#get ready for some big canon divergence

[daisynik7]

Make Me Sweat

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~2.5k

cw: written with a curvy reader in mind, canon-divergent (post-Shibuya but a happy one), all characters are 18+, explicit language, smut – cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spit play, PIV sex (cowgirl position, mating press), breeding kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, good girl), creampie 

Summary: With the start of the new year, you make it one of your resolutions to become more active. You begin at your apartment's fitness center, where you run into your muscle head, loud-mouth next-door neighbor, Aoi Todo. He offers his gratuitous advice, annoying you at first. But when he suggests a particular kind of workout, it piques your interest enough that you can't refuse.

Author’s Note: I used metric units (kg) to describe the weights. Also, I am no expert in lifting so please take all of this with a grain of salt LOL. I just know that canonically, these characters are fucking STRONG. I stopped with the tag list on this one bc technically this was a bonus fic and I wasn't sure if anyone wanted to be tagged in these. With that, please enjoy some shameless smut about our favorite JJK himbo! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

part 6 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

When you said you wanted to start exercising more, you weren’t expecting this: being bounced up and down your next-door neighbor’s impressively huge cock. Yet, here you are, getting pounded with your ass slapping lewdly on his thighs. His big hands dig into the sides of your belly, his lips on the skin of your neck, voice gruff and husky.  “Told you, didn’t I?” 

Let’s rewind to a few hours earlier.

You haven’t been prioritizing yourself lately; your obligations during the day drain all the energy from you and your bed is always so enticing for a nap. When the new year approaches, you make it one of your resolutions to be more active. The gym in your apartment complex is finally open after being renovated the past three months and now, there’s really no excuses when the opportunity is just five floors below you. Your forego your usual nap and suit up in your favorite workout clothes, heading down the elevator to the fitness center. 

Luckily, it isn’t crowded; the only other people inside are Aoi Todo, your neighbor, and his pink-haired buddy, Yuji. They’re both at the weights section, Yuji doing squats with the barbell while Todo spots him, yelling at him encouragingly. “Come on, brother. Hold it, hold it! You got this!”

Yuji grunts, holding the deadlift for as long as possible, eventually dropping it to the floor with a loud thud. Todo claps emphatically, beaming at him. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

You smile to yourself, amused at Todo’s contagious enthusiasm. When he notices you, he gives you a nod, which you return, slightly embarrassed for being caught watching. 

Have you mentioned yet how fucking ripped he is? Today, he wears a loose tank, arm holes cut low to show off his extraordinary physique. Arms bulging with muscles, an incredibly large chest, a well-defined eight-pack. He’s built like a Spartan warrior, ready for battle, destined for victory. It’s impossible to ignore a body like his, even more impossible to ignore his eccentric attitude, which gets on your nerves when you have to listen to his noisy demeanor on the opposite side of the wall. 

The cardio section is on the other side of room, so you make your way to one of the treadmills, setting the level to a walking pace for a quick warm-up. Before you put your headphones in to listen to music, you eavesdrop of their conversation, observing them from your peripheral. 

“Good shit, brother,” Todo says, massaging his shoulders affectionately.

Yuji scratches his head, grinning. “Still got work to do to match my PR. After Shibuya, my strength hasn’t been the same.”

“You’re still the strongest fucker I know. Besides me, of course,” Todo adds, chuckling. “Spot me before you go.” 

They replace the already notable weights with what you suspect are heavier ones. Yuji whistles through his teeth. “300. You’re losing your touch, don’t you think?” he teases, nudging him in the ribs.

Todo digs into a container of powdered chalk, coating his fingers with it. “I’m taking it easy today. Don’t want to over-exert myself in case something exciting happens later.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grabs on to the barbell, smirking. “I don’t know yet. We’ll see.” Maybe it’s your imagination, but you can almost swear that his eyes meet yours for a split second in the reflection of the mirror. 

You continue to observe as Todo easily deadlifts 300 kg, as if it weighs nothing to him, repeating this ten times without breaking a sweat.

Yuji laughs, helping him rerack. “That’s crazy.”

Todo pats his back. “You’ll get there soon, brother. Once you’re fully recovered, you’ll be lifting more than me, I’ll make sure of that.” His unwavering support is actually endearing. Sure, he can be obnoxious, but this side of him is charming. 

Unfortunately, this sentiment doesn’t last long. Once Yuji leaves, Todo decides to choose the treadmill right beside you, purposefully neglecting the surrounding unoccupied cardio machines. You’re still at a walking pace, eyeing him suspiciously as he stands there, blatantly watching you with a cocky grin. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Avoiding his gaze, staring at the console in front of you, you mutter, “Excuse me, but I’m trying to focus here.”

“Focus on what? Walking?” he scoffs, leaning on the handrail nearest to you. “You’re not going to get far if you keep going at a snail’s pace.”

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. “So what do you suggest, Oh-Wise-One?”

It’s meant to be sarcastic, but of course, he thinks you’re genuinely asking. “You’ve got to alternate between high intensity and low intensity. Sprint for thirty seconds, then walk for a minute to cool off. Then repeat. Simple as that.”

As much as you appreciate the gratuitous advice, you’re already familiar with high intensity interval training. You’re just nervous to actually do it, not confident in your running abilities. “I’m not a good runner,” you admit. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, show me what you got.” He crosses his arms over his pecs, waiting. 

Deciding it’s better to relent to him rather than argue, you brace yourself, upping the speed so that you’re doing an easy jog. 

“You can do better than that!” he hollers, reaching for the controls to increase the level, making the track move faster and faster. You’re sprinting full speed now, lasting about thirty seconds before you swat him away, tugging at the emergency shut off cord to stop it. 

You catch your breath, glaring at him, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. "What the fuck, are you trying to kill me?!"

He’s unfazed by your outburst and oblivious to the asshole move he made. “Don’t be so dramatic. You did great. You have really nice form.”

You don’t let his compliments dissuade you from being angry at him. “You can’t just do that without any warning. I’m still getting used to all this.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I won’t do that again.” He watches you take long sips from your water bottle, scanning your figure up and down. A coy smirk spreads across his face. "You know, if running ain't your thing, there are other workouts we can try that might suit you better."

You continue to drink, gradually regaining your composure. "Like what?"

He leans in close to you, breath hot on your ear. "Sex."

You choke on your water, using your towel to wipe the mess. Ready to give him an earful, he hops off the track, walking towards the exit. "If you want to work up a real sweat, you know where to find me. I promise to make it worth your while.”

