#choose between the two or just completely reject him

[inseobts]

Hey, there! I truly enjoy your One Piece oneshots, they’re always so adorable and they reflect 200% how the characters are. 💝🫶

I was wondering if you’re also open writing for Zosan x reader? Why choose one when you can have them both? 🤭

Between Blades and Flames

Sanji x Fem!Reader x Zoro

a/n: lmao I ain't that good at writing for poly relantionships but I hope I did it good enough for it to be enjoyable

words count: 2.2k

tags: humor, romance, you're all drunk, sfw

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You slam the fridge door shut with a frustrated sigh. Gone. Again.

“Sanji!” you call out, turning toward the kitchen’s open doorway “Did you seriously use up all the strawberries already?”

The sound of a knife hitting a cutting board halts. Then, a smooth voice answers “Mon chéri, you wound me. As if I’d ever let our lovely Y/N go without.”

Sanji appears, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. With a flourish, he produces a small plate from behind his back, four perfectly sliced strawberries drizzled with chocolate “For you, ma belle.”

Your stomach betrays you with a quiet rumble. Damn him.

Before you can accept or reject the offering, a new voice scoffs from the other side of the room “Tch. You don’t need that sweet crap” Zoro mutters from where he sits, one leg draped over the other, sword resting against his shoulder.

You arch a brow “Excuse me?”

Zoro leans forward, balancing his elbow on his knee “If you want something good, have some sake with me instead.” He tilts a small bottle in your direction, eyes locked on you like it’s a challenge.

Sanji’s smile disappears in an instant “Oi, mosshead, don’t be ridiculous! Sake before noon? You’ll ruin her refined taste.”

Zoro smirks “Refined? She’s not some porcelain doll you have to coddle, curly-brow.”

“And she’s not some battle-hardened brute like you!” Sanji snaps, rolling up his sleeves.

You groan, rubbing your temples “Are you two really doing this right now?”

Neither of them pays you any mind. Their bickering escalates, Sanji accusing Zoro of having the palate of a wild animal, Zoro insisting that Sanji is overcompensating for his lack of strength.

You shake your head, popping one of the strawberries into your mouth. A little indulgence and a little chaos. Just another morning on the Sunny.

You sit at the dining table, halfway through your stolen strawberries, watching Zoro and Sanji continue their never-ending war. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper peek in from the hallway, clearly entertained.

“Y/N, you should decide” Luffy suddenly declares, pointing at you.

You freeze mid-bite “Decide what?”

Luffy grins “Sake or strawberries?”

Zoro smirks “Hah. Easy win.”

Sanji scoffs, rolling his eyes “Like hell.” He turns to you with that charming, borderline dangerous smile “Come on, Y/N, tell these fools what real class is.”

Zoro leans in, arms crossed “Or maybe you’d rather handle your drinks like a real pirate.”

You chew slowly, suddenly regretting waking up this morning.

The rest of the crew gathers, waiting for your answer. Even Nami looks mildly interested. You consider your options carefully, choosing one side means feeding their egos for life.

So, naturally, you pick chaos.

“Why choose?” you say, swallowing the last bite “I can enjoy both.”

Silence.

“Tch. Cop-out answer” Zoro mutters, leaning back.

Sanji dramatically places a hand over his heart “Ah, but that means she appreciates my refined taste and your barbaric drinking habits. What a gracious woman.”

Zoro grunts “Whatever. I still bet I can outdrink both of you.”

Sanji’s eyebrow twitches “Bet? You think Y/N would waste a perfectly good night on your dumb drinking contests?”

“Why not?” Zoro smirks “Scared?”

Sanji slams a hand on the table “Fine. Let’s make it interesting.” He turns to you, eyes gleaming with something mischievous “You in, Y/N?”

You blink “Wait, what? I didn’t—”

“Too late, you’re in!” Luffy declares happily, completely ignoring your protests.

Zoro grins, reaching for his bottle “Hope you can keep up, sweetheart.”

Sanji flips his hair “Please. I’ll make sure the drinks are actually worth drinking.”

You exhale. It’s going to be a long night.

A small table, three bottles of sake, and an ever-growing audience. You sit between Zoro and Sanji, already regretting every choice that led to this moment.

“Rules are simple,” Usopp announces, playing referee “You drink, you keep drinking, and you don’t pass out. Last one still standing wins.”

“I’m not even sure why I agreed to this” you mutter, eyeing the sake bottle in front of you.

Zoro smirks “Too late to back out now.”

Sanji leans closer, resting an arm on the back of your chair “Don’t worry, ma belle, I won’t let this barbarian ruin your delicate palate.”

You grab the sake bottle and pour yourself a drink “I think I’ll survive.”

Luffy claps “Alright! Let’s go!”

Round One

The first sip burns, but it’s smooth. You let it settle, watching Zoro down his drink like it’s water. Sanji takes his time, savoring it like fine wine.

“You drink like an old man” Zoro snorts.

Sanji exhales, eyes closed “You drink like a dehydrated idiot.”

You ignore them and take another sip. The crew cheers.

Round Two

Zoro slams his empty cup down “You good, Y/N?”

You nod, feeling warm but steady “You’re not winning that easily.”

Sanji smirks, pouring another round “That’s the spirit, sweetheart.”

The competition continues. Shot after shot. Zoro stays unfazed. Sanji maintains his elegance. You’re somewhere in between, like buzzed, but totally determined.

Round Five… or Six?

You’re laughing now. At what? Who knows. But Zoro’s grumbling about something, Sanji’s dramatically ranting about “the art of pairing drinks" and Usopp’s trying to keep Luffy from stealing a bottle.

“You’re swayin’, sweetheart” Zoro points out, squinting at you.

You squint back “So are you.”

Sanji chuckles “I think we’ve reached our limit for tonight.”

Zoro frowns “Tch. Speak for yourself.” He tries to stand… and immediately sits back down.

The crew bursts into laughter.

You stretch, victorious “I think that means I win.”

Sanji grins “Ah, a truly magnificent woman.”

Zoro groans “Rematch. Tomorrow.”

You shake your head, leaning back “You two are impossible.”

But the warmth in your chest is not just the alcohol. It’s them.

The sun is way too bright.

You groan, turning over in your hammock, only to regret it immediately. Your head pounds, your mouth is dry, and worst of all there’s movement above you. Loud, heavy footsteps.

“Rise and shine, drunkards!” Nami’s voice cuts through your skull like a dagger “Time to work!”

You peek one eye open, barely registering the blurry figures around you. Zoro is slumped against the mast, arms crossed, snoring. Sanji is sprawled across a deck chair, one arm draped dramatically over his face.

“Ugh,” you mumble, sitting up “What happened?”

“You all lost,” Usopp informs you, grinning “Zoro passed out five minutes after you. Sanji tried to make breakfast but fell asleep with his head in the oven. Franky had to save him.”

Sanji groans “Don’t remind me.”

Zoro cracks an eye open “Tch. I still say I could’ve kept going.”

You rub your temples “You literally lost consciousness.”

“And yet, here I am. Still standing.” He shifts slightly against the mast, clearly not standing.

Sanji stretches, cracking his neck “Well, as much as I’d love to argue with the walking pile of bricks, I have a more pressing concern.” He looks at you, a mischievous glint in his eye “Did you enjoy yourself last night, ma chérie?”

You roll your eyes, but before you can answer—

“You laughed at all my jokes” Zoro interrupts.

Sanji gasps “That can’t be true.”

Zoro smirks “Oh, it is. She even said—”

You slap a hand over his mouth “Nope. Whatever embarrassing thing I said last night, we’re all forgetting it. Forever.”

Sanji chuckles “Oh, this is gold. Tell me more, mosshead.”

Zoro pulls your hand away, grinning lazily “She said I had nice arms.”

“Nice arms? His arms?” Sanji scoffs, crossing his own “Impossible. You must’ve misheard, mosshead.”

Zoro stretches, very deliberately flexing “Nah. She said it. Something about how they look strong but also—what was it? Surprisingly comfortable?”

Your soul leaves your body.

Sanji’s eyes narrow, and in an instant, he’s kneeling beside you, taking your hand like you’re some delicate princess “Ma chérie, tell me it’s not true. Surely, in your fine, inebriated state, you didn’t actually compliment this brute?”

You snatch your hand back “I was drunk!”

Zoro chuckles “Drunk words are sober thoughts, sweetheart.”

You throw a pillow at him “Then I take it back. Your arms are terrible.”

He catches it easily, smirking “Too late.”

Sanji leans in, studying your face with a devilish grin “If you were handing out compliments last night, what did you say about me?”

You freeze.

Zoro perks up “Oh yeah. You definitely said something about him too.”

Sanji’s eyes light up “Did she?”

You shake your head rapidly “Nope. Didn’t happen. He's obviously making fun of you.”

Usopp cackles from the sidelines “Oh, it definitely happened. Wanna hear what you said?”

You grab the nearest object, aka Nami’s sandal, and chuck it at him “Usopp, I swear—”

He ducks, laughing harder.

Sanji taps his chin, pretending to think “Let’s see… What would our dear Y/N have said about me in her drunken honesty?”

Luffy smiles “Something about your hands.”

Sanji blinks “My hands?” Then, realization dawns. His smirk turns dangerous “Oh~? Mon amour, were you admiring my hands last night?”

You feel your soul leaving your body again.

Usopp hums in fake thought “I think it was something like… ‘His hands are unfairly attractive’?”

Sanji gasps dramatically, clutching his chest “You do appreciate fine craftsmanship!”

“I AM GOING TO THROW MYSELF INTO THE SEA.”

Sanji laughs, reaching for your hand again “I can give you a proper demonstration, if you like.”

Zoro rolls his eyes “Gross.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands “This is the worst day of my life.”

Luffy grins “Nah, this is fun! Let’s drink again tonight!”

Absolutely. Not.

The teasing doesn’t stop there.

For the rest of the day, every time Sanji hands you something, he makes sure you see his hands. Passing you a plate? He does it with a dramatic flourish. Offering you a napkin? He takes your fingers in his and presses it gently into your palm, like he’s bestowing a royal gift.

“Enjoying the view, ma chérie?” he purrs, winking.

Meanwhile, Zoro has taken to flexing at random intervals. Not obvious flexing, just enough movement when he stretches or crosses his arms to remind you of your past mistake.

“Need help carrying that?” he asks when you’re lifting a barrel, voice full of smug amusement.

“No.” you deadpan.

He grins “Shame. Would’ve been a good excuse to admire my arms again.”

You consider throwing the barrel at him.

The crew is no help. Usopp won’t stop laughing, Nami looks too entertained, and Luffy keeps saying “Y/N, say more funny drunk things!” like you’re a performing seal.

By dinner, you’ve had enough.

You slam your cup down “Fine! Yes! I said things! But you two are the ones who won’t let it go!”

Zoro smirks “Because it’s fun.”

Sanji grins “Because it’s true.”

You glare “You wish I was thinking those things sober.”

Sanji leans closer, voice dropping just for you “Who says you’re not?”

Zoro tilts his head “If you weren’t thinking it, you wouldn’t be so worked up.”

You open your mouth just to snap it shut right away. They’re both infuriating.

Sanji smirks, Zoro smirks, and you swear if one more person smirks at you tonight, you will riot.

“Dinner’s over,” you declare, standing “I’m going to bed. Alone.”

Sanji laughs “Sweet dreams, ma belle.”

Usopp grins “Try not to dream about their unfairly attractive features.”

You definitely thought of throwing a fork at them all.

But, you should’ve known better than to expect peace.

Zoro doesn’t move his arm, making you stop from leaving. If anything, he pulls you in just a little closer, the warmth of his body radiating through your clothes. His grip is easy, familiar, possessive.

Sanji clicks his tongue, slipping closer to you. His hand finds your knee under the table, tracing small circles against your skin like a silent counterclaim “Tch. Just because she tolerates you doesn’t mean she’s just yours, mosshead.”

Everyone watching with interest, not talking.

You glance between the two, heat creeping up your neck “Do I get a say in this conversation?”

“No” they say in unison.

You groan, grabbing a roll from the table and biting into it aggressively. You let them act like this, and they know it.

Because the truth is whatever this is between the three of you, it’s long past subtle.

It’s in the way Sanji always makes your plate first at dinner, and how Zoro wordlessly steals bites from it without a second thought. It’s in the way Zoro keeps a hand on your waist when you stand at the railing together, and how Sanji absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear while he talks.

It’s in the quiet moments. The ones the rest of the crew pretends not to see.

Like last night.

When you were cold, and Zoro pulled you into his arms without hesitation. When Sanji draped his jacket over you both and muttered “Idiots… the both of you” before settling beside you.

When you fell asleep between them, feeling warmer than you ever had before.

But none of you say it out loud.

And yet, here they are, arguing over you like you aren’t already theirs.

Sanji sighs, tilting his head toward you “You deserve better, mon amour.”

Zoro grins lazily “And yet, here she is.”

You roll your eyes, finishing your bread “You’re both ridiculous.”

Zoro hums “Yeah, but you love us anyway.”

You freeze.

Sanji stills.

Everyone gasps while Luffy starts laughing as if that's the funniest thing he ever saw.

Zoro blinks “…Did I say that out loud?”

Sanji smirks “Oh-ho, you did.”

Your heart pounds. Because the worst part?

Zoro’s not wrong.

[michanvalentine]

Of course, Astarion wants to ascend. He wants it so much, it’s as clear as day. He has never hidden how much he ideally likes the idea of power—to elevate himself from his current position, to ensure his safety, to bend others to his will (instead of being the one who is bent). And if he can also walk in the sun and never feel the hunger pangs again, even better!

But let’s not forget that Astarion has a limited worldview. Cazador himself says it in one of his confrontations with Tav/Durge: "He is afraid. He is afraid because all he has ever known is you and me, and without us, he is nothing."

Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess. So, to navigate life, he can either rely on the worldview presented by Cazador (power, power, power, and more power—to place himself above others) or the one offered by Tav/Durge, assuming they are a heroic figure. Otherwise, the only perspective left is that of power, and Ascending becomes almost natural in an evil playthrough (which I myself did in my villain run). Ascending Astarion in a good playthrough, however, seems completely contradictory to me, but whatever…

Let’s not forget that power is not Astarion’s driving force—power is only a means to an end. His real driving force is fear, as both Cazador and Scleritas emphasize. He would do anything to feel safe (like becoming a half-Illithid if scared enough by Tav/Durge—even though he rejects that idea with every fiber of his being, and yet…). The scene with the dryad, Naoise Nallinto, in Astarion’s origin run makes it crystal clear: when she uses her power on him, among all the possible choices (wealth, respect, power, etc.), Astarion’s personal wish is to feel safe, not power—even though power is explicitly one of the options. But it’s not his!

Oh, and Astarion himself spells it out, right before the final decision between Ascending or not. His exact words: "One final thrust, and I'll be free of you. I will never have to fear you again. And if I complete the ritual you started, I'll never have to fear anyone. Ever."

Everything revolves around fear, which is once again emphasized in the insight check—where it becomes obvious what is driving him and what is simultaneously holding him back from making a rational decision. Because while it’s true that he wants to ascend, he also wants to redeem himself. Well yes, it's shocking, folks, but two completely opposite desires can exist within the same person. They're called internal contradictions, and we all experience them every day or almost ("Oh, damn, I want to go out with my friends tonight, but I also want to just lie on the couch and watch TV").

Let’s not pretend this character is one-dimensional and that all these dialogue lines don’t exist when discussing Astarion. Of course he wants to ascend—he wants it so badly. The point is understanding why he wants it. And then questioning whether giving in to that fear is truly worth it, considering the consequences and what he would be giving up (because even Ascending comes with its own sacrifices, and I’m not even talking about his soul or the 7,000 people).

That’s why, if they choose to, Tav/Durge can intervene and make him reflect on the alternative (which, depending on how you play your Tav, could have been introduced to him from the very beginning of the adventure—it’s not something that just comes out of nowhere, unless you’re playing completely incoherently).

And it’s Astarion himself, in one of the most beautiful dialogues in the entire game, who explicitly states this lesson he has learned. When Durge is overcome with despair and fear—just like him—and tries to end the relationship, Astarion says: "This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear, or else we'll never truly live."

He has understood. He has grown. He has accepted that uncomfortable emotion and has decided not to be consumed by it—to choose for himself without letting fear dictate his actions. And I couldn’t be prouder of him.

