#i wonder how far i would go if i had an attention span

[ley-med]

Doing the rounds in the ICU and we are discussing a pretty complicated case and The Boss is talking and it's honestly very interesting and finally I can learn more about CVVHD and there's a spot of blood on my shoe oh right that happened yesterday night in the OR I wonder what happened to that lady how she's doing anyway that was a pretty good night shift but I should really get rid of this spot of blood wait *tuning back into the conversation* oh no we are already at the next patient

[gay-dorito-dust]

Love both your Cannibal + Reader series and your Benjicot Blackwood fics, and had an idea for combining them. Someone insults or threatens Reader and Benji goes absolutely feral, like full on Bloody Ben. And Cannibal’s just like ‘okay, so maybe this one isn’t that bad.’

This is probably my longest piece ever to date, so be warned that this will take a bit to get through.

It wasn’t necessarily easy to travel anywhere in the seven kingdoms when you rode a dragon like Cannibal, everyone could see you from miles away due to how big he was that even from a far off distance he was still quite easy to spot. So when you and Cannibal landed in the Riverlands for a moment of rest, you were quickly spotted by three young lads who were sword training in the clearing, the lord of house Blackwood Benjicot Blackwood and Oscar and Kermit Tully.

While scared stiff at first and a lengthy discussion in regards of your reasoning for being in the Riverlands, Oscar, Kermit and Benjicot were more then okay with you staying for a few days whilst Cannibal rested up, with Benjicot even going as far as to offer up Raventree Hall as your temporary accommodation until then.

‘I couldn’t lord Blackwood, that’s far too-‘

‘I insist.’ He said as Cannibal looked at him suspiciously, for the dragon had seen that same look upon the young lords face copied on countless others during your trip across Westeros, you had yet again gained the attention another lord unwillingly; much to cannibal’s dismay as the behemoth huffed smoke from his nose in some form of a indignant snort.

This was going to be a long few days for Cannibal, that was for certain.

And a long few days it was as for the next couple of days you and Benjicot had grown quite close to each other during this time, always being seen together no matter where you went as the young lord showed you everything Raventree had; from the shooting ranges, stables, library and more but your favourite place would have to be the Weirwood and it seemed that Benjicot felt the same as he would always accompany you there, arm in arm as though you were a couple of betrotheds, a thought that had became more and more louder the more time you spent with the sweet and somewhat awkward Blackwood lord.

You even got the pleasure of meeting his aunt, Alysanne Blackwood, someone you thought wouldn’t like you but her eyes pretty much light up upon seeing you both as a smile spreads across her face. ‘It is nice to finally meet you, rider of the infamous Cannibal, my nephew here has spoken quite a bit about you as of recently.’ she said as she looks over at Benjicot, who now had a face as bright and red as the ripest cherries.

‘He has?’ You asked as you too now looked at Benji as he refused to meet your eyes, aware of the fact that Cannibal’s head was poking out to look at him dangerously. Benjicot knew of dragons and their bond with their riders was unlike any other but Benjicot was certain that Cannibal was beyond overprotective of you, making him skeptical of anyone and everyone who showed you the slightest bit of interest.

‘Oh he has and in such vivid detail too.’ Alysanne replied as she smirked at the halfhearted glare her nephew gave her. He had always been too easily read when it came to his poorly concealed feelings for you during your time at Raventree, seeing as she often caught him staring at you with wonder while you looked elsewhere. There was an added softness in Benjicot that was only reserved for you and you alone, and that alone made Alysanne want to get to know you better, to understand what her nephew saw in you to be so captivated in such a short span of time.

‘I believe that’s enough from you dear Aunt.’ Benjicot said as he tried to softly ease you into following him back to the Weirwood, somewhere where he wouldn’t be teased for something he had admitted to in private. Why he ever thought that his aunt would ever choose to keep quiet about this over teasing him -and in front of you no less- he’ll never know but what he did know was that he was on borrowed time before you and Cannibal leave Raventree, leave him and the Riverlands for good. So if he wanted to say anything to you before then, he had to act fast but there was one issue; cannibal.

Cannibal didn’t like anyone from what you’ve told him of the countless stories of your journey across Westeros in search of a peaceful place for you and your dragon both, a place far away from the grasp of the war to come, and so far Cannibal hated every last lord and lady that you had met as he found them unworthy of you and your trust.

‘Cannibal doesn’t believe either side of this war is worth saving? And you’re just going to trust his judgment like that?’ Benjicot asked, curious as to how you hadn’t picked a side unlike him, whose mind was made up almost within immediate effect.

‘I am common born Benji,’ you reminded him, ‘and as far as am aware we are the ones who suffer the most during turbulent times liked these, so why should I be forced to choose a side when all they really want is a wild card to call upon when they’re at a disadvantage.’ You looked over at Cannibal and sighed. ‘All they want is control over him and I’m the key, but if they found a way to do so without me, they’d kill me in an instant.’

Benjicot bristled, anger bubbling in his veins as he then said. ‘I wouldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let them so much as lay a hand on you, I swear it.’ He promised and he truly meant it but much like your dragon, you’ve grown to become distrusting of any word that left a lord or ladies mouth, for they always told the sweetest of lies that you don’t realise until it was far too late.

You smiled bittersweetly at him as you reached over to hold his hand, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. ‘I want to believe you Benji, truly I do, but I just can’t.’ You confessed to him as you stood up with Benjicot following suit. ‘Far too many people have used similar words but haven’t been true to them even in the slightest. I know you’re a honourable man, but I’ve learnt to never give out my trust to those until they’ve earned it.’ You added as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, wanting him to know that he still has some reign over your heart as you took a step back from him, leaving him to realise that this was you saying goodbye; he had ran out of time sooner then he had expected.

‘I’m sorry lord Blackwood, but my time at Raventree hall has come to an end and I thank you for your hospitality but it is time that me and Cannibal leave.’ You were just as sad to leave Benjicot for you finally felt something for someone else that you haven’t experienced in a while, you had fallen for him and that had frightened you and so you’d rather leave and let him find someone else to hold in his heart, despite how painful that would be to witness but you didn’t want to be less astray; not ever again.

And then without another word, you left Benjicot standing under the Weirwood tree, unsure of whether this was actually happening and that he was watching his happiness walk away without him putting up the slightest bit of a fight. He may not fall in love but he knew that when he did he loved hard, and he doesn’t believe that he’ll ever love someone as hard he did you, even if he didn’t say it but Benjicot was certain you knew but were afraid to say it.

Benji knew that he couldn’t keep you here with him in Raventree and while he wanted that to be reality, he knew that reality could be often disappointing and that it would be better to let you and cannibal leave as planned, but he was better off calling himself a coward for the rest of his life if he didn’t at least let you know how he felt. So without a second thought Benjicot bolted down the way you went in hopes of catching up to you in time, pushing himself to go as fast as he could towards the clearing where you first met, all the while his mind raced with all the words he wished to say when he had the chance.

Unfortunately for him it seemed as though the Brackens had gotten to you and Cannibal first, which didn’t help but make him mad, as he saw that cannibal was more then ready to set the Riverlands aflame while you stood in front of him in a protective manner despite the swords being pointed at you.

You were protecting Cannibal at the expense of yourself for you believed that he held more value than you did, whereas Benjicot thought that you were just as valuable as your dragon companion.

‘Bracken!’ Benjicot shouted, causing everyone to look at him as he drew his sword, a crazed look in his eye.

‘Benji?’ You whispered as you watched him take a stand in front of you, shielding you from the very people who had been threatening you into giving up Cannibal, all the while looking like a man possessed by anger and a need for bloodshed.