And with that, he's gone, leaving you speechless. And intrigued. 

~~~

After dinner, you take a long shower, Todo’s unconventional suggestion replaying continuously in your mind. You’re almost certain it’s a ridiculous joke, though the more you analyze it, the less ridiculous it seems. In fact, by the time you’re drying off in front of the mirror, checking your reflection carefully, you’re seriously considering it. You’re not particularly tired from earlier, so maybe you have room for one more workout. And hey, if the offer still stands, why not take it?

You slide into a different pair of leggings, one that shows off your curves, and slip on a t-shirt, fulling prepared to exercise. In your running shoes, you walk the few steps next door and knock twice. When he doesn’t answer within the first ten seconds, panic sets in and you’re tempted to turn on your heel to retreat. Before you can, the door swings open and you’re greeted by Todo’s bare bust. He smirks, not at all surprised to see you standing in front of him. “Hey.”

Swallowing the thick saliva gathering on your tongue, you let out a meek, “Hello.” His enormous frame towers over you and you can’t help but salivate at the sight of him. You always assumed he’d be the type of guy to walk around shirtless in his apartment. Not that you’re complaining.

He beckons you inside, closing and locking the door shut behind him. “Can’t stop thinking about it, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him, cracking a smile simultaneously. “Well, it’d be rude to turn down such a generous offer, right?”

He lets out a small laugh, stepping towards you, gripping at your hips to pull you into him. “I knew you were a smart girl.”

You’ve severely underestimated how much bigger he is than you until this moment, as you peer up at him eagerly. “Todo.”

He bows his head down, mouth grazing your ear. “Aoi.”

“Aoi,” you repeat, breath hitching. 

“Good girl,” he praises, making you shudder with anticipation. “Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You paw at his chest, admiring his sculpted muscles, pressing your fingers into them without even making a dent. “I want you to give me that workout you promised me.”

“Yeah?” he croons, his noticeable erection strained in his sweatpants. “You want this fat fucking cock, don’t you?”

He’s as vulgar as you imagined he’d be and it only spurs you on. You link your arms around his neck, on your tippy-toes to meet him for a kiss. Instead, he hoists you up, holding you with his hands below your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist. His boner throbs as you buck your hips on him, desperate for friction on your aching clit. “You feel it, don’t you?” he purrs, grinding you against him. “That’s all for you.”

He carries you into the bedroom, kissing you sloppily with his massive tongue invading your mouth. When he can’t take it anymore, he tosses you onto the mattress, stripping his clothes off swiftly, you doing the same. He crawls on top of you, ogling your naked body, a lustful gleam in his expression. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re so fucking big,” you blurt out in response, not knowing a better word to describe him. Because everywhere you look, Aoi Todo is big. Big biceps, a tremendous torso, a huge fucking cock ready to fill you the fuck up. You spread your legs open for him, practically begging for him to fuck you. 

“Look at this perfect pussy,” he coos, face inching closer to your cunt. He hocks a thick wad of spit directly onto your clit, smearing it with his tongue. “So wet for me.”

You squirm beneath him, unable to control yourself. “Fuck, Aoi,” you swear, toes already curling from the sensation. 

“I’m going to make you come first. Make this pussy extra creamy for my dick. Is that okay, sweetheart?” He massages circles into your clit with his thumb, looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“Yes,” you whine, trembling with arousal.  

“Good girl,” he says again, and you realize how fucking sexy it is when he praises you like this. “Can I finger you too?” 

“Oh god, yes,” you moan, growing impatient, needy for whatever he’s willing to offer you. 

With his lips latched to your clit, he teases your entrance with his middle finger, slowly sliding deeper until he bottoms out. He adds another digit, pumping inside you while he sucks on your bud, tongue swirling around it. You rock your hips against his face, greedy for more. Todo hums, encouraging you, the vibrations spurring you on until it’s too much. You come for him after a few more strokes, gushing all over his face. You reach down to grab his hair, trying to pry him off you, but he’s obviously way stronger and more resilient. “One more,” he muffles, chin shiny with your slick, his tongue flicking your clit. “For me.” He flashes you a cocky smirk that makes him even more impossible to deny.

You throw your head back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, hazy-eyed from the pleasure. The squelch of his fingers in and out of your wet cunt is obscene, combined with the shameless moans pouring out of you. After your second climax, or maybe it’s the third (you’ve lost count), he finally eases off you, slurping his digits clean to swallow up your juices. “You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.” He strokes his cock in his fist, tapping the glistening head on your swollen clit. “It’s going to feel fucking amazing.”

You hum, the only response you can muster in this fucked-out state. 

“How do you want it, sweetie?” He lifts you off the bed, having you straddle his lap. “You want to ride me?” 

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder, yearning for anything. “Yes.”

“Fuck yeah,” he growls, slapping your ass before guiding his cock into your slippery cunt. You gasp, astonished by the extraordinary girth of him filling you up to the hilt. “You’re swallowing me up.” He spreads your cheeks apart, squeezing your ass in his grip. “That’s my girl.”

You gaze at him, pressing your forehead to his, sticky with sweat. “Fuck me,” you whimper, kissing him fiercely, completely enraptured by him.

He does, bouncing you on his lap, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you’re unraveling for him once more. “Told you, didn’t I? Told you I’d make it worth your while.”

Whatever semblance of rationale you had is gone. All you can think of is Todo’s manhandling you like a fucking rag doll, pliable and yielding to his every touch. Before you reconsider it, you spout the words, “Breed me,” wishing nothing more but to have his hot load leaking out of your cunt.

As if he wasn’t already feral enough, he most certainly is now, planting his feet on the bed to fuck up into you faster and harder. “That’s what you really want? You want my fucking seed in you? Oh fuck. I’ll give it to you, then. I’ll give it to you so fucking good.”

It happens quickly; you’re on your back again, folded nearly in half, knees to your chest, Todo fucking you in a mating press like his goddamn life depends on it. The mattress creaks noisily with each savage thrust he delivers. Sweat drips from his face onto yours as you kiss each other passionately, his massive body surrounding you as he floods your womb with his cum. “Fuck, milk it all out of me baby. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You stay like this for a moment, allowing yourselves to catch you breaths and cool down. This really was a workout. Todo takes his time, reluctantly pulling out and watching his cum ooze out of you. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” you sigh, hiding your face in the pillow.

He gets comfortable beside you, giving you a smooch on the forehead. “Honestly, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“Really?” You look at him, cupping his cheek gently, wiping the perspiration off his brow with your thumb. 

He smiles, nuzzling into your palm. “Yeah.”

“Then maybe we should make this a regular thing,” you suggest as you snuggle into his arms. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he agrees, embracing you.

And just like that, you have yourself a new and very, very personal trainer. 

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲… || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ As a punishment for helping Coriolanus to cheat on the games, you’re sent to serve as a nurse in District 12 for the summer. He had to choose between Lucy Gray and you. He just needed a reason to pick you, luckily the songbird gave him one in time before you were gone. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ evil nurse!reader x peacekeeper!Coryo, very slight canon divergence, jealousy, sexism, stalking, nudity, reader is a little crazy and evil, you can’t trust her feelings, angst, beef with Lucy Gray (I <3 her irl), blowjob lol, buzzcut!Coryo fucks reader in the lake so MDNI 18+, this is so fucked up tbh. 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ reader is mentally unreliable. Song of course is liability, I know it won’t work, Will you cry? And buzzcut season lol. All in my playlist, It’s the worst and will disappoint you.

♪ ♫ The worst playlist 4 Coriolanus Snow ✰ Index (+ fics here)

____________________________________________

You’ve made big mistakes.

You accept it looking at the lake, ripping the delicate petals of a wildflower. Having to say goodbye to your summer vacations after graduation was fair. Your parents convinced Dr.Gaul to have some mercy on you. You wanted to die when they convinced her that you did it because you were a girl in love. You helped Coriolanus to find the aisle where the snake's tank was going to be picked up.

You were so in love that you only wanted to help your lover. Coriolanus was far from being your lover. You heard him countless times making fun of you. And you still helped him because your good heart wanted to see him winning the prize.

And what did you get? Serving as a nurse in the worst district for the whole summer.

It’s been two weeks. And the only good thing is the evening, where you like to kill time alone, in the silent woods. The moment to breathe and realize how naïve you had been. You deal with the damage Coriolanus had done to you. And the worst part is that he couldn’t care less. He only had eyes for his songbird after all.

And that’s what boiled your blood. That it was her and not you.

There’s already a little pile of dry flowers around you, from all the previous days you were at the same position as now. The days passed and you weren’t ready to let go. You needed to find a way to forget about him. “Damn it…” you whisper, cringing at all the memories, rage invading you, violently throwing the flower in your hands and wiping away the tears.

When you return to the medical aisle, you need to pass by the military camp. You were obviously a Capitol girl. Anyone with a golden watch and lip tint was. Since day one, many peacekeepers have asked you out. They wanted to spend the night with you. But you weren’t in the mood to lose your virginity yet. You were stressed, angry, embarrassed, but you tried to put your best face.

“Y/N! IS THAT YOU?” You turn confused. Only to find Sejanus Plinth. It genuinely made you smile seeing him.

“Sejanus? What are you doing here?” You ask for a hug. His hair had to be gone, he had the peacekeeper uniform. You were extremely confused.

“The real question is what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes.

“Coriolanus. He cheated on the games.” He sighs, nodding.

“I know. He’s here too.” Your eyes widen. He notices you are uncomfortable.

“Well, I helped him, and Dr. Gaul punished me to serve here for the summer” Sejanus seems surprised to hear it. He sees your nurse uniform, noticing the silver plaque attached in your chest. He knew women of the military with that plaque were on a higher range. In your case, probably because your father paid for you to have some commodities.

“At least you’re here” you add.

Sejanus knew you weren’t on good terms with Coryo. The boy asked for you on the train. But Sejanus hadn’t heard from you. Which apparently left Coriolanus slightly disappointed.

“Yeah. I’m here… we’ll have a good time. Promise” honestly, you were relieved to see him. But just by remembering that Coriolanus was also near you, it made you wish you were still alone.

“Any plans for tonight?” He asks, smiling.

You only had three friends. All girls from District 1 and 2. They were serving just because they were kind and wanted higher chances to get into University. They comforted you and Fridays were for two things. Going to the most famous bar, where Lucy Gray performed. Or going to a secret and elegant club for people with enough status.

“On downtown’s Main Street. A block to the left, the second alley. Tell the guy at the entrance you know me. Use my full name” your friend giggles, slowly moving away.

“You’re unbelievable” as you go back to your private room with your new friends. You can only think of how to avoid encountering Coriolanus for the rest of the summer.

It was enough for him. You wouldn’t even breathe near him. It was you, always offering subtle love. And he gave nothing back.

…

Lucy Gray was such a warm and sweet girl. Her dress with flowers and detailed boots added something to her performance.

Her voice was hypnotizing, her smile so pure and her hair so soft. It was the third night Coriolanus watched her perform. He smiled, drinking something. It was a humble bar, but the most famous one. He looked around looking for Sejanus. Last night he never appeared either. Coriolanus was growing worried, noticing his friend was starting to contemplate rebellious acts to help the people. Always trying to be the hero. As Lucy Gray finished her song, Sejanus appeared. A big smile on his face.

“Where have you been?” The blonde asked.

“You have to promise me you won’t freak out” Coriolanus rolled his eyes.

“Y/n was punished for helping you to cheat. Gaul sent her here to serve as a nurse for the summer.” His eyes almost popped out.

He had completely forgotten about you. He cringed, already expecting to have you all over him.

“Does she know I’m here?” Sejanus nodded.

“Yeah. She wasn’t happy when I mentioned you.” Coriolanus suddenly remembered that the last time he talked to you, you cursed him. You got mad after he didn't even offer a thank you for your help. Coriolanus realized at that moment that you hoped he would choose you over Lucy Gray. Which didn’t happen.

“She has access to the club reserved for high status military personnel. I won’t say this is bad but there is better…” he looks at his songbird. Everyone cheered for her, but…

Suddenly, Coriolanus doesn't like that Sejanus had spent last night partying with you.

“Take me there.” He says, looking at his friend.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She stated very clearly that-“

“Sejanus… I need to see her. I won’t cause any disturbance.” After a minute of debating, Sejanus stands up and tilts his head, telling Coriolanus to get out of the bar.

It’s a fair distance. Coriolanus has no idea where he is going. Until the end of an alley seems to have some hallway that irradiates red lights.

“Here it is.” Sejanus points out.

There’s a man with a different peacekeeper uniform. He asks Sejanus who invited him.

Coriolanus hears your full name for the first time. He learns you have two names and two last names. At the Academy you only used one of each.

“How do you know her full name?” He asks Sejanus when the man lets them inside the place.

The red lights start changing, mixing with crystal chandeliers and velvet walls.

“Our parents have made some deals in the past.” Coriolanus wants to know more. He needs more details about how you ended up in the same place as him. He doesn’t think you also paid to change districts like him.

“Hey. Whatever you plan to say to her, apologize to her. She’s a girl a million would pay to have. She just wanted to help you, Coryo” he doesn’t know how to take Sejanus. He sure sounded like always, the friend trying to give advice. But he also sounded… like he was one of the millions who would pay to have you. Coriolanus didn’t feel pleased.

Finally, the place is crowded. And the people inside look different than the ones at the bar. These people looked very clean and elegant to be in District 12.

The music is live jazz, the smell of pure tobacco and laughs everywhere. Coriolanus feels like he fits there. And he promises to talk with Lucy Gray the next day. After he left the bar she would ask where he did go.

But for now, his eyes start searching for you. A man in a suit that looked very Capitol started talking. Daring all the beautiful women there to dance, promising to crown one as the star of the night.

He hears a group of females laughing. And when he spots the group, you are being pushed to the dance floor.

Since Sejanus is nowhere to be found, Coriolanus makes his way closer to you.

He sees your natural hair down and wavy. Cranberry lips and gentle purple eyeliner around your eyes. A simple mauve dress, and he almost chokes about it.

Tigris made that dress. You asked her one day at the Academy. If she could make a dress from elegant fabric. Tigris said that she didn’t have enough to make a full gown. You didn’t care, you just hoped she could do something.

Coriolanus remembered Tigris making the dress late one night. And he tolerated you even less for making his cousin work harder. That was long forgotten when you paid her and referenced her to work with a friend of your mother.

You looked totally different. Not the same annoying material girl he knew at the Capitol. This humble version of you was totally attractive to Coriolanus.

He couldn’t tell if you were dancing tap, swing or something else, but you were good at it. A couple of times, he heard you talking with Clemensia and Arachne, about your winter concert or rehearsals. Now, it was evident you were good at dancing.

You laugh and people cheer for you. Mostly men, which for some reason makes Coriolanus tense his jaw.

The mauve fabric shined disguised under the chandeliers, and maybe it was just the sight of seeing you happy, or the way the dress hugged your body. But it made him smile. For the first time, Coriolanus feels a positive feeling about seeing you. He wants to talk to you. But he isn’t sure what he’ll say. So he opts to just see you for the night. He can see a slight layer of sweat on your forehead after two songs have passed. The crowd seemed to want you to win. And it only makes you more eager to do so.

In your head, this was a big distraction. It was the only moment of the week where you felt happy and free. It makes you forget about your pending University admission and all the drama. About your silly actions and disappointments.

The way your friends cheer and joke about making a bet to see who’d win between you and the other girl left. You really are having fun.

Until the remaining girl surrenders. It feels great. Being crowned as the star of the night, leaving the dance floor with so much admiration and looking over you.

Coriolanus sees how you cheer with your friends. You laugh and he swore he had never seen you smile and laugh so much. Maybe you are a little tipsy. He can’t tell, but after some minutes, one of your friends leaves with a man. The other two stay drinking, and you say your goodbyes.

Your dark coat covers everything once you’re ready to leave. And Coriolanus knows he shouldn’t, but he does it anyway. He starts following you.

Internally, he claims he did it because he thought it wasn’t safe for you to go back to the medical aisle in the middle of the night.

It’s not a long way. And Coriolanus notices how close his bed is to yours, literally.

He feels like an animal, following his prey. Only that he doesn’t intend to hurt you. Not more than he already had.

His legs act by themselves it seems. He keeps venturing into the decent building. It’s lonely and dark. Coriolanus notices that probably many nurses were already sleeping. He sees you enter a room, and he memorizes the number. Seconds later, when he’s about to leave, you come out again. A towel in your hand…

It’s his cue to leave. He knows it’s enough. He never should have followed you. Not when he was supposed to be listening to Lucy Gray and The Covey. Not when he paid to serve in District 12 for Lucy Gray.

But it’s too late because he’s already poking his head, and when his eyes meet your body, your coat and dress are on the floor. In a bench near lays a simple but naughty red pair of panties. Coriolanus feels himself getting red at the sight of the underwear, just red, no details, just red. Red like his cheeks, you are naked, under the spray of the shower.

As you’re supposed to be a person he barely tolerates, Coriolanus hates himself for admitting how beautiful you were.

The water coats your body in a gorgeous way. He sees your hair become slightly darker and falls longer across your back.

The shower smells like some summer fruit and it’s all because of your silly shampoo. Coriolanus had seen it before at the Capitol, it was expensive.

Something changes as you massage your scalp, giving Coriolanus a view of your soft and pretty stomach. Your breasts and some moles that are visible are the death of the man. He shouldn’t want to hold your waist and help you clean your body. He shouldn’t want to kiss every birthmark and mole covering you.

It’s the first time he sees a woman naked.

That night, you happily go to bed, soothing the heat wave. Some weight falls from your shoulders. And for the first time, you feel like everything was meant to happen, and it’s okay.

For Coriolanus, he has to touch himself to forget about your naked silhouette haunting his dirty mind. And when he ends, he takes a cold shower and falls into the tiny uncomfortable lower bunk. Sejanus was snoring already, some bunks without a host, probably still at the bars or sleeping with a lover.

Coriolanus is ready to sleep and pretend nothing happens. He would go back to his soft songbird by the morning.

But it doesn’t work. He knows he’s so messed up. Because you are still there, and not only your naked body. Your natural hair, sweet lips and the way you smiled, danced and laughed are there too.

…

When the sun rose, it was imminent that it was going to be a hotter day. The summer in district 12 was bright. Full of light, and green from nature in the surrounding woods. That’s not necessarily the case in the medical aisle. You woke up at 5:00 am to start your shift. Your soft hands had been classifying medicines through shelves.

“Y/n” calls one of your friends from the entrance of the storage room. She giggles after seeing you on top of the stairs, holding onto your dear life.

“Need help?” You smile, shaking your head.

“I’m okay, thanks. What happened?”

“There’s a telegram for you at the mailbox” was unusual. Only your mother called once to see how you were doing. She was still very mad at you.

“Oh, okay. I’ll go now…” with that, you hop off the stairs and leave the little box with remaining bottles on a desk.

After a minute of going downstairs in the building, you get to the mailbox. You give your name to the elder woman in the office and she hands you a cream envelope.

Making a pause in the hallway full of lockers for peacekeepers waiting for mail you open your own.

[The head of the hospital has shared with us you’re doing an outstanding job. This is what we expect from you after your return to the Capitol. Keep going and we might pull some strings to get you back earlier.

Take care, dad.]

You smile. It was enough for you. The anger was undeniably lowering. And going back to the Capitol would make you very happy. Already contemplating the perfect lie. That you went to serve as a nurse for charity, for your kind heart. Everyone would believe you, and the girls would be jealous of your bravery. Nobody would know it was a punishment.

A punishment caused by the man you had just bumped into.

He picks you the open envelope and once he hands it, he sees you.

“Y/n…” you take the envelope from his hand, avoiding the touch.

“Coriolanus” with less makeup than two nights ago, you look even more beautiful he believes. The white nurse cap was so silly, but it was part of your uniform. But he can’t help but blush after remembering how the water fell across your body. And how he touched himself that night.

“I-…Sejanus told me you were here.” Your eyebrows rise, nodding with disinterest.

“Yeah, I’m here because of you.” He sighs, realizing that his friend was right, you were really disappointed to see him.

“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” You roll your eyes. Already sick of wasting your time for him. You had been so scared to encounter him one day. But that you had him facing you, you couldn’t care less.

“Of course. Because you couldn’t care less about me…” he wants to say he actually cares. But the truth is, that before the night he saw you at the bar, he didn’t even remember you. But now, it was like you had put on a spell on him, making him want to know everything about you.

“Just stay away from sight of view and everything is going to be okay” he was shocked to hear you talk to him with much indifference. He was used to your sweet voice, asking him every morning how he was doing at the entrance of the classroom.

You were always at his feet. Helping him and doing everything so he would look down at you. And now, he actually was looking up, seeing how you went upstairs again. And he would do exactly the opposite of what you asked.

He would be everywhere if it meant seeing you again.

…

The bittersweet feeling of seeing Coriolanus stayed the whole afternoon until you finished your shift at 6:00pm. The heat was barely tolerable when the sun was almost gone. You went to the market, as you had promised to cook dinner for the girls that night.

The vegetables were fresh and there was a lot to pick. You carried a little basket filled with carrots, some potatoes and a piece of raw meat carefully folded. You were looking at some pair of earrings. They were handmade. With blue feathers and some tiny pieces of quartz. You smiled looking at them. When you were about to tell the little girl who was selling them, you felt very deep looks. And when you turn to the left, there is Lucy Gray and some of her friends from the band. She was sixteen, you were almost nineteen, you couldn’t pick a fight with her. She could hate you for being Capitol, for being such a bad mentor at the games. But maybe she didn’t knew that thanks to you she was alive. And the most important, she couldn’t hate you because of a man.

Before you can even feel awkward, you had already left the earrings and walked towards the girl.

“Is there anything I did to upset you, Lucy Gray? Because as far as I know we don’t know each other” that was the truth. You had your own motives to dislike her. But you hadn’t even turned to look at her. Unlike the songbird, who didn’t have a problem showing her disapproval of you with her face.

“Did you follow him here too?” You smiled. You didn’t know what Coriolanus had told her, or what she suggested on her own. Based on what happened, probably Lucy Gray believed you were the crazy stalker who couldn’t let go of Coriolanus Snow and his unrequited feelings for you.

“No. I was already here weeks before he arrived.” You simply answer her by looking at the notebooks in the table beside you. Lucy Gray couldn’t be jealous, but she had a bad omen about you.

“I was blinded by him once, just like you now. I helped him so you could win. Hoped he could choose me. And it wasn’t enough. He’s not the boy you think he is, Lucy Gray. You don’t know him like I do. But you can rest knowing I won’t lift a finger to make him notice me anymore” she seems surprised by your answer. But there’s no time for her to throw a rebuttal because you’re gone. Her friends gossip without her, saying how mean you were.

And Coriolanus had seen everything from a hidden corner. He was looking for Lucy Gray, already growing confused. Your words had gotten deep into his mind. While Lucy Gray was the sweetest girl he ever met, she also confused him. She had a rebellious side that he didn’t like. And you, he knew he would never be able to control you now, but he knew you would easily do the same things he did to win.

He stayed far, letting Lucy Gray to pass by with her friends. And when she was gone, out of the market, he came out.

He grabbed the same earrings you were looking at before.

…

It’s another night at the private bar. This time you know Coriolanus is there. He had the audacity to bring Lucy Gray. And you wonder if it was a good idea to tell Sejanus about the bar. Her green dress didn’t match the bar style. However, you ignore them as soon as your friends tell you they befriended a high standard peacekeeper. He had some handsome friends and they made you completely forget about Coriolanus and her songbird. You grew invested in the conversation with the men and your friends, even when one of girls makes fun of Lucy Gray and her visit to the secret bar.

Coriolanus keeps painfully turning to look at your way. He wants to go and get you out of the bar. But he already had a girl beside him. A much younger and innocent one. His anger escalates when a man takes you out to dance. You giggle as he says something in your ear. You had a pretty ruffled pink dress. Red lipstick and matching shoes.

“She looks happy…” Lucy Gray says, also looking at you.

“She isn’t happy. And that’s just an idiot” he spits pointing at the handsome peacekeeper dancing with you. He shouldn’t have said that, especially in front of Lucy Gray. But the way the man twisted you like a piece of the softest fabric, and the way he singed for you, it was taking over him.

It’s his hands that should be holding your hips. It’s his voice that should be making you dance. But Lucy Gray grabs his chin and offers him a sweet smile that makes him get lost on her brown eyes. She’s too good for him.

As he kisses her, he still feels the anger. Cause’ it should be you.

…

The roles had switched up. Coriolanus was infatuated by you. And now, you ignored him as if you never ever thought he was the love of your life.

Maybe is his hair, now short. Or maybe it is that deep sight he always has on you. The sweet boy that didn’t look on your way was gone.

As the days passed, you could feel the air changing. Telling you that your punishment would soon be over.

You flip through the pages, tons of files in the racks perfectly accommodated in the room. You read about all the frauds and corruption of the hospital and the military aisle. Enough to make you a dangerous target. So as soon as the headmistress nurse knows you have a long secret file in your memory, he gives you easy jobs.

And the dirty ones too.

Coriolanus follows you. Thought the archives rooms to the cold storage. He sees how there’s a tray ready to go. Some needles ready to pinch someone. And then you are changing the yellow liquid inside the injections, your face mask covering the small grin on your face. It makes him slightly shocked. He didn’t think you would be capable of doing such a thing. Some rumors flew across the militar camp. About a deal, between the heads of the hospital and the camp. Where they would secretly get rid of sick people from the district to stop wasting expensive medicines and other products.

But you hand the tray with an innocent smile.

And he grows worried. He can’t believe it, but he fears you could end up dead because of your little tricks. You leave early. So, he gains some confidence to follow you. He needs answers. He’s tired of following you to beg for your attention. It’s his lucky day that you chose to take the little trail that crossed the resting cabins of the peacekeepers. You walk past his cabin and his brain makes him walk faster, grab your forearm and push you inside it.

“What the hell?” You ask, startled. Looking at Coriolanus in shock.

The bunks are empty. Everyone is out.

“What were you doing? Switching the shots? You could get hanged or something else!” Suddenly you’re confused, questioning why he was caring now.

“There’s a lot more going on in the hospital than you could ever know, Coriolanus.” He understands it. And he isn’t surprised after all. Injustice happened everywhere.

But he wouldn’t easily let go.

“You could still get in trouble. Who’s making you do this?” You sigh frustrated, shrugging.

“Why do you care so much? Why can’t you leave me alone for once?” As you raise your voice, he grows impatient.

“I DO CARE ABOUT YOU!” Your silence makes him step closer.

“Seeing you dancing with that man, how he grabbed you, it boiled my blood.” Suddenly you feel nervous about his proximity.