One last thing, because I’ve seen it repeated a lot on social media: Ascending is not Astarion’s lifelong dream—it is Cazador’s dream. Astarion didn’t even know this kind of ritual existed until five minutes before it happened, so no, Tav/Durge is not cruelly ripping away his lifelong dream just for the sake of moral superiority. And above all, they are not forcing him to give it up—but I’ve already talked about this before, and I’m not going to repeat myself.

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)

content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)

author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.

this fic IS split into two parts and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

“so… let me get this straight.”

“go ahead.”

shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”

“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”

“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment. 

“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”

“do you… do you share any classes with him?”

“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”

“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.

all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.

it’s hard to forget about gojo.

not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…

...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.

the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.

“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”

speak of the devil.

there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.

you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface. 

“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”

what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.

you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.

pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-

“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”

“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”

your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.

“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”

“what did you just call me?!-”

“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”

“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.

“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

“how could i not? you’re so cute.” 

“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.” 

the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.

he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.

when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”

he’s relentless. “why do you care?”

“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”

you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”

“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“

“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them. 

some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side. 

“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words. 

“i don’t need your money…”

“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow. 

“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”

that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”

“do you promise? like, actually?”

“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.

“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.

“i also want your number.”

you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.

“what do you have me saved as?” 

the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.

you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.

“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“

“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”

“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“

“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”

“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.

“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone. 

he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.

“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“

the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.

from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think. 

gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.

you push him away.

everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.

you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.

and that thought alone scares you.

still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone. 

the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.

“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”

“satoru-“

“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.

“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”

you take back everything you just said.

a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.

you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”

he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..” 

“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”

“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.

“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family. 

you try to ignore how that makes you feel.

and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater. 

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again. 

and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.

you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.

the reason why you want to stick around too.

you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?” 

“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.

you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.

it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.

you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.

it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.

shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.

the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.

it was your ex. 

your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes. 

if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind. 

you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.

out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.

“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom. 

“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.

“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”

you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.

“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”

your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”

“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”

“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.

you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.

you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.

the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.

“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”

you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”

“oh, don’t even get me started.”

he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”

“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”

he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”

“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.

the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?” 

you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”

“kento nanami.”

“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.” 

“i’m just doing my job.”

“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”

“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”

“y/n l/n.”

“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”

“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”

“did something happen?”

“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”

“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

he gets to the cafe in five.

you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car. 

it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru. 

however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”

your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.

“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-” 

“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.

“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side. 

you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”

still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.

i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.

“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.” 

that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.

the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?

“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look. 

“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”

“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”

“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”

you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“

“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid. 

“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”

“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.

“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”

he cuts you off. “you… what?”

you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.

“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.

this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.

“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.

you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”

gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.

a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.

“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”

he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand. 

“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.” 

he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you. 

he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.

“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.

“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already. 

gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”

“hmph. alright.” 

“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”

“satoru!”

“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”

this night is going amazing.

when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here. 

“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.

it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.

“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.

“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.

“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink. 

“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”

“oh? do tell.”

“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”

“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”

“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”

“hey, i wanted to know more!-”

“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”

“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you. 

suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”

“duh. it’s a classic.”

“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight. 

suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.” 

satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”

you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.” 

he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”

“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again. 

you wish you never did.

you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.

on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.

fuck.

you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.

what bullshit that was.

your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.

so you do.

you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.

of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.

stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.

when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?

he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.

he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.

they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”

“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.

“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”

he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.” 

“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”

geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.

“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.

gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.

part 2 :)

[sunshineyrosie]

steady hands, soft ruin

summary: he doesn't look at you anymore. but still, you watch.

series: part 2 to “your eyes, like shadows”

pairing: Silco x Reader

w/c: 4.2k

notes: tropes, guys. so many tropes. i make no apologies, and hope you love them as much as i do. ahead is canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries, gun use, kissing, YEARNING!!! i love this man so much

read on ao3: here

He doesn't look at you anymore.

At least, not that you can catch. But, sometimes you swear you can feel it—a weight pressing against you, an attention that vanishes the second you dare to meet it. You convince yourself you’re imagining things; the shift in his posture, the slight dip of his head when you enter the room.

He doesn't speak to you beyond necessity, either—not that he ever filled the office with words. He was always quiet, measured, never indulgent with conversation. But before…before that night, his silence felt different. Less distant, less deliberate.

Now, when you ask a question, he responds. His responses are curt. Efficient. Devoid of anything extra. You follow directives, fulfill tasks, take notes. There is no hesitation, no wasted words. It’s not that he’s ignoring you, not really. But that doesn't make it sting any less. 

And still, you feel him.

There are moments, slivers of time between one heartbeat and the next where you swear he's watching you. A presence, something that exists only in the air between you. But when you lift your head, he’s always focused elsewhere. 

You try not to watch him, to respect the boundaries—the wall he has put up. You tell yourself whatever almost happened between you—the hesitation, the breath between words, the way his gaze caught on your lips—you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. If he’s made it clear it won’t happen again, then fine. You’ll respect that.

But still—you watch.

You tell yourself it’s just habit. Nothing more than what you’ve always done. But it feels like more than that, like you’re collecting glimpses of him the way someone might collect precious stones: the furrow in his brow when he's concentrating, the tightness in his jaw when he returns from a meeting gone poorly. The uneven edges of his teeth when he smiles at his daughter—rare, fleeting, but so genuine that it makes something deep inside you ache.

You would do anything to see that smile turned toward you. Just once.

The day has reached its end. Your routine has stayed mostly the same—reports finished, tasks complete. You linger briefly in the doorway, hesitating just slightly, just enough to wonder if he’ll glance up, this time. 

As always, the air carries something unspoken, something neither of you acknowledge—like a tightly drawn wire stretched between two points, humming with tension but never snapping. The weight of the past—the night that almost tipped you both into something else—sits between you like a misplaced object that neither of you move, choosing to walk around it instead. 

You wish him goodnight. Silco dismisses you with a wave—absent, uninterested. You swallow down the sting, the hollow ache that has no name. And you leave.

Outside of the office, the crowd is beginning to pick up as regulars of The Last Drop begin to file in. The air is thick and heavy, a contrast to the cool air of Silco’s office as you step through the bustling crowd, weaving through bodies as you make your way outside.

As you walk home, you give yourself the same speech you’d given in your head for weeks—that you won’t think about him anymore tonight. As always, you fail. You tell yourself not to picture his unreadable expression, not to linger on his cold dismissal. And yet, the rejection presses against you like an ache you can’t soothe.

The streets demand your focus. You finally pull your mind away, grounding you in movements you've practiced a hundred times before. 

The Undercity is never quiet, never truly empty. Shadows stretch under the dim glow of street lamps, bodies shift in alleyways, voice murmur from behind closed doors. You weave through it all with caution learned by the necessity that comes with growing in Zaun—slipping through gaps down alleyways, keeping your pace steady and purposeful.

There's a rhythm to the streets, always a predictability in the chaos.

But then—tonight—there's a shift.

The scuffle behind you isn't loud. Just a scrape, a sudden motion. But your instincts sharpen instantly, the hair on the back of your neck rising, pulse kicking into something fast and urgent.

You turn, too late. Hands grab—rough, purposeful. Unforgiving.

There's little time to react. Your fingers scramble toward the blade at your side, where it always is, but it’s useless. The faceless men coming after you are faster and stronger. More practiced at this kind of violence. You know better than to try to fight back.

You feel it: the sharp yank at the bag slung over your shoulder, a shove given with an angry snarl. The force comes suddenly, sending you sprawling—the cold, dirty ground rushing up to meet you. Pain explodes along your cheekbone, your ribs, your side. Air rips from your lungs, stolen by the impact. The world is suddenly distant, voices nothing more than muffled static and then—

It all turns black. —

You’re not sure how long you lie there.

You wake up with a pulse of agony, pain throbbing deep in your cheek, a dull roar pressing against the edges of your consciousness. You’re limp against the cold pavement, the scent of damp stone filling your nose. The city hums around you, and you stay there, caught somewhere between wakefulness and something heavier.

Whether it's been minutes or hours, you don't know.

The first inhale is shallow, trembling as your ribs ache in response. You push yourself upright with slow, careful movements, whimpering softly as your body protests. The ground is cold beneath your fingertips, rough against your skin.

You take inventory: nothing broken. That's a mercy. Your clothes are intact, nothing open or ripped. Relief settles into your bones, heavy and undeniable—this could have been worse, as it so often is in Zaun. The thought should be comforting…it isn’t.

Your bag, of course, is long gone. That at least, doesn’t matter. Nothing important was inside—just a bit of money along with a few personal effects. Nothing irreplaceable.

You press a hand against the brick wall beside you, heaving yourself onto your feet. The ache in your body makes itself known with each limping step, but you move anyway.

Home, you just need to get home. You glance back, just once, toward the empty space you had occupied, the place where strangers took what they wanted and left you with nothing but bruises. No one had stopped. No one had seen. Or if they had, they didn’t care.

You limp your way through the familiar streets, each footfall careful and deliberate. Each step causes a pain sharp enough to make your breath catch, but you don't stop. You can't. 

When you finally reach your apartment, you push the door open and quickly shut it behind you with urgency; the air inside your little home feels different. Stagnant. Lonelier than usual. 

You make your way to the bathroom, flicking on the light, finally meeting your own reflection. You’re swollen, but not terribly. Aching.

There's a scrape on your cheek, and a garish cut beneath your eye thats bleeding sluggishly. You don't have any antiseptic, just water. Still, it’s soothing against your skin as you attempt to clean the wounds.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins begins to fade, exhaustion taking its place along with something else: the weight of your survival settling. It could have been—should have been—much worse.

It should have been what you know happens to so many others in the Undercity, to so many bodies abandoned in nameless alleyways; stories that simply end without warning.

You finish cleaning up. You double-check the lock, then crawl into bed, still in your day clothes, still aching. The bed is too big, the space too empty. You press your face against the pillows and let the tears come. You don’t expect comfort. Not here. Not in this city.

Violence is just part of it—a thing that just happens, a thing you learn not to dwell on. Lying here, bruised and aching, you feel ridiculous for how shaken you still are. It wasn’t even that bad, not really. Your bones aren’t broken, the thieves didn’t take anything that mattered. You’ve heard stories worse. Seen worse. So why does the silence of your empty apartment feel so suffocating? 

You press your fingers against the scrape on your cheek, the shallow cut beneath your eye, letting the sting remind you that you’re still here. Still breathing. It helps, a little.

But as you shift beneath the covers, curling onto your side, there’s something else nagging at the edges of your thoughts. A quiet, ridiculous yearning you don’t want to name.

Because there’s no one here. Because if there was—if he was—maybe the fear wouldn’t feel quite so sharp. Maybe the emptiness wouldn’t stretch so far.

Not that it matters. Not that he would. You know better than that.

Tomorrow will come like it always does, dragging you back into the hum of work, back into the presence of someone who won’t look at you, won’t speak beyond necessity, and won’t acknowledge whatever door slammed shut between you that night. And you’ll do what you always do—show up, finish tasks, act like nothing happened. Because that’s how life works.

Still, you tug the blanket a little tighter around your frame. It doesn’t help.

But you do it anyway.

—

The next day, you’re at your desk, nearly finished with a report, trying to complete your work before he returns. The day had worked out in your favor. His schedule was packed—meetings, shimmer production site visits. Obligations that kept him away from the office, away from you. It wasn’t intentional, but it was what you needed—you weren't sure you could handle his quiet indifference today, not after what you went through.

You do feel better—less shaken, less fragile, but the night before is still there, lingering in the stiffness of your movements, the dull ache crawling across your body. The cut beneath your eye oozes slightly despite your efforts to clean it. The darkened bruises had settled deep within your skin, quiet and throbbing.

So, you buried yourself in work—let the routine pull you forward, locked into focus. It helped, made time move faster and soon the dull throb in your bones and the sting beneath your eye felt secondary. The hours passed steadily—you’re determined to finish before Silco returns, before the inevitable arrival you don’t want to face.

But fate, as always, has other plans. The door swings open—sudden and sharp, hitting the wall behind it with a loud thud.

Your body reacts before your mind does as you jump out of your skin. A sharp noise escapes you—a startled shriek that makes your skin prickle with embarrassment. The sound too raw, too vulnerable.

You recover quickly, clearing your throat, offering a quiet apology. “I’m sorry, sir.” You murmur, not daring to turn around. “It’s just…you surprised me, that's all.”

Silence. Then, a scoff. “Afraid of me now, are you?”

His words hit like an accusation, the irritation in his voice unmistakable.

“No!” You say too quickly, like a reflex.

Silence stretches over you again, heavier this time. “Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

You inhale slowly—willing your pulse to steady, trying to force the tension in your shoulders to loosen. You know this moment is inevitable. You had hoped—foolishly—that you would be gone before he returned, before he had a chance to see, to give the bruises time to fade. You sigh, there's no avoiding it now.

You push your chair back with careful deliberation, standing with measured restraint. You turn slowly, reluctantly.

Time stops.

His gaze catches you instantly. It happens fast—his expression darkening.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else—to someone who had spent less time studying him—the tightening in his jaw, the slow pull of his brow as he takes in every mark, every wound, every inch of damage you tried to hide. His pupils have blown wide in their fury.

He steps toward you, movements measured and controlled. You stiffen, but don’t retreat. You couldn’t if you wanted to.

His fingers brush gently against your chin, tilting your face just slightly, inspecting the injuries with a barely-contained rage that makes your stomach twist. When he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous. Barely restrained.

“Who did this?”

“It was just a couple of thugs,” you swallow, trying to force your voice into something steady. You try to sound indifferent, as if the night previous hadn’t shaken you more than you wanted to admit. “They wanted my bag, but it’s fine. I didn’t have anything important in it—no reports or sensitive documents that would put the business at risk.”

The second the words leave you, his expression tightens. He scoffs—sharp, unimpressed, as if the very idea of your priorities insults him—like the very notion of your safely ever being secondary to paperwork is so ridiculous he doesnt even have the patience to entertain it. You suddenly feel stupid, like you had missed something.

“Sit.” He directs, nodding toward his desk.

You hesitate—only for a second—but obey, sliding onto the edge of the polished wood, watching as he moves with quiet efficiency, retrieving a cloth and a bottle of liquor from a cabinet. You shiver slightly, barely perceptible, as he steps close.

The first touch is careful. His fingers tilt your chin, angling your face toward him, his movements deliberate but light—as if he's holding back, like he doesn't trust himself not to be too harsh. The sting from the alcohol bites immediately, sharp against the broken skin, and you wince.

Silco shoots you an apologetic look before his focus hardens again, returning to his task of dabbing your wounds clean. The silence stretches, pressing into the space between you.

You watch him, you can’t help it at this point, studying the intensity in his features—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his seafoam eye remains locked onto his work while the corrupted one twitches, the orange glow flickering. You wish, more than anything, that you could read his thoughts, see whatever is sitting behind his measured control. Then—

“This is my fault.” His words are barely above a murmur, like they weren’t meant for you to hear.

Your breath catches. You shake your head quickly. “No, it isn’t–”

“You work for me.” He cuts you off, his tone is edged, leaving no room for argument. “You should have an escort home.”

There's no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. Just certainty that the idea of you walking alone at night, vulnerable to the violence of Zaun, is something unacceptable. You let out a breath, half amused, half disbelieving.

“That's ridiculous,” you say with a dismissive laugh. “I’m just a secretary.”

His expression shifts. Quiet, still. So quiet you almost miss it—

“You’re more than that.”

It wasn’t meant to be said aloud. But you know, without a doubt, that he meant it.

Your throat tightens, and before you can think better of it—before you can stop yourself—your hand moves. You place it atop his, where it rests cradling your jaw.

His fingers twitch beneath yours, just slightly. The warmth of his skin seeps into yours. His seafoam eye twitches. But he doesn’t pull away. You inhale, barely audible. “Silco…”

It slips out before you realize it—his first name. You’ve never used it before, not out loud, anyway. You had only ever referred to him as Sir, or Boss. His gaze snaps to yours, holding you there.

Then, he retreats. Your stomach twists. You should have known, should have expected it—the wall to be built back into place.

You sit frozen as he moves to the other side of the desk, you hear a drawer opening then closing. Edges of your vision begin to blur, eyes burning before you can stop it. You really don’t want to cry in front of him.

Then, he appears back in front of you—holding his hand out. You blink the tears away.

You stare at it. For a brief second, you wonder if you’re imagining things and your exhaustion has finally twisted reality into something softer than it actually is. But he doesn’t move. 