‘Blackwood.’ The man with brunette hair spat as he trained his sword at Benjicot’s throat, forgetting you and cannibal almost immediately. ‘This business has nothing to do with so.’ Benji scoffed as he took a step forward, allowing for the tip of his rivals blade to be but a hairs breath from piercing his skin. ‘This is Blackwood land.’ he sneered, caring about nothing else but keeping you safe from harm. ‘So of fucking course this is my business, considering that it looks to me that you were about to harm them and their dragon.’

You couldn’t help but watch on helplessly as the tension grew heavy the longer this tense stand off continued between rivalling houses, you could tell through your bond that Cannibal was curious, calm even as he wanted to see who spills the others blood first; the Bracken boy with the brunette hair or Benjicot.

Cannibal do something, anything. You said telepathically to your dragon.

He’s fighting for your honour little one and it would be a dishonour if I were to intervene. Cannibal responded.

You groan you only want to watch the bloodbath and eat who’s leftover. You replied disgruntled.

While that may be a reason but watch young Blackwood closely my dear, for his next move may surprise you as well as I. Cannibal said as you head his words and watched as the Bracken try to attack Benji first, only for Benji to intercept the attack with one of his own that sent the man you now knew as Aeron staggering backwards, all the while Benjicot ran his tongue over his teeth as he smiled chaotically.

It was something that shouldn’t have elicit a reaction out of you but the sight of this side of Benjicot definitely had its..effect over you as you tried to stop the heat from spreading across your cheeks.

. ‘Is that half assed attempt all you got?’ He scoffed, ‘I’m not in surprised, you Brackens fight like a bunch of pussies.’ He continue to goads Aeron, who only scowls and tries to attack Benjicot again but fails as the young Blackwood lord side stepped him before bringing the pommel of his sword down on the Brackens back, causing him to fall pathetically to the ground as his sword fell out of his reach.

‘What’s so important about this bitch and their overgrown reptile that makes you pick up the sword Blackwood.’ Aeron spat as he struggled to get back up. His words seemed to have angered Benji more as he was quick to grab Aeron by the cloak he wore, and then threw him one handedly so that he was forced to look up at Benji, just as he puts his foot on his chest and leans in close with his sword pointed at Aeron’s neck and nicking the skin there.

‘They mean more to me than you’ll ever understand.’ Benjicot said lowly. ‘Their life is worth your more than everyone in house Bracken combined, and I don’t take lightly to when they’re being threatened by the likes of craven little cunts like you.’ He finished before lifting his foot up and brining it down on Aeron’s head, knocking him out completely before looking at you with the soft expression that you were most familiar with, dropping his sword and holding your face between his calloused hands.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked but you were paying more attention to what Cannibal said.

He’s not so bad, little one. The behemoth tells you with pride. Quite the fighter with an insatiable lust for bloodshed, he’s a worthy suitor for your hand.

‘Yeah,’ you tell him, smiling as you held your hands over his own, ‘I’m fine, we both are thanks to you.’ You add and Benjicot smiles as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your forehead without a second thought before resting his head there afterwards, closing his eyes as he sighed in relief. ‘Good. I’m glad.’ He whispered.

‘Benji?’ You asked softly.

‘Yeah?’ He replied, wanting to stay in this moment for a little while longer.

‘I trust you.’ You tell him wholeheartedly, causing him open his eyes to look at you.

‘Really?’ He asks, hoping that this wasn’t a dream.

‘Yes Benji, I trust you-‘ before you could finish those words, Benji had already leaned in for a kiss, which you quickly melted into as you reciprocated his feelings by returning his passion with your own, lips weaving against one another and hot tongues pressing against hot tongues messily.

Everything was perfect until you heard Cannibal speak inside you head.

Little one if you wanted to fuck him, you need only ask for me to leave for a while.

Needless to say cannibal ruined the mood.

‘Cockblocker.’ Benjicot muttered as cannibal huffed smoke at him.

Carful little bird, I can still eat you.

[0097linersb]

Little White Lies (m)

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Genre: Smut, basically pwp, kind of fluff for a bit

Word count: 5k~

Summary: Satoru gets too excited at the thought of being your husband.

Follow me on twitter: marmitasatosugu <3 I´ll proofread this some other day

You thanked God every day that Satoru had the attention span of a 2-year-old considering that you often got away with stuff solely because he was walking around pointing at random clouds or rambling about what movie to watch later. Shoko joked once that you should just leash him after he rushed excitedly to feed some pigeons on the street, but you just laughed it off – you loved the way he was, fully and completely.

Now to quote an example: after a few years of dating, sometimes you found yourself telling a little white lie around, simply because it was so much easier to just call Satoru your husband rather than your boyfriend, especially since it made people take you so much more seriously. It started small, workers had been referring to the man as your spouse for so long that at some point, you just stopped correcting them. It was great, it was practical; people would treat you with more respect and you would have fun inside your little fantasy world.

“My husband will pay for it, the one with the white hair over there.”

“Good afternoon, I´m looking for a gift for my husband.”

“My husband will pick it up later, thank you.”

“Put it on my husband´s tab, please.”

Satoru never caught on to it and you´d much rather that he never did – but once again, the probabilities of it happening were low: if you weren´t holding his hand, he was probably far from you, exploring the big world around him and all its wonders. But oh well, your luck couldn´t last forever.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Y/N,” The receptionist with the Hawaiian shirt smiled once you and Satoru walked inside the resort hand-in-hand. “This must be your husband, welcome to Crystal Waves, Mr. Gojo. Congratulations on the wedding!”

Frozen in place for a second, you couldn´t for the life of you look at your boyfriend. It´s not that you were ashamed, it was a silly little thing that you knew Satoru wouldn´t mind or judge you for, it´s just that… He would tease you so much, you´d never hear the end of it.

You had forgotten all about how when making the reservations, after a long conversation with the lady on the phone, somehow you ended up with free upgrades because apparently it was your honeymoon – Technically, all you said was that the reservation was for you and your husband, she was the one who, probably trying to be nice, commented that she was surprised because you sounded so young, therefore asking if you were newlyweds, so naturally you agreed because the little lie you told was now too far along to take back.

That was almost two months ago, of course you´d forgotten about it. If you hadn´t, you could have just filled Satoru in on the little story, he would love to play pretend, and this was right up his alley. But you didn´t, so before he could say anything, you swallowed down the embarrassment and pretended normality, “Good afternoon, Martha. Yes, this is he.”

You still didn´t look at Satoru, but you heard him thanking her amusedly.

“We´re so glad to have you here,” She smiled as another worker brought you welcome orange cocktails with a beautiful pink flower decorating the glass before guiding you towards the front desk for check-in.

“Did you have a chance to look at all the activities we offer?” Martha asked after you finished signing the paperwork. “For some of the schedules, we ask for the reservations to be made in advance.”

“Yes, that´s understandable. I´m interested in the SPA treatments; we can book it for tomorrow if you have any spots available.”

“Yes, of course. Are we going for the complete package, back massage, facial, scalp treatment, hot stones, body rub…?”

“I think the back ma-”

“Complete package,” Satoru interrupted, tightening the hold on your hand.

“Ok, perfect. 9 AM, 2 PM or 5PM?” Martha asked, clicking away on the computer, smiling up at Satoru for his romantic gesture.

“9 sound goods.”

“Any other plans?”

You waited for Satoru to answer, since he was the one who spent days rambling about some of the stuff he wanted to do, but since he stayed silent, you cleaned your throat and took it upon yourself, “The parasailing one, what days do you have it available?”

“Will it be just your husband or you´ll be going as well?”

“Both of us.”

“Looks like we have an opening two days from now at 3 PM, does that sound good?”

“Perfect, and what about the White Stones Trail?”

“It happens every Monday at 8 AM, should I book it for the two of you?”

“Oh God no, just for my husband, please.”

You didn´t even notice you got carried away in the role until Satoru dropped your hand, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you slightly closed, his thumb rubbing the skin on your side. You still refused to look at him.

“Booked. Anything else?”