And the cheeky asshole decided to step even closer.

“That shouldn’t be a problem for you” you do your best to keep the visual contact. But the way he’s looking at you is making it difficult. Especially after his lips are literally brushing your cheekbone.

“You are the one I desire.” He smashes his lips with yours. Honestly, you believe him. But it isn’t enough to make your heartbeats for him.

“Did you let that man touch you after you left?” You giggle, letting him wander under your nurse apron.

“My virginity is part of my pride and dignity” you answer, kissing his neck, letting his sneaky hands touch you everywhere. His right hand gropes your breast and the other is trying to hold the fat of your hip and ass like a starved man.

Your brain can’t work for some minutes. But you kiss him back. You decide he wouldn’t puppet you. Never again.

As he devours your lips, confirming you gave the softest kisses, yet passionate. You push him gently towards a random bed. And slowly, you get on your knees, dropping your nurse cap and navy blue cape to the floor.

Coriolanus is officially in shock as you drop his belt to the floor.

When he least expects it, you are already licking the tip of his cock. You make a wet mess of him. His head drops back, letting you do whatever you want.

He’s in heaven. Of course, you weren’t the most experienced but to be a virgin, you were quite an addictive lover.

In your head, you just can think about giving him pleasure. Your twisted plan would be effective as soon as he exploded. You put much effort in sucking and licking every vein of him. His length did not disappoint, and you mentally cursed as you realized he could’ve been your first time.

Coriolanus knows damn well it is over for him when his eyes meet yours. His tip met the back of your throat, and he ended up spilling his hot seed inside your mouth. You show him your tongue, covered in white, only to swallow everything. He gulps, feeling the remaining spasms of his orgasm.

“You’ll be the death of me…” he admits, taking a long breath.

As for you, you know it’s just a matter of time. If Coriolanus was so invested in making you look at him now, you would give him more reasons until he broke and admitted he couldn’t live without you.

So you clean your messy lipstick. Your nurse cap and navy cape perfectly in place and you look gorgeous in a mirror near the door.

“If anyone asks where I was, you say I went to drop some letters.” After that you don’t nothing else. He tucks himself inside his pants and stands quickly.

“Wait-” but you had already left.

…

In the night, Coriolanus starts looking out for Sejanus. He was going to ask if he wanted to go to the bar to see Lucy Gray. But he couldn’t find him. He feels his forehead sweating even in the middle of the night.

Near a little training center, he hears two recognizable voices. And when he turns into a little hallway, he sees you arguing with Sejanus.

“No, I’m not defending the Capitol, but these people are not worth risking your life, Sejanus” it’s the first thing he hears from you.

“They deserve better luck, y/n. Something we were born with.” Coriolanus sees you huffing, arms crossed as the slight wind makes your uniform cape lift.

“What’s going on?…” the blonde asks. You turn and sigh, expecting Sejanus to explain. You like to think Coriolanus would make Sejanus to think clearly. Like he did before.

There’s only silence.

“You won't tell him? I will…” you turn to Coriolanus. He can feel you are angry; you disapprove whatever it was happening with Sejanus.

“He’s helping some rebels.” Sejanus only looks down.

“They’re not rebels.”

“Well, they’re definitely not on the right track. And helping them will only lead to trouble.”

“Why are you doing this?” Coriolanus joins. He sounds tired, immediately remembering how he had to literally fight in the Hunger Games to save him.

“They are suffering. They don’t have anyone.” Sejanus replies.

“If you weren’t helping them, they would put a bullet in your head before you could even blink. They are not worth risking your life, Sejanus. I don’t want to see you hanged.”

“I appreciate your worries, y/n. I really do. But this is the least I can do after all the things my parents have aligned for me.” Your eyes water. Even after all the horrible you have done at the Capitol, as a nurse, you cared for Sejanus and Coriolanus. You might have been playing a game of manipulation with Coriolanus, but if he ended up in a mess that threatened his life, you would fear. The same for Sejanus.

“Sejanus…” Coriolanus felt slightly bad after seeing you at the verge of tears. He knew behind that new mask of indifference you were very soft.

“If something happens to you, I’m gonna live mad at you for the rest of my life. Life made us end up here for him…” you say pointing at Coriolanus.

And it’s true, you were sent to the 12 for punishment. Sejanus literally followed him just because.

“That’s enough penitence.” Feeling the tears flow, you start walking away.

Sejanus also feels wrong. But he’s confident. Both men stare at you, and different thoughts run through their heads.

“If anything happens, Coryo… Take good care of her.” Coriolanus looks at his friend.

He thinks you deserve more. He finally accepts there’s more to win by your side rather than following the songbird. Yet, he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray yet.

“I’ll take care of her, Sejanus.”

…

You don’t see the boys for the next two days. Until the night. When for emergency protocol you had to work. A fight in the bar caused some injuries to many men. So, there you are at 1:00 am sending gazes and bottles of alcohol. And when you are about to clean your own space, after a knock on your door, you see Coriolanus and Lucy Gray.

Unbelievable.

“What happened?” You ask as soon as you see him properly. The tray on your hands falls to the ground, making a loud sound. There’s blood on his face, a dark splotch on the right side of his nose. Beside him is Lucy Gray. Wearing one her bohemian dresses with her rural touch of always. You go to inspect his face.

“Got into a fight.” Coriolanus explains. You frown, thinking that is very ignorant and low. Completely disappointed of him for joining the cause.

“You got into the fight? Why?” He sighs, and Lucy Gray only huffs, helping him to sit on a bench. You ignore her, proceeding to take some cotton and equipment to stitch the little wound on his cheekbone. Your fingers are cold, and make him squirm as soon as they touch him.

“Some guy. He got violent after harassing her” of course it had to be for Lucy Gray all the commotion. Everything makes sense, the fight at the bar you listened to less than an hour ago. The songbird must’ve performed, and someone made a mess.

You can’t feel bad for her. While half of the district loved her, there was a considerable amount of people who disliked her, rumors saying she carried problems wherever she went.

“Hmm.” you have a lot to say, but you won’t spit everything at once. Coriolanus sighed, pretending it was because the alcohol was touching his skin, but it was because you weren’t pleased.

Even in his exile, he was between two women again. And while he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray, he couldn’t let you go too.

“Can you give us a moment, Lucy Gray?” he asks calmly. And maybe her reaction wasn’t meant to, but she showed that it made her uncomfortable.

“Sure. I’ll wait outside…” awkwardly she made a smile to the man seated in front of you and left.

Silence took over. You continued to clean the wound, and his deep blue eyes were locked on your face.

Finally, he was able to see your real beauty. Bare amounts of makeup. Hair down and short nails. No crazy looks, ridiculous hairstyles and cat nails. This was the real you.

“I didn’t start the fight…” he started.

“But of course, it had to be for her.” you finish for him. Again, he sighs, trying to avoid any possible irritation.

“It wasn’t her fault what happened.”

“Oh my god. Just listen to yourself! … Everything is her fault!” You burst after finishing with the needle.

“Why do you hate her so much?” He asks irritatedly, shrugging and expecting you to answer soon.

“I don’t hate her. I couldn’t care less for that poor girl. But she’s the reason why you got so obsessed with winning the damn prize. She’s the reason why you cheated and she’s the reason why you’re exiled, and I’m punished” he knows it’s true. In a matter of weeks, Coriolanus repeatedly questioned why Lucy Gray. And until two weeks ago, when he started questioning why not you.

Coriolanus smirks. Finding a way to evade a deeper conversation. He wasn't ready for the time to come where he had to decide. Lucy Gray or you.

“You sound like you’re jealous” he actually thought you would deny it.

“Of course it makes me jealous, Coriolanus!”

His smile fades away. You curse under your breath, moving aside to pick up the nursing equipment. There was no way back, and you wouldn’t lie.

“Ever since I met you, I wanted you to like me. And all I received were mean looks and judgmental jokes. About my hair, my lipstick, my dress, everything” you admit, sounding a little hurt.

“And this girl comes, and in less than two months she has you doing the impossible for her” you mumble. Coriolanus was never the romantic type. He was a man of few words and very analytical. He wasn’t a fan of the districts, so you wondered what could possibly be the reason for him to get obsessed with the songbird.

“Do you love her?” For you, it was a simple question. You always faced your feelings. But for Coriolanus, he tended to avoid his feelings.

He looked at the ground, at your boots before looking up at you.

“Why are you making this so complicated?” He asks, in hopes to avoid the real question.

“You won’t have both girls, Coriolanus.” When you come back at him, he stares directly at his view, at your waist. He focuses on the details of the grey and white fabric decorating you. There’s a tiny spot of blood near your breast, and some dirt near where he thought it was your belly button.

For sure, he knows he won’t have both girls.

“And as much as she tries to make you fit in. You don’t belong here. You and I were educated to live in The Capitol.” He’s well aware that with Lucy Gray, he would be pursuing a humble peaceful life. With you, he would be pursuing a luxurious and firm life.

The harder you are pushing his buttons, the harder you’re manipulating him. You trace his chin and neck, fingers grasping his silver chain. And you know he’s getting soft, vulnerable for your touch.

Maybe he changed his perspective of you after seeing you dance. After seeing you naked in the showers. After realising the type of woman you were.

“I would love to see when realization hits you. You’ll see that she only used you. You’ll notice that I was on your side and could’ve been for the rest of my life” his jaw tenses. He looks you in the eye again. You smile, thumb on his lower lip.

“And pretend as much as you can, selling me that face of I don’t care about you. But I know you do; you’re just blinded by the songbird. Count the days till she uses her singing against you. It’ll be too late.”

He hates losing, missing things. And you know it.

“She makes me want to be someone better.” His best attempt to soothe you makes you laugh.

“The summer will be over, and I’ll leave. She won’t inspire you to grow. She will make you lay still. I’ll be at the top of the Capitol again. And you couldn’t make your house rise…” that hit him in his pride. The fact that your words were true. He thought about Tigris and his grandmother. They deserved better.

“I want you to be someone better. And yet, you’re here. Without the prize, without being home. Just picture it… Where would you be if you had chosen me?” He really wanted to choose you. He just needed a fucking reason. But once again, you have disappeared.

…

He cared. But he cared more for himself.

That doesn't make him feel better though. He had doomed Sejanus Plinth by recording his words.

He couldn’t sleep, knowing that anything could happen the following morning. He has a tiny brown bag in his hand, clutched as if it was made of pure gold. He can’t wait, and he can’t sleep. So, he sneaks out of the camp and goes to your room. He needed to see you, he needed to choose you. That would mean leaving. Concentrating on you and his family. Pursuing the Capitol’s type of future, away from the country life.

Your friends were about to leave to go to the secret bar. And they tell him you were gone to the lake. It makes him realize how much you had to be overthinking. Just by seeing you, anyone could tell you weren’t from the districts. Spending the night in the lake wasn’t pleasant at all. With animals, mosquitoes, and the humid heat of the woods.

But he walks in the darkness. Hearing some crickets and frogs that guide him to the little visible light at the end of the trial. The more he walks towards it, the more he can distinguish you.

There you are sitting over a blanket. Reading a book, wearing a long pastel nightgown. The sight makes him smile.

He steps over a branch and makes you turn worried. But as soon as you spot him, you sigh, closing the book.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“I could ask the same question. It’s nearly midnight.” He sits beside you on the blanket, you only shrug, facing away from him, looking at the barely noticeable reflect of the lake under the moon.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither” there’s a lot of things he wants to say, you want to scream it too.

“I wanted to give you this…” he hands you the brown bag. Frowning, you take it, your fingers brushing his, but you opt to ignore it.

When you dig your hands inside, you feel something soft. And when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but cheekily smile.

It’s the feather earrings you wanted at the market. He probably collected the least he could to pay for them. Or maybe he traded something. It’s uncertain, but you can’t deny it warmed your heart a little.

“You saw me?” He nods, watching how you cautiously caressed the pair.

“Then you must’ve heard me too…” Coriolanus heard it. But he would pretend the opposite. Just to avoid the question.

“I didn’t. I was passing by when you were looking at them. What happened?” You tilt your head, putting the earrings on.

“Your songbird is jealous of me… Does she know about the good time we had the other day?” He blushes, closing his eyes out of embarrassment.

“How do I look?” When he opens his eyes, he sees you have the earrings on. The blue feathers looked very outstanding in the middle of the dark. The light you brought did not make any justice to the beauty of your face. Barely highlighting your eyes and lips.

“You look beautiful…” there’s something on your mind. You want to ask so badly. And while you could pry about his thoughts of your new appearance, you don’t. Your voice slightly trembling as you start speaking.

“Did you and Sejanus have anything to do with the death of the daughter of the mayor and the boyfriend?” He closes his eyes.

“No.”

“Coriolanus Snow… Do not lie to me.” his arms come to rest on his bent knees. And you know the truth through his breathing.

“Sejanus went too far. I wanted to keep him alive” you sigh, feeling already stressed. Panic invades you, fearing for both boys.

“What if this is just what you two needed to end up in real trouble?” He looks at you, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He wanted a hug from you. He wanted you to love him like he knew you did during the Academy days. Just to feel some sense of normality. That this isn’t what his life turned out to…

“What if he gets killed. What if you get killed?”

“It won’t happen. It’ll be okay” your nails were going to suffer from anxiety. But he places a hand on your bare shoulder, calming you.

“Why can’t you give me a rest, Coriolanus?” He knows what you mean, and it makes his heart grow soft.

“Honestly. Before the games I barely tolerated you. But after seeing you here and everything that happened, you’re right. I can’t have both girls.” It makes you weak.

“What made you look at me? Why now?” He sighs.

Firstly, it was pure lust, your body. But at this point, he knew he could potentially end up alone. And he refused to let go of the person he had won since the beginning.

“Because I wasn't able to appreciate that I had you. And… I don’t want to be alone.” You nod, analyzing his words.

“But you have her. Since when is she not enough?” Coriolanus had to accept how analytical you were. He can be honest and be in peace with you or lie and keep fighting for you.

“I don’t think she’s ever been enough. We don’t have much in common. Just that we are orphans… if she never came along… I swear I know I would have ended up by your side.” You think you understand him. He just realized what he lost. And now he was trapped to decide. However, you were not going to give your heart again. Only time or a life-or-death situation would make you admit you still loved him.

“I said it before, I’ll repeat it again. I won’t be here forever…” he leaned closer. His hand caressing your chin, appreciating how soft your skin was. He wanted to crown your head with flowers and promise he was yours. Just not yet.

“I know…” his nose brushes yours, the tension grows and this time, you are the one closing distance to kiss him. You are so close to winning, to have him begging for you.

That night, he keeps kissing you, you read him your book for a bit and before realising it, both of you end up sleeping on the blanket.

In the morning, he finds you undressing to take a quick splash in the lake.

When you realize he’s awake, you smile at him.

“Morning…” like a slow striptease, you let the nightgown fall and he just stares at your body with the first rays of sun illuminating you.

“I don’t think this is a dream. Right?” You chuckle before your body disappears under the water.

It’s the perfect invitation. He joins you, and the first minutes of his morning are spent kissing you. Only to end up in the same blanket both of you slept on. With him on top of you.

“Tell me to stop now.” He says in your mouth. Your leg slowly slides through his ankle, sending shivers through his spine.

“I think it’s too late for that.”

He returns you the favor. His head between your legs is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard or seen in his life. It’s so dirty, eating you out in the middle of the wild. You taste better than expected, and it feels simple, even natural to please you. He can see how your back arches when his nose gently touches your clit. He feels so proud, and he can already see how well you two could handle being lovers. He remembers how you sucked his cock and how good you did it.

To you, you felt some insecurity, because he hadn’t decided on you. But you already feel the lead being on your side. Soon that thought fades away, because the pleasure is becoming too much. And you’re ready to receive the upcoming orgasm.

You forget about Lucy Gray, Sejanus, the deaths, your return to the Capitol.

Everything is gone as soon as you feel him. Even the pride and dignity you talked about on losing your virginity.

It just feels like it was meant to be.

“You’re so perfect…” he says, eyes on your stretch marks, fingers tracing them before moving towards north and pinching your nipples.

The way you clench around him, his lips leaving red marks on your breasts that would soon turn purple. Your moans, and your dirty mouth cursing.

“Fuck- oh, Coryo!” He couldn’t believe you just cursed. But he then realized he was fucking you. Maybe he had already chosen.

“More, please-“ you manage to say between moans. And he’s in heaven again. He fucks you harder, faster, already feeling he was close too. The silver chain dangling just in front of your face. You swear he had split you in half, but the pain was nothing compared to pleasure.

“Wait for me. We’ll do it together” you nod, noticing how intimate and passionate your first time was being. He wanted you to wait for him. And it made your heart clench. You need to hold him. So, your arms hug him, and he understands, leaning to end up with your foreheads together.

In a matter of seconds, you both reach climax.

“Promise me you’ll be careful” he nods, kissing you one last time.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

But it isn’t. You run as soon as your friends say Sejanus Plinth was going to be hanged for treason. You run and your feet burn.

When you make it, you have to hear him screaming for Coriolanus. You start reaching the front faster. But you meet his blue eyes, and you are able to see him saying no to you. Your heart beats fast, sweat on your forehead and eyes watering faster than ever.

When you look at Sejanus again, his neck broke and he was already hanging.

Coriolanus sees the shock and terror on your face. The birds flying and repeating the last words of Sejanus make it worse. He holds the rifle firmly, but his eyes water too.

He follows you as soon as he’s able to leave. Too many things happening at the same time. And he really regrets not noticing you before. None of his life would’ve been ruined.

He finds you alone in your room. Your friends were working. But you were crying on the floor, covering your face and sobbing loudly. His heart broke, and he let some tears fall too. So he couldn’t resist it anymore. He went to hug you tightly.

As soon as you felt him, you hugged him back.

“He deserved better…” you mumble between sobs. You say he was a good man. But soon your sobs stop, and Coriolanus can almost hear you plotting.

“Where is the gun you used, Coriolanus?” His heart stops, and that’s his epiphany.

“I don’t know. Lucy Gray must know…” the girl could easily be fast to learn where it was. You remain silent.

After some minutes of crying, he’s still holding your hands.

“Lucy Gray wants me to go with her outside of the districts…” you don’t have the strength to laugh, but you really wanted to.

“One last time. Do you love her, Coriolanus?” He knows it’s time and there’s no going back. So he sighs, feelings the dry tears on his face.

“No.”

Your soul can finally rest.

“In two days, I’m leaving. I got accepted by Gaul into University. I just learned this morning after receiving mail.” He looks deep at your eyes. Trying to understand what you just said.

“Then you are going with Lucy Gray. You find the gun and if needed… Also get rid of her” you knew Lucy Gray was there when the incident happened. You had also made up your mind. And you would give Coriolanus one last chance.

“I’ll wait for you for two days. If you come back, you know I’ll be yours. But if you decide to stay with her, I’ll understand. And your secret will die with me.” He feels you kiss his cheek and after that, you quietly leave. Giving him no choice but to pack to meet Lucy Gray at the Hanging Tree.

…

You wait impatiently for your train. Coriolanus was gone. He didn’t return. So, you wait with your heart full of fissures. Your violet dress makes you a target among the station. You look very Capitol again. But something from District 12 changed you.

And then you hear him. Calling your name.

When you turn, you see Coriolanus almost running towards you. You can feel some tears forming. Your messed up mind was ignoring all the hell he made you feel and see. Like he never killed anyone, like he didn’t take so long to choose you. Like you didn’t know he consciously chose to be a bad person.

He looks agitated, with his peacekeeper uniform intact. His blue eyes look thrilled. Like a lot of emotions were invading him at the same time.

And the first thing he does when he’s in front of you, is to smash his lips with yours.

It takes you by surprise. The way his free hand immediately goes to your chin. In the middle of the train station. Feels like you were meeting your lover who survived war. It feels wrong to be savoring the moment you realize Coriolanus Snow finally chose you.

At that very moment you tangle your arms around his neck, stepping on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss. He feels you smiling, and that’s all he needed.

He needed to kiss you to forget about the cabin, the birds, the gun and Lucy Gray Baird.

And he does, your lips assuring him it was okay.

He isn’t evil, he can’t be when a sweet woman like you was kissing him back.

It was delicate for sure.

“Is it over?” You ask between tears. He nods, smiling, holding you close to him.

“Everything is over now.” You won’t ask what happened. You will just savor the victory.

“I can go to the Capitol. Gaul wants to see me” your eyes shine, relief flowing across you. Knowing you will be able to go back home with him.

“Where does this leave us?” He chuckles.

“We’re marrying as soon as we make it to District 2, dear” he kisses you to soothe your shock.

Almost at the end of the ride on the train, you chuckle looking at the window. He looks with curiosity, still drooling over you wearing the earrings he gave you. They would be his reminder that you had been there since the beginning, when he had nothing to offer. And yet, you stayed.

“What?” He finally asks.

“We’re a liability, you know?” A smile forms on his face. He shouldn’t be smiling, but he does anyways.

“I would repeat everything if it meant ending up here with you” and it was true. Because he would receive the money from the Plinth family, he would be able to study from Gaul, with you. He would get rid of Highbottom, and anyone on his way. But what seemed to be the most urgent matter, was to make you his wife.

But for now, he just takes your hand, kissing it.

….

Soft!Coriolanus fic is next. Hint? It’s gonna be based on Supercut from Lorde. Thanks to my crush with Tom Blyth, I realized Reputation and Melodrama are my favorite albums on earth. If you want to be tagged on the next fic, comment!!!!!!!! <3.

Taglist: @peachyharht @toogardenheart @slytherinholland @futurecorps3 @asapkyndall @speedycashflowerbasketball

[umbrellacam]

Have any Dick & Tim fic recs for us poor unfortunate souls? We’re hungry for brotherisms

I feel you anon, there can never be too many Dick & Tim brotherism fics! 😊 I had a great time wading through my bookmarks to pull some recs (and inevitably lose a bunch of time re-reading things lol), so thanks for the ask!

so I've organized the below first by general time period, then categories like Canon Divergence and Alternate Universe. I've also limited myself to fics that have a clear focus on Dick & Tim as the primary relationship (although some of them include other characters or ensembles).

Hope that you find something new that you enjoy, friend!!

A Thousand Ninjas, by @silverwhittlingknife (100k WIP series) - Silver's fantastic epic that covers the span of Dick and Tim's relationship in preboot canon. Some of the individual works are WIP, others are complete - just read them all, okay, you will not regret

Dick and Tim, through the years: from Lonely Place of Dying, through Tim's Robin years, and beyond Red Robin. "Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I'm going to do my act - 'specially for you." (B 441) "Who the hell are you?" (NT 60) "Dick Grayson is my brother. My best friend." (R 181) "You're my equal. My closest ally." (RR 1) "I can't see him. You can't see him. But I know Robin. And Robin's always there when you need him." (TT/O Secret Files) "You're my brother. You'll always be there for me." (RR 12) "And then I think... no... it's for Tim. For him, a thousand ninjas is just the start of what I would do." (N 138)

EARLY ROBIN TIM

Brothers Have the Worst Timing, by @havendance (1k) - god I love Tim just popping up randomly to be the most annoying little brother ever, and frankly there's no better time for it than during Nightwing/Huntress, when he can bother both Dick and Helena at once.

Tim crashes Dick and Helena’s ill-advised one-night stand; this is awkward for everyone involved.

A Long Fall with a Sudden Stop, by @eggmacguffin (5.1k) - Interesting and appropriately awful take on fear toxin, with a relatively young Robin!Tim having to manage an incapacitated Dick. Also good Dick & Bruce content.

Dick Grayson was not and never has been afraid of heights. However, there were moments, moments in the wake of tragedy, in the midst of doubt, where he was deathly afraid of falling. — Dick Grayson. Fear Toxin.

Little Brothers and Stupid Ideas, by lazarusfell / @gretahayes (2k) - Tim breaking into Dick's apartment to be a neurotic little dork at him, my beloved.

Dick doesn't think he'll ever get used to his little brother's idiosyncrasies. It's like whenever he thinks the kid can't get any weirder, he decides to just blow Dick out of the water with some new abnormality. It's endearing.

LATE ROBIN TIM

lifeline, by me c: (~700) - just a ficlet, but I'm still fond of it, so. set nebulously post-Infinite Crisis, after both brothers' Really Bad Year.

At a low moment, Dick thinks he needs to catch Tim, and he just - can't. Tim catches him instead.

a soft place to land, by unchosenone / @bitimdrake (3k) - set during the OYL cruise around the world; gorgeous brotherly feels and support and absolutely adopted as personal canon.

Tim rubs the back of his head, trying to affect a joking tone. “I knew I should’ve just gone for the new escrima sticks.” Dick is ready to be a good big brother to his grieving little bro. Tim flips the script.

ribbons just beyond the eye, by silverwhittlingknife (5.9k) - you know how Dick and Tim had their island adventure in NW #143, and afterward they had to swim out several miles to where they parked the Batsub because the remote stopped working, and Dick talked about making a pit stop in Palermo to visit a "great little Italian restaurant that serves a great ciambellone for dessert"? Well, this is what happens when they do, and it's lovely.

Two weeks after their fight over the Lazarus Pits, Dick and Tim go on a trip, and Dick confronts some old memories.

RED ROBIN / BATMAN REBORN (Dick!Bats) ERA

Brothers, by KelpieCodyne (8.5k) - a refreshing and measured look at the divisive events of Red Robin, from Dick’s perspective. bashes no one, hurray!

Bruce is dead, Dick is Batman, and his brother is floundering. In a desperate attempt to save Tim from himself, Dick tries some tough love. It does not go the way he hopes. Or - Red Robin's 'BruceQuest' through the eyes of Dick Grayson.

We've Taken Different Paths, Traveled Different Roads, by Sohotthateveryonedied (2.3k) - brothers 🥺 even in the middle of their Brucequest fight, Tim can show up out of nowhere for a middle-of-the-night pajama party and heartfelt talk.

Dick is suddenly very awake. He bolts upright, staring at the dimly lit figure. “Tim?” “Hi, Dick,” Tim whispers. He isn’t in uniform for once, instead wearing a pair of sweats and a shirt that Dick recognizes as one of Bruce’s. Dick was wondering where that went. “Jesus, kid,” Dick exhales, an uncertain mixture of disbelief and bafflement. “What are you doing here?” Tim and Dick are still in a fight of sorts, or are they? Have they made up yet, or is the terrain still cracked? Dick wants so badly to ask, but just having Tim in the same room as him is already more than Dick could have hoped he’d get.

a conversation at 4:30am, by xscintillate / @scintillyyy (4.6k) - Dick having a nightmare that Tim is dead and checking all of his regular napping spots with increasing paranoia to prove that he's alive, my beloved. such a great look at the brothers, suffused with all of the love they still share post-Brucequest.

dick & tim, post RR#12 because sometimes having a conversation might end up going nowhere, especially if it's one you're not ready for, but it's enough for now

the best of both of us, by @ashynarr (7k) - a lovely pair of conversations between Tim and Dick, working through their conflict in RR and reconnecting after everything.

They used to have a routine, involving shitty take-out, shitty movies, and a bit of shit-talking. Dick wants to restart it, after everything. Tim's not sure if it's that easy. Or: After Harkness' arrest, Dick and Tim have a heart-to-heart. It helps, a little.

there's an endless road to rediscover, by @zahri-melitor (1.2k) - post-RR fic where Dick and Tim skip right to affectionate violence as a gesture of reconciliation, which is so delightfully in-character, tbh.

Sometimes the only way to show that you've moved on and forgiven each other is to take a flying tackle from the ceiling. Dick and Tim know each other's demonstrations of affection. Damian doesn't.

When it Rains, by vellaphoria (5.8k) - an exploration of Tim and Dick's (most recent) experiences with sexual assault, so warnings for past rape. really excellent.