Slowly, hesitantly, you reach forward, placing your fingers into his grasp. He takes them, his grip firm and certain.

“If you’re going to work for me,” he says, calm and controlled. “You need to learn how to protect yourself.”

With that, he leads you out of the room. His grip on your hand remains—firm, unrelenting, tighter than probably necessary, but neither of you acknowledge it. You let him guide you out of his office, down the stairs, through an empty corridor to a back entrance you didn’t know about, avoiding drunken patrons of The Last Drop.

You exit the building to an empty alleyway. It's quiet and grungy. The damp scent of the undercity mixing with something stale and metallic. He only stops when you’ve both stepped fully into the empty space. Silco finally pulls away, releasing your hand with some effort.

You feel the absence of his touch, but before you can process it, Silco reaches behind himself, pulling out a pistol from the waistband of his trousers—a sleek, well-worn weapon, familiar in his calloused grip.

“You’re going to learn how to shoot.” His voice is final, steady, leaving no room for objections.

To which you immediately begin to object. “That’s—that’s really not necessary.”

He ignores you, inspecting the gun, checking the chamber with practiced ease.

“I’m not some—some henchman, or whatever. Besides, I hate guns—”

He silences your protest with a single look, his expression cocky. “It’s not wise to argue with your boss.”

You exhale, irritated, but don’t bother responding, ultimately knowing you won’t win this. He presses the pistol into your palm, the weight surprising you.

“It’s…heavy,” you mutter, adjusting your grip awkwardly.

“I’ll be getting you one of your own, soon.” The certainty in his voice makes something in your chest flutter. 

Silco steps back, nodding toward a battered wooden fence at the far end of the alley—full of bullet holes, evidence of past target practice.

“Aim.”

You lift the weapon, but your hands tremble slightly, unfamiliar with the grip. He immediately sighs in exasperation. 

“You mean to tell me you grew up in Zaun and never bothered to learn how to shoot?”

You scowl at him in return. He huffs something unflattering under his breath, having no patience for excuses. Then—he moves.

One moment he’s standing beside you, watching you with quiet irritation. The next, his body is pressed against yours—close, firm and solid. The shock of it steals your breath away.

His presence surrounds you entirely, every inch of him enveloping you, steadying you. You feel Silco’s hands wrap around your waist, traveling up your arms, adjusting your stance with easy precision.

The moment shifts, suddenly you realize: he’s never been this close. Ever.

You feel everything. The shape of him—taller than you, lean but strong. More solid than one would expect, absolutely no frailty to him. His heat settles deep against your spine. The warmth of his breath against your skin. His scent—whiskey and cigars and something expensive—envelopes you.

Your pulse trips, your fingers twitching against the cold steel. You feel him, more than hear, speak low near your ear. “Like this.”

He covers your hand with his own, adjusting your grip, steadying your aim.

You try to focus, try not to drown in the warmth of him, the closeness, the way the moment stretches too long, too charged. “Keep your eyes open.”

You realize, with a jolt, they were fluttering shut. Heat blooms beneath your skin, and you shake your head, forcing yourself to refocus. To focus on the gun in your hands rather than the way his front is pressed so completely against your back. You inhale, steadying your grip, and pull the trigger.

The gunshot cracks through the alleyway, ringing in your ears, but through the sharpness of the sound, his voice still reaches you—low, murmured, close. “Good girl.”

You exhale, pulse thrumming, adrenaline lingering. The words settle against your skin, curling deeply in places they shouldn’t reach.

His fingers remain wrapped around yours—his grip firm and unwavering. Slowly, his head dips, his warm breath settling against your hair, close enough that you feel the inhale—deliberate, like he's memorizing everything about you in this moment.

Your eyes flutter shut again. You wish you could sink into this moment and stay there.

You feel the pistol leave your hands with practiced ease, his fingers brushing against yours as he pulls it from your grip. You hear the quiet slide of metal as he tucks it back into his waistband, the motion effortless and habitual.

You brace for it—the distance. You anticipate the moment he steps back behind the unseen wall, where whatever fragile thing between you can get stitched back up before it can fully slip. It doesn’t come.

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly. Unsteady in a way you aren’t used to hearing.

The words are quiet but genuine. You try to dismiss them. “I told you it wasn’t your fault,” you murmur, wanting to pull him from whatever guilt sat heavy in his chest. “You weren’t even there—”

Before you can finish, you feel him shake his head. Suddenly, you understand. He’s not talking about the attack, or your bruises, or for the near-empty streets that swallowed your pain without a second thought.

He’s speaking of everything else. The silence, the avoidance. The way his indifference had cut sharper than the hands that had thrown you to the ground. Your throat tightens, breath catching against something deep and unnamed.

Silco’s arms remain wrapped around you, firm. Grounding you. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the feeling for just a second.

“Have dinner with me.” It’s not a command, or even a request. It’s soft, inevitable. It carries the weight of knowing that declining isn’t an actual possibility—not because you can’t, but because you won’t. You never could.

You exhale, leaning back into him. Letting the tension drain from your shoulders, allowing yourself stay in his arms, for just a little while longer. “Okay.”

You feel his breath steady, the relief flooding his form. He’s still holding you. Your pulse is slow, steady, settling into the warmth of his arms which are still wrapped around you, in the quiet weight of his presence.

You turn your head, just slightly. Just enough to look at him. Only to find Silco already looking at you as if you were something precious. Slowly, you shift, turning in his grip, fully this time, to face him entirely.

His twitches slightly at the movement, his hold adjusting instinctively, but he doesn't let go, doesn’t turn away.

Instead, his hands lift, framing your face on either side, his warm palms pressing against your skin, thumbs brushing just beneath your jaw. His touch is deliberate—more gentle on the injured side, where the bruises still ache. Like he’s memorizing every wound, every detail.

Then, he leans in. Slowly, unhurried. He stops—just for a brief second, just long enough for you to catch the way his seafoam and orange eyes flicker down to your mouth, the way his breath steadies, the way his grip tightens almost imperceptibly against you.

Finally—finally—his lips meet yours. Soft, but firm. Not rushed, it's just right.

The pull toward him is stronger than it has ever been, your fingers twitching slightly before they find purchase against his chest, gripping the fabric of his vest. The heat spreads beneath your skin, settling into your ribs, curling deeply in your stomach as you exhale against him, pressing deeply into the kiss, allowing the moment—no—allowing him to consume you whole.

The weight of the kiss settles into the space between you. It’s firm, deep and long overdue. His grip doesn’t loosen, not for a second. His fingers press into you, warm and steady, anchoring you in a way that feels deliberate, like he’s making sure you stay exactly where you are, where he wants you.

Whatever restraint kept this at bay for so long, whatever unspoken thing that had wedged its way between you is gone now, and neither of you mourn it. All that exists in its place is the way his lips move against yours; as if he's committing every second, every inch of you, to memory.

You want more—everything, anything he’ll give you. Your hands slide slowly upward from their place on his chest. They trace along the lines of his collarbone before shifting higher, settling along each side of his face.

Your fingers move instinctively, tracing along his cheeks, soft, careful, deliberate. When they graze the jagged edge of his scar—rough beneath your fingertips—he stills.

His breath halts, his grip tightening just slightly, like he’s caught between reaction and restraint as your thumb ghosts across the texture of his ruined skin.

And for a second—a single, fleeting second—you worry you’ve gone too far. That this is something he doesn’t want, that you crossed a line you shouldn’t have crossed.

Still, he doesn’t leave. His grip loosens and his hands shift, pulling away from your lips just enough for a bit of space between you to return—not to retreat, but for something else entirely.

Without a word, his fingers slip to yours, gently pulling your hand away from his face—only to turn it over and bring it to his lips.

He kisses your palm—soft, unhurried, lingering.

Slowly, carefully, he presses your hand back to his cheek, his own fingers covering yours now, holding you in place—keeping you there.

Silco leans back down and continues kissing you. This time, deeper, with something heavier behind it. 

Something wordless.

Something certain.

Something you know neither of you will regret.

if you've read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so please please tell me your thoughts!!! (even if it's just screaming gibberish it makes me kick my feets)

[shouts-into-the-void]

I think its super interesting how much complexity we're starting to see in the characters this season.

Thus far, the misfits have been the pretty uncontested "good guys" while the clusterfucks have been the clear "bad guys."

However, this season, we start to see that the division is much less black and white.

Ada tackles a super dangerous monster to save Annabel. Annabel doesn't leave her behind even though it's obviously impeding her escape and sacrifices her engagement ring to save the three of them. Prospero immediately books it for Ada as soon as he realizes she's in danger and tries to reassure her that him not being into her has nothing to do with her worth as a person. Meanwhile the misfits immediately scatter and start arguing amongst themselves.

It's highlighted extremely clearly in the confrontation between Eulalie, Pluto, Duke, Will, and Montresor. [SPOILERS for fast pass ahead btw]

While it's really easy to see the initial argument on a surface level (Goatman trying to pick a fight and using Will to do it, Eulalie coming to Will's defense because she sees him being mistreated) and while that is what happens, a closer inspection shows a lot more going on in terms of character morals.

The argument starts because Montresor, hurt, disabled, and having had his pride/ego dented, is lashing out and gets fed up with Will. (I do think its super interesting that as soon as Will flinches, he switches gears from insulting him to telling him to stop letting him walk all over him, albiet in a harsh way) Eulalie responds by asking him to stop being mean to Will, and offers to take Will into the group. Pluto and Duke reject the idea, completely ready and willing to abandon someone who for all they know and have seen, is being bullied and manipulated by someone they all know is capable of horrific violence.

And while Will ultimately chooses Montresor because he's a gay disaster the real display of just how much the characters words and alignment don't match their actual morals comes when Will gets gutted by the stag.

Hes still alive, bleeding out on the ground and begging for help. And the misfits leave him there to die. With a couple flippiant lines no less.

Meanwhile Montresor, resident scum of the Earth who's loyal to no one and delights in the suffering of others? Hesitates maybe a second before jumping into danger to save him. Not only that, he's actively comforting and reassuring Will the entire time.

And I think this is what makes me the most excited for the rest of this comic. Your fave would let a man die if that man wasn't on their side. The most monstrous character in the series couldn't abandon someone who can't defend themself.

And before you say it, yes Montresor abandoned Ada and a lot of him saving Will has to do with the fact that he actually cares for him. But I think the reasoning has more to do with the flashback we see of Monty and the dog. Disregarding that Ada is the reason he's spiraling out so bad right now and the animosity he feels due to her making him confront his religious trauma, he knows that she is perfectly capable of defending herself. Meanwhile Will has trouble defending himself in any setting, and is currently mortally wounded and being torn to shreds by a pack of dogs.

I think this season is setting up for a character arc for the clusterfucks and a reverse character arc for the misfits. I believe that Lenore is going to get closer and closer to the person Annabel remembers as her bonds with her friends weaken and her memories return, while Annabel is going to start forming the support network she desperately needs to cope with her various issues. This will leave the two of them in a role reversal, with Lenore determined to do anything and burn any bridge to save the two of them, while Annabel is desperately trying to figure out a way to save all of them. It would be most interesting to me if the season ended with Lenore going lone wolf and the rest of the cast teaming up to form an escape plan and get the old Lenore back.

[goldcleaver]

I'm gonna put my two thirds of a classics degree to work here

When I said Phaidei can be seen as an allegory for Odysseus and Penelope, I meant it

Penelope encounters the returned Odysseus posing as a beggar. From a mural in the Macellum of Pompeii

Spoiler warnings: 3.0, 3.1, 3.2, as well as leaks towards the end.

TL;DR: Mydei is Penelope, Phainon is Odysseus.

Mydei and Penelope

Now, I know it may seem tempting to say that Mydei, being the big, strong, burly man that he is, is a parallel to Odysseus, but he’s actually Penelope! This whole fever dream of a "theory" actually stems from the parallels between Mydei and Penelope, specifically. Phainon was a secondary thought lmao.

Point 1) The theme of buying time

It cannot be understated just how much of Mydei’s core themes center around buying time, not just for others, but also for himself. 

On multiple occasions, he goes to some pretty extreme lengths to do so, namely in 3.0 when he offers up his own immortal body as a means of keeping Nikador occupied in Castrum Kremnos. In that moment, he completely puts his own safety on the back burner – the team needs to hold Nikador off long enough to render them immortal once more, and Mydei has the solution, no matter the personal cost of dying a couple of times. Later, in 3.1, he puts his own personal feelings aside to shoulder the divinity of Strife, despite the fact that he was hesitant to do so in 3.0, simply because it would be for the best. Then, at the end of 3.1, he completely disregards his own wants and fears, and takes the fight to the Black Tide on his own because he is the only one capable of doing so. By sacrificing himself in this manner, he can buy his fellow Chrysos Heirs enough time to usher in the new dawn, and the miracle of Genesis.

But Mydei doesn’t just buy time for others, he also does so for himself. Throughout 3.0 and 3.1, his story leads up to one massive decision: what to do about the Kremnoans. He is torn between claiming the crown – his birthright – and leading his people back to Castrum Kremnos, or leaving them in Okhema. 

However, to the Kremnoans, Nikador is synonymous with kingship, judging by Krateros’ reaction to Mydei surrendering the Coreflame to Phainon. In Krateros’ eyes, Mydei giving up Nikador’s divine power is the same thing as him “giving up the throne of Kremnos and forsaking his people”. 

As previously stated, Mydei is hesitant to claim Nikador’s coreflame for fear of ending up like his corrupt forebears and leading his people down the wrong path, so obviously he wants to put off that decision for as long as possible. First, he enters a (frankly, pointless) competition with Phainon just to decide who gets to deliver the final blow to Nikador, and gives up his win ridiculously easily if Phainon loses. That way, they can ignore the decision they have to make for a while longer. Then, when Nikador is dead, he is quick to surrender the Coreflame to Phainon, and promptly shuts down Phainon’s attempt to discuss the subject any further. So, by sending Phainon to the trial of divinity, Mydei can avoid making his own decision regarding the fate of the Kremnoans, if we take Krateros’ words about kingship and Nikador’s powers into consideration. Effectively, Mydei makes sure the decision is out of his hands – he didn’t technically reject the Coreflame, after all. 

So how does all of this connect to Penelope, exactly? 

Well, Penelope’s themes also center around buying time – for herself, and for Odysseus. She also has a big decision to make: who should succeed Odysseus as the king of Ithaca, and just like Mydei, she wants to put it off for as long as possible. Naturally, she doesn’t want to choose, and comes up with increasingly desperate ideas to keep the suitors at bay. In the end, she does succeed; she buys Odysseus enough time to return home, and as such she never has to choose a new suitor. Unlike Mydei.

You see, Mydei actually fails in avoiding his decision. In the end, he is forced to take on the Coreflame when Phainon fails the trial. As a result, Mydei has to make a decision regarding his people and his potential kingship. In this sense, Krateros and the rest of the Kremnoans are the suitors, encouraging Mydei (Penelope) to make a choice.

If we view Mydei’s actions through this Penelope-esque lens, we can draw some pretty convincing parallels!

Point 2) The challenge

At the climax of Penelope’s story, right before her reunion with Odysseus, she makes a last-ditch attempt to hold off the suitors by presenting them with a seemingly impossible challenge. She sets up twelve axes and demands that the suitors shoot through them flawlessly using Odysseus’ old bow. What she doesn’t tell the suitors is this: the bow is nigh impossible to string. Then, as a sort of fail safe, she sits down behind the axes. That way, if a suitor succeeds, she is immediately killed and doesn’t have to marry them.

While this is more far-fetched than point 1, a connection to Mydei’s actions can still be made, in the sense that he, too, has made arrangements for the worst case scenario. In case he is corrupted by the Black Tide, and thus cannot buy the Chrysos Heirs enough time to bring about the miracle (i.e buy Odysseus enough time to return to Ithaca), Mydei has arranged a fail safe for himself by telling Phainon about his weak spot. Phainon is the only one who knows about it, and as such, he is the only one who can shoot through the twelve axes with Odysseus’ bow. The parallels may not be perfect, but the narrative is very similar.

Point 3) Sparta/Castrum Kremnos

My last point is their origins. Penelope is Spartan royalty, though she was never its ruler. It’s no secret that Castrum Kremnos is vaguely based on ancient Sparta, and Mydei is the prince-turned-king of Castrum Kremnos. It’s a pretty obvious connection, but I’ve chosen to highlight it, nonetheless.

Phainon and Odysseus 

I'll admit that Phainon's connection to Odysseus is vaguer than Mydei and Penelope’s, but I can totally see it. 