“We´d like to go scuba diving on Tuesday.”

“We have a boat leaving at 10 AM.”

“Sounds good. I guess that´s all for now.”

“All set then, these are the keys to your room. The elevator is at the end of the hall to your left, press 10. Your bags are already waiting for you inside. Hope you have an incredible stay and please find me if you need anything.”

You both thanked Martha before you spun in your heels and tried to make a run for it, your escape plan being quickly ruined by Satoru´s hand finding yours once again, holding you close. Taking a deep breath, you accepted defeat and prepared yourself mentally for the next days of hell.

“So…” Satoru started once you were out of earshot from the main desk. You didn´t look at him but you could tell just by the tone of his voice that he was smiling as you walked down the hall.

“Don´t start,” You warned.

“Too late. Husband, huh?”

“Listen, don´t get your panties in a twist-”

“Oh, I´m absolutely getting my panties in a twist.”

“There´s a logical explanation for all of this,” You informed as he pressed the elevator button.

“Which is?”

“I don´t want to talk about it.”

“But you will.”

You sighed, “When I made the reservations, I told them it was our honeymoon so we´d get upgraded and get like, some free stuff.”

The elevator doors dinged open and you walked in, not even being able to appreciate the paradisiacal panoramic beach view inside. Satoru dropped your hand now that you had nowhere to run, leaning against the glass window and crossing his arms to look at you attentively – At least that´s what you guessed since your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

“Y/N, I´m rich,” He stated as a matter of fact, because well, it was true. “You don´t need to lie to get stuff.”

Shit.

He caught you on your semi-lie - and he knew it too by the way there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You shouldn´t have looked at him.

“Fuck, ok,” You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he wouldn´t just accept your answer and move on. Taking another deep breath, you carefully measured your words: “Sometimes, for practical reasons, I just tell people we´re married.”

“For practical reasons?”

“Yes, it makes my life easier in certain situations.”

“And how long have you been doing this for?”

Would this damn elevator never reach your floor?

“A few months.”

“And what are you telling people I am?”

“Are you stupid? If we´re married, you´re my husband.”

“Which makes you, my wife.”

The doors finally opened and Satoru reached for your hand, practically dragging you along with his abnormally long legs as you stared at his back.

“Yes Satoru, that´s the correct term.”

“So, you're telling people that you´re my wife?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, struggling to keep up with his pace and confused at his reaction. You expected insufferable teasing for the next few days and not… Whatever this was.

“Yes Sato – Are you ok? Did you hit your head or something?”

“No,” He finally stopped in front of your room, turning around to look at you with a huge smile on his face as you caught your breath. “I´m just so hard right now.”

“You- You´re what now?” You choked out as he searched his pockets for the magnetic card that opened the door. Your eyes automatically trailed down his pants and he was indeed not lying about his current state. “Do you have a thing for elevators?”

Satoru celebrated when he found the key, positioning it against the lock and smiling when he heard the engines turning, eyes back on you as he opened the door eagerly, “No, but I do have a thing for you calling me your husband.”

He didn´t wait for an answer, pulling you into the room and practically banging the door closed before pressing you against it. Satoru ripped his black glasses off, throwing them somewhere on the floor before bending down to your height so your faces were only inches apart.

“Say it again.”

“Satoru, let´s look around the room first, enjoy the view -”

“That can wait, I´d rather enjoy this view for now.”

“´Twas expensive,” You tried again.

“I´d spend all my money on you. Now say it again.”

“What?”

“Call me your husband.”

You were still so confused, was this a trap? For some reason, Satoru seemed to be enjoying it, a bit too much even. You let your walls crumble down slightly, wrapping your arms around Satoru´s neck so you´d be more comfortable.

“My husband?” You tentatively obeyed.

He instantly groaned, crashing his lips against yours with so much need that you felt like this was your first time all over again. He started by holding your face, his hands so big that he could hold your jaw with his palms while his fingers dug at the roots of your hair on your nape. He just held you like you were absolutely everything in the world to him and that got your legs weak. His tongue massaged yours and you were whining against his mouth in no time, hands clawing at his black shirt harsher every time he grinded against you. Satoru was equally as worked up, his chest heaving up and down as his hands left your face to grab at the back of your thighs, pulling you up so you could wrap your legs around his hips.

It was so much easier kissing him like this, since you were actually able to reach him. Unfortunately though, this new position got your boyfriend´s throbbing cock right against your core which you know, did nothing to calm you down. You grabbed at his hair in pure need, making a mess out of it as he left your swollen and wet lips alone to attack your neck.

“You´re so beautiful,” He groaned against your neck after he sucked at your jugular, his hips subconsciously bucking against yours. “Can´t believe you´re mine.”

“Satoru,” You moaned as he bit into the junction of your shoulder and neck.

His lips caught yours once again in another messy and aggressive kiss, his right hand leaving your thigh to start bunching up the bottom of your dress until he could see your panties.

“I could just take you right now,” He groaned against your lips.

“Then do it.”

The corner of his lips tugged up in amusement, “Now that´s no way to treat my wife, is it?”

His own words seemed to light another fire inside him, before you could even react, he was kissing you roughly once again, spinning the two of you around and carrying you towards the bed, where he threw you unceremoniously. You yelped at the impact and once more when he grabbed at your calves, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You supported yourself up on your elbows, so you could see when he went down to his knees in between your legs.

He stayed there on the floor for a few seconds, simply admiring the wet spot on your panties, your legs folded up so they wouldn´t be dangling from the edge of the bed. As you were about to complain, he pressed his thumb right on your clit over the fabric, before slowly rubbing circles with the pad of his finger, staring at what he was doing like he was hypnotized. A gasp left your lips at the surprise feeling and his eyes, which were so focused, snapped out of the trance to look up at you.

As your eyes met, he smiled, “My wife.”

“What´s up with you?” You shakily asked as he gently slid your panties down your legs, throwing them away somewhere.

“I just like the sound of it,” Satoru answered as he grabbed at your thighs once again, positioning them on his shoulders, placing a wet kiss on your inner tight.

Your head fell back in pleasure when he bent down, slowly licking your slit from bottom to top before giving your clit a light suck. He then pulled away slightly and you could already see his lips glistening, his arms wrapped around your tights firmly.

“Tell me you´ll marry me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, not familiar with this type of foreplay and not sure if this was the right setting for this type of discussion. In response to your silence, he dove back in, his tongue eagerly working on your clit – Why did your boyfriend, besides being rich and extremely hot, also have to be good at just fucking everything?

As soon as you left a moan out and he felt your body start twitching at his ministrations, he leaned back once again, “Tell me.”

He looked at you so hungrily that you heard yourself answering before even realizing, “I´ll marry you, Satoru.”

“And that we will have a big, beautiful family.”

And suddenly, it all made sense: Gojo Satoru, the single most powerful sorcerer in the whole world, unraveled at the thought of marrying you, of you being his, of being loved and having a happy family. Your chest filled with so much love suddenly; your boyfriend was such a loser.

“I´ll give you all that,” You agreed.

Even if it was a fantasy, for this moment it didn´t have to be.

You gave him the answer he wanted, and he excitedly went back to his job after hearing your words. His tongue expertly lapping at you in between kisses and sucks, one of your hands flying to grab at his hair to try and ground yourself. Even after years with this man, you´d never be able to get used to just how good he was at fucking you - and today especially, after a long time of not being touched because either you or him were always away for work, you were feeling extra sensitive.

Satoru knew exactly what to do to get you squirming in record time, flatting his tongue to draw circles against your clit, flicking his tongue from side to side, up and down, fucking it into you and it just drove you absolutely crazy. Even his groans of pleasure as he ate you out with so much hunger, vibrating against you, got your head spinning.

“I´m close,” You moaned, as if he didn´t already know.