After Cass and Tim return from Paris, something seems... wrong. Dick tries to find out what it is.

nightwing and red robin hit the town (or do they?) by xscintillate / scintillyyy (7.2k) - hilarious reversal of the "Tim is sad Dick never has time to hang out with him because Eldest Daughter Syndrome" trope.

Dick just wants to hang out with Tim on patrol, like old times. It's a shame that everyone else seems to have the same idea. It's fine. Dick'll get him next time.

POST-FLASHPOINT / MODERN ERA

so won't you stay, won't you stay (with me?), by dizarys / @dizaryswrites (1.4k) - beware the ANGST, this one really stomped on my heart 😭 but it's lovely

Dick seized his hands, holding tight. A long moment of silence passed. Tim kept time with Dick’s breathing as it steadily returned to an even pattern. "I'm proud of you for asking for help." His big brother whispered. "But I haven't." "I dunno, TimTam. Breaking into my apartment seems like a cry for help." Tim's having a hard night. So where else does he go but to his big brother's apartment? Whumptober Day 12

go past where our feet could touch, by redboard (Ink) / @upswings (1.5k) - this is such a lovely fic about the brothers having feelings about their long-gone mothers, and Dick seeing himself in Tim and processing things in his own life by being there for him (without sharing his own issues, at least that we see, lol). perfect characterization.

Today Tim was calmer, almost cheerful – as if it was any other Saturday afternoon. But it had also not escaped Dick's notice that Tim had gone on a universe-hopping trip to rescue Bruce, and one of the first things he'd done upon returning was, apparently, unbox a lot of photos of his dead parents. "How was the multiverse?" Dick asked.

WE'RE NOT DEAD (WE WALK)., by orpheusaki / @damianbugs (4.9k) - fantastic whumptober fic. the boys go through it, by god.

Dick is overwhelmed for a moment, filled with clarity and inexplicable confusion as he blinks around him bleary-eyed. There's the familiar itching covering his skin, tiny grains of dark sand invading the cuts that have torn through his suit from the crash. He coughs, throat dry and closing with every gasp of harsh air. The desert is as unforgivable as the last time he was here, an empty expanse of dunes that might just be a trick of the heavy sun against the back of his neck. Dick pushes the panic away behind his eyelids, savoring the darkness before opening his eyes again. Immediately, he sees Tim. Unconscious, hunched over, covered in blood and sand Tim. (Dick and Tim get stranded in the desert, Dick is always moving forward.)

CANON DIVERGENCE

long distance, by unchosenone / bitimdrake (1.7k) - A Red Robin era AU where Bruce is actually dead.

Six months—months—radio silence, and Tim is calling him. Dick doesn’t even know where Tim is. He scrambles for the phone.

Holding the Line, by Birdchild / @birdchildsnest (6.6k) - part 2 of the series and the first part is just as good, but more focused on the Dick&Tim&Damian relationship as a whole. In this, Dick is plagued with nightmares about the people he loves falling, and struggles through the resultant insomnia.

"Dick was used to anxiety dreams, even (or especially) ones about falling and failing to catch people. They weren’t pleasant, but he understood that they were his brain’s way of working through buried fears. The garbage disposal of his subconscious. But these dreams were more like the hyper-vivid nightmares and thrashing night terrors he’d had after his parents’ deaths. And they were constant. Every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t just feel rattled when he woke up; he felt flayed open."   (This will make more sense if you've read "Redrawing the Lines," but it takes place before "Season of Darkness, Season of Light," so you don't need to have read that.)

now the little red lighthouse knew that it was needed, by xscintillate / scintillyyy (22k) - beloved Tim never becomes Robin but shows up in Dick's life and becomes his brother anyway fic of my HEART

"Kid," he says, frustration bleeding through, "I don't know who you think I am, but I can promise you, I don't know anything about any companies. You might want to call the police about this, instead." "No, that's just it," the kid says, "I can't trust the police. I think they're in on it. I think I might get arrested soon. I need—I think I need Nightwing's help." in an alternate universe where jason survives ethiopia--dick and tim still find each other.

this also has a WIP sequel, so the little red lighthouse tried to shine once more, which is equally excellent

well, what would you do if you went back in time?, by xscintillate / scintillyyy (3.5k) - yeah, in retrospect Tim's smug know-it-all tendencies would become exponentially worse if he traveled back in time and actually knew everything, lol. of course he takes the opportunity to be a Pest to both Dick and Bruce c:

tim goes back in time, and prevents certain things--but still makes his appointment at the circus with dick and is kind of a menace (aka: snippets from an au where tim goes back in time and makes it so he doesn't become robin...but he's still just having fun going around and preventing everything he can think of regardless and making sure to bother dick)

the time you won your town the race, by silverwhittlingknife (4.4k) - technically WIP, but absolutely works as a (DEVASTATING) oneshot. It's been well over a year and I still have not recovered tbh.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

the picture frames have changed and so has your name, by zahri-melitor (24k) - a fix-it it fic for Grant Morrison's 2009 Batman and Robin comic run, which infamously has Dick more-or-less forget that he's supposed to have a close relationship with this alleged "Tim Drake" guy. (Little brother who?)

So, in this fic, Dick literally forgets. Tim notices, and investigates. Also wonderfully highlights Tim's relationships with Helena, Barbara, and the Birds of Prey, and sometimes with Damian.

There’s something wrong with Dick. Tim thought everything was getting back to normal. Bruce was alive and back in their timeline, the Birds of Prey were once again operating out of Gotham, Dick had the city well under control as Batman and even Damian had been less obnoxious than usual. And then during a firefight at a warehouse by the docks, Tim was almost hit by a flying boomerang. And Dick never noticed. When something is wrong with your big brother, who else do you turn to but your big sisters?

Dizzy Edges, by Jojo_Squires / @jojosquires (156k WIP)

A Tim-time-travels-and-interferes-to-make-his-family's-lives-better fic which includes the whole Batfam, but is definitely centered on Dick&Tim and the weird itching dissatisfaction of their missing close relationship from the original timeline - which neither of them can even remember that they're supposed to have.

I leap on my email notifs and stuff new chapters in my mouth as soon as they come out.

Tim Drake didn't quite know what he was agreeing to four years ago, but he tried to make the best of it! Using notes from his past (future?) self, he (somewhat messily) tried to help everyone his other self cared for. Now, it's four years later and he can mostly ignore the second set of memories lying in the back of his brain. It'd be much easier if Dick Grayson would just leave him alone. If Tim believed in destiny he might actually think that the universe cared about what was lost. Dick Grayson has spent the last year feeling like he's veered off course. Something keeps itching at the back of his brain. He's missed some clue. Helena Bertinelli's promised to help him crack down on human trafficking, but Dick thinks her foster kid might actually be more help in that department.

First Priority, by avaya29 / @avayarising (6.8k) - okay so Jason does feature prominently in this one but also he's a hilarious outside observer to Dick&Tim's shenanigans. Also, GLUE TRAP.

As the door opened Tim quickly disabled another three separate electronic sensors in the doorjamb by swiping them with a device that looked a bit like a thumb drive. “Walk where I walk,” he said. He took a big step over the doormat, eyed the floor carefully, then took a careful skipped sidestep to another mat against the right-hand wall, where he removed his shoes. “What the hell?” whispered Jason, still standing in the open doorway. Tim pointed up. There was a net rigged up on the ceiling. “Pressure pads under the carpet.” “I repeat, what the hell? After Tim completely derails Jason's beatdown attempt by asking him for a hug, Jason's first priority is to get this touch-starved kid more cuddles. Tim's first priority is to avoid DIck's traps. Jason learns a lot about his brothers and what happened while he was away, and something about himself too.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Patchwork Siblings, by Raberba_girl (40k) - fluff and whump and we also get both Talon!Dick and regular!Dick being big brothers, which is delightful.

Years ago, young Dick Grayson was taken by the Court of Owls and made into a Talon. When Talon is flung into an alternate universe where Dick Grayson was taken in by Bruce Wayne instead, he latches onto the first familiar person he sees. (Or: Little Bat-stalker Tim Drake is understandably alarmed to find that an undead assassin has imprinted on him.)

5+1 Night's at Freddy's, by cowboymater (6.6k WIP) - okay so this is only the first chapter of an expected six, but it's already a wildly interesting and entertaining scenario with great characterization. my kingdom for 5000 AUs where young Dick and Tim are thrown together into Trials and Tribulations out of nowhere for their brotherly meet-cute.

The 5 nights Tim spent at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza with Robin and the 1 he spent with Batman, OR, this would be the coolest thing that happened to him ever if the animatronics were trying to kill them less, OR, the "Batman meets Freddy Fazbear" fic I found hidden under a loose floorboard in Tim Drake's childhood bedroom.

darling boy, by deitybird (335k) - Fuzzy and funny de-aged!Tim shenanigans, with Dick as his primary caretaker but the whole Batfam getting involved. Author pulls what plot, character, and relationship points they like and want to explore from varied canon (post-Crisis, New 52, Rebirth, Infinite Frontier, Batman the Animated Series, etc.) and fanon to build out that 335k of story, and it's a very fun time. Toddler Tim is such a gremlin ♥

His comm crackles to life. “RR’s suit is in a pile on the floor,” Jason says, voice grim. “But no sign of him. Something bad must’ve happened if he ditched it all.” “I wouldn’t say it’s bad, per se,” Dick replies, gazing down at the kid nestled against his chest. Now that he’s looking properly, he can see hints of his little brother in those small features. “But at least I can confidently say that he’s not dead.” Or: Tim gets de-aged to four. Dick takes care of him.

Under a Parent’s Wing, by IzzyMRDB. (39k) - YMMV on whether this will be your cup of tea, as this is an AU where Dick comes into a parental rather than brotherly role for a younger, AU!Tim, who is also autistic and abused. But it’s also delightful, heartfelt, and a thoughtful exploration of the complicated, difficult situation as given.

Also I would, no lie, read hundreds of fics based on the premise of kid!Tim discovering that THE Dick Grayson (aka THE ORIGINAL ROBIN) is coaching gymnastics classes and using his sneaky determined ways to finagle himself into said classes.

When Tim found out that Dick Grayson was a gymnastics instructor in Bludhaven, he quickly signed up. After all, learning gymnastics from The Nightwing himself is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Dick Grayson is more concerned at the obvious signs of child abuse he sees in one of his students. AKA Dick Grayson, as a childcare worker, is a mandated reporter who knows how to recognize child abuse in his students. Tim Drake, after a lifetime of fear and confusion, learns to trust adults.

[diejager]

Can i make a request?

i thought of this yesterday what about y/n or the reader has been in 141 for 2 years now and one day 141 gets a new member konig but y\n or the reader is 26 and konig is 19 i feel like this has to be done😍😍

also konig: shy,sweet,tall,big,puppy like for the reader

reader: small,short,sassy,mommy🤭🤭

PLEASEEEE!!!!!

Young Cw: major canon divergence, bullying, intimidation, beating, protective reader, tell me if I missed any.

He hated attention, having people stare at him because he was tall —unnaturally so, towering over everyone despite his young age and timid and anti-social demeanour. He was grateful, really, after Laswell called in some favours to have him transferred from his platoon to a British Task Force as a trainee, someone on probation while he trained and learned how to integrate with the team. He worked well with them, the tall and muscular battering ram that opened up a path and shocked the enemy, working flawlessly beside to team, and yet, he couldn’t work up the energy or want to socialise with them, to open himself up and let them see the raw and softer part of his mind.

That, however, was the least of his problems, they were cordial - nice - with him, Soap and Gaz even went out of their way to include him in their banter, throwing jokes and good-minded laughs, Price acted as the protective figure of his team and extended it to him, Ghost - ever silent and glaring - didn’t mind looming over others and growling orders when someone overwhelmed him, and you were no stranger to threats and blackmail to get someone off his back. His problem, the biggest one, were the envious glares and insulting hisses older soldiers threw at him in hushed tones and occasionally glances when he found himself alone, either training or walking around.

Even in a place where he could let out all his aggression and pent up frustration, he was still victim to bullying, verbal rather than physical, no one would dare lay a hand on him when he was the youngest of the Task Force and under their protective eye. Despite the shielding from brutality, other men still found time and places to openly beat him down with demeaning and aggressive words, belittling his exploits, his awards and all his hard work to escape the hell of his little village (his Mutter was the only exception, he willingly went back on Holidays to see her).

“Look at that giant freak. Reckon he’d break if we put too much weight on him.”

“Bastard’s only here because he’s tall, that’s all he’s good at.”

“Aye, makes sense, never liked him. He might be a nepo baby, pop’s probably a powerful man.”

His Vater was a piece of shit that left him long before he was born, leaving his Mutter to fend for herself and rot away to feed and provide for him until he joined the army to care for her.

He didn’t want to give them more fuel, to retaliate meant more bullying, he learned that the hard way as a child. All König could do was take and take until they got bored, walking away from him to busy themselves with something else. That didn’t mean he didn’t get mad, frustrated or insulted, his hands curling into fists to hold itself back from pummelling them, they were his superiors, he’d be discharged or thrown out for hitting his superiors, especially since he was a foreigner and still new.

“Fuckin’ bastard is glaring.”

He was unknowingly glaring at them, he couldn’t help it, then he turned away, his gaze wandering to the floor before they’d escalate it. He heard one of them spit something out before he stomped towards König, shoulders and chest pushed out to seem bigger than they actually were in an attempt to intimidate him. Standing before him, he felt someone raise their fist, ready to strike him for simply glaring at them after months of being subjected to their intimidation. He was ready to stop them if needed, not a pushover or someone who’d take a beating quietly, eyes cued on the raised arm of an older man, but then he fell, moaning loudly as he fell to his knees.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?!” You appeared behind him, yelling out at the man you just kicked.

They were as surprised to see you, their faces draining of colour as the others scrambled to come up with an excuse. You snuck up on him as much as you did on them, using his height and size to your advantage to land your blow. You moved to stand before him, a shield to a man as tall as he was, protecting him with a vicious glare and damning words, and somehow, he found himself gripping onto the back of your jacket, your name printed on the back and the Task Force’s insignia on your sleeve.

“He was disrespecting us, Lieutenant!”

You didn’t hold back your disbelief, scoffing so loudly that other people had turned their attention to your group.

“Disrespecting? Do you take me for an idiot, Corporal? I’m no blind,” your words were silencing, sending them panicking for another reason to excuse their actions, something disbelieving or idiotic, “This isn’t the first time I’ve written you up to HR, Corporal Matt, Davis, Brown. You’ve done this many times with other operators, especially to König.”

“That’s because-”

“Save your fucking excuses and fuck off!” You nodded away, watching them scramble off.

Glee and smugness filled him, a disgusting feeling that he couldn’t help but enjoy, even as you huff and turn to look at him, head craned upwards to meet his eyes with soft adoration. You were always so warm and caring, as if you weren’t made to be the ruthless killer people made you out to be, but he’d seen you kill, the cold and calculated look in your eyes when you were deployed. You patted his arm, a smile gracing your lips as you reassured him that they wouldn’t bother him anymore.

”Time for dinner, yeah?”

He learned the next day that they were transferred to another base, seen packing up their bags with black eyes and bruises littering their bodies. Sparring, he heard from whispers, from one at to another, the word spread and he found his days quiet and anxiety-free.

“Danke, Leutnantin.”

“You know my name, König. I think you’ve earned the right to say it.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance

(steddie | teen | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001) | Part 2)

Next part to this one.

Eddie was standing near the entrance, a little uncertain, like he was looking for someone. His hair was a bit shorter than Steve remembered, but the wild curls still framed his face in that familiar way. He was dressed up, too — not a suit or anything, but in a crisp black button-down that looked like he’d borrowed it from someone with more of a taste for formal wear. Eddie’s fingers twitched at his sides, the way they always did when he was nervous, and he looked around the room with those same dark, intense eyes that Steve had memorized years ago.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. No way. No way, no way, no way. This had to be some kind of joke. A cruel twist of fate. Robin had sworn up and down she hadn’t meddled beyond signing him up, but this felt like exactly the kind of thing she’d do to yank him out of his shell.

Eddie hadn’t spotted him yet, and Steve had a second — just a second — to decide if he was going to slip out the back door and pretend this never happened. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t move. His feet felt glued to the floor, and his heart was doing that weird fluttering thing it hadn’t done in years.

Eddie’s gaze finally swept the room and landed on him. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed — like all the years and all the hurt had vanished, leaving just them, two boys in a small town with big dreams and bigger fears. Eddie blinked, then a slow, cautious smile spread across his face, the kind that used to mean he was up to something.

Steve felt the air shift, his chest tightening. “Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. He wasn’t ready for this. But maybe he was. Maybe this was why he’d come — some part of him still hoping for a miracle, still holding on to something he couldn’t quite let go of.

Eddie walked over, and Steve stood up without thinking, his legs moving before his brain could catch up. Eddie stopped in front of him, close enough that Steve could see the tiny silver hoop in his ear, the one he'd always worn after they'd let him out of the hospital in '86, when he'd had his ear pierced as a way to get his body back, as Eddie had said. All the scars that littered his body hadn't been his choice, but this little hoop had been. Eddie looked at Steve with a mixture of surprise and something else - something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“Steve Harrington,” he said, his voice a little rougher than Steve remembered, but still the same. “Is this… Are you my blind date?”

Steve swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Looks like it,” he managed to say, his voice steadier than he felt.

Eddie laughed, a low, nervous chuckle that tightened something deep in Steve’s chest. “Well, this is… unexpected,” Eddie said, his voice trailing off before he added, “I didn’t know you were… I mean, I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Steve shrugged, aiming for casual but feeling closer to panic. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d see you either,” he admitted. “But… here we are.”

Eddie’s smile softened, and for a moment, they stood there, two people with too much history and too many things unsaid. “Yeah,” Eddie finally said, “here we are.”

Just like that, the room seemed to shrink, the noise and strangers fading away, leaving only the two of them. That was, until a voice cut through their little bubble.

“Sir, can I ask your name so I can find your table for you?”

Steve blinked, startled. Joanne had slipped up beside them, unnoticed, while they were lost in each other’s presence.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Eddie replied, flashing that familiar, disarming grin he always used when he was trying to charm someone. “Eddie Munson.”

Joanne gave him the same appraising look she had given Steve earlier and then beamed back at him. But as if suddenly remembering her actual purpose, she glanced down at her clipboard, her manicured finger scanning for Eddie’s name.

Steve’s heart pounded as he watched her. He wasn’t sure what he hoped for more: that she’d announce Eddie was, in fact, his date, because it would mean that on paper, at least, they still fit together perfectly. Or that she’d say Eddie was here for someone else, because maybe that would prove what he’d been telling himself all this time — that they were never right for each other, that they’d only been a disaster waiting to happen. Yet, the thought of watching Eddie charm someone else tonight, someone new, made his stomach twist into knots.

He held his breath, waiting for Joanne to decide the fate of whatever this moment was supposed to be.

Part 3

[selarina]

Tracing Scars

→ Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k words

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, megumi mentioned, canon-divergence, smut, oral sex(m!receiving), shower sex, choking Minors DNI

Read on AO3

The first time you see your boyfriend crying, you feel uneasy. You want to leave and never come back to this house again, but you stay. You sit down next to him even as he pushes and grunts himself away from your touch. You sit down on the dirty floor and you stare at the wall in front of you.

It takes an hour or maybe two, you haven’t been keeping track. For all you know you spent a whole day here. But he finally slithers his way over to you to seat himself next to you. You don’t look at him but you feel the warmth of his shadow against your own.

You don’t speak and neither does he but you know. You know this has to do with his old life.

He never speaks of it and you’ve never cared for it. Not truly. Not when that allows you to not talk about your old life.

It’s been so nice, you just worry now — now that his tears have dried up, if he’ll want to go back to that life.

From what limited information you have — it had been rough for him. The remnants of the scars you trace your hand over, the calloused rough hands that hold your cheek, the hallow part of his heart you can never seem to fill. It’s evidence enough.

“Toji,” your words come out hushed. It’s only loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah,” he speaks up, his voice hoarse and broken. Broken in different way from all the times you’ve heard him talk.

“What’s wrong?” you say.

He doesn’t say anything, and you expected as much.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you continue. “I can come back when you’re ready. I can leave.”

“Don’t,” his word is immediate, and it’s firm. But mostly, you think it’s scared. Even through the deep baritone of his voice, you can feel it.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll stay. You can talk about it if you want.”

He doesn’t say anything again and you find that it doesn’t frustrate you. Maybe it should but it never does.

“I’ll stay even if you don’t want to talk,” you say, hoping that’s enough.

He doesn’t say anything again, but his hand reaches for yours and you spend a good few minutes just playing with them. Tracing soft patterns and letters as he sits rigidly next to you. With every trace, however, he softens.

Melting, and melting until you notice that his shoulder is hunched over, just a little.

You smile, and the room goes quite again but it doesn't last long this time.

“I saw my son,” he speaks up, and your smile fades its away.

“You did?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I saw him. He’s grown now.”

“Yeah?” you ask. “How does he look?”

“Like a scrawny little thing. He looks like he eats nothing. He looks weak,” he tells you. “But you know the strangest thing happened — he started beating the shit out of this other kid. Big guy, muscles and all. And then another after another. They all fell to the ground, crying for their mothers,” he says, almost proud.

“Like father, like son. I guess,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says, and you sense some pride in his word. “Maybe he’s eating well then.”

“I’m sure he is,” you smile. Your hand encloses around his, as if to whisk him away you pull and he lets you, and that’s when you know — it’s time. “Let’s go take a bath.”

—

Not a minute later, you were walking into the bathroom just outside his bedroom. Inside, he glanced at himself in the mirror. His hand card through his dark hair.

"Do you want me to get a haircut?" he asked.

You smiled and shook your head. "Not yet. I like your hair like this. Do you like it?"

"I like what you like," he says nonchalantly as he swiped aside the shower curtains. He leaned over the tub, to turn the the water on, and switched it quickly over to the shower head.

The water usually takes a while to heat up so the two of you just wait.

"You want me to stay over today?" you ask. "I brought my car so I'll be fine going back late."

"You should stay," he says. "If you're not busy."

"Well, I have work but I'll set an alarm and close the door on my way out."

He nods, as he pulls his tshirt over his head, throwing it in the laundry chute that was next to the sink.

"I forgot my toothbrush at home," you say all too suddenly.

"I have the one you used last time," he nods towards the the second toothbrush placed in a stand. "Forgot to throw it out."

You don't respond instead you just pull your top over as well.

Your hand reaches out, placing itself under the shower head, feeling the water. Immediately, you drew it back.

"It's hot now," you say.

He hums, his hand reaching for your hips and you almost yelp at the touch of his cold hands.

"Your hands are cold," you say.

"Yeah?" he asks, as his move up to your bra strap.

"Yeah," you say as he undoes the clip. You discard your bra as you turn to face him.

You reach over to meet his lips for a kiss. The kiss — it's slow and steady but as most things with Toji go, it turns into rough and desperate venture instead.

His hands grab your hips, as he kept kissing you. He gives your lips a tug before he starts sucking them. His hands move from your hips to your ass, reaching down, reaching underneath your underwear to give them a squeeze as he continued to place kisses all over your lips, all over your neck.

And finally, after it felt like the two of you had been kissing for a millennia, you manage to pull away from his greedy lips, as you lower your knees down to the cold tiled floor.

Your hand make quick work, to reach under his sweatpants and his boxers, and it doesn't take long for you to find his cock hovering just a few centimeters away from your face.

He smacks the plump of your cheek with his cock, leaving it stained. In response, you rub the skin of your cheek is soft against him, not unlike a cat.

He groans, and your hand moves to hold him at the base as you start stroking his length. Both your hands continue stroking in opposite directions, so that every centimeter of him is within your touch.

You open your mouth wide and let the tip of cock sit on your tongue, before you begin to trace your tongue up and down, as his hands come up, over your head, to pull you in, urging you to do more.

And so you do, with the push of his hand, you move yourself forward, your throat swallowing up the full length of him.

And then, he thrusts further up, managing to choke you on the bare centimeters left of his cock. A few hard pumps, and then his cum spurted down your throat as you made quick work to wait and swallow it all whole.

"Come on," his hand reaches down to you. You take it and stand up. He urges you to jump. He walks inside, stepping beneath the shower head as he turns it on.

He toggles with the setting with one hand, making sure it's not too hot, or too cold, as you stay steady in the hold of his other hand. You don't move much, but you do leave soft kisses, leaving a mark every now and then on the slope of his neck.

It doesn't take long for the shower to reach a suitable amount of hot, and just after, you find your legs reaching to wound themselves tighter around his waist, as his cock makes its way into your pussy.

Your hips meet with a loud smack, cock pressed up and into your stomach. He is rough as he pulls out, and he's rough when his glides back in. Your legs dig deeper into his back at that, they tighten as if to keep him there with you like this all the time.

He reaches for your mouth, soaking up your cries and your growing moans. And it hasn't been too long, but Toji isn't surprised that he's coming already. He feels a certain softness for you today. You generally bring it out of him but today your arms tighten and your face crunches in pleasure, he starts thinking about a life with you. A new one, a brand new one, not this temporary state of limbo he's in. He thinks about a stupid picket fence house, not that you'd want that. You'd probably want something eclectic and strange, and so, his vision changes. He imagines a slew of strange items and trash. Trash he would willingly build a shelf for.

He groans at the thought of it all.

"Toji, I wanna cum," you moan into your words, into his neck.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?” Toji grits out, as he pushes you up against the wall behind you. You don't get time to feel the coldness of the tiles, it lasts for a moment, before the sensation of him inside you comes to the forefront once again.

"Yeah," you say. "Make me cum."

His hands reach up to your throat, he doesn't press on it, he simply keeps it there for a moment before finally, he begins to squeeze. You ease your mind into the sensation of being choked and help like this. And soon, your brain starts to slacken just little by little, until all you can see and feel is him — his hands, and his cock.

His hands looosen, as they come back up to support you by the waist, easing you up and down his cock as you feel the sensation of the slew of air reaching into throat.

“Cum for me, baby,” Toji groans, his lips up close to your neck.

And so, you do. Your cunt pulses and clenches before he pulls out. The white essence reaching the tiles below before the make its way into the drain.

You reach up, still drained from the orgasm but wanting to kiss him. Your lips meet in a tired kiss.

You pull away, patting his shoulder with no force in particular. "Let's actually take a bath now," you chuckle.

[goodlucktai]

too well tangled

rise of the tmnt post-movie / canon divergent word count: 1k characters: disaster twins

this was my bonus piece for the digital @turtlestogetherzine !

title borrowed from atticus—“you will never be unloved by me / you are too well tangled in my soul”

