

“You really don’t have to.” 

“It’s no trouble.” He waves you off. “Honestly, it’s too small for both of us to comfortably use at the same time anyway. Careful by the way, that pan’s hot.” 

You glance behind you, and you’ve backed yourself nearly into the stove. You move away, squeaking out a thanks. 

James’ smile softens. “I do hope you're right about getting used to me eventually, though.” He gives you a kind look, and you have no idea how he can maintain eye contact with that much sincerity in his big brown eyes. You envy the skill. “I’d like to get to be friends, but we’ve got time for that.” 

You’ve no clue how to respond, some deer-in-the-headlights instinct taking ahold of you, but James doesn’t seem to be expecting one. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, taking back his place at the stove. You take that as your cue to go.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Would they or would they not catch you…

Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.

He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.

‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.

‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.

‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.

You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.

Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀

Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.

He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.

‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.

‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.

You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.

Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.

However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.

Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.

‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.

‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.

Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.

What a sweetheart.

Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.

Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”

( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)

Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.