“Not yet, hang in there,” He stopped, breathing hard and turning his head to the side, vehemently kissing the inner part of your thigh twice more before sitting up on his knees. “I´m having fun.”

He completely ignored your whines of protest, sitting you up so his face was now right in front of your boobs. Satoru smiled in victory at the view, softly sliding the two straps of your dress down your shoulder until all the fabric fell to your waist. Your boyfriend wasted no time, kissing all over the skin of your chest and leaving what soon would be many deep purple marks, his thumb teasing your nipples.

“Have I told you how much I love your boobs?”

“A few times,” You joked in between gasps, you both knew he would tell you that like, at least once a day.

“If I could just hold them all day I´d be the happiest man on earth,” Was the last thing he said before his mouth latched around your nipple, your back arching into the touch.

Once Satoru was satisfied with his work, he gently pushed you back into bed and climbed on top of you, supporting his weight on his two arms. At this point, you were just praying that he would fuck you already, you were dripping, walls clenching around nothing so desperately it hurt – and your boyfriend wasn´t much better, in this position you could feel very clearly how much his cock was throbbing.

You whined in need as he stared at you with his pretty blue eyes and laughed at your desperation – as if you couldn´t see he was about to cum in his pants too.

“What does my baby want?” He smirked condescendingly, amused at your need.

“To be fucked,” You groaned.

“Ah, anything for my wife,” He agreed, now only supporting his weight on his left arm as he snaked his other hand in between your bodies. “Just let me open you up first.”

You would complain you didn´t need to be prepped, but before you could say anything, his middle finger was already inside you and you forgot what you were going to say. He gently and languidly pumped his finger in and out a few times, adding another when he considered you were good to go.

You were a whiny mess, especially when he curled his fingers and found spots no one ever could before.

“Will you take my family name?” Satoru asked suddenly, his face right in front of yours, attentively watching your expression, his hair tickling your forehead. You were too out of it to even process the words coming out of his mouth. “You know the Gojo Clan is one of the most important and powerful clans in the country. It would sound nice, Gojo Y/N.”

He smiled kind of sadistically at your dazed expression before continuing, his fingers not stopping even once, “Or I could take your last name, I don´t mind. Who gives a fuck about the Gojo Clan anyways? I just suggested it ´cause I´d love everyone to know you´re mine.”

Satoru sped up his fingers and you grabbed his arm, your whole body shaking as your high approached, “But if you accept, you´ll be the heiress of everything, everything will be yours, including me. You can do anything you want, order whoever you want, and spend whatever you want, I´ll let you rule over it all, one snap of your fingers and it´s yours. My wife, the head of the Gojo clan.”

A dragged-out moan left your lips not only because of his restless fingers inside of you, but also because of the whole scenario he was painting, he wanted you to have it all, he wanted to be the one to give you everything. He felt the way your walls were squeezing around him and smiled, slowing down his fingers, “But for now, I´ll be a good husband and fuck my beautiful wife until she´s crying.”

At that, your eyes lit up, quickly sitting up to unbutton his shirt as he unzipped his pants. Once he was done with his trousers, he started helping you with the buttons and you abandoned your task, deciding to litter the already exposed parts of his chest and abdomen with kisses, an “I love you” leaving your mouth in between each touch of your lips on his skin – Because you did, you loved him so much.

The show of affection drove Satoru crazy, harshly throwing his shirt away. You were equally insane at the sight of your boyfriend in just his boxers, practically salivating as if this wasn´t the thousandth time you´d seen him like this. He caught you looking at him in pure awe and smiled, leaning over you for a quick sweet kiss before getting rid of his boxers.

“I´ll get you a ring so big it´ll weigh on your finger,” He informed as he climbed on top of you. “Everyone will be able to spot it from miles away.”

“Don´t want it, just want you.”

“You already have me,” He held your face, his eyes so intense you froze for a second. “Always had, always will.”

“What a simp,” You teased as if you weren´t right about to cry.

“Only for my wife,” He smiled, admiring your face.

“And now will my husband finally please fuck me?”

You said it kind of jokingly, but the title appeared to do the trick anyways; you felt his cock twitching against your thigh before he grabbed at one of your legs, pushing your knee slightly up and groaning as he grabbed his member to position it against you.

After all this lovey-dovey talk, you kind of expected Satoru to want to make slow gentle sappy love to you, and you wouldn´t exactly mind since that was amazing as well, but oh you were so wrong. You had miscalculated how horny the thought of being your husband got your boyfriend, because as he entered you, a loud groan left his lips and while normally he would wait for you to adjust to his size, this time he just kept going. At least he was slow with it, slow enough that you could feel every vein, every inch of his skin against your walls, every ridge, every bump.

You dug your nails into his back to distract yourself from the discomfort as he bottomed out, his lips open in a silent moan, and you caught yourself thinking about how lucky you were; out of everyone in the world, you were the only one who got to see the Honored one like this, so vulnerable and beautiful and yours.

“You feel so good,” He breathed out, beginning to drag his cock out. “Every fucking time.”

You didn´t care if it hurt, you wanted him to destroy you, “Satoru?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

As he started fucking into you again, you lost your words, but the pleading look you gave him and the drag of your nails down his back sent him the message loud and clear.

“Oh,” He smirked. “How am I so lucky?”

You felt his lips on yours as he began to speed up his hips, his right hand wrapping around your thigh so he could pull you flush against his cock. You cursed, feeling like you were being impaled, “Fuck.”

“To have a beautiful sweet loving wife who wants to be fucked like a slut.”

His hips were so smooth yet so fast, knowing all the right angles to get you biting at his shoulder and squeezing your walls around him.

“And you know what´s the best? All these men wanting you will have to know you´re only mine.”

It came as a surprise to you after a few months of dating that Satoru Gojo was a jealous boyfriend. It made absolutely no sense to you, considering that he was… well, Satoru Gojo. Like, what do you mean the strongest and most powerful man in the world, who could end all civilization with a flick of his finger if he wanted to, got bothered when you and Nanami took a cooking class together?

However, you kind of liked his possessiveness over you, especially when it made him thrust harder into you, got his tongue in your mouth in public, or his hand around your neck at a bar.

He felt the way you clenched at his words, breaking apart from you with a groan and flipping you around before you could even process what was happening. The way he could just throw you around so easily got you moaning into the sheets as you arched your back waiting for him.

Satoru didn´t leave you waiting for long, a second later he was already bottoming out inside you once again, and the hotel sheets were proven to be good quality when they didn´t rip under your fingers as he fucked you like his life depended on it.

You were completely lost, brain scrambled as you communicated through moans and gasps, especially when he pulled you up by the neck so your back stood against his chest. His hand stayed there, holding you in place and choking you as his other hand teasingly found its way down your abdomen, finding your clit as its destination.

Your whole body was shaking, Satoru´s arms were probably almost bleeding with how harshly your nails dug into it so you wouldn´t scream.

“You were made for me. Your pussy was made for me,” His moan was raspy against your ear. “Mine. Only for me. Your husband.”

Satoru was close and you were doing your best to buck your hips back to meet his thrusts, already at the edge too with the way his finger kept rubbing number eights against your clit. You stretched your hand back to grab at his hair, stupid at the feeling of being fucked open. He groaned at you pulling his hair, biting your shoulder to warn you he was about to cum.

“Inside,” You rasped.

He literally shivered at your words, a loud moan leaving his mouth as he thrust into you deeper than anyone had ever been before, including himself. Your vision went blank, your orgasm hitting you without warning and no time for you to prepare yourself, your body twitched violently as gasps left your lips, knowing you would have fallen like a doll if Satoru hadn´t been holding your neck.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” He cursed, losing control at the way your walls were crazily clenching around him.

His wet and warm mouth was soon on your shoulders, desperately kissing the bite marks he was leaving. You barely felt as he came inside you, or how his cock twitched against your walls, or how you could barely breathe with how tight he held your neck once his orgasm hit, too lost in your own pleasure. You did hear the beautiful noises coming out from his lips, prolonging your orgasm.