read on ao3

x

So it turns out that sixteen minutes in the prison dimension is about six months outside it. Give or take. 

Donnie calls it a temporal differential. Leo’s third day back was spent being gently interrogated within an inch of his life. For every answer he gave, Donnie’s face got a little darker. 

He seems a lot older than the last time Leo saw him. Everyone does. They all look at Leo like he’ll disappear into thin air if they blink too many times. 

He expects it to wear off eventually. He’s only confined to the infirmary for a week and a half, and on bedrest for a week after that, but even a month later Raph and Mikey continue to stick to him like glue. 

“I’m okay,” Leo tells them, when his bad leg seizes up and he staggers on his way to the breakfast table and Mikey’s face crumples horribly. Raph just huffs and lifts Leo clean off his feet to carry him the rest of the way. Swallowing past the uncertain lump in his throat, Leo adds playfully, “I mean, I’m not one to complain about the all-star treatment, but—”

“Good,” Raph rumbles, “then don’t.”

“Sorry if we’re being annoying,” Mikey says with a brightness in his tone that doesn’t sit quite right. He’s said that like fifty times since Leo came back. “We just—we missed you, Lee.” 

And what is Leo supposed to say to that? 

“Annoying? Please,” he scoffs. “I’m the king of everything obnoxious. You couldn’t annoy me if you tried.”

When Raph lowers him into a seat, Leo lifts his arm in invitation for Mikey to scoot his chair up right next to his, and then wraps him up in a tight hug. Mikey slots into his side like he belongs there, and he does, he always will, but it’s just a bit different than Leo remembers. 

Mikey is still his little brother. But only by a few months now. Leo’s seventeenth birthday came and went without him. 

And a part of him—this nameless little part that lives in the back of his mind, that’s lived there ever since dad made him team leader and ripped the rug out from under his feet—thinks that’s why Donnie doesn’t know how to be around him anymore.

He’s a constant presence. He’s a solid pillar for Leo to lean against when his legs don’t want to hold him up. But they don’t know what to say to each other. That unspoken understanding, that twin thing—it’s gone. 

Or so Leo thinks. 

Big Mama is more of a weird estranged relative than a mortal enemy these days, but she’s an entrepreneur first, eccentric wine aunt second. When she gets a big business idea, all bets are off. Leo can kind of respect that. It’s really thrilling and a little fun trying to match wits with a criminal mastermind, like high-stakes 5D chess. 

But her invitations could use some work. Sending a bunch of burly yokai in Grand Nexus uniforms to intercept the turtles on their way to Run of the Mill for dinner is a scheme that could have used a bit more time on the workshop table. 

Immediately Leo’s brothers close ranks around him. He’s allowed to run around in his leg brace at this point, but he has, in no uncertain terms, NOT been cleared to fight. He can tell from the set of Raph and Mikey’s shoulders that they’re beyond ticked off, but he can’t read Donnie’s posture at all. 

It’s bad timing, but suddenly Leo is preoccupied with those dark little thoughts he’s been having recently. Maybe Donnie isn’t happy to have him around. It’s been a lot of extra work, right? Dealing with the prodigal brother’s physical therapy and night terrors aside, now Donnie can’t even pick up some pizza without having to play bodyguard. 

So Leo is distracted—sue him. He’s got a lot going on. When an owl guard grabs him by the arm, he’s not ready for it. The yank backwards causes him to stumble, bad knee bending underneath him. 

The guard seems to loom over him for a moment. The evening gloom of the alleyway and the lurid glow of a nearby neon sign makes Leo’s brain sprint right back to the prison dimension. A distressed chirp works its way out of him before he can fully reorient himself. Add that to his ever-growing list of Good Reasons To Fake His Own Death. 

Big Mama’s goon looks surprised by the sound, grip relenting on Leo’s arm immediately. He wouldn’t do that if he were here for villainous reasons. So Big Mama probably actually considers kidnapping via sudden ambush to be a halfway decent method of picking her nemeses-slash-nephews up for an evening visit. 

Leo only has a second to think, Okay, I can work with this, turning up the charm and pretending like he can’t still feel the aftershocks of panic, before he’s being yanked again. 

This time he’s pulled right in against Donnie’s side, a strong arm around his carapace. There’s a burst of light and warmth—bright purple and overheated electronics, he’d know his brother’s ninpo anywhere—and they’re surrounded by a gleaming, glowing arsenal. 

The owl guard didn’t have a chance in hell. Donnie still doesn’t really look at Leo, not once as Mikey and Raph rush over, not even on the empty-handed trek back home. 

But he sits next to Leo on the couch while Mikey enlists Raph and papa’s help with dinner since their pizza run failed. The bickering and Mikey’s cooking playlist create a familiar, comfortable backdrop where it swells out of the kitchen. Donnie’s shoulder knocks against Leo’s. It feels like how it used to. 

Before he can lose courage, Leo blurts, “The thing I miss most from before is being twins with you.”

As soon as he says it, he wants to take it back. This is more mortifying than all of those initial grueling physical therapy sessions combined. 

He’s scrambling for an escape route that isn’t just hobbling away as fast as he can, or portaling to the bottom of the ocean, when Donnie suddenly says, “Draxum said we hatched together. We’ve been together all our lives. You’re pulling our twin card just because I'm finally taller than you?”

Leo sputters. “By an inch!”

Donnie raises an eyebrow at him, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for Leo to catch up. Maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. 

Eyes stinging, Leo slouches into Donnie’s side. The softshell matches him, his cheek coming to rest on the top of Leo’s head. It reminds Leo of hugging Mikey earlier that morning at the breakfast table. 

Leo still fits here. There’s a good chance he always will. 

“Guess this finally makes me the older twin, huh, Nardo?”

It surprises Leo into laughter, maybe the first big loud laugh to come tripping out of him since well before the invasion. Conversation in the kitchen grinds to a halt and Mikey and Raph come barreling out a second later all covered in flour, eager to catch him in the act, to get in on it. 

“Sorry, Tello,” Leo says, grinning, not very sorry at all. “Not in this lifetime.”

[mononijikayu]

for us — gojo satoru.

From childhood, everyone knew that he was bringing the world on a rollercoaster of emotions. From all his action films to his most popular TV show, Jujutsu Kaisen—he had found himself adored, applauded. Satoru can admit to himself that he enjoyed what he did. Satoru knows he’s very good at what he does. He had all the accolades that the world needed to prove it. But now, he has been burned out.

GENRE: cursed womb arc, 2018;

WARNING/S: alternate universe - canon convergence, friends, friends to lovers, domesticity, fluff, romance, young love, humor, first love, first love, flirting, slice of life;

LISTEN: for us by v of bts

NOTE: so, this was a copium of mine for a while. i keep seeing people's art for jjk actor au and i just, this has got to be something that has to happen. give me top star actor gojo satoru starring in a shojo slice of live adult romance next please </3

masterlist

kayu's playlist — side 700;

HE NEVER REALLY EXPECTED IT. In the whirlwind of bright lights and red carpets, actor Gojo Satoru found himself embarking on an unexpected journey, one unlike any he had experienced before. As he navigated the frenetic pace of the entertainment industry, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was uncharted territory, a path diverging from the familiar roads he had traveled in the past.

For years, Satoru had honed his craft, gracing screens both big and small with his undeniable talent. He had become accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the industry, the endless cycle of auditions, rehearsals, and premieres. But amidst the glitz and glamor, there was a newfound sense of uncertainty, a whisper of possibility lingering in the air.

As he stood beneath the glare of flashing cameras and the roar of adoring fans, Satoru couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement mingled with apprehension. This journey, unlike any other, was filled with unforeseen twists and turns, leading him down paths he had never dared to tread.

But amidst the uncertainty, there was also a sense of liberation, a freedom to explore new horizons and embrace the unknown. With each step forward, Satoru felt the weight of expectation lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of exhilaration at the endless possibilities that lay ahead.

As he gazed out at the sea of faces before him, Satoru knew that this journey was just beginning. And though he couldn't predict where the road would lead, one thing was certain: he was ready to embrace the adventure with open arms, eager to discover what lay beyond the bright lights and red carpets of his past.

From childhood, everyone knew that he was bringing the world on a rollercoaster of emotions. From all his action films to his most popular TV show, Jujutsu Kaisen—he had found himself adored, applauded. Satoru can admit to himself that he enjoyed what he did. Satoru knows he’s very good at what he does. He had all the accolades that the world needed to prove it. But now, he has been burned out.

And now on a break from filming Jujutsu Kaisen, Gojo Satoru wanted a change of pace. He craved a new challenge, something that would reignite his passion for acting. He wanted to see what emotions he could evoke in others and what surprises he could find within himself.

Sitting in his study, scripts piled high around him, he sighed in frustration. One after another, he skimmed through them, barely finishing some. Nothing was sparking anything within him.

Then, he saw it—a script bound in beautiful purple. Intrigued, he picked it up and opened it. His cerulean eyes went wide as he began reading. The characters leapt off the page, their emotions vivid and real. The dialogue was sharp, the plot both heartwarming and complex. For the first time in weeks, he felt a thrill of excitement.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone and dialed his manager. "Hey, Sho, can you get me information about this rom-com role?" he asked, his voice brimming with anticipation.

There was a pause on the other end before Shoko replied, "Which one are you talking about, Satoru?"

"The one with the purple cover. It's called 'Love in Full Bloom.' I want to know everything about it—who's directing, the production company, and especially who's playing the female lead." he explained, flipping through the pages eagerly.

Shoko chuckled. "I'll get right on it. You sound pretty excited about this one, Satoru. Never seen it before.”

"I am." Satoru admitted, a smile tugging at his lips. "There's something special about this script. I can feel it."

As he waited for more information, Satoru continued reading, already envisioning himself in the role. The male lead, a charming yet flawed character, was unlike any he had played before.

And the female lead—her character was layered and complex, someone he could see himself having great on-screen chemistry with. His mind raced with possibilities, the scenes playing out vividly in his imagination.

When his phone rang again, he answered it immediately. "What did you find out?"

"Well, the director is a rising star in the industry, known for their fresh take on romance films. The production company is solid, and they're putting a lot of resources into this project. As for the female lead, it’s still up in the air. They’re auditioning some big names, but nothing's finalized yet," Shoko informed him.

"Great!" Satoru said, his excitement building. "Let's set up a meeting. I want to discuss this role in detail and see if I can get an audition."

"Will do. I'll arrange it and get back to you with the details," his manager confirmed.

As he hung up, Satoru felt a renewed sense of purpose. This was the spark he had been looking for, the change of pace he needed. With 'Love in Full Bloom,' he could explore new facets of his craft and bring a fresh perspective to his acting. The thought of delving into this character and the story filled him with a sense of exhilaration he hadn't felt in a long time.

The meeting was scheduled for the following week, and Satoru spent the days leading up to it immersing himself in the script. By the time the day arrived, he was more than prepared. He walked into the room with confidence, his cerulean eyes alight with determination.

As the director and producers listened to his thoughts on the character and the story, they nodded in agreement, clearly impressed by his passion and insight. When the meeting concluded, Satoru felt a surge of hope.

Weeks later, he received the call he had been waiting for. "Congratulations, Satoru. The role is yours, ’toru." Shoko announced.

A wide grin spread across his face as he absorbed the news. "Thank you, Sho. I’m excited for this one.”

“Oh, by the way, they announced who the female lead is.”

“Hm? Who is it?”

It was you. The world’s darling. You have always been on the screen since your childhood too. Pretty quickly, the world fell for how sweet you were, and how beautiful you were. You started at the same time as Satoru, he was pretty sure. But somehow, your worlds didn’t cross until now. You were after all focused on your own body of work—where of course, you were always the lead.

Little did he know that this role would not only reignite his love for acting but also lead him to someone who would change his life forever. As he prepared for the first day of filming, he couldn't shake the feeling that 'Love in Full Bloom' was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey.

He had signed on to film a romantic comedy, a genre he had yet to explore fully in his whole career and met you, his co-star. During the first table read, it was somehow inevitable that Gojo Satoru's eyes met yours. And he felt an instant connection, you waved at him enthusiastically. He felt his face turn bright red, he cleared his throat and greeted you and went back to his script.

It was too much somehow, the way you looked at him. Your radiant smile and the sparkle in your eyes were captivating. As you read your lines, your natural charisma and wit shone through, making him feel as though the two of you had known each other for years. Satoru could feel the intensity of it.

"Wow, you’re amazing there." Satoru said, unable to hide his admiration as he looked at you. “I haven’t seen someone do that before, cry on cue? Not even Yuuji could do it!”

You grinned at him, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. "Likewise, Mr. Leading Man. You’re so cool with how you can just go line for line. It’s why you’re so perfect in Jujutsu Kaisen!”

He could feel himself being bashful, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Ah, you think so?”

“No, I know so, Gojo. You’re so cool like that.”

“Thank you so much. You’re just as cool to me.”

“Oh, I doubt that!” You giggle at his words. He thinks your giggles are cute. “You’re always going to be cooler.”

“Hey, uh….I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Your eyes were tender when they gazed at him. You smiled. “I’m looking forward to working with you too, Gojo.”

“You can call me Satoru.”

“Oh well, call me by my name too.”

When you looked at him and told him your name, he just felt lost. You were so beautiful at that moment. It’s like time slowed, it's like god had given him some time to marvel at the wonder of you. He could feel how his heart was thumping. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this before. You grinned at him, raising a thumb up at him.

“Let’s make some movie magic, okay?"

He chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him. "Absolutely."

As filming began, the on-screen chemistry translated seamlessly into your off-screen interactions. This was the most relaxed he’d ever been on a set. He’d love Jujutsu Kaisen’s set because he’d become good friends with everyone — that had made everything easier. But it just felt different with you together.

Between takes, the two of you would exchange jokes, share stories, and find yourselves lost in conversations that lasted long after the director called cut. Sometimes you eat on your trailers together, you even go out to drink some times and explore the sets together, talking about the mundane.

But lately he would catch you watching him from afar on set. Sometimes, you would often catch him stealing glances at you, his cerulean eyes filled with genuine affection.

One day, during a particularly challenging scene, Gojo Satoru found himself struggling to stay in character. He was not feeling it today, and he doesn’t know why.

He’s trying so hard, but he keeps making mistakes. The lines felt forced, and he couldn't seem to connect with the emotions. You noticed his frustration and pulled him aside.

"Hey, what's going on?" you asked, your tone gentle but concerned.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I just can't seem to get into it today."

You smiled, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Let's take a break and come back to it. Sometimes all we need is a moment to reset."

Your understanding and support meant the world to him. He’d worked with people who were horrible at being understanding about off days. But you were different. You were kind and perceptive, noticing his struggle before he even said a word.

"Hey, let's take five," you suggested softly, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Satoru nodded, grateful for your intervention. You walked over to the director together, and you spoke up before he could. "We need a break. Satoru's having a tough time today, and I think a little rest will help us get back on track."

The director looked from you to Satoru and then sighed, nodding. "Alright, everyone, take a ten-minute break."

As the crew dispersed, you led Satoru outside to a quiet spot. The cool breeze was refreshing, and the tension in his shoulders began to ease. He looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and admiration.

"Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "I’ve worked with people who wouldn’t have given a damn about how I was feeling. But you…you’re different."

You smiled, a gentle warmth in your eyes. "We’re a team, Satoru. If one of us is off, it affects the whole production. Besides, I care about you. I want to see you at your best, and sometimes that means taking a step back."

He felt a swell of emotion in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

You laughed softly, a sound that felt like a balm to his frazzled nerves. "I will try. Now, let's take a deep breath and reset. We’ll get through this scene together."

Satoru took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs and clear his mind. Standing there with you, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. You were right. This was a team effort, and he wasn’t alone in it.

When the break ended and you both returned to the set, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Satoru felt more relaxed, more connected to the scene, and it showed in his performance. The lines flowed naturally, and the chemistry between you two was palpable.

The director called cut, a satisfied smile on his face. "That was perfect! Great job, both of you."

Satoru turned to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. "You really are my good luck charm." he said, his voice filled with affection.

You shrugged playfully. "Just doing my part. Now, let’s wrap this up and go celebrate finishing the scene!"

As the day came to a close and the crew packed up, Satoru felt a contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. That night, as you both walked out of the studio together, he realized just how much he had come to care for you.

The lines between on-screen romance and real-life feelings had blurred, and he found himself hoping that this connection you shared would continue to grow, both on and off the screen.

As the weeks passed, he realized he was falling for you. The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him, and the way you brought out the best in him—it was all becoming impossible to ignore.

One evening, after a long day of filming, you both found yourselves alone on the set. The crew had packed up, and the stars were twinkling above, casting a magical glow over the scene. Gojo Satoru decided it was time to tell you how he felt.

"Hey," he called softly, walking over to where you stood, gazing up at the night sky.

You turned to him, a curious smile on your lips. "Hey yourself. What's up?"

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've been wanting to tell you something. Working with you has been incredible. More than that, it's made me realize how much I care about you."

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Satoru…"

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "I know we have a job to do, but I can't pretend that I don't feel this way. I think…no, I know that I'm falling for you."

Your eyes softened, and you reached out to take his hand. "I feel the same way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But what do we do about it?"

"We take it one day at a time," he replied, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "We keep it between us for now, and we see where it goes. What matters is that we're honest with each other."

You nodded, a smile breaking across your face. "I'd like that."

From that moment on, your relationship blossomed in secret. The stolen glances, the shared whispers, and the quiet moments away from prying eyes made your connection even stronger. Every day on set became a delicate dance of professional focus and personal longing. The chemistry that had sparked between you on screen spilled into real life, creating a bond that felt unbreakable.

During lunch breaks, you'd steal away to a secluded spot on the studio lot, sharing sandwiches and laughter. In the evenings, you’d slip into each other’s trailers, finding solace in each other’s company. The more time you spent together, the more you realized how deeply you had fallen for each other.

Despite the mounting affection, you both decided to keep your relationship a secret. The media's scrutiny and the inevitable gossip seemed like obstacles you could do without. So, you reveled in your private moments, finding solace in the fact that your love was your own, untainted by public opinion.

"Hey, do you think anyone suspects?" Satoru asked one evening, his hand entwined with yours as you lay on the couch in his trailer.

You chuckled softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "Maybe. But they won’t say anything. We’ve been careful."

He kissed the top of your head, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter. "I don’t want this to end."

"Neither do I," you admitted, looking up at him. "But we both know what happens once filming wraps up."

Satoru's expression softened, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of longing and resignation. "I know," he murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "But that doesn't mean we can't cherish the time we have left."

You nodded in agreement, the weight of impending separation settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. "I just wish things could be different," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru tightened his grip on your hand, his touch a silent reassurance in the face of uncertainty. "Me too," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "But for now, let's make the most of every moment we have together."

The trailer, once a sanctuary of laughter and shared secrets, now seemed tinged with a melancholy air, the walls echoing with the soft whispers of unspoken fears and unshed tears. Outside, the world carried on its bustling pace, oblivious to the quiet turmoil that gripped your hearts.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you and Satoru sought solace in the familiar warmth of your embrace, clinging to the fleeting moments of closeness as if they were the only lifeline in a sea of uncertainty. The soft glow of lamplight cast gentle shadows across the room, illuminating the contours of your faces as you gazed into each other's eyes, silently communicating the depth of your shared longing.

The silence between you was palpable, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams. Every breath felt like a sigh, every touch a bittersweet reminder of the inevitable parting that loomed on the horizon. And yet, in the midst of the impending farewell, there was a quiet strength that bound you together, an unspoken promise to hold onto each other for as long as you could.

In those precious moments, time seemed to stand still, frozen in the embrace of your love. The world outside faded into obscurity, its chaotic rhythms muted by the gentle cadence of your heartbeat as it echoed in sync with Satoru's own. And for a fleeting instant, you dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, love could conquer all, even the relentless march of time itself.

Satoru's hand tightened around yours, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes of his affection and devotion. His words echoed the sentiments swirling in your mind, a shared desire to prolong the fleeting moments of happiness you found in each other's arms.

Your heart ached at the thought of bidding farewell to the warmth of his embrace, the familiarity of his touch. Yet, even as the specter of separation loomed on the horizon, you found solace in the depth of your connection, a bond that transcended the confines of time and circumstance.

As you gazed into his eyes, you found yourself echoing his sentiment, a whisper of vulnerability in your voice betraying the depth of your emotions. In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of your shared space, you were acutely aware of the ephemeral nature of your love, a fleeting flame that burned bright against the backdrop of uncertainty.

As the final scenes were shot and the film neared completion, the reality of your situation began to set in. You were due to return to California, while Satoru would stay behind, continuing his work in Japan. He had a commitment to Jujutsu Kaisen, a series that had skyrocketed in popularity and demanded his attention. You didn’t want to cause him issues. And you knew he was thinking it too. But he just doesn’t want to say it.

You had other projects lined up, your career flourishing in the vibrant and competitive world of Hollywood. The thought of being apart filled you with a sense of dread, but neither of you wanted to bring it up, fearing it would shatter the fragile happiness you had built.

During the last days on set, there was a palpable tension between you two. Your conversations were still filled with laughter and teasing, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of sadness and uncertainty. Satoru's cerulean eyes often held a distant look, as if he was already missing you before you had even left.

One evening, as the crew was packing up for the day, you found yourselves alone in the dressing room. Satoru was seated on the couch, staring at the script in his hands, though you could tell his mind was elsewhere. You walked over and sat beside him, placing a hand on his knee.

"Satoru," you began softly, "We need to talk about what's next."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions. "I know," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to avoid it, but we can't ignore it any longer."

"I don't know if I can do long distance," you confessed one night, your voice filled with sadness. "I care about you so much, but our lives are so different."

He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. "We can make it work. We have to try."

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. "I don't want to hold you back, Satoru. You have your career here, and I have mine in California. Maybe…maybe it's best if we end things now, before it gets even harder."

His heart ached at your words, but he understood. "If that's what you want, darling." he said softly, his voice breaking.

"It's not what I want." you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "But it's what we need."

With one last kiss, you said your goodbyes. Satoru watched as you walked away, his heart heavy with the loss. He knew he would never forget you, the one who had shown him what true connection felt like. And as he returned to his life, he carried the hope that, one day, fate would bring you back together.

He turned to you, his cerulean eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and understanding. "I get it." he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "But it doesn't make this any easier."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "I care about you so much. This has been incredible, but we both know how tough it will be."

Gojo nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "I don't want to lose you." he admitted, "But I also don't want to make this harder on you."

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You're right. It would be too hard, with our schedules and the time difference. But that doesn't make this any easier."

"I know," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "But we have to be practical. We can't hold each other back."

He reached out and took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "I'll never forget what we had. These past few months have been some of the best of my life."

You leaned in and kissed him gently, savoring the moment. "Me too, Satoru. I'll always cherish our time together."

As days were settling down to your departure, each moment seemed to carry the weight of inevitability, mingling joy and sorrow in equal measure. The wrap party, intended to be a celebration of the film's completion, became a poignant reminder of the impending separation.

Laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the lively beat of music, yet beneath the surface, there lingered an undeniable sense of melancholy.

Amidst the swirl of activity, you found solace in the presence of Satoru, seeking refuge in the comfort of his familiar company. Together, you navigated the crowded room, your gazes often meeting in silent understanding.

In those stolen moments between conversations and laughter, there was a depth of emotion that transcended words, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had grown between you.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves drawn to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of shared affection. Amidst the flickering lights and the gentle sway of bodies on the dance floor, you found a fleeting respite from the weight of impending farewell. In those stolen moments, amidst the backdrop of celebration and camaraderie, you clung to each other, unwilling to let go of the fleeting moments of happiness that remained.

That night, you found yourselves back in his trailer, the air heavy with unspoken words. As you lay in his arms, you felt a sense of finality, knowing that this would be your last night together.

"I wish things were different," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Me too," you whispered, your voice trembling. "But we'll always have these memories."

He held you tighter, as if trying to imprint the feel of you into his memory. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I promise," you replied, tears slipping down your cheeks. "You too, Satoru. Take care of yourself."

At the terminal, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "No matter where you are, I'll always be thinking of you."

You blinked back tears, kissing him one last time. "And I'll always cherish our time together," you replied, your voice breaking.

The soft hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin as you settled into your seat, the familiar sensation of takeoff sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As Japan fell away beneath you, the city lights gradually dwindling into tiny specks against the vast expanse of darkness, a sense of melancholy settled over you like a heavy blanket.