Point 1) The one time is being bought for

Penelope buys Odysseus time to return to Ithaca, Mydei buys Phainon and the other Chrysos Heirs time to a) render Nikador mortal, and b) bring about the miracle of Genesis. Now, post-3.2, we know that Phainon is meant to take over the authority of Kephale. If the plan proceeds smoothly, he will be the last one left alive to reforge the new world with his, in Anaxa’s words, “complete, intact memories”. While we cannot be certain that Mydei knows this, it can still be argued that Phainon himself is the one Mydei is buying time for.

Point 2) Nobody

Odysseus initially evades Polyphemus by calling himself “Nobody”. Phainon is called the “Nameless Hero”, and we have no idea what his real name is. Just like Odysseus, he has crafted a persona for himself.

Point 3) The journey to Ithaca

Phainon going on the Flamechase Journey is his version of Odysseus' journey of going to war and then trying to make it back to Ithaca. They're both put through the wringer a million times over on their journey, and express desires to go back home. In the end, they are both crumbling under the weight of their past actions and losses, and become increasingly more brutal because of it, if Phainon’s behaviour towards Oronyx in 3.0 was anything to go off of.

Also, LEAK WARNING:

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Going off leaks, we know that Phainon is both the Flame Reaver, and the final boss for Amphoreus. For whatever reason, we can guess that he lost his humanity somewhere along the line, and, if you can forgive the EPIC reference, became the monster. In the Odyssey, Odysseus ends his journey by slaughtering the suitors vying for Penelope’s hand, showcasing his potential for great violence, much like Phainon. 

TL;DR: Mydei is Penelope, Phainon is Odysseus.

Now, this was obviously mostly for shits and giggles, but the parallels are pretty convincing, ngl.

Bonus: Phaidei = Patrochilles

Now, additionally: they can ALSO be seen as an allegory for Achilles and Patroclus, especially since the game has already drawn parallels between the Iliad and the Amphoreus story.

The game is obviously hinting towards Mydei being Achilles considering his whole weak spot-thing. Naturally, that makes Phainon Patroclus. If we regard Mydei as the “true” heir to Nikador’s divinity, Then Phainon was technically taking Mydei's place in the trial. Ultimately, he fails to pass, which is a nice parallel to how Patroclus dons Achilles' armour to lead the Myrmidons, and dies against Hector, who Achilles later slays in a fit of rage. In this case, Hector is Nikador, who first dies by the team’s hands during the fight, and then later dies by Mydei’s own hand in his trial.

[staylovesmiley]

Give Me Your TMI~ Chapter 4

˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Yang Jeongin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; In a world where Humans and Hybrids should be living as equals, Hybrids are still viewed as being closer to their animalistic side than their humanistic. Deep in the woods lives a band of misfit hybrids who reject these societal views and keep to themselves, choosing to live away from humans. What happens when the youngest of this rogue group meets a lost Human girl, befriending her after an incident where he must rely on her for help?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; hybrid!au, female!reader, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, she/her pronouns used for reader, this is very loosely based off the overall themes/tones of the manga and anime fruits basket~

How did you get yourself into this situation, you think to yourself.

You are sat in between Jeongin and Minho at the large wooden dinner table. Each side has four chairs with a ninth chair seated at the head of the table where a very stoic Wolf Hybrid sits in complete silence. Across from you is Felix, giving you small encouraging smiles in between bites of his food as you merely stir yours around with your spoon anxiously. The fox hybrid to your left seems to notice your unease and reaches down to slip his hand onto your thigh with a reassuring squeeze, knocking you out of the daze you seem to be caught in. “Pretty, you need to eat…” He whispers into your ear and you nod, taking a few slow bites but with the tense feeling in the air it feels like swallowing rocks instead of the pieces of vegetables and tender meat you and Minho had prepared.

You feel an pair of eyes practically glued to you from beside Felix and with a hard swallow you look up to meet Seungmin’s gaze, the hybrid quickly looking down at his bowl but he seems to not have much of an appetite either.

Everyone seems to finish their meals and part one by one until it is just you and Seungmin, Minho having scolded the both of you that until at least half of your bowls were empty you were not to leave the table. You heard the hybrid let out a small whimper and winced a bit, trying to make yourself at least eat half like Minho had said but your mind was moving too fast for you to focus on food at that moment. Carefully, you looked back over at Seungmin and waved softly, taking a shaky breath. “Um…Seungmin?” God, this was probably a bad idea. You just felt awful for making him so uncomfortable. While you had at least taken a few decent bites of food he hadn’t touched a single thing.

When his name left your mouth he flinched, causing your heart to ache as you frowned at him. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry…um- yeah..I’m sorry.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so silly but when you hear the sound of his spoon clinking against his bowl as he slowly begins to eat, you quickly relax. The two of you eat in silence for the rest of your meal, both of you managing to clear your bowls much to the older cat hybrids delight.

As Minho passed by, collecting the dirty dishes he gave you a light pat on the head and a soft. “Good job.” Which caused you to beam proudly and get up from your seat. When you glanced to where the beagle hybrid had been sitting you noticed he was already gone, frowning a bit to yourself but you should have known it would talk a bit longer, if at all, for him to become comfortable being around you from what Jeongin had explained.

You joined the two cat hybrids in the kitchen, leaning against the counter by the sink as you watched Minho wash and Felix dry and put away the dishes. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked, watching the way they worked to fluidly and in sync. They gave each other a look, smiling softly before Felix turned to you. “We’ve got it, just rest for tonight and then you can help with breakfast in the morning.” You nod slowly, staying at the counter to observe them a bit longer. “Um…I hope you don’t mind me asking- but how are you guys so in tune with each other?” They give each other another look, almost seeming to communicate telepathically before Minho smiles at you. “Well, like how normal cats can form bonds to one another, Felix and I are bonded.” The younger hybrid nodded in agreement and you raised your eyebrow at them curiously. “Oh so you’re like…together?” Before they could answer you couldn’t help but tease the older of the two lightly, bringing back your conversation from earlier. “Is Felix the husband?” Minho laughed while he dried off his hands, having just finished washing the last dish, whereas Felix looked on with wide eyes and a horrified expression.

The older came up to you, hands resting on the counter you were leaning against on either side of you to cage you in. The cat smirked, leaning in so his face was inches from your own. “What makes you so curious about if I have a husband? Are you wanting to fill that position?” A blush fanned across your cheeks, looking up wide eyed as Felix burst into laughter beside you. You mumbled, not sure if he would even be able to hear you. “‘m not a husband, I’m a wife-“ of course, he still heard, all hybrids having a very keen sense of hearing. A light purr rumbled in the older cat’s chest as he leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear. “I’m sure you’re a very good wife, indeed…might just have to take you for myself.”

A low growl could be heard from beside you, causing you to turn your head and face the fox hybrid with his ears flat to his head and tail puffed up like he had been electrocuted. “Hyung, back. off.” Jeongin’s voice was tight, and for the first time you could see the sharp point of his canines as he snarled at the older hybrid.

Minho smirked at the youngest, tilting his head to the side as he pulled back from you. “Awe, our innie is feeling a bit jealous? Don’t worry, I was only teasing.” You blinked a few times, looking from Minho to Jeongin. “Jealous?” The younger hybrid blushed as he turned his face away shyly, coughing into his hand. Your expression softened and you pushed away from the counter to ruffle his soft hair and give a light scratch behind his ears. “Oh Jeongin, there’s no need to be jealous. You’ll always be my best friend here.” Minho and Felix looked on with wide eyes, not believing how oblivious you could be and the fox before you let out a little whine before pulling you to him protectively while glaring at his hyungs over the top of your head.

You allowed the youngest to nuzzle against you, his need to completely drench you in his scent taking over even as you turned around in his arms to face the two cat hybrids once more. “Wait, so if you are bonded that must mean you’ve been together for a long time right?”

Minho shrugged, looking back at Felix as if he was checking to see if it was alright to answer your question and the younger cat nodded. “We were raised at the same shelter.” Minho said finally, Felix coming over to stand beside him and rest his head on the older’s shoulder. “Wait- like where Innie is from?” You felt the fox in question tightening his grip around your waist and you instinctually brought a hand up behind you to run your fingers through his hair soothingly. Minho smiled at the interaction, arms crossing over his chest. “No, not necessarily….hybrid centers are a lot more- like a factory? They take hybrids from breeders and raise and condition them a specific way to make the most money. They aim to create the perfect pets…” The older’s words caused you to frown, your free hand gripping Jeongin’s wrist where his hands were clasped together around your midsection.

“Shelters, however, take in abandoned hybrids of all ages and aim to rehabilitate and nurture them. It’s a much more relaxed environment. Still- Felix and I had bonded almost instantly and when it came time that someone wanted to adopt him they refused to take me as well…” Felix had a pout on his delicate features, seeming to be recalling the events as he buried his face in the older’s neck and Minho, like you had with Jeongin, brought a hand to the back of his neck wordlessly and gave him a comforting squeeze. “That’s when we broke out and found ourselves here…we knew we wouldn’t be able to survive without each other and well- we seem to be doing just fine here don’t you think so?”

You smiled warmly, nodding your head. “I’d say so….is that why you aren’t as scared of me? Cause things were more relaxed for you growing up?” Felix nodded then, pulling away to face you. “Mhm! I mean, yeah it was scary when we were almost separated and they wouldn’t listen to us that we needed to be together….but overall the humans who took care of us were very kind.”

It made a lot of sense, the way the two seemed to be the least hesitant around you after having just met, aside from Jisung who you knew had never met a human before you so he had nothing really to compare you to to be wary. You thought for a moment why Jeongin seemed to warm up to you so quickly, only realizing that he had over a month of time alone with you just not to your knowledge of him being a hybrid and not a normal fox.

“I’m sorry they tried to separate you two…it’s so obvious that the two of you mean a lot to each other- I can’t imagine how scary that must have been.” You gave them a frown, stepping away from Jeongin, despite his whines of protest, to wrap your arms around both cat hybrids tightly. Felix embraced you happily while Minho feigned disgust, head thrown back as he let out an exaggerated groan that you were suffocating him.

You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped you as you pulled away, the cats bidding you a good night with reminders to be up early to help with breakfast and you assured them that you would be on time. Jeongin was quick to pull you back towards him, one again nuzzling against you aggressively. “You smell too much like Minho-hyung now.” He huffed, his cheek rubbing behind your ear and his breath tickling the back of your neck. “I-Innie cut it out-“ your words were halted when you felt the gentlest graze of sharp teeth against your neck. Your breath hitched and the hybrid could hear how your heart rate began to skyrocket.

Jeongin smirked to himself, pride swelling in his chest at the reaction he was able to pull from such a small gesture. He wondered briefly how you would react if he were really to bite down, claim you as his own for all his hyungs to see so that maybe they would back off and realize that you were his pretty human and they should know their place.

“Jeongin, stop.” Your words were firm, as firm as your palms placed against his shoulders as you pushed him away gently. “I think you’re starting to get a little carried away, pervy little fox.” Jeongin pouted, looking at you confused until he realized while lost in his daydream he had drooled all down the side of your neck and shoulder. Flames of embarrassment licked at his skin and caused him to flush tremendously. “I-I…I’m sorry pretty- shit-“ he looked around before grabbing the dish towel Felix had set aside when he finished drying the dishes earlier and carefully cleaned up the mess of fox slobber he had left on you.

You couldn’t help but giggle, causing the hybrid to smile at the sound. “What were you even thinking about, innie? You seemed so spaced out.” He blinked a bit, shaking his head immediately. No way he could tell you what he had been thinking of. What if you felt differently? What if you didn’t want to be his? What if you would be disgusted with his craving for such an animalistic act of possession.

“Jeongin? Calm down- you’re rubbing a bit hard there.” Panic set in once again and he pulled back quickly when he realized he had been scrubbing your skin raw as he once again got lost in thought. “You must be tired. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” Your soft smile calmed him instantly and he nodded, taking the hand you offered before letting you pull him back to room.

Once safely inside you pulled him over and sat him down on the edge of the bed, running your hands through his hair gently as his arms once again snaked their way around your waist with his face pressed against your stomach. You smiled softly down at him as you began to hum softly a tune to an old lullaby you had heard as a child.

“Pretty?” His voice was hesitant, just barely above a whisper. “Yes, innie?” He took a deep breath, eyes closed as he thought of how to say what it was he wanted to. “Did you- um….were you in-inlove? You know…with him?”

You sighed, eyes closing as you thought for a moment how to put it into words, just as the hybrid had before asking his question. “No, I wasn’t. Jeongin I…where I come from, women don’t have a say in what our futures hold. I married him because I was told to, not because of love.” His frown could be felt against where his cheek was pressed to your lower abdomen, your hands never ceasing in their soft mensurations of combing through his hair.

“That’s not very fair…aren’t you a human just like your husband? Why don’t you get to choose-“ You shrugged, looking down at him softly. “I don’t really know, innie. That’s just how I was raised…how all the girls were raised where I’m from. Even my mother, and all the mothers and grandmothers before them…for as long as we’ve known.” That answer didn’t seem to sit well with the hybrid, his hold on you tightening. “If you could have chosen…what would you have wanted your future to be?” The question was so innocent yet held so much meaning to you that tears slowly began to pool in your eyes. “I would have been a teacher.” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head. “But that doesn’t matter. Let’s get some sleep? I’m feeling very tired after today…”

Jeongin’s frown deepened, sensing that you were still holding back from him but he didn’t want to push any further and risk upsetting you more.

That night he held you a little closer, your head tucked under his chin as he gently rubbed between your shoulders as you entered a night of fitful sleep as memories from your past began to plague your mind for the first time since you had been brought to the cabin.

The next morning you woke up to find yourself alone, even though the sky was still dark outside behind the curtains hanging in front of the lone window in the room. “Jeongin?” You called out softly, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes before looking around. “He went out.” Came a voice near the door, startling you slightly as it was a voice you hadn’t heard before. “Oh-“ Chan was standing in the doorway, his sharp gaze fixed on you causing you to feel the need to squirm uncomfortably in your spot on the bed. “Um..okay- thank you for letting me know.” The wolf hybrid let out a little huff as a response, watching you carefully as you rose from the bed and headed towards him.

“Go join Minho in the kitchen. Breakfast needs to be ready soon.” His voice was so cold, causing you to tense the closer you got. Despite his words telling you to leave he still stood in the doorway blocking your path. “O-Okay…I’ll be sure to work quickly then-“ he nodded curtly, stepping out of the way hesitantly with eyes still glued to you as you walked past and into the kitchen. Gosh, he must think you’re so lazy and incompetent to come and get you himself like that. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you could feel his eyes still on your retreating form as you made your way to the kitchen. Why is he even allowing you to stay here if he seems to hate you so much? You shook the thoughts from your head, meeting Felix’s soft eyes and kind smile as you entered the kitchen. “Good morning, pretty! Minho-hyung is just with Ji getting some eggs from the chickens for breakfast. Would you like some tea while we wait?”

As you sat with the younger of the two cats as you both drank your tea, waiting for the older to return with Jisung in tow. While you waited you felt arms wrap around you from behind and you expected to see Jeongin’s face when you turned to greet the person those hands belonged to but instead you were met with a very sleepy ferret. “Oh- good morning Hyunjin.” You cooed, giving his head a few scratches causing him to squeak happily as Changbin came up behind him to lean against the counter between you and Felix. “Morning pretty- sorry for him. He wouldn’t get out of bed until he was sure you were up.” You giggled, shaking your head to the bunny as you took a sip from your mug. “It’s fine, I don’t mind the affection. It’s nice.” If Hyunjin had been a cat rather than a ferret he would have purred at your words, rubbing his cheek against your own causing you to laugh.

Your conversation with the three hybrids about how they had slept died off as Minho and Jisung came in with a basket of eggs and flushed faces from the cold. “Pretty! So nice to see you’re finally awake, I was beginning to worry you had forgotten you were helping this morning.” Oh, had you overslept without realizing? Guilt crept into your mind and the cat hybrid must have noticed because he walked over and gave a light flick to your forehead. “I’m teasing. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just shocked Ayen didn’t wake you up before he left.” Left? You looked at him with confusion, pulling away from the cuddly Hyunjin who pouted only for a moment at the loss before turning to cling to Felix instead.

“Huh, left?” Minho nodded, getting out the rest of the supplies they would need for breakfast. “I sent him and Seungmin out extra early to go to your camp and collect your things. They’ve already made two trips now I think? This should be the last of it though…”

You blinked at him, still so confused as he pointed over to the door where you just happened to notice the crates from your makeshift camp stacked neatly on top of one another. “They- why did they bring my stuff here?”