Once the two of you came back to reality, breathing hard, Satoru gently let go of your neck, softly rubbing his thumb over the red marks. As expected, your legs failed to hold you and your chest met the bed a second later, your eyes closed to try and come down from your high.

Satoru stayed on his knees, eyes glued to the way you were dripping out because of your walls´ spasms. He just couldn´t help himself, gathering all his cum that spilled with his fingers, ignoring your whines of protest, and pushing it all back in.

“Just a second baby,” He answered dazedly, his fingers still working.

He was obsessed, addicted to the view. No matter how much your body twitched because of the overstimulation, he couldn´t stop pumping his fingers into you, feeling how wet and slick you were around him. He groaned at the way your lips were swollen because of him, thumb gently rubbing your clit. He continued until your whines turned into moans, until your hips stopped trying to run away and instead bucked back against his fingers, until he felt himself getting hard again.

You didn´t complain when you felt his cock entering you once again, his lips worshiping your back as your eyes remained closed, slightly arching your hips to give him better access as he slowly and gently fucked you. Satoru caressed your hair and kissed your temples, your nape, your eyes, all while calling you beautiful and telling you how much he loved you.

…………………………………………….

“Gojo Satoru.”

Sensing your tone, he didn´t answer in pure fear.

The silence made you leave the bathroom, staring at your boyfriend who was in bed looking at you with wide eyes, “What´s wrong, baby?”

“We´re at a beach resort,” You said in between gritted teeth. “How the fuck am I supposed to go to the beach when it looks like I have been mauled by a bear after being dragged around town by a car?”

“I´m sorry, I got carried away.”

“Oh my god, call Martha and cancel the SPA day tomorrow.”

“I can give you a massage-”

“You´re never touching me again, Satoru.”

He smirked at that, “Yeah, give me a few hours and we´ll see.”

You hated that he was right.

[taffywabbit]

idk if i'm way off the mark on this, but the way some people are responding to that Guillermo del Toro interview about the decline of studio animation is a bit frustrating to me. specifically the bit where he talks about "emoji animation" and how everything is over-animated and pushed too far and things are rarely allowed to not be ultra-cartoony (y'know, because animation always needs to be marketable to children who are never trusted to have attention spans, right?). like, i think he's generally correct about it! but some folks are taking the wrong message away from that.

i've seen people going off about how "soulless" and "corporate" various recent examples are, and talking about these pieces of media as though they're the result of some kind of personal failing or lack of skill/range on the part of the animators, and it's just like. do people realize that's the only animation you're usually allowed to DO in the industry, unless you get incredibly lucky and land yourself on a project/studio that's unusually cool?

when i was in college for animation it was literally drilled into us nonstop that everything had to be pushed more, that exaggeration was not a guideline or a sometimes-treat but a hard rule that always had to be applied regardless of what was going on, because the viewer couldn't be trusted to pick up on subtlety and we sure as hell couldn't be trusted to convey it. you ever wonder why there's such a specific vibe to a lot of self-directed student films, particularly ones that are focused on character acting/interaction or deep emotions and introspection (especially when there's minimal/no dialogue)? it's because for a lot of young animators, they haven't had the freedom to experiment with realism and subtlety up to that point and they're likely not going to have it again for a while (or at all, unless their career path leads to higher positions where they might have more creative direction over the things they work on. which also becomes a lot less likely if they're anything other than a cishet white dude, for what it's worth).

i would LOVE to see more nuanced, realistic, understated motion and acting in animation. i WANT more characters to be able to express what they're feeling through natural body language and facial cues and for scenes to allow me to breathe instead of spelling everything out in giant bold flashing text all the time. what del Toro wants to see changed in the animation industry sounds great, and i hope others join him in seeking to revamp what modern animation is allowed to be.

but as things currently stand, and as they've stood for a long while now, most artists doing the grunt work on the shows and movies you see are completely at the mercy of corporations and networks who have a vested interest in producing a very specific kind of marketable and cost-efficient media all the time. (and by extension that style is ALSO what's taught in most animation schools, because their job more than anything is to grind you down into a perfect little sweatshop worker who will bend over backwards to meet quotas and get your work approved and not question the higher-ups, even if you have little to no personal investment in the projects you're working on, so that the studios who employ you can maintain their good reputations or whatever)

anyways idk what my point was here, this really just sorta became a rant and my views have undoubtedly been coloured by my own personal experiences (this kinda shit is largely why i dropped out before my last year of animation school, for the record).

i guess just be kind to folks in the animation industry? they've had it fucking rough nonstop for well over a century (the majority of them are still not unionized and there's HUGE pushback against doing so in many places). i assure you they are doing their best to infuse the latest uninspired illumination flick or weird spinoff kids' show with literally any amount of soul they can. you don't have to like the stuff that gets produced by any means! be a hater! i'm certainly not gonna stop you. just remember where these creative decisions come from and why these conditions exist, and consider that when YOU watched something and thought "hmm that could've been done better", you can bet your ass someone actually working on it probably thought the same thing but couldn't do anything about it. these things WILL change as the industry itself improves, but in the meantime folks have to pay their rent, and that usually means doing what they're told and working in a way that will minimize revisions and meet quotas so they can keep their jobs. it sucks, but it is what it is.

[justwinginglife]

Can I Come Home?

1- I am so sorry in advance. My random thoughts do be wildin sometimes. 2- There are 2 endings for this, you'll know where it splits when you get there, a little choose your own adventure action, if you will. 3-This is the longest fic that I have ever written so I apologize for people with short attention spans like me. With all that being said, enjoy the fic (or don't, it's angst, so you probably won't.)

You and Soshiro were always close. 

Close in childhood, closer as sweethearts.

You’d known each other your whole lives, and your sweet 16 turned even sweeter when he finally worked up the nerve to ask you out. You had always had a crush on him, but you never thought that the boy who had seen you in a bikini and snorted about your flat chest would ever be interested in you. But he was more than just interested; he was completely, irreversibly, and incandescently smitten with you. 

When you started dating him, it became clear to you that he’d stored away every bit of information you’d ever told him. He remembered when you were 12, you said you’d always wanted a locket, so he strung one around a bouquet of peonies (he knew that was your favorite flower) and presented it to you when he picked you up for your first date. He remembered when you were 13, you told him you’d always wanted to ride on a hot air balloon, so for your second date, he took you out for a romantic flight at sunset, flower petals sprinkled across the floor of the basket. He remembered when you were 14, you absentmindedly made a comment about wishing you knew how to ice skate, so he learned how to skate for you and taught you how to skate on your third date. There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to marry this man someday. You weren’t sure how long it would take, but you didn’t care; you could wait for him. 

When you turned 18, he solidified his love for you by gifting you a promise ring. By this time, you’d already talked marriage and cradles with him extensively, so you wondered what exactly he was promising you. Your heart was already his, you didn’t need a trinket to hold you over. But he wanted to make promises to you anyway. He wanted to promise you that he’d buy you a better ring one day, that when he joined the JAKDF he’d save his entire officer’s salary for the purpose of weighing your hand down with the fattest rock he could find. He wanted to promise you that he’d love you infinitely, that he’d love you overwhelmingly, that he’d love you every day of his life. And even when he turned 19 and prepared for the Defense Force exam, he promised that he’d carry you with him always, that your soul had left an imprint on his, and that even when faced with death, he’d be yours. The Reaper himself couldn’t tear him from your side. 

Having fears about the lifestyle Soshiro was choosing, the lifestyle that would take him far away from you, that would lead him in the way of danger, you begged him to wait another year or two before joining the Defense Force. You knew you couldn’t keep him from his dreams forever, but you could stall him. You wanted more time with him, wanted any time you could get, any time he’d allow you, any time he’d spend safe in your arms, time where you didn’t have to be riddled with the worry that one day he wouldn’t come home. 