With each passing minute, the distance between you and Tokyo grew, stretching across the horizon like an unbridgeable chasm. The memories of your time together with Satoru lingered in your mind, haunting you like echoes of a dream long past. The laughter, the tears, the whispered promises exchanged in the quiet moments of intimacy—they all seemed like distant echoes of a reality that now felt impossibly far away.

Outside the airplane window, the world rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows, the landscape below shifting and changing with every passing mile. And yet, despite the constant motion, a part of you felt rooted in place, anchored to the memories of your time in Japan and the bittersweet ache of saying goodbye.

Meanwhile, back in Tokyo, Satoru stood at the terminal window, his gaze fixed on the dwindling speck of your departing plane as it disappeared into the night sky. A sense of longing gripped his heart, a yearning for the warmth of your presence and the comfort of your touch.

As the final traces of your plane vanished from sight, Satoru made a silent vow to hold onto the memories of your time together, to cherish them like precious treasures tucked away in the deepest recesses of his heart. For even though the miles now stretched between you, he knew that your bond transcended distance and time, a love that would endure even the greatest of challenges.

Now you're in California

And he’s still waitin' for ya

Will you change your mind?

Satoru thinks would give it all up

As long as you both become an ‘us’

IT WAS HARD TO BELIEVE A YEAR’S PASSED. As the final scenes of Jujutsu Kaisen wrapped up for Satoru Gojo's character, he anticipated a much-needed break to unwind and rejuvenate. After all, the relentless filming schedule had left him yearning for some solitude and relaxation.

So, when he found himself concluding another exhausting day on set, he didn't expect any interruptions. However, the sound of a knock on his door piqued his curiosity, stirring a faint sense of intrigue within him.

Approaching the door with a mixture of surprise and anticipation, Satoru swung it open, revealing the unexpected yet delightful sight of you standing on his doorstep. A small, enigmatic smile played upon your lips, instantly lifting the weight of fatigue from his shoulders. In that moment, he felt a rush of warmth flood his being, a welcome reprieve from the demands of his hectic schedule.

Despite the weariness lingering in his bones, Satoru couldn't suppress the spark of curiosity that ignited within him. What could have brought you here, he wondered, in this moment of respite? As he gazed upon your familiar face, he found himself drawn to your presence, eager to unravel the mystery behind your unexpected visit.

With a gentle smile and a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes, Satoru welcomed you into his home, ready to embrace the unexpected turn of events and the company of a cherished friend.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Satoru replied, stepping aside to let you enter. He watched as you made your way into his apartment, taking in the familiar surroundings with a sense of nostalgia.

As you settled onto the couch, Satoru couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions wash over him. It had been so long since he had last seen you, and yet the sight of you sitting there felt oddly comforting.

"I've missed you, Satoru." you said, breaking the silence that hung between you. “I really did.”

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at your words, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of longing and regret. "I've missed you too, darling." he admitted quietly.

As the hours passed in the comfortable embrace of conversation, the atmosphere between you and Satoru grew increasingly intimate. Words flowed effortlessly, weaving tales of shared memories and dreams for the future. Laughter mingled with moments of quiet reflection, creating a tapestry of shared experiences and aspirations.

However, as the conversation delved into more serious territory, a solemn undertone settled over the room. In the gentle glow of subdued lighting, you found yourself unable to suppress the weight of regret that had long been weighing upon your heart. With a hesitant breath, you voiced the thoughts that had been gnawing at your conscience, allowing vulnerability to seep into the space between you.

Each word carried the weight of unspoken emotions as you bare your soul, laying bare the regrets that had lingered in the recesses of your mind. Memories of past mistakes and missed opportunities surfaced, casting shadows upon the present moment. Yet, in the quiet stillness of the night, you found solace in the act of confession, seeking redemption in the honesty of your words.

As you spoke, Satoru listened with unwavering attention, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding. There was no judgment in his eyes, only a profound sense of compassion that enveloped you like a comforting embrace. In that moment of vulnerability, you found solace in the shared intimacy of confession, unburdening your heart of the regrets that had held you captive for so long.

"I wish I had been willing to try being with you," you confessed, your voice tinged with sorrow. "I was so scared of getting hurt that I pushed you away."

Satoru reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I've never changed my mind," he said earnestly. "I've always wanted to be with you."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching for any sign of doubt. "Would you like it if I came to stay with you?" you asked hesitantly. "To try and fix what we broke?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Satoru's lips as he reached out to take your hand in his. "I'd like that," he replied softly. "More than anything."

You pulled you close and let his lips press on yours.

You smiled against his lips as you returned the favor.

You were the happiest you were in a very long time.

Because now you could truly be together, an ‘us’.

epilogue

The press tour was supposed to be a straightforward affair, a chance to promote your film together and engage with fans. But little did you know, it would turn into a hilariously chaotic adventure thanks to Satoru Gojo's inability to keep his feelings for you under wraps.

As you and Satoru made your way to the first stop on the tour, you couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Remember, Satoru," you whispered, trying to keep a straight face, "We agreed to keep our relationship on the down-low during the interviews."

Satoru flashed you a grin, his signature smirk bordering on outright mischief. "Of course, darling," he replied, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "I'm the epitome of discretion. Don’t you worry about me.”

But as soon as the interviews began, it became abundantly clear that discretion was the last thing on Satoru's mind. He couldn't resist sneaking affectionate glances your way, his gaze lingering a beat too long and his smiles a tad too fond.

At first, you tried to play it cool, offering subtle nudges and warning glances whenever Satoru's antics threatened to give away your secret. But as the day wore on, it became increasingly evident that Satoru was a lost cause when it came to hiding his feelings.

As the interviewer leaned in, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, she posed the question that had been lingering in the air like a tantalizing secret. "So, tell us about the incredible on-screen chemistry between you two. What's the secret?"

Satoru's eyes lit up with an almost mischievous sparkle as he leaned forward, ready to deliver his response with all the dramatic flair he could muster. "Ah, the chemistry," he began, his voice dripping with theatricality. "It's like the universe conspired to bring us together, like two celestial bodies destined to collide in a glorious explosion of... of... chemistry!"

You couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his over-the-top theatrics, trying to maintain a facade of professionalism as you exchanged a knowing glance with the interviewer. But Satoru was on a roll, his enthusiasm impossible to contain.

"It's like when you mix sodium with water," he continued, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. "Boom! Instant chemistry! Except, you know, without the explosions and potential loss of eyebrows."

The interviewer chuckled nervously, unsure whether to be amused or concerned by Satoru's increasingly elaborate metaphors. "Um, right," she said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "So, how do you two prepare for those emotionally intense scenes?"

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, you know," he replied, his voice laden with innuendo. "Lots of... uh... method acting exercises. And plenty of off-screen... rehearsals."

You nearly choked on your water, desperately trying to suppress a snort of laughter as Satoru winked at you with a devilish grin. It was clear that keeping a straight face during this interview was going to be a lost cause, but hey, at least it made for great entertainment.

The interviewer leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and mischief. "Oh, there's a story to tell between you two, Gojo-san. I can feel it!"

Satoru threw his head back with a hearty laugh, his infectious chuckle filling the room. "Oh, you have no idea!" he teased, shooting you a playful wink. "But I'm keeping it hush, hush, okay? Only I get to enjoy what my precious darling here, hm? None for any of you!"

You could practically feel the collective eyebrow raises from the rest of the cast and crew, their knowing glances leaving no doubt that they knew it all too well.  Some were even trying to hide their laughter, some were just plain stunned. 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his theatrical declaration, trying to stifle a giggle as you shook your head in mock exasperation. "You're impossible, Satoru." you teased, unable to hide the fondness in your voice.

But Satoru simply grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer. "Ah, but that's why you love me, darling," he quipped, his tone filled with playful arrogance. "Now, let's keep the focus on the show, shall we? We wouldn't want to give away all our secrets just yet."

The interviewer nodded eagerly, though it was clear that she was already mentally drafting headlines about the mysterious off-screen romance between the two of you. But as the interview continued, punctuated by Satoru's irreverent humor and your shared laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the chaos he brought into your life. After all, who else could turn a simple press tour into a riotous adventure filled with laughter and love?

By the end of the day, it was clear that your attempts at discretion had failed spectacularly. But as you and Satoru collapsed into fits of giggles backstage, you realized that maybe, just maybe, keeping your relationship under wraps was overrated. After all, who could resist the charm of a man so hopelessly in love?

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT. I hope this message finds you well. I am sending all the good vibes and we'll wishes your way! ♥️♥️♥️ I hope you've had a wonderful summer.

I'm such a big fan of your work. Lioneheart is amazing and has stuck with me for such a long time.

I was wondering if you had any other stories you'd like to explore one day (even if you never get the chance to write them.) Whether it be fanfiction or original work, I was just curious because sometimes I feel as if I have hundreds of stories inside that I could tell, and I am not sure how to pick just one and see it to completion.

First of all, thank you! This is a fun one. I have a few enduring ideas for longfics I may or may not ever write (i.e., ideas that would have been projects already if I didn't have an ongoing longfic). I don't get stuck in them mostly because I try to remind myself that the idealized story you imagine when a concept occurs to you will never actually exist as it does when it's unshackled by the constraints of execution. What you'll get if you actually sit down and hack it out is (1) a real and imperfect piece of writing, and (2) the satisfaction of having written it, which is by far the more reliable source of motivation, if we're being honest. That being said, here are some ideas I've always wanted to explore, if and when I finish Lionheart:

I've always wanted to write a longform canon-divergent Tomione fic about Tom Riddle's 7th year at Hogwarts. Big honking political melodrama ft. the original Knights of Walpurgis, a Triwizard Tournament, and realistically functioning time travel (hence why this one's always been kicked down my list of projects, because writing a time-travel plot is like running through a minefield made of trampolines). I've already got character concepts sketched out for the Hogwarts cast — sooooo many fun ideas for the teenage Walburga. But I'd still need about a week of solid fic preproduction on the plot alone before I was ready to boot up and start writing, and it'd take at least 250k words — closer to 300k, if I'm being honest about myself. So this probably won't see the light of day anytime remotely soon, if ever.

A canon-compliant Dramione war fic, diverging from the Malfoy Manor chapters in Book 7, picking up from a speculative thread I read once about what would happen if the war didn't end after Voldemort died at the Battle of Hogwarts. I've always thought it would be fascinating to see who Hermione and Draco would become if they were actual soldiers in the war (and my disappointment with how Book 7 handled the "war" of it all has been established). That being said, Book 7 of Lionheart will probably give me a lot of similar ideas to chew on, so I don't know what my appetite for this one will be once I'm finished with it.

Durmstrang AU. This one's barely a fic concept so much as it is a mental moodboard — I just want to worldbuild the hell out of Durmstrang. And the international wizarding world, generally. It's a delicious sandbox.

A longform canon-compliant fic or series of fics about the previous generation of Blacks (Sirius/Bellatrix/Narcissa, namely). If you look at the books, there's a huge amount we don't know about the fall of the Blacks. I always found it bizarre that the sisters and Sirius seem to be the only ones left by 1995. No one else has a claim? No one else from this all-powerful wizarding family wants to step in and claim this big honking townhouse in the middle of London? Or its attendant fortune? Dude, what happened? Also, we don't see nearly enough of the Black family melodrama in canon. They lose 4/5 children of a generation in the span of almost single decade. And then (presumably) all of their parents die in the span of another. Goddamn. Just imagine the character work you could do there.

A No Chosen One/Voldemort Wins (The First Time) AU where Hermione never gets her letter, and meets Draco much later in life as a self-taught witch. The dynamics I have in my head for this are really enjoyable, and it would be a chance to finally write Hermione POV, plus the Draco I've cooked up for this universe is [chefs kiss]. I also just love the idea of Hermione as a feral witch-child running around muggle London. I love it a lot.

[kaitsawamura]

🪞 🔮 🍅 🧺 🍯 🌱 The Farmer & The Wizard

❦ SUMMARY ❦

You need a change, a big one. When your estranged grandfather passes away and bequeaths you his farm in a little town just south of the middle of nowhere, you take it as the sign you needed to make a change instead of waiting for one.

The farm, while having fallen into a state of disrepair, is just the thing to cure your modern-world ailments. The people are kind and always ready to offer help, if a bit unusual. They have old superstitions, a haunted community center, and a resident wizard. Spoiler alert: those last two on the list take some getting used to.

Yes, things are different here but you have a sneaking suspicion that the slow pace and a certain alchemical practitioner are going to remind you that sometimes, all you need is time and a little bit of magic.

THIS SCROLL WAS LAST UPDATED: 6/1/24

❦ STATS ❦

Pairing: Wizard!Gojo Satoru x Farmer!Reader

Rating: M for Mature, 18+ only minors do not interact

Warnings: Fantasy/Stardew Valley violence, sexual content, angst (maybe like just a tiny lil bit)

Tags: Stardew Valley AU, strangers to friends to lovers, red thread of fate, soulmates (kinda) eventual smut, fluff focused, canon divergent, more tags to come (literally am too excited, I need to get this masterlist post out in the world lol)

Projected Word Count: 100K

Author’s Note: In unsurprising news, I have still been in the trenches with my Stardew Valley hyperfixation. Then, along comes this lovely PC Gojo mod and the fate of this fic was sealed. It's going to be inspired a touch by that mod (which I will link below, full credit to that amazing modder) and will heavily follow a standard Stardew Valley play through timeline. I'm a lil nervous to write Gojo since he doesn't fall neatly into the character type I normally am drawn to but I have WRITING HANDS (like jazz hands but for writers :P ) and so I'm adding another fic to my WIPs list.

Important Note: This fic is part of this blog's contribution to the @ficsforgaza initiative!

❦ LINKS ❦

Fics for Gaza Masterlist <- now linked! ->

GOJO MOD FOR PC'ERS

JJK Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Playlist

Moodboard

❦ TABLE OF CONTENTS ❦

SPRING

Part 1: In Which You Unexpectedly Receive The Deed to A Farm

Part 2 | In Progress | TBL

SUMMER

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AUTUMN

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WINTER

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This work and its digital elements (credit for pixel art to ConcernedApe) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2020-PRESENT. I do not own any rights to Stardew Valley and any subsequent settings/characters, but this work is heavily inspired by that amazing game. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

[oatmilktruther]

okay so i wrote this little oneshot like a week ago and idk it's not going on ao3 but i like it a lot so if you would like some canon divergent post s2ep5 ed pov hurt/comfort during and after a storm with all of the canon typical agony a storm would mix up in our beloved ed check out under the cut

also i learned how to do a cut just for this post every day's a school day

it’s a storm.

all things considered, not even that big of a storm.

but when your captain is the one great love of your life that you just got back and then you just told him you needed to take it slow and so it’s been two whole days since you’ve kissed him and you tell him to get below where he’ll be safe and he squares his shoulders and puts on his captain voice and insists that no, he’ll stay above deck with the crew like a proper captain and so you won’t step away from the helm even after wee john offers, more and more aggressively, to take over, but no, you still won’t do it, because the only person you know for a fact can steer your captain through the storm is yours truly, but then the rain doesn’t stop coming and neither do the waves and neither do the memories and for a storm it’s a warm summer of a showing but you’re shivering down to your leathers, shaking in your boots, trembling with everything that you almost gave up the last time you sailed through a storm—

it ends up being a little more than a storm.

it ends up being a little more than thrashing waves. it ends up being a little more than stinging rain. it ends up being a little more than the burn in your arms as you wrestle the helm through every pitch of the bow. it ends up being a little more than the clench of your gut every time you see a body scrabble across the deck. it ends up lasting a little longer than the three or so hours of the actual storm. 

it ends up being the second you have the revenge safely tucked in the relative calm of a cove to wait out the last dregs of churning waves and drenching rain and ripping wind, firmly anchored and certain that she will ride it out, you collapse right where you’re stood by the helm. it ends up that your captain catches it with his eyes the second you start, catches you with his hands moments later, just barely saving you from a harsh landing against the deck. it ends up being your name, murmured into your ear more desperate than anything since come back to me, it ends up sounding just as much like a plea, and at this point you have no idea what you can do for your captain beyond what you've done, but the desperation to do it anyways is just as strong—

because you know—

you could steer his crew through a thousand storms, worse than this one, you could weather a course, steady and sharp for a thousand leagues, you could lead the charge on every raid until your captain was ready to retire, and it wouldn't mend the gaping hole that sits in your chest between the two of you, between you and him and the crew, between you and the rest of the world—

you know, slow or no, there’s something broken that not even you can teach yourself how to fix.

it ends up not mattering after all.

because what happens is your captain wrenching his arm up under yours, bracing against you, pulling you bodily across the deck and into his quarters, and you don’t even register the pulse in your heart that his quiet strength, he dedicated strength, his devoted strength stirs up in you, because in this moment all you are is cold, all you feel is quiet, not a calm but a devastating stillness. 

you are going to die. 

that’s what comes, when the storm winds down.

were—

you were going to die.

you’re not dying now, are you?

this feeling that’s creeping into your skin and tracing chilly fingers across your spine and twisting up your guts as your captain gets you, dutifully, out of your clothes, and into something dry and soft and gentle, as your captain settles you into a chair in front of the empty cavern of the fireplace, that feeling— 

you’re not dying.

it’s just the cold. 

the feeling isn’t creeping into your body, it’s creeping into your awareness, making itself known to you, absent pilot that you’ve been, it’s clawing for recognition when all you had sights for was escape on the horizon, isn’t it?

and the more it demands its recognition, the more your feeble body gives up the fight.

you’re cold.

you’re shiver the night through shatter your bones with chattering cold and your captain is making a fire in a fireplace you once used to burn up memories of him.

you’re cold and he is on his knees working to make you warm. 

it’s right that you can’t speak. you’d tell him to stop. he’d tell you he’s the captain and you can’t order him around. you’d fall more in love with him than you already are. 

falling. 

sorta sounds like a relief, sometimes, falling. not so much when you land, but before that, the moment suspended in air when you are not on the ground or of it, when there’s nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable, but it hasn’t quite happened yet. 

in another life, free fall would have sounded like freedom to you.

knowing now what it’s like, you wouldn’t take it back, but you couldn’t quite recommend it. 

the cold hole in your chest started to shrink as he built the fire and began to grow again as he stepped away, as he promised to be right back, but that hole in your chest was too hungry to care, the shiver in your bones too violent to be eased by any promise, but he’s a good captain now, and he’ll do right by you, so if he’s coming back, he must have a reason to go in the first place, and so you sink into the chair he put you in and you trust him to come back, because you can and because you need to. 

because he does come back, two big buckets of water in his solid hands, braced by solid arms, solid footsteps leading him into the bathroom and then right back over to you, because he said he would come back, and here he is, offering, in a way that’s an order, to bring you to the bath. 

and you go, on young legs that are just learning to walk with support, relearning after a lifetime of walking alone or not at all, and you go, and he goes with you, and he settles your body, carrying that big cold pit, into steaming water, steaming water and bath oil and salt, and you rest so carefully against the copper of the tub that you learn, relearn things about delicacy, about how your body can feel delicate and fragile and delicate and held. 

about how a touch can feel like a need and a want and a burn all at once as he scrubs heat and comfort into your hands, into your hair, into your shoulders, as the slide of soap and the scent of clean, washed clean, not stripped clean, not gutted clean, just good clean clean trickles into your awareness. 

how does he do that?

you wonder all the time, where it comes from, the part of him that can be terrified and fragile and broken and still resolutely do the job, with a soft sort of determination, a gentle sort of strength, you wonder all the time.

it reminds you of something, of the ceaseless urge onwards when everything else is falling apart in your hands, in your mind, the way they could throw your corpse on a sailboat and you’d still get it rigged before the squalls came. 

it reminds you of that.

but it’s not that.

yours is driven by memory in muscles that move limbs, in your arms and your legs and your back.

you know now, his muscle beats stronger ever than that.

it’s his heart. 

you know.

it’s his heart.

it’s his heartbeat in his hands as he holds you, it’s his heartbeat in his throat when he promises, again, to be right back, again, after a knock at the door, it’s his heart in his eyes when he comes right back, again.

it’s his heart in the crew when they came to the door to ask if you’re alright, if you are alright. 

when he tells you about it, as he dries your hair, as he braids it back for you, when he tells you about it like it’s not a revelation, like it’s not a redemption, to be asked if you are alright. 

well. 

something about him makes miracles happen quietly. 

something about him makes quiet miracle after quiet miracle happen not so quietly inside of you as he helps you out of the bath on legs that are returning to strength, as you go together into the cabin and you don’t need to bolt, as he offers you the bed, again like an order, and the quietest of miracles bubbles up out of your throat and you ask him to stay. 

you ask him to stay and you ask him to join you and you ask him to hold you and quietly, though it’s far from a miracle, he does. 

he does.

he holds you, and you shake and you shake, all over again you shake and it’s not from the cold, and he holds you and he knows.

he knows.

“you’re safe.”

you know.

[zmediaoutlet]

Survey results time.

At time of downloading the data we got just over 300 responses, which is not bad for a survey that was long and complicated to take! I'm sure my shamelessness helped. Being a survey for a specific crowd, we also didn't get anyone (as far as I could tell) taking the survey in bad faith, which is a legit surprise. Special shout-out to the several people who, when asked to write literally anything to say they understood what was going on, wrote "literally anything"; additional shout-out to the person who wrote "penus and hole" (sic). You get it, anonymous person.

I'm going to share the top results for the questions here, but I'll also include the raw data as a sheet at the end in case anyone wants to actually go through it with a fine-tooth comb. This is not a survey where cute pie charts or graphs would be useful or readable, so get ready for some sweet-ass numbers:

Story Genre

Unsurprisingly, our leaderboard for most favorite story genre in the 'Anytime!' category is as follows:

Hurt/comfort (153 votes)

Angst (142 votes)

PWP (139 votes)

We just like the guys to get the shit beaten out of them, angstily, and then they can feel better by jerking off about it. The ideal evening.

The big loser in genre, with 34 buds flat out saying "not for me", was Dark!fic. That said, Dark!fic also got 112 votes (third highest) for "has to be JUST right," so we can probably take from there that while as a group we don't hate dark content, we have pretty strict definitions for a) what counts as dark, and b) what kind of dark we're willing to take.

Gencest/gen was arguably the most 'eh, idk?' of the genres, with respectable showings in every category from Anytime to No; most people don't hate it, but people aren't really seeking it out either. It's definitely There.

Story Setting

The winner of most 'Anytime!' votes for story setting is close to my heart; the podium is:

Bunker era (142 votes)

Canon-close, codas, etc (129 votes)

Pre-series/weechesters (126 votes)

It feels good to know that canon is on our side. This may help explain why various alternate universe settings didn't do so hot with the respondents -- the least fave according to this survey is an age!swap AU, followed by a raised apart!AU. Writers who are making Sam the big brother who lives in Cleveland while baby Dean lives in Seattle, you keep living your truth, but readers are rearing back.

That being said, while Canon Divergence isn't an overall winner, it has a full 149 votes in the 'Dig it' category; so, while we may generally prefer canon, we're willing to be led on a garden path away from it. We just want canon to be within shouting distance, at least.

Canonical Character Variants

Here's where the survey gets more complex. I've always been interested in how and why people are fandoming about things, and simple 'yes/no' surveys rarely dig into that meat. The point of the superego/ego/id separation is to really interrogate -- hey, do you like to read about (for example) soulless!Sam because you find it interesting on a high-minded level, or because your heart-strings are getting tugged even if you think it's kinda dumb, or just because it makes you so hornt-up you can't think straight? All are valid, and all are possible simultaneously, but it's interesting to prod at to see how the interest is working. You might also just be like, eh, it's fine, or GOD, STOP, and that's fine too. So, with all that said:

Superego winners:

demon powers!Sam (202 votes)

soulless!Sam (177 votes)

blood addict!Sam (160 votes)

Y'all like to really brain about how Sam is fucked up. I get it.

Ego winners:

Trials of Hell!Sam (186 votes)

blood addict!Sam (180 votes)

demon powers!Sam (161 votes)

Still all Sam, and no surprise that his saintly pale sleeplessness is winning the heartstrings battle.

Id winners:

demon!Dean (205 votes)

demon powers!Sam (175 votes)

blood addict!Sam (165 votes)

Again, no surprise: fandom girlies (gn) love their bad boys, lol. Soulless snuck in at #4 here with 163, presumably because working out still wearing a belt was juuuust dorky enough to kick him off the podium; #5 was Smith & Wesson at 162, probably because if they'd been left in that AU for ten more minutes they would have been fucking over the top of Dean Smith's desk. Glad we're all on the same page, there.

The nopes here were an interesting mix. In the full-on No Thank You category we had Michael!Dean and Gadreel!Sam (with 52 and 53 votes respectively) -- it would be interesting to know if that was due to dread of the storyline specifically, or just how No Bad Wrong it felt to have it happening. These two also led the 'meh' category, although they were joined on the podium of bad by Endverse!Dean (128 Meh votes), which frankly shocked me. Y'all aren't into his thigh holster? C'mon now. Sure, he murders his friends without compunction, but -- thigh holster!

Story Tropes

These ones were fascinatingly all over the place, which is exactly why I wanted to do this. Going to just run down the S/E/I podiums real quick, then 'Hard sell', then No --

Superego winners:

Outsider!POV (211)

Someone Finds Out (191)

Mental health issues (190)

Ego winners:

Mutual pining (252)

First time (242) AND Sick/injured (242)

First time in a long time (235)

Id winners:

Jealousy/possessiveness (224)

First time (218)

First time in a long time (180)

Now, part of what's interesting about these is how they fall off in other categories. Outsider POV wins handily at Superego with 211, but then drops all the way down to 92 votes at Id -- which isn't nothing, but clearly it's preferred to have a heckin' think about how other people view the incest relationship, rather than thinking it's just So Hot that people might. Similarly, while people do think it's so so hot for one brother or the other (or both!) to be possessive at 224 votes, when it comes to the superego that drops right down to 134 votes, presumably as the brain wakes up and goes RED FLAG!