The hybrids all looked at you confused, as if it was an obvious answer you were seeming to miss. Changbin spoke up, his tone posing his words as a question as if to say you should already be aware of the answer. “Because you are living with us now?” Your eyes fell on each of them as you took in the genuine looks on their faces. They were lying, they had to be. You got to stay here? Like- indefinitely?

You were so sure that when Minho had told you that you would be staying it would only be until winter was over and that you would be sent back on your own the second it began to warm up outside.

“Pretty, did you really think we weren’t going to let you stay?” Minho asked as he nudged your hip with his own, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “If not our little fox may run away to keep you company. Can’t have him doing that, now can we. Besides, then I’d lose my talented little helper.” You blushed at his words, choosing to turn away from him and wash your hands to begin preparing breakfast.

Breakfast time seemed to be a whole different ordeal than dinner time, with the hybrids coming and going quickly just grabbing a plate and scarfing it down before heading out to do their own chores.

At some point while you had still been cooking Jeongin and Seungmin had arrived with the last of your things, eating their own breakfast before heading back out on patrol. It seems the youngest’s punishment had been lifted and you felt a little sad knowing that you would see him less during the day, already having become accustomed to having him with you at almost all times.

Once everything from the meal was cleaned and put away you turned to Minho for further directions. “So- now what do we do?”

Minho raised an eyebrow at you, walking towards the staircase by Jeongin’s room. “What do you mean? We do whatever until it’s time for dinner. The kids can handle their own lunches whenever they finish their chores.” You frowned in confusion, looking around awkwardly. “Um- so there isn’t anything else to do?” The cat smirked, shrugging at he nodded to your pile of things by the door. “You could move those into Jeongin’s room and get settled if you’d like? He’s the only one besides Chan that doesn’t have a roomate so it’s between the two of them who you wanna bunk with…and I’m sure you would prefer to stay with our Ayen-ah.” The light teasing caused your cheeks to turn pink as you nodded and made your way over to start bringing your things to the room you were most familiar with.

The rest of the afternoon was spent alone in the fox hybrid’s room, carefully arranging your things as to not disturb his belongings. Once you were satisfied with the little set up you felt rather tired, having gotten up so early and working non-stop until so late in the afternoon. If you had to guess it was probably a quarter after three, still some time before you would have to join Minho in the kitchen to prepare dinner, you thought as you laid down on the bed and allowed yourself to doze off into a sleep much more peaceful than the one you’d had the night before.

Upon waking up you noticed the blanket that had been folded at the end of the bed frame was now draped over you where you had fallen asleep on top of the quilt rather than fully getting under the covers for your nap. Huh- it must have been Minho or Felix coming to check on you, you thought, smiling to yourself as you put your hand out to get up and felt something under your palm that startled you into pulling your hand back quickly and looking down to see what it had been.

There, lying neatly beside you was a single flower with vibrant purple petals that resembled the pattern of a daisy and a bright yellow center. You gasped lightly, being extremely careful as you picked it up to examine it closer with a soft smile on your face. You don’t think you had ever received flowers before in your life, the gesture warming your heart as you brought it closer to give it a sniff. It didn’t have much of a smell to it but its beauty was so simplistic and delicate you couldn’t stop staring.

Jeongin must have come back from his patrol early and left it for you, you concluded, carefully setting it on the dresser before heading out to meet Minho in the kitchen.

You seemed to miss the way Chan stood by the staircase, seemingly waiting for you to exit the room and notice him but you hadn’t, walking to your destination with your task in mind causing the wolf to sigh as a little pout reached his expression. He turned and headed back towards the back door, knowing he still had part of his patrol to finish though when he spotted the patch of wild asters in the field near his area of the forest he couldn’t wait to bring it back for you, hoping that this would make up from how shy he had been that morning clearly making you feel uneasy despite his attempt to finally speak with you.

As he shifted back into his wolf form after nearly folding his clothes and leaving them at the back porch, he took off in a sprint as he tried to forget how you seemed to never fully notice just how much he longed for your attention to fall on him softly as it seemed to even with Seungmin from the night before. What was he doing wrong? Why did you still only seem to fear him? He guessed he would just have to try harder for you to notice him.

author’s note; I am gonna be so honest idk how I feel about this chapter- but I read it over so many times and I couldn’t find a way to rework it how I’d like sooo- I hope all still enjoy ૮꒰ “ . . ꒱ა

Taglist; (pink users I wasn’t able to tag) @coastinglove @estella-novella @chancloud8 @skzswife @motheraiya55 @zofia515 @skybluelixie @breadedloafs @inaribu00 @silly250 @royal-shinigami @thatgirlangelb @bby-boo4u @emmxxsworld @vampkittenb82 @h0rnyp0t @alisonyus @im-sinking-in-mud @ihrtlix @mrs-hwangh @danixiulin @wolfo2027 @kiaralynn3838 @ateez-atiny380 @daceyena @bookswillfindyouaway @blackcatpandora @popcatx0 @corgilover20 @marshmelonie @sassy-snassy @straykidslover2024

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That'll Get You Killed: Harding and Neve in the Ossuary

Second post in a series about the Ossuary. Read this one first.

Harding's Room

Rook enters the second occupied room, which has Harding. You can see her plants overflowing into the prison, as well as her books, chair and sleeping bag. Harding's notes are:

Which all center around the fear that he will be unable to contain Spite, and that his friends will be hurt as a result. Interestingly, the third one also indicates that he doesn't want Spite to be hurt, either. When you speak to Harding, she has some very fascinating dialogue:

Don't worry Rook. I've got my eye on the prisoner.

and then

Rook, are you sure Spite isn't tricking you? What if there's no Lucanis- just the demon?

Lucanis is afraid that his friends still see him as his captors did; a dangerous thing to be contained-- and, moreover, he's afraid they're right. That maybe there is none of him left, after the Ossuary; that all there is is Spite.

Rook refutes this idea directly, saying Lucanis is not a demon. Harding then says:

Look around. This isn't the mind of a human being, let alone an Antivan Crow.

Lucanis is afraid that he is too broken by his experience to be useful, or even to be human anymore (this fucks me up guys... brb crying). Rook can refute this by affirming that Lucanis is still himself, even after what happened; that everyone has mental scars, and that it is Lucanis' choices which define him; or that the state of Lucanis' mind is irrelevant, and that Rook is trusting him to save the world. For the first two Harding will warn Rook that their attitude could get them killed. For all of them, she warns them to be careful and disappears.

Neve's Room

Neve's room is based on the one where you fought Calivan originally, signalling her place as one of the two biggest obstacles to Lucanis leaving the Ossuary. Her notes are on her desk (behind Rook when you enter), on the clue board behind her, and near the exit in a pile of books. They say:

All of this text surrounds Lucanis' fear that he's out of control, that he's become a monster that can't help anyone; that he's completely lost himself (this fr almost made me cry ;-; the fear and pain and helplessness here is staggering ;;;;-;;;;). When you talk to Neve, she asks if Rook should be there, since it's dangerous. The following description of Neve by Spite is the only difference I can find between the romanced/non-romanced versions of this quest (besides flirt dialogue); he'll say something different if the Nevecanis romance is active, but essentially he identifies Neve as someone strange/new but intriguing. Neve then says:

You know how he is, Rook. Even if you open the door, Lucanis won't walk through it. This is where he wants to be.

Reflecting his fear that even if people try to help him, he won't be able to accept it; that in some way he is doing this to himself, and that he'll choose it over something better. Rook and the others HAVE reached out to him before this; they have offered their help sincerely, and he has rejected it because he was ignoring his own suffering, and because he's afraid he's incapable of accepting it. Neve says this because she has been one of the most kind, and still, Lucanis has refused her help, to this point.

Rook has a choice here where they can say either that Lucanis always has options that they are here to show him, that they are not going anywhere until they help, or that Lucanis is losing himself in masks, and Rook can handle the real him. Neve then says:

You really think you can help him? You're such a sap, Rook.

Which is Lucanis reflecting the fear that he is not actually worth helping, and that the people around him are wasting their time trying to do so. Rook then says she needs to let them try, and Neve disappears.

We've again hit the limit of how long I'm willing to stretch dashes, so the (hopefully) final post will be here.

[melshifting]

Shifting tarot reading ～ #02

❝ What does your S/O think about you? ❞

little disclaimer before starting:         remember that this is for a diverse collective, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't! don't force messages that aren't meant to be ^^

Choose an image below! ⤸

🫧 | For my pile one...

Hmmm... its giving mixed signals and a SLOW burn. This person has contradictory emotions or difficulties in expressing what he/she really feels BUT they definitely feel a romantic connection towards you. There are two possible scenarios: you both are good friends and this person doesn't want to ruin the friendship, or, your person has just come out of a breakup/BAD experience and is having a hard time falling in love/trusting others again. Relax babe, as I told you before: this does NOT mean that there is no attraction or interest, but that there is something inside this person that prevents him/her from opening up completely.  I see them as someone afraid of rejection (or being really prideful), that's why they have a hard time being open about their feelings. What is certain is that they appreciate you, and very much, but they're still not sure how to handle this bond? The good news is that this person is in the process of solving all those doubts and fears that separate you! YAYYYY

channeled lyrics ⤸

♫ ～ "How can it be? You and me might be meant to be, can't unsee it" - Ariana Grande (The boy is mine)

♪ ～ "I summoned you, please come to me; don't bury thoughts that you really want" - Elley Duhé (Middle of the night)

♩ ～ "I hope love is perfect with just love, may all my weaknesses be hidden" - BTS (Fake Love)

🎀 | For my pile two...

they are HEAD over heels for you, oh my… makes me think it was most likely love at first sight (awwww). Your person feels a special connection, even if they haven't expressed it openly or they try to downplay it. They may, in your presence, feel that electricity in the air, that little tingle yknow. But, they also feel kinda disconnected from you..? Like there's some kind of barrier that distances you both, either literally or not - is this an enemies to lovers trope? Maybe, deep down, they see you as someone who is somehow different or hard to reach; like an impossible type of love. This is why, at this moment, they don't know how to approach you - they could be acting erratically or sending mixed signals, because deep down they're not clear which way to go... They've never felt this way about anyone before, something so deep and genuine (so you're their first love huh?), which explains the confusing signals.

channeled lyrics ⤸

♫ ～ "Boy, why you so obsessed with me?" - Mariah Carey (Obsessed)

♪ ～ "I shouldn't have fallen in love, look what it made me become" - Chris Grey (Let the world burn)

💌 | For my pile three...

I'm hearing the part of this one song that says ' and I only have eyes for youuuuu', so you can assume that they're obsessed with you lmao. Not only do they like your personality and character, but they are almost fixated on your body and physical beauty. WOAH, this person has been looking for you between lifetimes and universes (or vice versa) - this is your SOULMATE bro im telling you. You may have met at a time when one of you was going through a significant emotional or spiritual crisis, or even in an unusual circumstance...? Its one of those bonds that start out explosive, as if yall already knew that you wouldn't see each other as mere 'friends'. This relationship is a big change in your lives, but a good one lol.  When this person looks at you, several naughty thoughts come to mind..! so expect your days at their side to not be very ''calm''. Even if there are some possible barriers in this relationship, your person is willing to fight for the person they want to share their life with <3

channeled lyrics ⤸

♫ ～ "Think I met you in another life" - Jungkook (Seven; but the whole song in general lol)

♪ ～ "But when there's two dimensions, there's only one I'm missin'. And if you feel alone, you don't have to feel that no more" - Jungkook (3D; AGAIN, whole song in general lol)

TYSM for reading!!

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Hi love could I possibly request an auston matthews x reader? I would absolutely love to see reader and her best friend riding his beautiful thick thighs👀 not quite sure how I want it to go down so I’ll leave that part up to you🫣🤭

like… just look at him waiting for it🤭

Babe, you did me in on this one! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🫦🫦

C|W : 18+; (implied) alcohol usage; girl-on-girl; threesome; thigh riding; mutual masturbation; edging

Cuties to tag : @quinnsbabygirl @ruinix @quinnhughesandqenthusiast

W|C : 2.7k

"You're both making it hard to choose," Auston joked, the roar the music forcing the three of you to stand almost huddled together. You and your best friend had managed to slip into a party somewhere in downtown Toronto and had caught the eye of the Maple Leafs' captain. Since running into Auston, he had found it difficult as to which of you he wanted to give his attention to, which had prompted the statement.

"You can have us both," your bestie said through a giggle, her hands wrapped around his bicep.

The alcohol in your system was giving you both extra courage in the moment, and you were thankful for it. It made flirting with someone like Auston Matthews easier, or the rejection easier to get over. "Yeah, we're a packaged deal."

He smirked, turning his attention to you, "Oh, is that so?" His laugh made your whole body hot, and you involuntarily clenched your legs together. You could tell already, that just by talking to him -coupled with the drinks he had bought- that you wet. God, if you could just have ten minutes with him in a bathroom, you'd be more than happy. "Well, what kind of deal is this exactly?"

Looking at each other, you and your girlfriend giggled again. It seemed like you were the one to decide what it entailed by the look on her face.

"You get twice the fun," you replied, biting your bottom lip.

Auston's golden eyes seemed to darken before he spoke, sending a second rush of arousal threatening to drip down your bare leg. "Twice the fun, or double the trouble?"

Shaking your head, you'd catch him staring, "Double the pleasure, not trouble."

- - -

The drive to Auston's had been a blur. Your girlfriend had nearly pushed you into the front seat of his car while she slipped in behind you in the backseat. All you could remember was him switching between which thighs he rested his hand on while he drove. Within your mind, you were begging him to let his hand trail further and further up your leg until he was knuckle deep in your pussy. You weren't drunk enough to ask for something like that, even if you wanted it as badly as your body was reminding you that you did. Part of you wondered if your partner-in-crime was feeling just as desperate as you were.

"Can I get you girls anything?" Auston asked, showing the both of you inside. "Another couple drinks or something?"

The lights were low and the air was cool against your skin, but it felt so good. Your racing thoughts -filled with desperate fantasies- still had your mind clouded, so you had to be careful of your words any time you had to open your mouth, lest some dark desire just fell out.

"Oh, I'm down for another," you confessed, pulling a hand through your hair, feeling free and completely uninhibited. You could still feel it: feel how aroused you were, as you walked about his living room. How long had it been since you had been so flirty, so empowered to let your body feel good? By now you were all but begging him to rail you against the counter, it had been a while...

"Anything specific," Auston asked, giving you another sly smile before asking your bestie. "What about you, sweetheart?"

"Vodka-cran, or whatever is easy? We don't...want to be a problem."

Her comment about being problems brought a fit of laughter between the two of you. You'd catch Auston smiling to himself before he turned away to find some glasses. Was this a dream, or had he actually brought both of you home for a bit of a private show?

"Oh my god!" you whispered, taking her hands; you could barely contain yourself, "What are we doing?"

"We're going to have a little fun," she hushed, gazing at your lips. She made the first move and pushed against you. Returning the deep kiss, her hands would find your waist as you held her face with yours. It was your moan that pulled Auston's attention away from the vodka he had been pouring. You wouldn't notice him staring at the two of you, seeing her hands roaming your body in that backless, silk dress.

Again, and again, you wanted someone --something-- you brush against your clit; give it the attention it was craving, but she'd make you wait as well. Her fingers trailed down the curve of your hips, catching the short hem of your dress before being pulled back upwards, taking with the fabric with them, revealing you hadn't been wearing any underwear beneath it. The silken fabric would slip back over your curves as the two of you continued nipping at each other's lips, before Auston made it across the room. Upon hearing his soft footsteps, the two of you would part ways, blushing at having been caught despite being out in the open.

He smirked, bringing the two of you your requested drinks, "Don't let me stop you."

Your friend would be the first to speak, "We were just waiting for you."

"Oh, well if that was the case, I appreciate it."

Words couldn't describe how beautiful Auston's smile was as he sat down in the middle of the sofa that was behind you. There he was, looking up at the two of you like he had won some type of lottery. He was sitting deep, legs wide apart like he was just asking to be straddled, and when he motioned for the two of you to have a seat, you knew right where you were going to go. You'd take a sip of the cocktail before setting it down on the coffee table. Your place wouldn't be beside him on the available cushion, but instead, you straddled his left thigh. His smile widened, feeling your weight drape over his leg.