So you pleaded with him to wait a couple years. To spend the time training you. You’d made the decision to go with him to join the force -you’d follow him to the depths of Tartarus and back if it meant you could stay by his side- but for now, you needed more time with him. And then you’d give in to his dreams when you turned 21. You’d let the Defense Force claim you both. And if he died, you’d be right behind him. So you begged him, begged him to stay. Just until 21. 

You thought he might say no, thought he might run off and join anyway. After all, he’d been waiting for this since the day he took up the sword. But the Defense Force wasn’t his only dream anymore. You were his dream too. And if he had to wait a couple more years just to have you by his side when he joined up, then he would wait for you. He would do anything for you.

You spent long days and even longer nights training with him. Training until your limbs were on the verge of combustion, until your muscles reacted before you commanded them to, until your reflexes were honed to perfection. Your regimen was grueling but it was nothing compared to the thought of letting him die in front of you. You had to be stronger; no, you had to be the strongest. For him, you’d do it. And when you perfected a move or when your combat power increased, Soshiro would reward you with kisses over and over again, and you knew you’d die for him over and over again. Anything to protect his smile.  

When the cruel hand of fate brought disaster to his door in the form of a crippling accident and Soshiro was grounded to his hometown, imprisoned in a cage, with his lifelong dream now out of reach, you felt you failed him. You couldn’t protect him from his fate. You couldn’t protect him from the emptiness, from the feeling of watching his desires slip from his fingers. It was your fault that he never got to join the Defense Force- you’d made him wait. It was your fault. Everything was your fault. 

You almost couldn’t face him.

You watched lines of friends, of family, of neighbors file in and out of his house, offering their sympathies, offering their support in this hard time, offering gifts, offering flowers. But you knew he’d never “get well.” He’d never recover from what you’d done. From what you failed to do. He’d wasted so many promises on you, and you couldn’t even promise to protect him. 

You wanted to atone.

You wanted to die.

You wanted to fade from existence.

But he wouldn’t let you. He kept visiting, kept calling on you, kept loving on you. He wouldn’t let his regrets become your regrets. He wouldn’t let you waste your life away, drowning in your bedsheets and your depression. He’d make you hear him even if you wouldn’t listen. He’d tell you that you were meant for more. That you had bigger things to live for than him. That he couldn’t wait to watch you take the Defense Force by storm.

He’d joke that he was sure you’d coerce your way to the top in no time at all, reigning over the JAKDF with terror. When you were unamused, he laughed. “I was just kidding, love, I know my baby’s a softie. I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly. A kaiju? Different story. But a fly? You’d put a bandaid on its wings.” He teased. 

And against your better judgment, despite his terrible jokes, despite his annoying persistence, because of his annoying persistence, you let him love you again. You let him forgive you. You missed him. You loved him. You loved loving him. 

You thought you could keep going on this way forever. Just basking in his presence. Just stealing time from him wherever you could get it. Now that you weren’t training, now that he wasn’t training, you had endless hours to spend with him, just talking, just laughing. But then you got notice that this year’s Defense Force Exam was starting. 

He wanted you to go.

He wanted you to leave him.

You wanted to stay. 

You weren’t like him, you weren’t noble, you weren’t honest; the Defense Force meant nothing to you if he wasn’t by your side. You begged him to let you stay with him. You begged him to let you live and die with him. 

But he simply smiled at you and said he believed in you.

And somehow, after kicking and screaming, after crying and pleading, you found yourself on the first train out of town. You found yourself carrying the weight of both your dreams, carrying the weight of your need to make him proud, both a burden and a beacon, slung across your shoulders as you made your way into unknown territory. You took heavy step after heavy step until you crossed the threshold of the Defense Force’s doors. 

This was your life now but somehow you felt like you’d left your life back in your hometown. Like your heart only beat in Soshiro’s chest, like your air only contracted Soshiro’s lungs, like your blood only pumped in Soshiro’s veins. Without him, you felt lonely.

Distance had always been a stranger to you, having grown up next door to him, having spent every waking moment with him, and now that you were making its acquaintance, you thought you might just die. 

You’d reach for his arms and find they weren’t there. You’d listen for his laugh, for his footsteps, for his singing in the shower, and find nothing but sadness in the silence. And when the shirts you’d stolen from him stopped smelling of his scent, you almost ran back home right then and there, barefoot, crying, running like a madman, running to get back to him. “Can I come home now, Soshiro?” you’d beg him.

But he’d always stop you. He’d tell you that you were so close to achieving everything you’d worked so hard for. That you couldn’t quit now. That you were strong, that you were fearsome, that you could endure the storm. That he believed in you.

When you passed the exam, you pleaded with him again. “Can I come home now, Soshiro? Let me celebrate with you, at least.” But he knew if you came home now, if you didn’t establish roots in the Defense Force, if you didn’t have anything to go back to, you’d stay home forever. You’d never leave. And he didn’t want you to quit before you’d started. So he coaxed you into staying where you were, used that sweet voice of his to murmur sweet promises to you, to promise you nothing short of the sun and the moon when you finally did come home, if you could just make it a couple more months without him. 

Before you knew it, you were too busy to come home, even just for a day. You were too good at your job, too loaded up with work. Your heart was empty but your hands were full. 

The only free time you had, you spent talking to Soshiro. You’d steal minutes from your schedule, sneak away for a mere moment, just to talk to him, just to drink in the sound of his voice. You’d tell him about your day. About a dog you met on the walk to work. About the bitch who worked in operations. About a new drink you discovered that you thought he’d like. About all the lives you’d saved. And he was proud of you. Not just for being a hero, but for being alive. For putting one foot in front of the other. For doing your best. 

He tried his best to make you smile even if he couldn’t physically be there for you. If he was there, he would’ve poked two fingers into the edge of your lips and dragged them upwards, “See, this is how you smile. Can you smile for me, love?” And you’d weakly muster up some semblance of a smile, tears staining your cheeks, as you’d say back to him, “Yeah, baby. I can smile for you. I can do anything for you.”

Then, when you watched officer after officer die, when you scrubbed your hands raw to get the blood out, when you couldn’t smile anymore, you begged him again. “Soshiro… I’m tired. I miss you. Can I come home now? Please, can I come home now?”

“They need you, love. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. You can do this, you’ll be okay.” 

You’d hear his words and cry yourself to sleep and the aching in your chest would take up permanent residence inside you. 

He must’ve known then that you needed more than just his words. He showed up the next day, peonies in hand. “Your favorite, baby.”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the tears that were threatening to overflow. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

He smiled at you. “Snuck in for you, baby. I’m not supposed to be here, it’s a secret, just between you and me.”

Suddenly the weight of the situation hit you, the baggage of everything you’d been carrying the last several months crashing into you like a wrecking ball. You’d never see your fellow officers again and you’d never see more of him than these few, stolen moments.  “Soshiro, I can’t do this anymore.” You began to cry. 

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry, love. I’ve got you. You’re okay. You can do this. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving. And I know my baby doesn’t give up. I know the wind and the waves would come if she called. You’re a force to be reckoned with, don’t forget that, love.”

“I don’t feel like a force to be reckoned with. I feel like a walking corpse, dead inside and yet not dead enough. Why am I here? Why am I living and breathing when so many of my loved ones are dead? Soshiro. Can I come home now?”

For a moment you thought he’d let you. You thought the pain in his eyes, the sympathy in his saddened smile, were signs enough that it was okay to give up, it was okay to go home. But you never got to hear his answer.

“Hey. Platoon Leader L/N. You okay? What are you doing all the way out here?” A girl with bright red hair bounded up to you. You thought her name was Nakanoshima? You had tried to keep everyone at an arm’s distance after all the rookies who’d joined up with you had died. 