Entering the land of no thank you, we shall have two anti-podiums:

Real hard sell:

Infidelity (127)

magic/powers!Dean (125)

Unrequited/no relationship upgrade (110) AND "Carver Edlund" fandom

This is a much more mixed bag. Infidelity and Unrequited are no surprise here, because it Feels Bad, Man; magic!Dean also not really a surprise, given that most of our respondents prefer being closer to canon, and Dean is very much our mundane buddy in the show as presented. (A delightful buddy, but a distinctly nonmagical one.) Carver Edlund fandom makes me laugh mostly because it's such a bananas thing to exist in the show. Sam and Dean reading big bang fics about each other? Collectively we just... don't know what to do with that. Weird.

Squick/No/Maybe one exception:

Permanent character death (140)

Infidelity (108)

Eating disorders (102)

Again, no surprise in the anti-winners of 1 or 2 here, but number 3 surprised me, personally. ED fic used to be a pretty big wedge of common tropes that people would seek out. Perhaps it's gotten less popular over the years? Or perhaps just that the people who like it REALLY like it and so chat about it out loud, while those who don't quietly bury it in sand, lo as a cat does with their leavings.

Most extreme delta in 'general interest' (whether that be S,E, or I) to 'ehh' (whether that be Hard Sell or Squick) is first time. Y'all loooove your first time.

Sexy Tropes, Vol. 1

This is where I really wanted to know if people could pull apart their interests between brain and heart and guts. Hopefully people were honest, as requested. Some of them we know are slight liar answers, because the hits on AO3 tell a story that can't be refuted -- nevertheless, here's what people were willing to admit to.

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Bedsharing (158)

Incest kink (139)

Size kink (133)

your friendly neighborhood survey creator is jumping up and down going 'wooo' that size kink made the podium. also I hope everyone understood that incest kink meant, like, indulging in the incest of it all via 'oh you're so totes my brother and i want to suck your dingle for that reason specifically', but I realize that could've been clearer.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

shameless bottom!Dean stuff (151)

switching (147)

voyeurism (138)

the first one here genuinely surprises me considering what I see getting written most often; is this a case of just not being in the right venn diagrams, or the 'easy sell' just not matching up with what people are being sold? Curiouser and curiouser.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

bad/awkward sex (120)

phone sex (114)

in [drug/alcohol] veritas (110)

edging into awkward town in a few ways here: we don't love these, but we can see how it'd be fun. or not fun, in the case of bad sex.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

always-another-gender!AU (84)

multiple Sams or Deans (73)

genderswap (magic) (72)

so, in general, we prefer to keep the penises around and intact, but just one Sam penis and one Dean penis, please. Here, I'm interested that the volume is much lower than in the top category: maxing out at 84 hard sells compared to 158 bulletproof options means that we're willing to give more of these tropes a chance, even if they're not our faves. How accepting we are!

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

always-another-gender!AU (83)

A/B/O elements (65)

multiple Sams or Deans (51)

strong overlap with the hard sell; and, keeping in mind that people were able to choose multiple options, it's possible that some of those were identical votes. Again, please keep the penises straightforward and only two at a time. A/B/O is interesting here, especially given what we know of how well it does on AO3; while it's a big squick for a lot of people, it also has decently high votes in bulletproof/easy, averaging 82 votes. Mixed bag!

Sexy Tropes Vol. 2, Electric Boogaloo

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Possessive/claiming sex (129)

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (116)

Hair pulling (103)

Let's glance back up at the Id winners in the story tropes above, hmm quietly to ourselves, and move on.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (135)

Hair pulling (130)

Possessive/claiming sex (121)

Well, that's boring. So let's expand so as not to be repetitive:

4. Dub-con (116) 5. Dom/sub (113) AND Underage (113) 6. Knifeplay (107)

There we go. Pretty easy to put all of those into one fic, too.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

Blindfolds (128)

Painplay (116)

Shibari/rope play (112)

We're starting to lose interest as accessories come into play. Interesting to compare D/s and its relative success against painplay -- so, tell him what to do, but don't hit him while you're doing it. Fair enough.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

Fucking machines (94)

Vore (80)

Mommy!kink (77)

Entertaining mix here, haha. General feasibility may be rearing its head here. (Also, for my own entertainment: daddy!kink got 67 Hard Sell votes. People generally prefer to keep it as horizontal incest, not vertical incest.)

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

Feederism (164)

Vore (161)

Extreme underage (157)

No surprises here, although some fans of the nibbly variety of wincest may be disappointed by vore's poor placement. Note also that 'extreme' is in the eye of the beholder; we'll leave aside value judgments, as we have for the whole survey, and note that people are not indulging in a version of underage they find to be personally past the line, or at least are not admitting to that.

At a glance, the closest matchup between bulletproof for some and a squick to others is bloodplay, with just 1 vote separating the two categories: 44 bulletproof, 43 squick. Next time someone tries to tell you that 'everyone' likes or doesn't like something, please take it with an entire shaker full of salt.

Dynamic & Position Preferences

I tried to encourage people not to think too hard about this one and just answer on instinct. Who knows if that worked. But here are some overview takes:

Toppy/dominant: Sam takes the lead here, with 69% of respondents being in the 'Love it!' category. Nice. (217 votes)

Dom Dean earned a respectable 52% of 'Love it!' votes (163).

However, I was also interested to check out the inverse --

subby!Sam: 44 'Very no thank' votes (13%) subby!Dean: 27 'Very no thank' votes (8%)

It's interesting to leap way back up and compare that against 'shameless bottom!Dean stuff' doing so well in the rated E categories. Makes you ponder.

Actual sex position: Frequently switching takes the win here, with 61% of the vote (194 votes). Sam always topping edges out if people must choose, with 144 votes; Dean always topping is our lowest choice, with 112.

Service!topping: this is a fairly niche fic type, but it does still exist -- I guess in a world of bottoms someone's got to actually get up and do something, and it is hilariously an almost perfectly even split:

service!top Sam: 50.17% (151 votes) service!top Dean: 51.50% (155 votes)

A healthy percentage of people said they didn't care about these questions either way, and more power to them. However, they were wildly outvoted by those who did.

Multishipping Time

Our final categories are when other people get their grubby hands on Sam or Dean, either canonically(ish) or in our fandom activities.

Canonical relationships for Sam

Jess wins, quelle surprise. :) 161 people Dug It and who can blame them.

Amelia LOSES, shocking no one: 112 people said Fuck That.

Eileen was definitely a mixed bag; her results, in order, were: Meh: 92; Fuck that: 76; Worse than meh: 66; Dug it: 44.

Canonical(ish) relationships for Dean

Note here: it was too unbalanced if we only went with people Dean officially dated. However, the show leaned hard into a few unrequited male relationships for him, which we included here, and no one sent me hate about it so I guess that was fine.

Benny wins the Love It! category with 129 votes, barely edging out Cassie at 122. Benny is best boy, so that fits.

Cas loses with a full 99 Fuck That votes, which is probably what we'd expect from a wincest survey. That said, he also got 93 Dug It votes, so it's a pretty balanced showing.

Poor Lisa sits firmly at Meh with 148 votes. It's not that we hate you, Lisa; we just don't really know what to do with you. Which is pretty much how the relationship went in the show.

Shipping Sam like FedEx

We returned to the S/E/I model for shipping as we did for tropes, because it means something very different to go 'oh sure, I can see how that would be interesting' vs saying 'I want them to fuck rawnasty and I don't care why they're doing it.' Apologies if I left out your favorite side-ship but, shit, there's only so much time in the day.

So, we return to the podiums:

Superego:

Ruby (132)

Rowena (121)

Cas (102)

Ego:

Rowena (121)

Cas (106)

Ruby (90)

Id:

Ruby (125)

John (121)

Rowena (118)

So that was going on sedately until Dad came in like a hammer. Fascinating. On the other hand:

No:

Lisa (234)

Donna (222)

Claire (219)

Interesting to me that these three are ladies that Sam theoretically could have got up in but people are not into it, regardless. This is slightly different to Dean's 'no' category -- spoilers for three inches of screen space!

Dean, Shipped by UPS

Superego:

John (129)

Benny (115)

Lisa (99)

Ego:

Benny (134)

John (116)

Lisa (102)

Id:

John (147)

Benny (128)

Crowley (114)

Well. That tells a slightly different story, ahem. Enjoy the various tropes that will be applied, Dean! And then we get:

No:

Amelia (245)

Kevin (223)

Gabriel (217)

Comparing to the Sam 'no' above -- these three are slightly more 'traditional' Sam ships, though the wincest shippers are nevertheless not into them for Sam, either. Dean literally never spoke to or saw Amelia on screen, so it'd be a determined shipper who'd make that happen. Not undoable, though!

Conclusion

Syke: there isn't one to be made. This really shows how diverse the taste is in the wincest community, or at least in the wincest community that a) happened to see this survey over the last five days and b) bothered to take it. This particular group leans slightly toward e.g. toppy Sam, or slightly toward switching, but when you look at raw numbers what you see is that at least one person LOVES every single one of these things, and at least one person fucking HATES every single one of these things, and so -- so what? Write what you want. If you see a niche of something that you love where you feel like not enough people are writing or reading, try to fill it. If you're worried "no one" will like it, well -- you're wrong. Someone will. It just needs to get seen by the right people.

That's where fandom comes in, to spread the love even if something isn't bulletproof for us -- reblogging a post to say, 'hey, my mutual made this thing, look at it!' What a joy it'd be if someone saw it and loved it to absolute shattering bits, and then found their little bulletproof community, and happiness was made. What's the point, if we're not making each other happy.

Thanks for participating if you did, and reading all this if you did. Here's a link to a google sheet (read only) with all the tables of raw data if you're interested. I'll post some of the more entertaining fill-in answers later.

s&d shipping survey results: November 1, 2023 - Google Sheets

[libraryofneith]

Old Dog, New Tricks (Sandor Clegane x Female Reader)

Summary: After Sandor Clegane is rescued from the Stranger's door, he is forced to consider a future without violence, without abuse, and without servitude. Can he find a new purpose? Can he help more than he has harmed? And can he share a purpose with anyone else?

Fic Tags/Warnings: whole fic is 18+, minors DNI, cursing, violence and gore, eventual smut, some serious smutage, takes place season 6 onwards, canon divergence, last season what last season?, reader has a name, third person POV, grumpy x sunshine reader, sunshine character x sunshine protector, i am a sucker for the "grumpy old man who's mean to everyone except this one special person to whom he is unbelievable sweet" trope

Notes: this is not my first time writing game of thrones fanfic, nor my first time writing for this character, but it is my first time uploading for this character on tumblr. Those of you familiar with my work will know I've got another WIP and don't worry I've not forgotten it! I've already got 12 chapters for this so hopefully won't keep you waiting too long for updates. And won't keep you waiting too long for the smut which let's be real is why most of us are here, smut kicks in at chapter 11 and then we do not stop till dawn, I started this years ago, like pre pandemic years ago. Largely forgot about it until I discovered an old memory stick with a bunch of unfinished stories and now i'm back on my game of thrones bullsh!t. Might even re-upload an old AO3 fic of mine that I deleted years ago because I stopped liking it. Who knows? Anyways, that's enough rambling from me. On with the story, and as per, like and reblog to increase visibility and let me know if you want to be tagged when this story updates.

Fuck. Buggering fucking hell. Buggering shitting seven hells this hurts! I. Hurt. Everywhere. There’s something… something I need to think about. I said I’d watch over it… what is it? Eyes. I can see eyes. Someone’s here with me. Is it that big bitch? Bugger it all I can’t see properly! Who are you? What do you want? I can’t fight. I can’t fight. What the hell am I going to do? Bloody hell! What is it I’m forgetting? They. Whoever they are… they’re giving me something. A drink. Probably poisoned. Fuck I’m thirsty. But I can’t. They want to kill me. Shit I can feel it. I can’t fight them. Leave me alone! I don’t want your poisoned piss. Oh. It’s water. Fuck. Shit me. I feel like lead. I need to sleep. I can’t. They’ll run me through first chance they get. I’m drifting. I can’t stop. Maybe that water was poisoned after all. To hell with it. I’m ready. At least I’ll die in a bed. At least I think this is a bed. If only I could remember what I’m forgetting. Fuck.

---

I know. Eloquent right? Not to worry dearest reader, by the time you're done with this chapter I'll have the next one up which has more content.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

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1. Hi how are you?🤭 do you have fic recs that are canondiv (fix it would be better) + abo? I’d loveeeeee if xicheng is also involved (im rewatching it yes)

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2. For the next itmf request, I'm interested in fics where at least one character is understanding of (or even defends) wwx for not being ready/emotionally available for romance as quickly as others would like. (I mean... look at his life. Which spoons, exactly, was he supposed to dedicate to romance?) Basically a more sympathetic take on wwx's late blooming.

does it have to be canon timeline or is modern AU okay?

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) In that story, the entire cast knows that lwj wants to marry wwx, except wwx... but waits for him to be emotionally ready and lwj to make a move before they say something.

~*~

3. Hello (◕‿◕) October has got me in a mood for some spooky fics! I would prefer some that are more fun/lighthearted or atmospheric or unsettling/creepy than gory!

thank you and happy halloween! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Grandmaster of Demonic Party Games by Trickster_Angel (M, 50k, wangxian, modern, humor, horror, paranormal)

lovely thorns and singing crows by isabilightwood (E, 37k WangXian, Modern AU, Addams Family Vibes, meet cute at a funeral, Madam Lán Lives, Light Horror, Curses, Possession, Fluff and Humor, Developing Relationship, Found Family, Weirdo4weirdo wangxian, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs) Addams family spooky/wholesome vibes!

~*~

4. ITMF canon divergence/ canon compliant/ canon era: wangxian wedding fic like twelve moons and a fortnight Verse. Preferably long fics. I mean the wedding should be there, but it can be / cannot be the main focus of the fic. I don't mind either way.

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, JC & JL, Post-Canon, POV JC,JC is Bad at Feelings, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Weddings, Wedding Planning, Some politics, Complicated Relationships, Brothers, let's do some HEALING and RELATIONSHIP BUILDING, jc and lwj still don't like each other very much, Angst with a Happy Ending, some people? plan weddings?? to cope???, Podfic Available)

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 70 k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) Read tags and warnings, but big on world building and feat wangxian wedding

~*~

5. Hello, I love this community and the work the mods do for it! For the next In The Mood For, could I get recs for Wangxian with Sugar Daddy LWJ? Doesn't have to be explicit or a formal sugaring arrangement, just the vibes is also good. @aralintheobsessive

All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 51k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators)

Baby, You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet by TriviasFolly (E, 79k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, modern, ABO, mafia au, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Omega LSZ, Crime, Clans, Sects are Clans, Feral WWX, Feral Omegas, once again making WWX a feral murdering machine, Nurse WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Possessive Behavior, Possessive LWJ, WWX plays with his fem side, feminine WWX, wwx's cannon desire to be a sugar baby/trophy wife, Breeding Kink, Mpreg, wwx tries to use lwj but catches feels, and lwj knew what he was doing all along, wwx posing as mxy, wwx 'secret' identity, meandering self indulgent plot, WWX and LWJ have dating histories)

A Sure Thing by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 95k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sugar Daddy, Sex Work, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Bondage, use of sex toys, boundary setting, Relationship Negotiation, many baths, Barebacking) A Sure Thing by vesna is one of my absolute faves

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6. Hello Mods! I just watched a beautifully heartbreaking animatic and now I really just have to ask if you know any fics where WWX specifically is the one to hide little A-yuan away before the siege?

thank you in advance! hope you have a lovely day!

Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

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7. Hello amazing people! For the next itmf, could you please recommend some extremely kind, soft, sweet or comfort fics? It may be a tooth-rotting sweet love story or a nice and funny one with junior adventures. Preferably something with Wei Wuxian as one of the central characters!

I am interested to see what people usually read when they get sad or depressed or, for example, disturbed by some sad/dead-dovy story and read something extremely comforting which helps to raise the mood and concentrate on positive and happy thoughts. Something that would return you from the pit of distress into fluffy and sweet cloud, if the story makes you hide in your pillow from love, humour and cuteness, it's definitely one. Thank you so much 💜 @shellennium

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Mojo’s bookmark)

can you feel it by lanzhancore (E, 5k, wangxian, modern, Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor, Idiot Lovers, LWJ pets WWX a lot, Crack Treated Seriously)

should i fly to los angeles (find my asshole brother) 🔒 by belovedmuerto (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, JC POV, Reunion fic of sorts, Southern California, Relationship Reveal, Established Relationship, Toddler A-Yuan)

i know who i want to take me home by ScarlettStorm (E, 16k, wangxian, modern, bartender WWX, drunk LWJ, caretaking, meet-cute, fluff, comedy, smut, minor angst, major shenanigans)

Blooming Days by Atsushiis (G, 7k, wangxian, Modern, College/University au, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Kiss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ Has Feelings, Let LWJ talk about his feelings agenda, Romance, Falling In Love, Wangxian are softer than a baby bunny, gratuitous handholding, Give LWJ hugs agenda, LWJ Protection Squad, Spanish Translation Available)

a baby rabbit is called a kitten and other fun facts by aurora_chiroptera (G, 11k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, modern, kid fic, youtube/social media au, Mutual Pining, NHS uses they/them pronouns, JZX is a trans lesbian and uses she/her pronouns, Child LSZ, Long-Distance Relationship, Fluff, and bunnies, Soft wangxian, Good Parent WWX, Single Parent WWX, this also in part became a psa about rabbit care? who knew, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Nonbinary NHS, LWJ Has Friends, set in the US)

The tea to my heart by blackmorphos (T, 83k, wangxian, modern, Fluff, Developing Relationship, LWJ makes a friend, A-Yuan gets a much bigger part than planned, A-Yuan is very cute, WWX is cute too, angst but it in the past, a drunk scene, Lots of Tea, some steam buns, Falling In Love)

The Art of Communication by mrcformoso (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Meet-Cute, Engineering Student WWX, Music Student LWJ, Swimmer WWX, Martial Artist LWJ, POV Outsider, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Communication Issues, But Wanxian Makes it Work, LWJ has limited words, WWX has too many words, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Love Languages, Requited Love) for tooth rotting fluff

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Former JZ/WWX, Minor NieLan, Minor XuanLi, No Powers, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cuter story than the summary makes it out to be, Feel-good) for comfort comfort comfort

Three changes. by orange_crushed (M, 18k, wangxian, fluff, hijinks & shenanigans, cloud recesses shenanigans, no war au, everyone lives au, romantic comedy, fade to black, friends to lovers, falling in love, harm to animals, non-graphic violence, sparring, developing friendships, hurt/comfort, first time)

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner (E, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Falling In Love) when you want it just to all go well for wx for once

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8. Helo!!! I'm in the mood for a fic (preferably not modern AU, just canon setting) where Wwx is either a brother figure or a father figure to Mxy. I just wanna see Mxy being taken care of by Wwx.

no one ever said the single-plank bridge had to be walked alone by rosemu (T, 174k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect au, Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies au, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Fluff, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Slow Burn, LWJ and WWX get to be Dads together, the healing power of homoerotic flute/guqin duets, Happy Ending) WWX recruits MXY as a disciple after JGY kicks him out of the Jin sect

The storm comes and goes (and I keep walking) by Naamah_Beherit (M, 41k, LSZ & WWX, MXY & WWX, LSZ & MXY, WWX & WN, WWX & OCs, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Blood and Injury, Reunions, POV Multiple, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Identity Reveal, POV Outsider, No Romance, Mojo's post here)

i’ll take a secondhand monster by Stratisphyre (T, 24k, MXY & WWX, MXY & JGY, LWJ & LSZ & MXY, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Bullying, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kid fic, Minor canonical character death, Injured WWX, Earn Your Happy Ending)

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9. Hi! For the next ITMF, could you recommend me

A) a failed ambush at qionqi path. Like WWX didn't come to the celebration/WWX and JZX alive

B) a succesful one. Like WWX dies/WWX, JZN, JZX dies (all of them dies)

Thank you!!! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

All these are a mix of A & B, in the sense that the ambush fails (WWX & JZX live), but WWX is assumed dead at first & the cultivation world reacts as if he is. So a little of both depending on how you look at it.

in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, WangXian)

when you’re doing all the leaving (then it’s never your love lost) by tardigradeschool (T, 26k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Fix-It, the inherent eroticism of under robes, Golden Core Transfer)

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

9A)

Home and the Heartland by Witch_Nova221 (T, 210k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, Burial Mounds, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Slow Romance, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self-Discovery, Golden Core Reveal, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, the burial mounds aren’t always a happy place, but wangxian do their best) Has LWJ finding out about the ambush in advance & intervening

9B)

ius in bello by Lise (T, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tearjerker, Sad Ending, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not A Fix-It, POV JC, [Podfic] ius in bello by flamingwell)

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10. Hi! Thank you for running this blog, I’ve found so many good fics from here.

I want to ask, for ITMF, do you have any fics where there’s a lot of world building, especially with cultivation (demonic or otherwise). An example I could think of is ‘Talking is Better than Silence’ by KuroiWrites, and ‘Flute in Wartime’ series.

If that’s too restrictive, could I ask for general world building ones. Long fics preferred.

Thank you very much!!

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, wangxian, modern cultivation, music, kid fic, action/adventure, canon typical JGY behavior, slow burn, fluff & angst, happy ending)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 712k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) Goes into lots of detail about how talismans work & how scholars go about presenting & selling their work

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 70 k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) (link in #4) Read tags and warnings, but big on world building and feat wangxian wedding

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11. currently reading cherry cultivation by bengsi, and now i'm in the mood for fics with characters who can read minds :D

Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people’s lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc) JC drinks a potion that allows him to hear lustful thoughts during CRSA & it goes exactly how you'd expect

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12. Noncon tw

Fic where autistic lan wangji or autistic lan xichen gets gangraped and has a meltdown during the rape?

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13. Hii! For the next itmf, do you have any fics where lwj and/or wwx get hit on or flirted with by other people and what their reaction is, while they are both (lwj and wwx) in a relationship with each other. Thank you💕

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14. ITMF fics where A) there's scene like or feels like - someone hit/tortured/injured/or something bad to wwx and wwx is like ' oh no you're so dead. My brother is going to kill you. He's going to fkin tear you apart '

Or B) something with protective strong bro jc.

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15. Hi! Me again, hahaha. This is for ITMF. ☺️

Looking for the fic about the LWJ curse, it's made me want to read more fanfics where LWJ gets cursed and WWX helps him. If it's the Lan sect or the Cultivation world that is cursed also interests me. The thing is WWX helping people and happy endings please. 🙏

My favorites are the ones that take place before WWX dies, but the fics post-Canon are welcome too. Thank you! 🥰💜 @wangxiansgirl

green sleeves growing cold by mistergoblin (G, 17k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fairy Tale Elements, Mild Angst, Fluff, jealousy & misunderstandings, curses as an excuse for more Yearning, LWJ POV, LWJ centric, Repression, No War AU, Touch-Starved, Everyone lives, Happy Ending)

moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

Unavoidable by diamondbruise (T, 18k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Amnesia, Jealousy, LWJ just is like that idk what to tell you, Misunderstandings, Falling In Love, Again, Happy Ending, it's that thing where they're married but lwj can't remember wwx and they meet again)

A Curse of a Different Color by nickel710 (G, 35k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Curses, Curse Breaking, Asexual polyamory, Repressed LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drunk LWJ, Falling In Love, WWX Being an Idiot, Non-explicit vomit, just a tiny reference to it, Anxiety)

💖 I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Curses, Intimacy, Yearning, Happy Ending, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Immortality, Fluff, Angst)

beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 12k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Confessions, Curses, Embarrassment, Vulnerability, LWJ is hopelessly in love, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Angst and Fluff and Smut, all the good stuff basically, Honesty, Communication, Podfic Available, Portuguese translation, french translation, Spanish Translation, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

Blue water by huxiyi (E, 25k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Temporary Amnesia, Case Fic, Curses, Cultivation Sect Politics, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Depression, Discussion of Grief, Discussion of bodies, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Under-negotiated Kink, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 21k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Night hunts, Curses, Intimacy, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, They're married and they're in love) my all time fave cursed!lwj fic

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16. Hello! This is for a future ITMF ask! Are there any fics where WangXian (or just one of them, preferably Wei Wuxian!) met Word of Honor's Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu? Thanks in advance!

The Young Masters of Four Seasons Manor by gaotamao (G, 91k, WangXian, WenZhou, YeRong, Time Regression fix-it, WKX raises monstrous sons, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, No Golden Core Transfer)

Consort Lan by UmiAzuma (M, 19k, wangxian, wenzhou, LWJ & ZZS, WWX & WKX, ZCL & LSZ, JC/LXC, hualian, bingqiu, WWX is a Menace, WWX is the second madam lan, WKX and ZZS are Parents of ZCL, WWX and WKX are besties, everyone is baffled at how pretty WWX is, Crack, WIP)

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17. First, thank you to the mods & thank you in advance to everyone for the recs! &lt;3 For the next ITMF: I have two requests! A) Any fic that involves babytrapping in any capacity; and B) fic with onesided-cheng/xian (jc has feelings for wwx, wwx doesn't reciprocate) and endgame wang/xian <3

17A)

truly a love story for the ages by sweetlolixo (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Omegaverse, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, slight daddy kink, Crack, Pregnant WWX) my very favorite UNINTENTIONAL mutual baby trapping fic 💕

17B)

Bitter Endings; New Beginnings by miixz (T, 7k, wangxian, WN & WWX, major character death, ABO, Arranged Marriage, Unrequited Love, Stalking, Not JC Friendly, Unrequited JC/WWX, Alpha JC, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, No War au, Wēn Remnants Live, Brothers WWX & WN, Light Angst, Fluff, Falling In Love, endgame wangxian)

Meant to be (but not the way I wanted) by sekhmetpaws (E, 49k, wangxian, one-sided JC/WWX, JL/LSZ, modern, ABO, One-Sided Relationship, Abusive Relationships, feelings feelings feelings, Most of them are, Angst, Not between wangxian, Teen Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, kicked out, Discussion of Abortion, Alpha JC, Omega WWX, Mpreg, not Jiang friendly, Alpha LWJ, Not JC Friendly, Wangxian are very happy here)