"Plenty of room for two," he teased, giving his right thigh an affectionate tap for your girlfriend your follow suit.

Oh god -- finally feeling some kind of pressure against your throbbing bud felt amazing, but you had to remain somewhat proper -- for the time being anyway. Your girlfriend did the same as you: putting her drink down to find herself with knees bent on the sofa, feeling his muscular leg fill the void between her legs.

Auston kissed you first; breath sweet from whatever had been the mixer of his previous drinks. Your fingers dragged down his jawline; the coarse hairs tickling your fingertips as they went. His full lips didn't disappoint, and each time you had to take a breath you gasped.

Selfishly, you let him return his attention to your friend. Watching him kiss her made you both jealous and turned on. Her fingers were clawing at his broad chest while you let your right hand rest atop his shoulder for balance. When he shifted slightly, beneath the weight of both of you on him, the friction of his pants against your aching lips made you gasp. That slight bit of movement set you off, and now you couldn't help the fact that you were pushing your clit against his thigh for selfish reasons. Finally, all of your abundant arousal was making itself known as it began to soak Auston's pants as you grinded.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, bringing attention to your pleasure. He was grinning, as his left hand cupped your ass, aiding in your rhythm.

"Uh-huh," you mumbled, returning the smile. The way his eyes were looking over your body was delicious; feeling him on you was incredible.

Auston let himself fall back into the cushions of the sofa, simply admiring the view, "Don't stop then."

"O--okay," you drunkenly moaned, eyes fluttering closed against the bliss.

Your friend on the other hand, found herself watching you, and waited for the permission she craved. It wouldn't take long, as Auston was being quite attentive to both of you girls. While, you were busy quietly moaning each time your clit grazed the soft fabric, he coaxed her to match your pace, which she did so happily.

She was much louder than you; moaning like a well-seasoned porn star, and obviously had been just as needy as you had been some moments before. Auston was in heaven, though he remained reserved and restrained. He merely smiled, letting his hands and eyes admire the views before him, absolutely in awe at how his evening was developing. This was one that would replay in his mind for months to come while on the road. While he was praising your companion, you had pulled the thin straps of your dress, over your shoulders, exposing your breasts as the dress fell to your waist.

Your eyes were still closed, hips rocking steadily with his guiding hand to support you, as it had now slipped beneath the dress to have his skin on yours. He knew how wet you were -- he could feel it, but welcomed all of it happily as, it too, was making him hard.

"Aren't you glad you brought us both," she asked, wanting his eyes on her for a little longer, pace slowing so she could regain the ability to speak.

His laugh was deep and throaty which both of you could feel through your bodies, "Oh, absolutely. You haven't disappointed me for a second." She'd pull him into another set of kisses, but his hand gripped tighter on your body in return. The feeling of him on your skin was so warm and it was hard to think about anything else.

"Make those pretty noises for me," he told her, as she tightened up against his thigh. Instantly, she was lost to her pleasures and forgot you were even there.

When Auston turned back to you, however, the sight of your breasts gently bouncing against your movements had him wanting more. He leaned forward and caught your left nipple with his tongue, making your eyes snap open has you let loose a sharp moan from the incredible feeling. His hot tongue against your skin made your whole body shiver.

"More-- pl-ease," you found yourself able to beg now, inhibitions fully down and without care. He'd roll your taut nipple over his tongue like a candy, noticing how it made your hips buck each time he applied pressure. When your hand found his cock, however, Auston's moan rippled through your body. Your palm pressed against his erection, making him melt slightly against your touch.

"There will be time for that later, sweetheart. Just worry about yourself right now," he cooed, catching your fleeting gaze while he could.

"Yes, Papi," you whispered, returning the brilliant smile to his lips.

That had been the magic word. You knew exactly what to call him without him having to say or hint at anything.

"I want you to call me that when you come."

You nodded, feeling another wave of pleasure wash over you, making an absolute mess of his pants but he couldn't have cared less.

"Good girl," he whispered, releasing from you a deep moan he hadn't yet heard. "Ah, there she is. You like that, huh?"

You couldn't answer him, just pushed harder your clit into his soaked leg. He turned back to your friend, who had quickened her pace once more. She was panting, playing with her own nipples as she rode his thigh with slower passes that you had been.

"Why don't you touch her, hm? Tell me how wet she is."

After a couple seconds, you let your left hand find her leg beside you, grabbing at her thigh before sliding your fingers towards her clothed pussy. She moaned against the feeling of your touch to her clit. It throbbed against your fingertips, as you flicked it gently from your position.

"She's soaked through her lace panties," you giggled, amazed at what you were doing. She felt so good beneath your fingers and soon, Auston was asking her to return the favour. You, however, had no cloth to be separated from. Her skin against yours, your wetness coating her fingers could have had you screaming if you had less control. Your moans in his ears told him everything he needed to know. His cock throbbed against the zipper of his pants, seeing both of you touching one another.

"That's it, get each other off."

What a collection of feelings you both were experiencing at the same time. You looked at one another, having heard him tell you to masterbate each other in front of him, while still riding his thick thigs. Her eyes rolled backwards, her left hand still rolling her thumb across her nipple. The quicker her finger coaxed your clit for a release, the quicker your hips met Auston's leg and the more you moaned.

"Careful, I want you both to come at the same time. Slow down." He cooed,

"I've never been this wet," you mumbled, feeling your friends wet fingers tease your swelled bud in a circular motion. "Are you close?"

You were careful not to get her to a climax before you were ready, but the way she was pushing into your hand said she was nearing an orgasm.

"Just-- just a little more. Uh, right there. Right there!"

Just then, her thumb found your clit, teasing you with a rapid back-and-forth fluttering. Your legs widened as much as they could in the space given. Your moans and gasps grew quicker and quicker; you wanted to come so badly but you had to wait.

"Shhhhh, slow down. Not yet."

His voice felt like velvet between your ears. He could have talked you to an orgasm if he had tried.

"You mentioned double the pleasure earlier, hm? Which one of you is going to ride my cock while the other rides my face?"

Both of you smiled and looked at the other for a quick second.

"Who gets what," you struggled to ask, mouth dry from gasping for air through the pleasure.

"You decide," he smirked.

Without hesitation, you asked her, "What do you... what do you want?"

"Oh, I wanna ride his cock," she replied desperately, voice shaky from your teasing fingers.

You found the strength to look Auston in the face and grinned. He seemed pleased with the immediate answer.

"Perfect," he said, voice breathy as his mind anticipated the later. "You two are so beautiful."

You almost didn't hear his compliment. Everything was coming at you so fast: fighting off your want to finish, concentrating on your left hand, the feeling of Auston's hand still pushing you forward, and just the desire to breathe. It was so much to take in that your ears were almost turned off.

There was that feeling again: the swirling torrent of pleasure demanding to break through.

"I wanna come!" You cried out. "I wanna come, please. I can't-- I can't--"

"Okay-- Okay!"

Auston's face showed his approval of the two of you both doing as he had asked, and together, you both reached your shared orgasms.

"Oh-- Oh-- Papi!" You yelled, finding yourself struggling to keep control of your limbs. "Papi!"

His hand remained where it had been on your body, and braced against your friend's waist, fearing she was going to collapse against the sensations. You both were breathless, panting as wave after wave of enjoyment washed over your senses and sensitive regions. Fingers slowly retracted from their ordered positions and returned to your own bodies. You couldn't remember the last time you had come so hard, or so many times in a row.

"Good girls," he praised. "Both of you."

Eventually, both of you would lean forward, and lay your heads over his shoulders as he held you in his arms. You were exhausted, having lost track of time though it didn't matter. The night wasn't over yet. There would be numerous more to be shared and dawn was still many hours away.

Who was keeping count?

[ooooo-mcyt]

I feel like I’m alone in fandom in thinking Scott (and Cleo) were completely justified in their reactions to their soulbound? Because they weren’t petty in the first session, they were firm, they’d been abandoned and forced to take care of people who weren’t even there or risk dying while watching everyone around them settle into their perfect pairs and shove everyone else aside, so they decided they wouldn’t do that, they’d choose the person who’d been there to provide support and food and a sympathetic ear, and when they said so to Pearl and Martyn, Martyn attacked Cleo! Hit her with an axe until Scott got between the two of them with a shield while Pearl just stood back. I get how them going off on their own feels like abandonment to Pearl and I have a lot of sympathy for her and what she goes through in Double Life, I just don’t get why the fandom sees Scott as having acted unfairly to Pearl - it was Martyn who left her alone, after all, and they didn’t get to talk again until after Scott and Cleo’s start of session crits started and from there, their relationship deteriorated rapidly on both sides, but I don’t really think that can be considered without also considering Martyn and Cleo, whose relationship started and ended in violence. If you could offer any insight into the Scott and Pearl stuff, I’d love to hear it! Your meta is always very interesting and tends to match up well with a lot of my own thoughts so I hope it’ll help me figure them out or give me something new to consider.

I have mixed feelings on the relationship between Pearl and Scott specifically in Double Life.

Scott had every right to feel upset with the setup of the season, and every right to choose his partner. Pearl wasn't 'owed' any kind of relationship, and it's completely reasonable that Scott wouldn't jump at the concept of being tied by 'fate' to someone who wasn't even there- and took quite a bit of damage- during the first episode.

However, I also think Scott was unempathetic toward Pearl during the first episode too. Yes, Scott had a right to feel upset, but Pearl didn't do anything wrong by not jumping to find him first thing in the episode, and I think it was unfair for Scott to frame his discomfort and frustration as a major wrongdoing on Pearl's part. And while Scott didn't owe Pearl a relationship, I also feel like, especially given their history from the previous season, Scott was callous toward her feelings.

It's complicated. Scott could have- probably should have- been more empathetic toward Pearl, less accusatory and dismissive. I do think he was harsh, and I do think a lot of his anger in the beginning was misplaced, but he was not half as cruel as some people claim, and he did not set out to intentionally isolate her, and I think a lot of people hold Scott far too responsible for everything else than happened to Pearl in Double Life.

Pearl was rejected by Martyn, probably just as harshly as by Scott, to be honest. Pearl was insulted and called a curse by Ren. Pearl tried to be friendly with the Ranchers just for that to fall apart and leave her feeling even more alone too.

I'd say Pearl was also overly hostile and pushy with Scott, moreso than he deserved. I think she had a lot of anger and grief, I think she was generally unwell, and I think Pearl misplaced a lot of that onto Scott since he was the first person to reject her.

I think Scott and Pearl both contributed to the breakdown in their relationship because of misplaced anger.

Pearl was a symbol of a loss of agency to Scott, a cage, a chain, the universe forcibly binding him to someone else without his decision. Pearl made this worse, both by going off alone and taking significant damage in the first episode, and by later going out of her way to taunt and target him. Pearl wasn't trying to take away his choice, but she was proof he had very little.

Similarly, Scott was a symbol of isolation and rejection to Pearl, mocking her, damning her to loneliness, labeling her as curse, a person not worthy of a soulmate. Scott made this worse with his callousness from the beginning, blaming Pearl for things that weren't really wrong of her. Scott wasn't trying to isolate her, but he was proof she was utterly alone.

A lot of their resentment toward each other was less tied to what the other did to them (although they both did things to hurt the other) and more about what the other represented to them, real and valid hurt or repulsion mixing with misplaced anger being pinned to a 'reasonable' target.

(also scott and pearl's resentment was very tied in with cleo and martyn's resentment which is a whole other topic and admittedly it's been quite a while since i've watched martyn or cleo's double life pov so i can't comment too much on that half of the divorce quartet right now)

Generally it bugs me when the fandom tries to make Scott and Pearl's relationship in Double Life black and white, as if one of them was just selfishly trying to hurt the other, when I really see their relationship as a situation built on- half valid and half misplaced- mutual resentment in which they both hurt each other and granted the other far too little sympathy.

[thatgentlewife]

Welcome to My Blog!

Hi there, lovely! I’m so glad you’re here. I’m a 20-year-old wife, homemaker, and most importantly, a servant of Jesus Christ. I was blessed to marry my wonderful husband in November 2024, and every day, I strive to honor God by embracing biblical womanhood, nurturing my marriage, and cultivating a home filled with love, warmth, and faith. We want to have a large family, I currently have two babies in heaven. If it’s Gods will we will be blessed with more earth-side babies ❤️

I believe in living a life that reflects God’s perfect design—one of gentleness, purity, and devotion. My heart is set on serving Christ first and foremost, and second to Him, my husband, whom I joyfully submit to as my leader and protector. I cherish the beauty of traditional values, which shape every part of my life—spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

I used to identify as nonbinary, gay, a feminist, and a witch. During that time, I struggled deeply with depression, anxiety, and constant spiritual oppression. But Jesus met me in my brokenness, rescued me from darkness, and completely transformed my life. I no longer live in confusion—He gave me peace, identity, and freedom. Glory to God.

What I Stand For

✨ The Sanctity of Life

This blog is pro-life, because every child is fearfully and wonderfully made by God (Psalm 139:13-16). Life begins at conception, and every baby has a God-given purpose. I believe in supporting women with love, resources, and guidance so that no mother feels alone in choosing life.

✨ The Dangers of Pornography

This blog is anti-porn, because pornography destroys hearts, marriages, and intimacy as God intended it. It turns real love into something selfish and empty, leading to addiction, shame, and broken relationships. I believe in fighting for purity and God-honoring relationships that reflect true, selfless love.

✨ Biblical Marriage & Submission

I believe in God’s design for marriage—a covenant between one man and one woman. As a wife, I embrace submission as a beautiful, biblical calling, trusting my husband’s leadership and honoring him in my words, actions, and heart. Love, respect, and obedience to God’s Word create a strong, joyful, and lasting marriage.

✨ Domestic Discipline

I believe that domestic discipline is a personal choice that should be made mutually and consensually between a husband and wife. While it’s not for everyone, I support a couple’s right to practice it if they believe it strengthens their marriage. When approached with love, respect, and biblical principles, it can provide structure, accountability, and deeper trust. As long as both spouses agree and it is done in a way that honors their relationship, I see it as a valid and beneficial dynamic for those who choose it.

✨ Biblical Womanhood & Femininity

I am passionate about biblical femininity, modesty, and creating a home that reflects Christ’s love. I believe true beauty isn’t just about how we look, but about having a gentle, quiet spirit (1 Peter 3:4). In a world that devalues womanhood, I strive to embrace my role as a wife and future mother with joy and grace.

✨ My Perspective on Feminism

I do not agree with today’s version of feminism, which rejects traditional femininity, submission, and the beauty of God’s design. However, I do believe women should have the right to vote and make choices for themselves. Women are not less valuable than men, but we are beautifully different, and our strengths should be celebrated rather than diminished by a culture that seeks to erase them.

✨ My Beliefs on Gender & Sexuality

I personally do not believe men can become women or that women can become men. I do not agree with the LGBTQ lifestyle, and you will not find me in support of it on this blog. However, I have nothing against those who choose to live this way—you are a valuable human being, just like the rest of us. My belief is simply that marriage was created by God to be between a biological man and a biological woman. If you disagree, this may not be the blog for you.

A Few Things About Me

• I love to cook! (I once dreamed of being a chef, but my heart is too tender for the food industry.)

• Children are my joy! I work in childcare and find so much fulfillment in nurturing little hearts.

• I love reading! (The Phantom Tollbooth is my favorite book!)

• I enjoy poetry, songwriting, and drawing. (I may not be the best artist, but I love creating beauty in every form!)

• I make soap, lotion, and tinctures as I learn more about natural living.

• I strive to be a good, submissive wife and grow in grace, patience, and humility every day.

Why I Started This Blog

Marriage is a journey, and I want to share mine with you—the joys, the lessons, and the ways God is shaping me into a better wife and homemaker. My goal is to encourage other women to embrace biblical womanhood, cherish their marriages, and build homes that reflect God’s love. ❤️

If you value faith, femininity, and the beauty of a God-centered life, you’re in the right place. I pray that this blog blesses and encourages you as we grow together in grace and truth.