You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and straightened your posture, “Just talking to my boyf-” You suddenly realized Soshiro had said that he’d snuck in and when you turned to him in a panic, scrambling to find an excuse, you discovered that he was nowhere to be found. “I mean my-myself. Talking to myself.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay…Well, the girls and I are heading out for some karaoke, would you care to join?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, thanks. I appreciate the offer, though.”

She searched your face for a moment. You almost thought you caught a glimpse of sympathy in her peachy eyes, but any trace of it faded when she finally shook her head. “Alright, well just know you can come anytime. See you around.” She waved and disappeared into the distance.

“You should’ve gone with her. I would’ve been fine.” Soshiro emerged from behind you. 

“I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone else but you.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Baby. I don’t want you to be lonely up here, all by yourself. Make some friends. Have some fun. Live your life.”

You shook your head insistently. “I don’t wanna make friends. I don’t wanna have fun. I wanna come home. I wanna be yours again.”

He smiled at you softly. “You’re always mine, love. And I’m always yours.”

“So let me come home.” 

He shook his head. “Can’t do that, dearest. But I’ll come visit you more, okay? I love you. Never forget that I love you. You’ll be fine, okay? I believe in you.” Then he disappeared without another word, leaving you empty yet again. 

But he kept his promise. You should’ve known he would, he always did. At first, he’d come to your bedside in the dead of night. He’d lay there with you and you’d talk together until the sun came up and he disappeared again. Then, he started to visit during the day. 

When he’d visit, he’d ask if you were taking care of yourself. If you were making friends. You’d tell him the same thing every time. But one day, Nakanoshima overheard you talking to him and when she came over to investigate, he nudged you towards her, whispering, “Make friends.”

You rolled your eyes at him but then grumbled to her that you’d like to join her the next time she went out. Her eyes lit up and by the time she finished excitedly rambling about how much fun you were going to have with her, Soshiro was gone again.

The next time he visited, you were in the middle of training. When you dropped anything and everything to run to him, you earned yourself some strange looks from the other officers, but you didn’t care. You were tired of pretending and tired of hiding. You wanted to be in love again. You wanted to be happy. And he made you happy, visiting you like this, with no more fear of being discovered, with public displays of his love. 

And it made you happy to make him happy. When you told him all about your movie night with Nakanoshima, and your lunch date with Ashiro, and your shopping spree with Okonogi, he was extremely happy. You were finally living your life. 

You thought you could find contentment like this, sharing time between your friends and your boyfriend, living the good life, fighting the good fight, but the dream ended in an instant when he visited in the middle of a battle strategy meeting. When you bolted out the door to greet him again, your friends began to worry about your state of mind. They’d whisper to each other about the man you’d run off to in the middle of training, in the middle of lunch, in the middle of dinner, in the middle of the night, and now in the middle of meetings. Wasn’t he the guy who got into that horrible accident? Wasn’t he the reason you’d almost forgone joining the Defense Force? Wasn’t he the man you almost married? This couldn’t be good for you, they’d tell each other. Clinging to a man from your past. Clinging to a future you used to dream of. 

They had finally decided to have an intervention for you, when suddenly calamity struck the town. Another wave of kaiju was attacking in full force. Their concerns about your love life would have to wait; the entire city was now a concern. 

You fought with renewed purpose, with a fire lit within you that they hadn’t seen since you’d first made Platoon Leader. You refused to let any more of your squad, of your team, of your friends die. 

In a frenzy, you cleared out half the Yoju, and made your way to the Honju, entrusting the rest of the lower ranked beasts to your friends. The battle was long and arduous, your muscles tense and taut, as you fought for your life and the lives of all those you cared for. 

You thought of Soshiro in the heat of the moment, wondering if he would’ve wrapped this whole thing up in a matter of minutes. But you weren’t him. You were just you. And for all your training, for all your combat experience, you found yourself weak when it counted. You found yourself struggling, your reflexes weakening, your state of mind crumbling, your body aching as you begged yourself to just be enough, to just protect somebody, to protect anybody, to be worth something.

So when you finally took down the Honju at great cost, your life hanging on by a mere thread, you were okay with that. You were resigned to death. You were grateful for death. You ran a finger over the promise ring that had long been worn out over the years as the light began to claim you. 

In your final moments, you dreamed of the beach. Soshiro laid beside you in the sand. Your physical body was squirming around someplace somewhere in some patch of gravel, but all you could feel now was the sand beneath your back, the ocean lapping at your toes. 

“I meant to take you to the beach.” He said finally.

“Well, we’re here now, silly. This is good enough. This is more than enough. This is perfect. Let’s just enjoy this moment.” You slipped your hand into his, interlocking your fingers as you turned to look into his eyes. 

He shook his head at you. “Baby. You know you can’t be here. You know you have to go back.”

You put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Baby, I’m finally home. Let me stay home.”

He brushed his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry, my love. I wish you could stay. But you have people waiting for you. You have people at your bedside, praying for you to wake up, praying for you to come back. You finally have a life, love, so live it.”

You frowned at him. “I don’t have a life without you, what are you talking about?” 

He smiled at you sympathetically. “Darling, you know that’s not true. You know I can’t see you anymore. We can’t keep doing this.”

Your eyes widened in fear. “No. No, don’t say that.”

He kissed your hand. “In fact, I don’t think I want to see you again for at least another 70 years, okay? Promise?” The tears burst from your eyes. “No, no, no. Soshiro, don’t leave me. Soshiro, don’t say that. Soshiro, let me come home, I want to come home to you. Let me be with you, damnit!”

“I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“Don’t say it like you’re leaving, don’t say it like you’re saying goodbye! Soshiro, don’t you dare leave me alone again! You promised you’d always be by my side!”

You woke up screaming.

You were in a hospital bed and Soshiro was nowhere to be found. 

“Soshiro.” You called weakly. “Soshiro. Please.” 

He didn’t answer. 

You tried listening for him, tried searching for him, tried scrambling for some semblance of him, some part of him you could cling to, but he was gone without a trace. The weight of his absence dragged you into the depths of despair, and you murmured, “You promised me… you promised…” to yourself as a dark and deep sleep finally overtook you.

In the morning, you were surrounded by your friends. 

Tae almost forgot you were injured and nearly smothered you with her affection. 

Konomi yanked her off of you, scolding her when you winced from the pain.

Mina was the one who finally spoke. “I’m glad you’re okay. We weren’t sure if you were going to make it for a moment there.”

You were quiet. “Why… why did I make it? How am I alive?”

They shifted uncomfortably. “Honestly, we’re not sure. The doctors said there was nothing they could do to save you. Your heartbeat flatlined. You were dead. And then somehow you came back to us.”

The room filled with silence. 

Then Tae spoke up. “Who’s this Soshiro you keep talking to?”

Konomi jabbed her in the ribs for her insensitivity, but she awaited your answer with equally bated breath. 

You swallowed. “He’s my… my boy… my fiance.”

Tae stilled. “Your fiance… Soshiro Hoshina?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of his name on her lips. How did she know his name?

She continued. “The same Soshiro Hoshina who died in that horrific accident all those years ago?”

Suddenly your lungs felt like they were collapsing all over again. Your skin had been set ablaze by her words and yet you’d never felt colder in your entire life. You shivered from the sweat that had started to form all down your body.

“No, he’s… he’s waiting for me to come home.” You said weakly.

Konomi sighed and rubbed at the crease on her forehead. “Dear, I’m worried about you. He’s… he’s gone. He’s been gone.”

The tears began to flow down your cheeks before you even registered they’d formed. “No, he’s not. He’s at home. He’s fine. He’s at home. He’s waiting for me. I need to go home. I need to go to him. He’s fine, he’s just waiting for me at home. At home. At home.” Every broken denial, every repeated word, felt like a knife carving its way up your throat. You rambled so much your throat went hoarse and you started seizing up. The doctors were called in before your friends could continue. 