you can have my absence of faith by Anonymous (M, 3k, wangxian, one-sided JC/WWX, rape/non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Accidental Voyeurism, JC is entitled, possessive JC, Dark JC, LWJ reflects on his parents, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Sunshot Campaign, Internalized Homophobia, Coming Out, LWJ POV, Not JC Friendly)

his right hand man 🔒 by Anonymous (E, 3k, wangxian, one-sided JC/WWX, rape/non-con, not JC friendly, Dark JC, One-Sided Attraction, Past Rape/Non-con, Wangxian's canon kinks, Consensual Non-Con, Rape Roleplay, Don't Try This At Home, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Jealousy, Homophobia, Pseudo-Incest, Canon Typical Classism, Heavy Angst, Dysfunctional Family, specter of dark LWJ if vengence counts as dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Vent!fic, Unreliable Narrator, let WWX be angry, Past Child Abuse, Anger)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[pedgito]

Modern! Enjolras loves it when you're dressed up to go somewhere to a fancy dinner or if he has to go to a meeting that morning and you both have a shag fest and you leave lipstick all over his dick. He keeps it like that for the rest of the day, not even caring if it stains his underwear just to be reminded of you. He comes home so needy and ready to go again because you've been on his mind all day. (I may need a fic about this if you're up to it...)

author’s note: okay, i’ve seen so much about modern!enjolras all over here and twitter and i’m obsessed. i’ve kinda just integrated him into current society the way that made the most sense but this fic is very much not about that, trust me lol.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), canon divergent, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving, f mentioned) modern!enjolras, married/established relationship, just lots of smut with no plot pls forgive me.

word count: 1.6k

His rhythm of work was inherently stressful.

Long, grueling meetings that sometimes got him nowhere, stunlocked on a single argument that could last for days, if not weeks, a constant state of trying to prove himself—he was younger but that didn’t make him any less wise.

Although, he was in fact, insatiable. It was always more intense during the big company dinners, thousands of pitches to be made, conversation to be had, all kinds of pressure resting on his shoulders.

But there you were, the one thing that kept him above water.

Some days he just needed an ear, someone to listen to him talk and rant for hours at a time, and you were there. Other times he needed a nice meal and quiet time with you, cuddled up on the couch in your spacey loft apartment—he made good money despite the stresses he was under; being such a vivid, passionate politician paid off in those ways.

On occasion, he’d really need that boost of energy, enthusiasm—or confidence, whatever he liked to call it. But really, it was just an excuse to have you bent over the counter in your kitchen, wine glass perched against his lips as his trousers pooled around his ankles, your dress lifted up just far enough that he could gain access, his large hand disappearing under the material as he gripped at your hip, fingers digging into the flesh so tight it makes you grunt in pain, the sharp slap of his hips pressing you against the cold marble.

“Tell me about your day,” He demands, emphasizing his question with a rough thrust that has your palms flattening against the countertop, “did you get much done for the dinner next week?”

Right—the dinner. The dinner Enjolras had so graciously agreed to host, forgetting that all of the planning would fall on you between his busy schedule and complete disorganization. He was a lovely person, a great husband, but he wouldn’t be able to function without you.

You nod weakly, murmuring a soft, “Uh huh.”

“Then tell me.” He urges, swallowing down the last sip of wine before allowing it to clatter amongst the other dirty dishes—the ones you’d been in the middle of washing when he came home, very insistent as he pulled your underwear down, red and dark like the silk ascot that was tied so pristine around his neck.

They were his favorite.

“I was—I was figuring pasta and desserts.” Enjolras nods, moving you upright with his hand over your lower abdomen, head resting over your shoulder as he breathes into your ear, low and gravely as he’s nearing his own end faster than usual.

The pent up frustration and stress was the problem.

“And lots of alcohol,” You stress, a sated smile pulling at your face as his fingers find your clit, rubbing at the small bundle of nerves until you’re gripping the clean white of his dress shirt, rutting your ass even further against him and shoving him as deep as he could go, “get them—get them drunk and make them spill all their secrets, right?”

Enjolras laughs, a confirmation to your question and good sign that he was relaxing a bit, his pace unfaltering as he groaned tightly, gritting his teeth in an attempt to hold off his own orgasm until you reached yours—luckily you weren’t far off.

“Still have that speech tonight?” Another subtle nod, “Good. Make me come and it'll be that much harder for you to forget about me while you’re talking about—laws and taxes and whatever boring stuff you boys go on about.”

Enjolras tsks softly, “We’re trying to get fair and equal opportunity in less fortunate communities, love. It’s a lot more than just taxes and laws—are you sure you’ve been listening to me?”

“I’m teasing.” You pout, his fingers quickening as your warm, tight walls clench around him, body tingling with euphoria as your orgasm hits you, moaning loud and desperate as your toes nearly lift off the floor at how hard he’s fucking you now, free hand turning your face to meet him in a messy kiss, red lipstick smearing over his plush pink lips and pale cheeks.

He comes quietly like this, mouth closed over yours, as any sounds are swallowed up by you, cunt filled to the brim with cum, thick spurts as his hips slowed to a stop, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he glared at you, your face turned up in a devious smirk.

You were up to something, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“No games, darling.” He practically coos, thumb rubbing over your warm cheeks, “What are you planning?”

He slips out slowly, carefully as you turn to him.

“How long do you need?”

You already knew the answer—only a few minutes.

He was insatiable, as you’d said.

Enjolras tilts his head slightly, a little amused as you crowd him against the island, leaving you nestled in the small space there, bare feet pressed against the hardwood floor.

He’d have to leave again soon, only getting undressed enough to feel comfortable for a brief time.

“A minute or two.” He responds, letting you unbutton his shirt, step by step, delicate fingers working their way down. You kiss his clavicle once, leaving a trail of lipstick stained kisses as you trailed down, careful not to stain his shirt.

“Tell me about your day.” You insist, a deep chuckle in response at your demand.

“So much of the same,” He sighs, sifting gentle fingers through your hair, watching as you sunk to your knees before him, his softening dick slowly rising again, kisses trailing down his thighs, around his groin, leaving all the evidence of you in their wake, “really hoping this dinner proves some effort on my part—they still think I’m naive, some kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Well, you did come from money, Enjolras.” You remind, “You parents were well-known, you've been spoonfed your whole life with no consequences—but you’ve proven so much.”

There’s a soft head pat of appreciation as you peer up at him.

“No regular man could care about a women’s pleasure that much,” You joke, watching his face split into a grin, “or treat them as sweetly as you do, darling. You’re so unselfish it scares me sometimes.”

You grab him tightly, rubbing your thumb on the vein the runs underneath, pulling back the skin of his uncut cock as your tongue darts out, licking slowly around the thick head.

“Not sure I have anything left.” He says honestly, cradling your head regardless, hand slowly trailing to cup underneath your chin, feeling him stretch out your mouth, nudging his cock a few inches deeper as you part your lips. “But, I’ll try my best.”

And he does, being as obedient as he can as you take your time, having to resist the urge to fuck your face right then, bring you to the edge until you’re drooling around his cock and in tears, still begging for him to give you everything he had.

His moans are soft and low but long, fingers squeezing at your hair when you move too deep too quick, his hips rocking subtly with your mouth as you swallow him.

“Fuckfuck—“ He curses, free hand gripping the island until his knuckles are white, his cock pulsing against your tongue. “You’re fucking mad, you know that?”

You nod slightly, lips pressing to leave a red ring of lipstick around his cock as he feels himself approach his second orgasm—it’s quick and fleeting, high off the heels of his previous one but it’s something, and he really can’t resist the sight of your mouth around his dick.

An hour later he’s back out the door, meeting coworkers for dinner and regretting the choice the moment he kisses you goodbye, your still disheveled figure departing back into the apartment.

And it doesn’t help that he has to think about his body littered in small reminders of you, devouring you the moment he gets home that night, dragging you to the edge of the bed and going down on you until you can’t take it anymore, shoving his face away in blissful agony.

He promises to let it be for a week, a time to focus on the busy things you’d had planned—and it’s torture, specifically for him. He notices your tighter outfits for work, the ones that hug your body just right.

You’re doing it on purpose and he knows it.

So, come the fancy dinner Enjolras had promised to his coworkers and important peers above him, he can’t help but take a moment as everyone is downing the alcohol in troves, the low roar of old, classic music—the kind that he loved so much, and idle conversation—that he shoves you in the small half-bath, forcing the thick material of his ascot into your mouth as he lifts you onto the sink and fucks you like he’s been waiting years for this, leaving light, purple bite marks that will be an absolute pain to explain later.

But it doesn’t matter, because Enjolras could do just about anything and you’d wear it with pride—the confidence he oozed was contagious and ever apparent, a salacious grin on his face as he stared at you, your eyes falling shut from how intense the pleasure was.

“Quiet, darling.” He warns, “I am a man of my word, I’m just giving you what you asked for—as if I didn’t know what you were trying to do all week.”

“You’re all the same,” You patronize playfully, “so weak for women the second they pay you any attention.”

“I’m only weak for you, mon amour.”

He doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night either, always a gentle hand on your thigh under the dinner table during the most dull conversation, reminding you that despite his course of career, everything about him was so much more exhilarating in comparison.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[capnmachete]

Johnny Davis x plus-size fem!OC (Period piece -- mid-1960s, Bikeriders universe but canon-divergent)

PART 8: You Came, You Saw, You Conquered An envelope, a nickel tour, and a kiss. Apologies for the long-ass chapter! But couldn't see cutting it off any sooner :-) Probably gonna add this over on AO3 at some point as well.

By-request tags: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler; @zablife; @lou1333; @potter-solomons, @hoodeddreams13 Thanks you guys for reading and for your wonderful comments! If anybody else wants to be tagged, just LMK.

(Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7)

Part 8: You Came, You Saw, You Conquered It ain’t the answer you expected.  But it ain’t necessarily a bad answer either.  Actually it ain’t really an answer at all, not just yet.

“Go!!” Sharlette hisses, flappin’ her hands at you, when you go back in the kitchen to ask if you can take a break for a few minutes.

“He wants to show me somethin’,” you explain, lookin’ to Gus. 

“I bet he does,” Gus grumbles.  “Bet I know what it is, too.  Truck driver ast a girl to come outside so he can show her somethin’ –”

“Oh, shut up,” you and Sharlette tell him, both at the same time.  “It ain’t like that,” you tell Gus, cuttin’ your eyes at him – too purely wound up to notice the fact that he’s tryin’ to look out for you, in his own pain-in-the-behind way. 

“Alright,” he grumbles.  “But you ain’t back in ten minutes, I’m comin’ out there after you,” he warns you, shakin’ a spatula. 

“What’re you gonna do, flip the man sunny-side up?” Sharlette asks him, snappin’ her gum.  “Go on, hurry up with that dang bacon already; I got people waitin’.”

—-

It’s the littlest bit chilly outside, the first hint of fall creepin’ in.  The Peterbilt is parked a little ways across the lot; the wind swirls your apron around as you and Johnny crunch across the gravel together.  It’s not a long walk, not really, but it feels like an almighty serious one.  Johnny’s quiet, don’t say anything else yet.  He's still holdin’ your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  That helps; it settles the jitters in your stomach a little bit. “I don’t usually do this kinda thing,” you tell Johnny.  “I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m some kind of a lot lizard.”  You look down at your two pairs of feet – your tired ones in comfy saddle oxfords and bobby socks, Johnny’s scuffed-up workboots – movin’ in tandem as you walk.

“Nah.  Why would I think that?  If I thought that, I wouldnt’a asked you out here,” he tells you, with a quick glance over.

And you reckon that’s true.  First of all, Gus and the owner don’t allow lot lizards.  Once in a while one shows up in town and tries to set up shop, but they get chased off in pretty short order.  And truckers talk.  Word gets around; if that’s the kinda thing you’re lookin’ for, you’re wastin’ your time in LaGrange.  Tiffany’s about the closest thing we got, and she’s just a little slutty, not an actual real-life harlot.

And besides, if that’s all Johnny was after, he sure has taken the long route to get there.  Coulda tried sweet-talkin' you out into the parkin' lot ten times over by now.  Sure has spent a lot of money on coffee and pie, and a lot of time talkin’ and holdin’ hands, just to get somethin’ he coulda had a whole lot faster and easier up the road in Williams, where I-35 crosses Highway 20.

He ain’t been anything but a gentleman so far, kind and quiet.  So you feel safe, walkin’ across the lot to where the big red rig stands.  And besides, you got Sharlette inside peekin’ out the window, ready to send Gus out with his spatula. 

“Good lord, this thing sure is tall,” you remark, when y’all get there.  For all the semi trucks as you’ve watched come and go, you ain’t ever got right up this close to one before.  Mostly because nice girls don’t follow truckdrivers out into the parking lot.  Not usually anyway, but this ain’t a usual kind of thing, so it don’t count.

You stare what feels like straight up; the Peterbilt cab towers over you, all red paint and steel and shiny chrome.  Makes you feel little. You can’t even see in through the window from where you’re standin’.  To be fair, you ain’t very tall, and Johnny’s not a real tall man either, but still.  It is just purely BIG.

“Hang on; I gotta get somethin’,” he tells you.  You’re eager to sneak a peek when he opens the driver’s side door; you’ve always wondered what the insides of the cabs look like and the curiosity’s eatin’ you up a little bit.  And besides, it’s a nice distraction from worryin’ about what you might be about to see.

So it’s a little bit of a disappointment when he circles around to the passenger side instead.  You follow a couple of steps behind.

He’s halfway up – hand on the chrome grab bar, door open and standing on one shiny steel step, leanin’ into the cab and rustlin' through the glovebox, when he half-turns and looks back at you, surprised.  Musta heard your feet shiftin’ in the gravel as you crept up closer.

He smiles and raises an eyebrow.  “You enjoyin’ the view?” And your face turns hot in the dark. Because you wasn’t really lookin’ at his backside – was actually creepin’ up to try to sneak a peek inside the cab, whatever you could see from down below.

Of course now you are lookin’ at his backside.  Because now that it’s been brought to your attention, you kinda can’t help lookin’.  And it ain’t a bad view at all, even if he’s wearin’ the same kind of gray Dickies work pants your daddy wears down at the garage.  Not exactly high fashion, but fills ‘em out nice. Got narrow hips and wide shoulders, nice trim waist. 

Not that it’s exactly ladylike for you to be noticin’ that kind of thing, even if you are, so you rearrange your face and sidestep a little.  “I was just tryin’ to see past you.  I swear,” you explain.  “I ain’t never seen the inside of a truck cab before; I always wondered what all it looked like.”

“No?” he asks, and looks down at you, surprised.  And then reconsiders, thinkin’ about the kind of girls who do get up close and personal with semi trucks.  “No, I guess maybe you ain’t.”  He blinks, thinkin’ for a minute, then fetches somethin’ out of the glovebox – a big manila envelope – and hops down off the step into the gravel.

And loses the serious look he’s been wearin’ for a minute.  “You wanna take a look inside?” he asks, and grins.  “C’mon, Miss Corinna,” he tells you and steps back.  “Go on up, take a look around.  Sit behind the wheel if you want.”

It certainly ain’t the reason you came out here, but after years of watchin’ one truck after another rumble into the lot and away again, curiosity’s about to eat you up.  And you’ve done already walked out here in full view of the folks in the diner; anybody who’s liable to think you’re doin’ something you shouldn’t be doin’ is probably already thinkin’ it anyway. 

Besides, it’s a nice distraction from your own nerves, which are janglin’, still waitin’ to hear why he rushed out of the diner so doggone fast last time.  And why he ain’t been back in so long.  So why not?  “You sure….?” you ask him.

“Sure I’m sure.  It ain’t like you’re gonna crank it up and steal it.  Are ya?” he asks you, teasin’, with a slow smile, eyes sparklin’ in the sodium lights. 

“Cain’t even if I want to,” you tease back, relieved at the break in the tension.  “You still got the keys,” you point out, with a laugh.

“Oh yeah,” he says, and looks at ‘em like he’s surprised, then grins.  “I guess I do.”  

Not like you’d know how to drive the dang thing anyway; you’d be scared to death to try.  And it’s a trial even gettin’ high enough up on the steps to see inside properly, as you find out a second later.  “Oof,” you say, after one failed attempt; that first step is a big one, and it ain’t the most ladylike thing, trying to climb up to see the actual cab. 

Johnny chuckles.  “Yeah,” he says.  “That first one’s a doozy if you ain’t used to it.”  He stands next to you, shows you how to latch onto the chrome grab bar and the door handle, the other grab bar inside.  “Don’t let go until you’re all the way up the steps,” he cautions you, “it’s a long way down and that gravel ain’t soft.” 

And sets one warm hand on your back, protective.  It makes you feel a whole bunch of things.  First of all it reminds you he’s a daddy with two little girls; makes you kinda imagine how he might be with them.  And it makes you feel all bubbly inside – first time he’s touched anything besides your hand, and it’s an almighty distraction.

But you ain’t lookin’ to fall on your rear end in front of God and everybody, so you try not to pay too much attention to that warm palm against your back,   And try again, and make it up onto the first step, with a not-very-delicate grunt of effort. The second step’s a little shorter.  “Don’t be lookin’ up my skirt, now,” you tell him back over your shoulder, fake-scoldin'.

He laughs.  “I ain’t.  Scout’s honor,” he tells you, and you make that last step into the cab and plop yourself into the seat. It’s a wonder in there – about a hundred dials on the dashboard, and two big gearshifter knobs with at least twice as many gears as you ever seen in a regular car.  A whole lot more complicated than the three-on-the-tree Pontiac parked at home.  A CB radio sets up front in between the seats.

The seats are big and comfy and the wheel’s huge when you slide behind it, makes you feel like a bus driver.  You’re sorely tempted to ask Johnny if you can honk the air horn, but it’s late and you don’t wanna wake up the half of LaGrange that ain’t already out at the football game.  He smiles up at you from the ground when he hears you oohin’ and aahin’.

It’s just as keen as you always thought it would be, and a whole lot more roomy and comfy.  And neat as a pin; for a man travelin’ alone Johnny Davis keeps things pretty tidy.  Just an empty coffee cup and a duffel bag, a St. Christopher medal hangin’ off the rearview. A little plastic Jesus stuck to the dash, and school photos of his two girls on the back of the visor.

And behind you, between the seats, a kind of a hatch behind a curtain, halfway up the back wall.  When you crane around and peek through it’s like a tiny little bedroom – a bunk and a radio, a pillow. A towel hung up; a book layin’ open on mussed-up covers.  Which gets you thinkin' thoughts you probably ought not to be thinkin’ in the middle of a workshift at the diner.

So you clear your throat and turn back around and quit lookin’ before you can think yourself into some kind of trouble.  “You like it up there?" he asks.

And you nod down at him like your head’s on a spring, slidin’ back over the passenger seat.  “It’s the neatest thing I seen in a long time,” you tell him, honestly.  “Even more interestin’ than I thought it would be, and comfy too.  I see why you like it.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, and rubs a hand over his beard.  “It ain’t a bed of roses; I don’t guess anything is really.  But I like it.  And I get to see a lot of places.” 

He pauses a second, lookin’ away, grin fadin’, like he just remembered the envelope hangin’ by his side and the reason why you was out here in the first place.  “Anyways – here,” he tells you. He hands the envelope up to you, ducks his head.  “I didn’t want to bring it inside and flash it around like it was somethin’ – I dunno.  Somethin’ to celebrate.  Felt disrespectful.”  He says it quiet, a hand on the back of his neck, lookin’ away, off to the side at nothin’. 

If curiosity was eatin’ you up before, it’s plumb killin’ you now.  “Should I – ?” you ask.  And when he nods, you open the envelope up and slide a little sheaf of papers out. 

You seen a paper like this before.  Gus had one, for a little while, brought it to work and laid it down in the office by accident.  This one is a little different – got some signatures on it and a big fancy raised seal, a date stamped on one corner.   July 18, 1966, almost two months ago.  State of Illinois, Circuit Court, Lake County, it says.  Judgment of Dissolution of Marriage or Civil Union. You must have a strange look on your face, because he rubs his knuckles across his nose and sniffs, and hurries up to say somethin’ else.  “It’s real important to do things the right way,” he tells you, lookin’ away, hands stuck in his pockets..  “I done things the wrong way around once before, and I hurt some people,” he says, quiet.  “I ain't gonna do that again. You gotta finish one thing all the way, finish it right, before you start somethin’ else.”

You blink at that for a long minute, lettin’ it soak in. He’s pulled out a smoke but ain’t lit it, just turning it around in his hands, and lookin’ down at it.  First time it occurs to you maybe he’s got a little flutter of nerves goin’ on too.  “I wanted to get my head straight, too.  And give things time to settle down.  It don’t look right to start somethin’ new before the ink’s even dry.”

A little warm spot’s popped up in your chest, just a little kernel.  Hopeful but tryin' not to get ahead of yourself.   “What kinda somethin’ new are you lookin’ to start, Johnny Davis?”  You look up at him and find him lookin’ back.

“Well, that kinda depends on you,” he tells you, with a shrug, and one of those up-from underneath smiles. The slow ones, that always feel like they’re just for you, a little secret.  “Was wonderin’ if maybe I could take you out somewheres next time I’m in town.”

It takes a second for that to sink in, and for that little warm spot to take over your whole self!  You feel like you’re just about to bust from excitement.  You’re so full of happy butterflies you’re ready to jump down and do a little happy dance right now.  Except you’re a good five feet off the ground in the cab of a huge truck.  And you’d prolly break your neck and kill yourself, and wouldn’t that be a damn shame now that you’ve got a date with Johnny Davis to look forward to?

It don’t even occur to you yet that next time he’s in town might be anywhere from a week to a couple of months.  Or that there ain’t really much of anywhere in LaGrange to get taken out to.  But none of that matters right now.  

You’re so tickled that it also don’t occur to you you haven’t actually said ‘yes’ yet.  Until he speaks up again. “I mean – I ain’t steppin’ on anybody’s toes, am I?  If you and Smooth Melvin are, like – a thing – “  He says it with a half-smile, like he knows already. But you tell him anyway. “Me and Smooth Melvin ain’t a thing anywhere except maybe in Smooth Melvin’s dreams,” you tell him, smilin’ like you’re about to bust.  “That’s what I was hopin’,” he tells you, grinnin’ right back, eyes all crinkled up like he’s for-real happy. You turn sideways in the big vinyl seat, get your feet settled on the top metal step and a hand on the grab bar..  It’s still a long way down.  “Help me down,” you ask him – holdin’ your free hand out, expectin’ him to take it. “I gotcha,” he tells you, tuckin' the unlit smoke behind his ear.  And he leaves that hand hangin’ right where it is. Steps in and reaches up fits his hands around your waist instead.  Lifts you right off that step like you don’t weigh more than a feather – there’s muscles under those sleeves – and sets you down on the ground gentle as anything.  It’s meant to be gallant and not handsy, you can tell that’s what he’s aimin’ for, but it surprises you and you end up turnin’ it kinda spicy by accident.  You make a little squawk of surprise when you feel your feet leave the step, afraid you're fallin', and reach out to brace yourself on his shoulders.  And kinda halfway slide down his body on the way down to the ground. And end up kinda sorta in Johnny Davis’ arms, skirt rucked up a little.

Which maybe ought to be awkward as hell but somehow it ain’t.  “Sorry, I just – “ you say, flustered, smoothin’ your skirt back down, face goin’ a bunch of shades of pink under the freckles.  Meanin’ to explain how you panicked a little.

He grins down at you, soft-like.  "Does it look like I’m complainin’?” he asks, hands still on your waist.  And damn if they don’t feel every bit as good as you suspected.  Even better if you’re gonna be honest about it.  “So is that a yes?” he asks you, after a real long second.

Holy crap.  “Yes!” you finally remember to say; it comes out in an almost-shout; it makes him laugh.  But in a warm way, not a mean way.  “Yes, that’s a yes,” you say again, voice a little more normal.  Except a little breathy, because bein’ this close and havin’ Johnny’s hands on you is turnin’ that tiny spot of warmth into a slow fire, settin’ up a warm tingle in your belly and spreadin’ into all kinds of places it’s prolly better not to talk about.

“It’s a date, then,” he says, smilin’. “You and me, Miss Corinna.” And you nod yes, but you don’t say anything because all of a sudden you ain’t so good with words either.  You’re near enough to kiss him – close enough to feel warmth comin’ off him, bosom almost brushin’ the front of his workshirt.  All you’d have to do is come a half-step closer and lean in.

And you’re thinkin’ about it, and his eyes are all soft and his hands are warm on your hips, and you’re pretty sure he’s thinkin’ about it too.

It don’t happen right then – out there in the parkin’ lot under the sodium lights.  Another truck pulls in and headlight beams wash over both of you, makin’ you blink in the sudden glare.  And light you both up bright as noontime, and everybody and their momma inside the diner can probably see you both clear as day. 

Which makes you feel a little shy all of a sudden, because people in this town see one little thing, and before you know it, it spreads like wildfire. That's how little towns are.  And because Gus really might pop out here any minute now with his damn spatula, thinkin’ you’re about to get carried off. It don't happen until after you’ve swapped phone numbers and addresses. “I ain't easy to get hold of though," he explains, on account of he’s on the road most of the time.  But it feels good havin’ the number in your apron anyway.  “I’ll call ya,” he promises, “soon’s I know when I’ll be passin’ through again.” And after you’ve crunched your way back across the parkin’ lot towards the diner, hand in hand.  You been outside longer than you meant to be, and there’s more cars in the lot now. You can see through the window the diner's startin' to fill up, the after-football people startin’ to come in.  “I oughta get back to work,” you say, although it’s the last damn thing you feel like doin’ right now.

“Yeah – gettin’ busy in there,” he remarks, glancin’ up through the windows as you get close.  “I don’t wanna keep ya.”  He squeezes your hand and laughs.  “Nah, I’m lyin’ – I do wanna keep ya, but I know I can’t.” 

He flicks his pretty eyes up to the window and back down again.  And thinks a minute, brow all knit up.  “C’mere a second,” he tells you, and takes his feed cap off, sticks it in his back pocket.  And pulls you around the corner of the building into the shadow – not so hard you couldn’t resist if you wanted to.

But do you want to?  Oh hell no you don’t.  And the next thing you know Johnny Davis is gettin’ the goodnight kiss you didn’t give Melvin earlier.  Your back is leant up against the wall; one big warm hand’s braced next to your head and the other one’s tippin’ your chin up, rough-skinned but gentle.  And them lips, all pink and pretty under that mustache?  They are just as soft and warm as you figured they might be, and he tastes like cigarettes and peppermint Life Savers, and the chest where your hands land is solid as anything under the the worn-soft cotton workshirt.  It ain't a sloppy, passionate one – too soon for that, and too public, and he’s a gentleman anyways.  He ain’t sweepin’ you into his arms and bendin’ you backwards and tryin’ to devour you alive like those men on the covers of the silly romance novels.  Or shovin' his tongue in your mouth like a hog rootin' for truffles, like Melvin does, thank God. It's just soft and warm, and it don't last very long. But you feel like you’re about to bust into flames anyway, and he hums under his breath, and you have to get your bearings again for a second when it stops.  And it’s a good thing he didn’t kiss you while you were still sittin’ in that damn Peterbilt, or you mighta ended up in that sleeper bunk. Crawled right on in there yourself and pulled him in after you.   "Mercy,” you mumble, a little flustered, but in the best kind of way. 

“Goodnight, Miss Corinna,” he tells you, smilin’, and brushes your cheek with them soft lips, whiskers tickly. Talks quiet and low, right in your ear. “See you soon.”

It can’t hardly be soon enough, and boy do you have somethin’ to tell Sharlette as soon as you get two seconds to talk.  And you spend the rest of the night walkin’ on air, and smilin’ so big and bright and goofy everybody looks at you like you ain’t quite right in the head.  --- Song inspo: You Came, You Saw, You Conquered, The Ronettes, 1969. Didn't come out until a few years after this chapter is set, but too good not to use. lot lizard: prostitute that hangs around truck stops Also -- for any truck nerds -- Johnny's truck is based on a 1964 Peterbilt 351 needlenose. The sleeper box would have been an after-market add-on, maybe a Mercury.