With love,

thatgentlewife

[garlicdrama]

why did he tian become obsessed with guanshan?

i think it's about his family, especially his brother.

his obsession with mo may be an attempt to "rewrite" the childish scenario of his relationship with his brother.

he tian grew up in a family in which love was a currency. his domineering brother and, probably, cruel father taught him that in order to receive love, you need to "earn" it: through submission, success, or sacrifice. this childhood trauma turned his obsession with guanshan into an attempt to replay the past. he tian unconsciously projects two roles onto mo:

1. the brother he wants to "defeat"- to earn his love by dominating and controlling guanshan;

2. the vulnerable child version of himself - craving unconditional love. that’s why he tells mo: "i’ll give you everything, you owe me nothing". he’s begging for the love he never received.

he tian tries to "buy" guanshan's love with gifts and control, as if saying: "look, i'm good! love me!" but when mo resists, he tian snaps into rage - it’s his inner child panicking: "it’s happening again! no one loves me!" he’s stuck in an illusion: "if i try harder, i’ll earn love" (just like he dreamed as a kid).

this creates a toxic cycle: he tian mimics his brother’s dominance (to avoid losing mo) and suppresses guanshan, hoping he’ll choose him willingly. but the harder he pushes, the less genuine their connection becomes.

he tian and jian yi

therefore when mo appeared, he tian's feelings for jian yi cooled down. he felt at ease with jian yi. i believe he tian immediately recognized that jian yi was in love with zhan zhengxi, so he simply enjoyed their friendship. with guanshan he felt like a child being rejected once again. consequently, his feelings turned into a crush.

guanshan and he cheng similarities:

both treat resources as substitutes for safety. for he cheng power/control = protection for loved ones. for guanshan money = fake autonomy + security. both prioritize resources over feelings.

he tian and he cheng

he tian just wants love. but he’s forced to act like he cheng in their relationship because she li made him feel weak without his family’s resources. so now he flip - flops between two roles: the controlling brother and the needy child. dominance vs desperation. he throws tantrums for attention but defaults to aggression.

he grows from a child who hated his brother for failing to give him love into a man who understands why his brother did what he did. but it doesn't completely heal him from his trauma.

why does guanshan stay with he tian?

guanshan’s world runs on two rules:

- aggression = communication (attack first or get devoured);

- resources = safety (money, power, strength are his only "allies").

guanshan grew up thinking:

- tust no one. hit first or get hit;

- feelings = weakness.

he’s hyper - tolerant of violence because he uses it himself as armor. he probably has a high pain tolerance.

when he tian bombards him with "care", mo sees a familiar archetype: a predator disguised as a savior. his resistance isn’t just about freedom - it’s a ritual of self-respect: "i won’t submit to him, like i didn’t submit to she li." that’s why he constantly warns he tian not to control him.

but deep down mo can’t distinguish control from care.

indeed, he was brought up by a caring mother. however i think that even her love for him seemed to him like a responsibility, rather than a genuine display of affection.

so mo never truly gets angry at he tian’s actions - violence and coercion are his normal. he doesn’t grasp boundaries or his own feelings. to him emotions = weakness. "strong people don’t need others", he thinks. but he tian breaks this logic. guanshan’s constant anger? it’s really self-directed rage.

therefore I maintain that their relationship will be difficult without guanshan's personal growth. neither of them will experience true happiness. to be with a man like he tian: rich, powerful, gorgeous - mo must first develop self-confidence. he must stop suppressing his emotions and honestly acknowledge his desires and fears. without his personal growth, their relationship will stay miserable.

the core conflict

he tian wants love from someone who prioritizes survival over feelings. guanshan wants autonomy and to provide for his family, not be a "burden". their priorities clash.

the fear

they’re both terrified to lose each other. if he tian asks: "do you love me?" - he risks rejection. if guanshan admits his fears - he has to choose: stay or leave. neither’s ready for that conversation.

their cycle:

1. guanshan says "i don’t need you!"

2. he tian buys him stuff or yells.

3. guanshan pretends to hate it… but feels wanted.

4. repeat. forever.

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (10)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: Blessed yall with a little some<3

___________________

The walk back was quiet at first, each step labored but steady. Jinx broke the silence, her voice soft but teasing. “So, uh, you planning on pulling any more crazy stunts? Or is this the last ‘explode-the-lab’ gig?” 

You chuckled weakly, wincing as you leaned more on her. “No promises.”  

Caitlyn shot Jinx a pointed look. “She’s been awake for all of ten minutes, and you’re already asking for trouble?” 

Jinx smirked. “Just keeping her on her toes, cupcake.”  

You smiled faintly at their banter, your gaze falling to Isha, who was fiddling with the clasp of her helmet. You tapped it gently, drawing her attention. “You kept me sane too, you know.” Your voice was soft, almost reverent. “Thank you for waiting for me.” 

Isha giggled, her helmet bobbing as she nodded.  

When you finally reached your apartment, you paused at the threshold, leaning against the doorframe. The others watched you closely as you looked around, taking in every detail. The familiar, worn furniture. The cluttered workbench. The drawings Isha had left by your bedside. It was home, and yet… it wasn’t.  

You walked inside slowly, your movements deliberate. Caitlyn and Jinx exchanged worried glances as you moved to the center of the room and stood still, your hands brushing over the edge of the table.  

“I felt… stuck,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet. You didn’t turn to face them, your head bowed. “When Viktor took control, it was like… I wasn’t me anymore. I was watching everything happen, but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop him.”  

You turned then, your expression raw and open. “I was lost. But the two of you…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard. “You were the thread keeping me tethered. Keeping me from slipping away completely.”  

Jinx’s lips parted, her eyes glistening as she opened her mouth to speak, but you shook your head, smiling faintly.  

You reached down, brushing a strand of hair from Isha’s face and tapping her helmet once more. “And you, too, kid. You reminded me what it was all for.” 

Isha grinned, wrapping her arms around your waist.  

You let out a shaky breath, looking between Jinx and Caitlyn with gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words carrying the weight of everything you couldn’t say.  

Jinx looked away, her hands on her hips, muttering, “Don’t make me cry, damn it.” 

Caitlyn smiled softly, stepping closer. “You don’t need to thank us. We’re just glad you’re here.”  

But your expression shifted, a quiet determination settling over you as you began gathering a few belongings—a satchel, a jacket, and a small notebook.  

Jinx frowned, stepping forward. “What are you doing?” 

You slung the satchel over your shoulder, turning to face them both. “This isn’t my home.”

Caitlyn blinked, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean? You’ve lived here for years.”  

Your eyes softened as you stepped closer, reaching out to take both their hands in yours. “Home isn’t a place,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “It’s with you. Both of you.”  

Jinx’s breath hitched, and Caitlyn’s lips parted, her eyes searching yours.  

“Wherever you go,” you continued, “that’s where I belong.”  

The room fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. And then, Jinx let out a quiet laugh, pulling you into a fierce hug. Caitlyn followed, wrapping her arms around you both, her head resting against your shoulder.  

For the first time in a long time, you felt whole.

The pillow fort was a masterpiece of chaos and comfort, a cocoon of mismatched blankets, glowing string lights, and plush pillows stacked haphazardly. You sat cross-legged inside with Isha, who was busily coloring in her sketchbook, her tiny hands moving with careful focus. Jinx, perched a few feet away at her workbench, tinkered with one of her gadgets. The faint hum of machinery filled the room, blending with the soft scratching of crayons.  

You glanced up from Isha’s drawing—a lopsided rendition of you holding hands with her and Jinx—and found your gaze drifting to Jinx. Without thinking, you stood, brushing off stray bits of fabric, and wandered over to her.  

Jinx didn’t look up as you approached, her hands deftly adjusting screws and wires. You slipped your arms around her waist from behind, pulling her close.  

She stiffened slightly before leaning back into you, her hands pausing mid-movement.  

You pressed a kiss to her temple, your voice soft and warm. “Come spend time with us.”  

Jinx tilted her head, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye with a smirk. “You’re needy today.”  

You chuckled, resting your chin on her shoulder. “And you love it.” 

She set down her tools with an exaggerated sigh, swiveling in her chair to face you. “Fine, fine. But only because Isha’s better company than you.”  

“I’ll take it,” you said, grinning as you tugged her toward the fort.  

Jinx plopped down beside Isha, stealing a crayon and starting to doodle with a mischievous grin. The three of you colored in companionable silence, the occasional jab or laugh punctuating the calm. Jinx would nudge your elbow just as you were drawing, or Isha would scold her for coloring outside the lines.  

After a while, Jinx leaned back on her elbows, her gaze flickering to you with a faintly teasing glint. “So…” she started, drawing the word out.  

You didn’t look up. “So what?”  

She tilted her head. “You’ve been quiet about Caitlyn.”  

That got your attention. You glanced at her, your brow furrowing slightly. “What about her?” 

Jinx rolled her eyes, tossing the crayon she was holding. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. You haven’t seen her in what… a week? Two?”  

You looked away, your fingers tightening around the edge of the paper. “She’s busy. I didn’t want to bother her.”

Jinx snorted. “Bother her? You think she doesn’t want to see you?” She sat up, fixing you with a look that was both playful and serious. “You miss her. Admit it.” 

You hesitated before sighing, your shoulders slumping. “I do,” you admitted quietly. “I miss her more than I thought I would.”  

Jinx grinned, satisfied. “Then go see her.”  

You shook your head, though your resolve was already crumbling. “It’s late. She’s probably—”  

Jinx cut you off, leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your lips. When she pulled back, she smirked. “You’re going. Isha and I’ll hold down the fort. Just be back by tomorrow afternoon, alright?”  

---

The streets of Piltover were quiet as you made your way to Caitlyn’s home, the cool night air wrapping around you. You hesitated briefly at her door, your hand hovering over the wood. Finally, you knocked softly.  

It took a moment, but the door creaked open to reveal Caitlyn, her hair slightly tousled and her silk nightwear catching the faint light from inside. Her blue eyes widened in surprise.  

“You’re here,” she said, her voice soft with disbelief.  

You didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, you stepped forward, cupping her face in your hands. Her breath hitched as your thumbs brushed against her cheeks, and before she could say anything else, you kissed her.  

The world seemed to stop as your lips met. Her hands flew to your shirt, clutching the fabric as if she feared you’d vanish. You poured everything into the kiss—all the longing, the unspoken words, the gratitude for her unwavering presence.  

Caitlyn melted against you, her fingers twisting in your shirt as she pressed closer. Her lips moved against yours, tentative at first but growing more confident. She tasted faintly of tea, her warmth seeping into you like a balm.  

When you finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants. Her hands still clung to your shirt, her eyes searching yours.  

“I thought I’d lost you again,” she whispered, her voice trembling.  

You shook your head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Her eyes glistened, and she nodded, pulling you into another embrace. You held her tightly, grounding yourself in her presence.  

This moment—this intimacy—felt like coming home. 

The warm morning sun streamed through the window, casting a golden glow across the room. You stirred, the light warming your skin and coaxing you from sleep. Instinctively, you reached out for Caitlyn, but your hand met only cool sheets. A pang of disappointment settled in your chest as you turned, only to see her standing in the doorway, framed by the soft light.  

She was dressed in a loose robe, her hair slightly disheveled, and her blue eyes were fixed on you with a mix of warmth and something deeper.  

“Couldn’t sleep in?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.  

Caitlyn smiled softly, stepping into the room. “Not with you here.” She leaned against the doorframe, her gaze never leaving you. “Having you by my side last night… in your arms… it felt like everything I needed.”  

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in her tone. You opened your mouth to respond, but she continued, her cheeks tinged pink. “I spent hours just… watching you sleep. Memorizing every detail. It felt selfish, but I couldn’t stop myself.” 

You held out your hand to her, and she crossed the room without hesitation, slipping into the bed beside you. You pulled her close, tucking her against your chest.  

“You know,” you began, your voice soft, “I used to think about the first time we officially met a lot.”  

Caitlyn tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Oh?” 

You nodded, a faint smile playing on your lips. “That fight with Garret? I swear, I thought you were about to throw me in a cell and toss the key. But then…”  

“Then I brought you food,” she finished, laughing gently.  

“Exactly,” you said, chuckling. “And it wasn’t just food. It was damn good food.” 

Her laugh filled the room, light and musical, and it struck you how much it affected you—how it melted some unspoken part of you.  

“Then there was the time I made food for you,” you continued, teasing. “You didn’t even blink before going in for seconds. That’s when I knew.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Knew what?” 

You smirked. “Knew you definitely didn’t have a boyfriend.”  

Caitlyn’s laugh came louder this time, and she buried her face against your chest. You could feel the slight shake of her shoulders, and it was impossible not to smile.  

Her laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and she looked up at you, her expression softening. For a moment, it seemed like she wanted to say something, her lips parting hesitantly.  

“What is it?” you asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.  

She shook her head slightly, but her eyes betrayed her. They flicked to your lips for the briefest moment, and you caught it.  

“You’re overthinking again,” you teased, your voice low.  

Before she could protest, you leaned down and kissed her softly. The kiss was tender, unhurried—a silent promise. Caitlyn melted into you, her hands coming up to rest against your chest as she responded, her lips moving against yours with a sweetness that stole your breath.  

When you pulled back, she smiled, her cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but press another quick kiss to her forehead.  

---

Later, as you dressed to head back to Jinx’s and Caitlyn got ready for work, the air between you was filled with a quiet longing. You caught her watching you more than once, and each time, she looked away with a faint blush.  

At the door, you both lingered, unwilling to part. Caitlyn hesitated, her fingers brushing against yours. “Will you come back soon?” she asked softly.  

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I will. I’ll talk to Jinx—figure out a way to spend time with you both.”  

Her eyes lit up at your words, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. Just as she began to speak, you stepped forward, your hands finding her waist.  

“Wait—” 

You cut her off with a kiss, one that was deeper than before, filled with the promise of your return. When you finally pulled away, you grinned, your voice light with teasing warmth.  

I’ll see you soon, Commander.”  

Without waiting for her response, you slipped out the door, leaving her standing there, her fingers touching her lips, her heart racing.

->

The morning sun cast a radiant glow over Piltover, and for once, Caitlyn strode into the Enforcer headquarters with a spring in her step. Her usually composed demeanor carried a newfound brightness that hadn’t been there in years. Enforcers exchanging reports or standing guard noticed the change immediately.  

“Morning, Commander,” one of them greeted, a hint of curiosity in his tone.  

“Good morning,” Caitlyn replied, her smile soft yet genuine. It was a smile that left those around her exchanging glances.  

Even as she walked through the hallways, handling her duties with her usual efficiency, there was something unmistakably different about her. She hummed softly under her breath, her posture loose and relaxed. She felt lighter, as though the weight of the city’s struggles had shifted—at least a little.  

Ambessa Medarda watched all of this with sharp, calculating eyes. She leaned against a pillar near the training yard, her arms crossed, her imposing frame cloaked in a commanding silence. The woman’s keen sense for power plays and shifting alliances tingled as she observed Caitlyn dismissing officers with quick decisions and navigating problems with ease.  

When Caitlyn finally noticed Ambessa’s presence, she sighed inwardly but kept her composure. “Ambessa,” she greeted, her voice polite but firm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  

Ambessa stepped forward, her expression unreadable but her tone pointed. “You’re glowing today, Caitlyn. I’d even say… radiant. Care to share the secret?”  

Caitlyn’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Perhaps I’ve finally found a moment of peace.”  

Ambessa raised a brow. “Peace, you say? That’s a dangerous word in a city on the verge of collapse.”  

The older woman’s probing gaze was relentless, but Caitlyn held her ground, her confidence unwavering.  

“And yet,” Caitlyn replied calmly, “it’s a goal worth striving for. I’ve been working to ensure Piltover and the Undercity don’t just survive—but coexist.”  

Ambessa’s eyes narrowed. “Coexistence? Do you honestly believe that’s possible, Caitlyn? You’ve seen what they’re capable of.”  

Caitlyn’s expression softened for a moment, her thoughts drifting to you and the quiet determination in your eyes. “I’ve seen what they’re capable of, yes. But I’ve also seen their potential when given the chance.”  

Ambessa stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, deliberate tone. “Do you think those alliances you’re building will hold? Jinx, of all people? She’s volatile. She’s dangerous.”  

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened slightly, but she remained steady. “Jinx is more than what people see. She’s capable of change—of building something better. And we’ve already taken the first steps to bring down the barriers that separate us.”  

Ambessa scoffed. “The borders between Piltover and Zaun are there for a reason, Caitlyn. You think tearing them down will lead to peace? It will lead to chaos.”  

Caitlyn took a step forward, her voice steady and sharp. “The chaos has been here for decades, Ambessa. It’s the borders that fuel it. For the first time in years, there’s a chance for hope. For trust. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect that chance.” 

Ambessa studied her, searching for any sign of weakness, but found none. Caitlyn’s resolve was unshakable, fortified by the quiet strength she had found in you.  

Finally, Ambessa’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “You’ve changed. I wonder… who’s responsible for this new Caitlyn?”  

Caitlyn met her gaze with a quiet confidence. “Someone who taught me that peace isn’t just a dream—it’s a choice. One I’m ready to fight for.”  

Ambessa stepped back, a glimmer of respect in her eyes, though it was tempered by her ever-present skepticism. “Then I hope, for your sake, that you’ve chosen wisely.”  

Caitlyn watched as Ambessa strode away, her mind already turning back to her plans. She thought of you—your warmth, your determination, the way you bridged worlds with a strength she couldn’t help but admire.  

As she returned to her duties, the vision of a united Piltover and Zaun became clearer in her mind. It wasn’t just a dream anymore; it was a future she could almost touch, one she knew she could help build—with you by her side.

The quiet hum of the city filled the air in the small rooftop apartment you had kept—a neutral ground, perfectly straddling the line between Piltover’s gleaming towers and Zaun’s gritty sprawl. You sat at the modest wooden table, papers spread out in front of you, your hood pulled back to let the dim glow of the streetlights outside illuminate your face.  

Jinx sat cross-legged on the opposite end of the table, one of the treaty drafts in her hands. Her eyes darted across the text, but every now and then, she glanced at you, her lips twitching into a small smirk.  

“You know,” she said, her voice playful, “if you told me a year ago that I’d be sitting here reading Piltover paperwork with you, I’d have laughed in your face. Maybe blown something up for good measure.”  

You didn’t look up from the page you were reading, but your lips quirked into a faint smile. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you knowing how to read.”  

Jinx let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest. “Oh, the audacity! You wound me, babe.”  

“You’ll live,” you teased back, still focused on the treaty.  

She stuck her tongue out at you before settling down again, though her gaze lingered on you longer this time. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again, her tone softer. “You know... this is kinda crazy, right? Piltover and Zaun trying to make peace? After decades of blowing each other to bits?”  

You finally glanced up at her, setting your pen down. “Crazy doesn’t mean impossible. You’re proof of that.”  

She snorted, but there was a warmth in her eyes. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”  

“About time,” you quipped, earning a laugh from her.  

Jinx leaned back in her chair, holding the paper up and tilting her head as she studied it. “You really think this’ll work?”  

You looked at her, the weight of her question settling between you. “I think... It's a start. A small act of peace can lead to something bigger. And for once, both sides are willing to try. That’s because of you—and Caitlyn. The two of you taking that first step.”  

Jinx’s expression softened in a way you rarely saw. She set the paper down and stood, walking over to you. Without a word, she slid into your lap, her arms draping around your shoulders as she rested her forehead against yours.  

“You know,” she murmured, her voice low and intimate, “I don’t say this enough... but you’re kinda amazing.”  

You raised a brow, smirking. “‘Kinda?’ I’ll take it.”  

She rolled her eyes before pressing a tender kiss to your temple. Her lips lingered there for a moment, and when she pulled back, her gaze was serious. “I mean it. You’ve done something no one else has ever been able to do. You’ve made me... care. About people. About Zaun. About this stupid treaty.”  

You cupped her cheek gently, your thumb brushing against her skin. “Maybe I just reminded you of what was always there.”  

Her lips found yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. The warmth of her body against yours, the way she clung to you as if grounding herself—it was rare for Jinx to show this level of vulnerability, but with you, she let the walls fall.  

When you finally pulled apart, her breath warm against your cheek, she whispered, “You know... I’ve been thinking.”  

You tilted your head, intrigued. “Should I be worried?” 

She smirked, but her tone was serious. “I want you to take Sevika’s spot.”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”  

“I’m serious,” she said, her hands tracing idle patterns on your shoulders. “You’d be perfect. You’ve already got both sides listening to you. Zaun trusts you. And if you do it... I’ll be there. By your side. We could do this together.”  

You leaned back slightly, searching her face. “Jinx, this isn’t something I can just decide on a whim. Caitlyn doesn’t even know about this.”  

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “She’ll understand. She loves you. And this? This isn’t just for Zaun. It’s for her too. For both of us.”  

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You were quiet, your mind racing, but as Jinx rested her head against your shoulder, her arms tightening around you, you felt the weight of her trust and belief in you.  

“You don’t have to decide now,” she murmured. “Just... think about it.”  

You nodded slowly, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “I will.” 

And as you held her close, the world outside the apartment seemed a little less daunting, the path forward a little clearer—if only for a moment.

The air buzzed with the sound of chatter and the clinking of tools as merchants worked along the border markets. You found a quiet contentment in assisting a small stall, helping an elderly man and his crippled son stock their wares. It was something you loved—bringing a little ease to those who needed it.  

The old man gave you a grateful smile as you carefully arranged the fragile jars of homemade oil on the wooden table. The boy, his leg bound in a crude brace, watched with wide eyes as you handed him a small, polished toy you had whittled in your spare time.  

“Here,” you said softly. “A little something to keep you busy.”  

His face lit up, and his father clapped a hand to your shoulder, his gratitude unspoken but clear.  

The peace of the moment didn’t last long. Garrett, flanked by a few junior enforcers, strode through the marketplace with his usual swagger. He spotted you immediately, his lip curling in disdain, but his attention quickly turned to the small stand you were helping. With an exaggerated huff, he swiped his hand across the table, knocking several jars to the ground. Glass shattered, oil spilling onto the dusty cobblestone.  

The elder man gasped, his son flinching at the sound. You straightened slowly, your gray eyes narrowing as you looked at Garrett. Your face betrayed no anger, only a cold, neutral calm that sent a ripple of tension through those watching.  

Before Garrett could step away, you crossed the distance between you, your movements deliberate. With one swift motion, your hand clamped around the back of his neck. He yelped in surprise, his bravado crumbling as you dragged him unceremoniously through the market.  

Caitlyn, overseeing the Junior Enforcer Program nearby, caught sight of the commotion. Her sharp eyes immediately locked on Garrett—and then on you, your expression unreadable as you approached.  

You stopped in front of her, releasing Garrett with a firm push that sent him stumbling. Caitlyn’s brow furrowed, but when her gaze met yours, she understood everything in an instant.  

“Enforcer Garrett,” she began, her voice calm but commanding, “what do you think your role is here?”  

Garrett hesitated, his usual arrogance faltering under her piercing stare.  

“To... uphold the law,” he mumbled.  

“Exactly,” Caitlyn said, stepping forward. “To uphold the law. To protect and serve. Not to intimidate. Not to destroy. Your actions today are a reminder of why the divide between Piltover and Zaun exists in the first place.” Her voice carried across the marketplace, drawing the attention of merchants and passersby.  

She turned to the crowd, her gaze firm. “Peace is not just a word. It is an action. A choice we make every day to rise above our differences and treat one another with respect and dignity. If we want a future where Piltover and Zaun can coexist, we must hold ourselves to a higher standard.”  

The crowd murmured in agreement, heads nodding. Garrett looked down, shame written across his face.  

You watched Caitlyn with a quiet pride, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. She was commanding, grounded, and resolute—a far cry from the officer you had first met, yet still very much the woman you had come to love.  

As she finished her speech, she extended her hand to you. You hesitated for only a moment before clasping it firmly, your smirk softening into a genuine smile.  

“Well said, Commander,” you murmured.  

She returned the smile, her fingers lingering against yours for just a second too long.  

The crowd, moved by the display, broke into applause. Piltover and Zaun merchants alike clapped, their cheers echoing through the market.  

You and Caitlyn exchanged one last glance—loving, unspoken, yet entirely professional. The understanding between you was clear: this was just the beginning of what you could accomplish together.  

-----------------

Okay, if you think Cait and the reader slept together? No, not yet- Im saving that for a way better time. Enjoy!

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

i need to hear those thoughts, pretty please,

Okay this is a very late reply, but I finally feel as though I can word the thoughts I have regarding them. I want to preface this by saying that all my talks of Jayvik being queer coded stem from my own personal aroacespec perspective. I don’t perceive all forms of close affection and devotion as romantic, but the visual coding regarding Jayvik, and Meljayvik leads me down the path of ‘this is something I personally interpret as romantic’.

MelJayVik is such a deeply fascinating relationship to me because I think a lot is gained from their relationships in the series by looking at them through a polyamorous lens. It may be my own bias, I’m willing to admit that, but the dynamic feels as though it was written to be Poly.

It begins with the obvious queercoding between Jayce and Viktor, and the visual and thematic parallels between them:

Both are written as representative of Jayce’s choices, which can be simplified down to politics and science, and as characters, they inform the choices Jayce makes, and the consequences of those choices, while simultaneously being their own well-developed characters and having their own agendas. I would argue the way it’s written and depicted in the animation, taking into account a lot of the animator’s personal romantic agenda regarding Jayvik, feels akin to the setup of a typical romantic love triangle.

Two people harbour feelings for Jayce, and Jayce is given the decision between the two of them, but that to me is where the similarities between them a love triangle ends… because Jayce never actually chooses. I know some may argue he does because of the final scene with Viktor, but I don’t perceive that as the case at all.

Jayce clearly has a deep love for the both of them, seen so clearly in his actions.

With Mel and Viktor, he truly feels like he can take on the world.

Jayce struggles to balance his life between politics and science because he wants both. He wants Mel and Viktor to be important in his life, but he isn’t capable of managing that, and his own biases and privilege do begin to damage his view of the system and his relationship with Viktor, and Mel does unintentionally worsen that divide. It’s why I love the polycule so much honestly — to me it isn’t just slapping three people together to stop any ship wars, no, it’s a genuinely complex and nuanced dynamic that has initial struggles and hardships.

And to claim that Mel doesn’t care for Viktor is said in complete ignorance of the source material. Mel does come to perceive Viktor as important. Initially, she does ignore him, and treat his presence as secondary to Jayce, but that changes once she recognises the flaw in her actions and how close she was to becoming like her mother. In the final scene of season one, she smiles at Jayce and Viktor. In the beginning of season two, she says that Viktor will come back to ‘us’. Not just to Jayce.

It feels tragic almost. They could have had such an interesting relationship with Mel now wanting to connect to Viktor, but she shattered the chance of that happening. The same way Viktor’s magic repels and rejects her, he does the same.

And god don’t get me started on their magic parallels. For as much as I criticise season two, this is a compilation of my thoughts on MelJayVik in canon, and so I am willing to analyse the way they’re portrayed in season two, and the fight scene in the council room In particular makes me violently ill.

It feels intimate on both ends.

I know people focus especially on Jayce and Viktor’s scenes, and I get it, the scenes between them are particularly intimate

However, both Mel and Viktor and Mel and Jayce also show intimacy in that scene. The way Jayce holds Mel after the fight, despite their previous ‘break up’ scene, and how even though there’s conflict between them, they still can’t help but handle each other with such care and affection. It’s just how they are.

And to me there’s something equally horrifying yet beautiful in the way Viktor bypasses Mel’s own magic, no longer rejecting her, but being intrigued and fascinated by her.

“The arcane stirs within you.”

They are connected by something more than just flesh, more than just physical, and that’s kind of insane to consider.

The tragedy of Mel regarding this is she loses both of these people: the man she knew, and understood, and allowed herself to be vulnerable with, and the man she wanted to know, and to understand.

So here’s how the Noxus spin-off can fix that and canonise MelJayVik! <- lying to myself.

[flippinpancakes64]

can u write about getting married to the Cullen's?? like either how they would propose or like how the wedding would go? tysm!!

The Cullens getting married

I let my artistic side fly a little and made some collages for each of them

All of the pictures are from Pinterest, and the rings and outfits are what they would wear, not what they would give to you. I wanted to leave it as open to personal choice as possible. Also all of the themes/pictures are based off of what they would personally choose their wedding to look like.

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We all know he LOVES the idea of getting married

Give him like 3 months into the relationship and he’s definitely proposing

He makes a huge deal of it

Renting out your favorite restaurant, whisking you away to one of Carlisle’s islands, proposing in front of the beautiful view of the ocean

He just adores you so much

He wants you to have the best experience ever

If you don’t want any part of the wedding planning, then that’s completely fine

He and Alice work on it together

He tends to drift towards darker colors

So naturally your wedding is gothic

Dark reds, blacks, and a splash of beige

All of your friends and family are invited

And of course all of his friends and family

Other than that he tries to keep the party relatively small

His attention is on you the whole night

He doesn’t care that people want to come congratulate him

He wants to be by your side the whole time

Alice:

It also wouldn’t take her long to know that she wants to be with you forever

I mean chances are she had visions of you

She mostly waits to propose just for your comfort

Maybe a year

But after that she pulls all the stops

She decorates the Cullen house to the nines

Puts Rosalie in charge of setting everything up while she takes you out for a day

She tricks you just slightly by saying that you’re going out to get your hair done just because

And that there’s no reason for why she dragged you to the nail salon for a manicure (even if you’re a guy)

When you get back home there’s a huge party

Everyone’s there

And that’s when she asks

Now if you want to be involved with the planning, that’s okay

But she will still do all of the planning

It’s what she loves to do

I feel like she would be more drawn to the earthy tones and light fairy-like aesthetic

Think whimsical

It’s all outdoors and she spares no expense decorating the house and the yard

Everything is covered with fairy lights and flowers

She is so excited

She constantly bounces between the dance floor and being with people

But she never leaves your side for the whole night

Jasper:

He would be so nervous to propose

He knows that he loves you so much

And he can feel all of the love that you have for him

But he’s worried about rejection

You two would probably date for years before he finally musters up the courage

It would just be something small

Probably at home

He asked everyone else to leave for the night

He made you a nice dinner and popped the question

He wouldn’t know what to do if he was tasked with planning the wedding

He would just let Alice or you do it

Idk why but I feel like his favorite color is dark green so he wants that integrated somehow

He would prefer a smaller party

Only his family and your family

Maybe one or two of your friends

Doesn’t leave you the whole night

He’s just so happy

And he still can’t believe you said yes

Rosalie:

She loves weddings

I mean she makes Emmett get remarried every couple of years

And if you’re still a human and she loves you enough to consider marriage?

She’s asking as soon as possible

Part of her wants you to propose

But she knows if she wants this done now she has to do it

So she takes you out to do something romantic (picking flowers, pumpkins, or berries)

She makes Alice hide nearby to take the pictures lol

Now as for your wedding

No expenses spared

She finds the biggest, fanciest cathedral and rents it out

Only the biggest and most extravagant flowers

She also has a vintage dress and ring

She would love all of the classics

Is so giddy the whole night

She loves the attention

Emmett:

He’s also not new to weddings

He and Rosalie have gotten married multiple times

And they got married like immediately

But that was because Rosalie wanted to

Not that he didn’t

It just wasn’t his first thought

It’s the same for you

He would love you the same no matter what

So I feel like it would take him a while to propose

Simply because he doesn’t think a wedding is necessary

But if you ask him to or if you hint at it he will

Nothing big tho

For some reason I feel like he would like to propose on a Ferris wheel

For the actual wedding I think he’d like something rustic

Browns and beiges

And he wants it to be in a barn

Yeehaw

Esme:

Getting married to Carlisle was one of the happiest days of her life

She was so proud that she got to call him hers

She would want to do that with you too

But I feel like she’d be nervous to propose

She’d be worried that you’d say no

So she waits until you propose

Or if you drop plenty of hints she’ll pick up and propose herself

She would choose a beautiful flower field and ask you to have a picnic

For the actual wedding I couldn’t get lilacs out of my mind for her

So lilacs it is

Carlisle:

He’s not a very flashy man

I mean in some ways he is

But he’s more of a casual luxury

But everything he does would be lowkey

However when it comes to you?

He needs to pull all the stops

Once he knows that he loves you and wants to spend his life with you, he acts

A week long trip to one of his private islands

Sightseeing, relaxing, and finally the proposal

He’s a classic guy when it comes to the wedding

He loves white

And he loves blue

He keeps it simple

Attached at your hip the whole night tho

And also every vampire he’s ever met is invited

He’s just so happy

Vampire! Bella:

You guys are gonna be shocked when I tell you this…

But she doesn’t like weddings 😱

Who could’ve guessed

But in all actuality she’s still not a fan

Commitment’s a weird thing with her

She’s willing to literally die and be brought back to life to live with someone forever but doesn’t want to get married

All that to say she wouldn’t be too onboard with the idea

If it’s something you are really insistent on, you’re gonna have to propose

She’s stubborn

As for the actual wedding she insists that she doesn’t care

But if she had to choose, she’d go for sandy warm tones

It reminds her of her mom

And the guest list has to be small

I’m talking the Cullens and your parents and that’s it