In the chaos of it all, you thought you vaguely heard Mina whisper to you, “Take as long as you need to heal. We’ll be here, waiting for you on the other side of this, no matter how long it takes,” before you blacked out.

You weren’t sure she understood just how long that would be. You weren’t sure just how long you could survive calling for him, trying to conjure him up in your mind again, and not seeing him appear. Remembering him hurt. Remembering the love you’d once had and lost, remembering the happiness you’d once had and lost, hurt. Everything hurt. But feeling like you were forgetting him hurt worse. 

Would you remember what his voice sounded like in 20 years? Would you even remember it in 10? Would you remember if he ever had dimples when he smiled? Would you remember his favorite color? 

Who were you if you weren’t his?

How would you ever find peace if you couldn’t ever go home?

If your home had been taken from you?

You woke up to the familiar sting of your tears burning trails down your cheeks again. You wondered just how many tears you had left, just how much could you cry yourself to sleep before you finally just drowned in your own depression? Would that be better if you drowned? Could you try to drown? Would it bring him back, would he try to save you again? If you tried to get back to that beach, would he be waiting? 

You tried furiously summoning him again. You knew he wouldn’t come when you called, knew he wouldn’t answer your pleas, knew you were talking to nothing more than air, but you tried over and over again, your screams filling the silence with your desperation.

“Soshiro! Soshiro, don’t leave me! Soshiro, I need you!”

“Come back, Soshiro! Come back to me!”

“Soshiro, you promised you’d stay by my side even in death! Even in death!”

“I need you, please, I need you!”

You screamed and screamed until your throat bled, until all that was left of him, all proof that he ever existed, that he ever loved you, was the burning in your throat and an emptiness in your chest where he’d stolen your heart and left you hollow. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------If you like angst, stop here, if you don’t and you’re like me and you cried reading this, please continue. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your friends waited for you.

They waited and they waited. They waited so long, you weren’t sure you’d even still have friends on the other side of this. You weren’t sure there was another side of this.

But when you could finally sleep without having nightmares about the damn accident, even just for an hour or two, when you could finally walk down the street without your eyes darting everywhere looking for him, when you could finally breathe again without feeling like you owed payment for each breath, that was when your friends were there at the ready, waiting to take you into better days.

And when you could finally laugh again, even just a small laugh, and when you could finally smile again, even just a small smile, you knew Soshiro was smiling with you too, somewhere on some beach. 

Sure there were times when you’d get swallowed up by sadness again, when you’d miss his touch, miss his voice, miss his presence. He was the love of your life and always would be. But you learned to love your friends too. You learned to love the blue in the sky and the green in the grass. You learned to love all the little things in life that he’d always loved.

Then, years and years later, you found that you were finally living the way he’d always wanted you to live: happily. 

And when your time finally came to face death -70 years into the future, as you’d promised Soshiro- you greeted it warmly.

At the gates of heaven, there he stood, handsome as always, light shining all around him as though he were light itself. 

And then he smiled. 

“Welcome home, love.”

[randombush3]

THE SECOND PART

(to get back to the main post)

carry on reading!!!

[...]

Bali is hot. Or at least, by your English standards, it is. 

The children enjoy the villa at the Ritz, less so the yoga you partake in when your best friends find out that it can mend broken hearts, and there are big TVs in the living rooms that the World Cup matches are broadcasted on. 

Your fingers remain bare, but no one knows about the ring in your suitcase anyway, so no one questions the absence of jewellery that used to adorn your hands. Or, at least, no one whose opinion you actually care about. 

Nico and Elena are happy to play and play and play, barely granting you their attention when you disrupt their endless hours in the pool or exploring the beautiful grounds of the hotel with the 24-hour childcare service. You had been reluctant to accept the help, but Gio was fine with her own daughter being stolen away, and they both called you ‘uptight and preoccupied, a sad, faded picture of how fun you used to be’ until you gave in. 

You let Alexia wonder about how her children are, attributing her lack of phone calls to her focus on chasing World Cup glory, blissfully ignorant to the fact that your friends have been micro-managing your interactions ever since they agreed they aren’t sure about letting you forgive the blonde just yet. That is not to say she doesn’t ever speak to them – Nico was gifted an iPad for Easter (a shoddy, shoddy excuse of an occasion to be given it, but you barely batted an eye as he tore open the packaging and thanked Auntie Anya profusely). He sort of understands how to FaceTime Alexia. They often happen when he is with what Alexia calls ‘the can’t-mother-too-busy-doing-drugs nanny’. 

You are lounging on the sunbeds, sweat pooling on your navel, music playing softly through the speaker Elena had begged you to bring. Though Moana pales in comparison to the days you’d attend concerts that weren’t your own, you are quite content to relax and zone out the lively songs and stare up at the brilliant, blue sky. 

Today is a bit different. You are two weeks into your holiday, with one remaining, and, today is the day you are finally going to open Alexia’s gift. 

You worked out what it was the moment she had given it, but, since you know that curiosity kills the cat, you have stopped yourself from opening it, not sure if you will cope with seeing a ring. What would this ring even be? A ‘sorry I fucked my best friend’? 

Elena hasn’t been included in the children’s entertainment plans for the morning; they have gone for a visit to a coral reef, accompanied by their babysitter and Anya (who you are beginning to think is enjoying their activities more than they are). Despite being relatively advanced for her age, some things fall short, such as her attention span. It doesn’t help that the sleeping issues Alexia had noticed are leaking into her time spent with you, too. 

“Mama,” comes a small whine, followed by a sniffle. Elena has been trying her best to copy you, lying underneath a towel for shade. You had hoped she’d finally fallen asleep, seeing as that didn’t happen last night. With her evidently still awake, you sit up, reaching out to run your hand through her damp hair, not quite dry from when she had enough energy to splash around in the pool. 

“Mama, tired.” 

“I’m not surprised. That’s what happens if you don’t sleep.” 

“Mama.” The petulance is a little glimpse into her teenage years, but then she begins to cry and your imagination falters at the sound. 

Elena, as far as toddlers go, is not the most emotional. She is generally well-behaved, if a little unresponsive at times, but she is quiet and introverted and happy to follow the leader, whoever that may be. She is a complete contrast to her brother, who basks in the attention he demands from those around him, loud about what he loves and hates, yearning to make friends with everything he sees. Elena, Elisabet Segura has told you, is just like Alexia, when she was that age. Controlled, reserved. (And your parents were quick to draw the similarities between you and your son.) 

Just like her mother, Elena is drawn to you. Just like his mother, Nico is drawn to Alexia. Opposites attract. 

It’s hard to ignore if you notice it. 

So, when Elena begins to cry, you are alarmed to see, in her eyes, the same fear that clouds hazel irises you know far too well. The tears glide down her cheeks in inherited patterns, and you try not to panic at how much she looks like Alexia – even if they do not share the same DNA. 

Part of you, the same part that suffered from postpartum depression and dulled your motherly instincts, wants nothing more than to run away from the crying toddler, horrified at the sight as you spiral and begin to imagine Alexia in her place, just as distraught as your daughter seems to be. And it’s weird and unsettling and you are so confused because Elena hasn’t cried like this since you told Alexia to leave. She continues, and even that night starts to seem minor in comparison to her meltdown right now. 

Elena does not sob, she does not scream, she does not shout and go bright red in the face earnestly. A developmental tantrum, sure, but never, ever like this. 

You have never seen this before, and you are at a loss for how to respond. Naturally, you draw her into your arms, holding her close and rocking her gently as she continues to wail. 

“Oh, my darling,” you stagger out, trying to forget your desire to join her, to break down with her. “Mama’s here, Lela. It’s okay.” The words feel inadequate and do nothing to soothe her, though your hands stroke her back as if to rub the comfort in, to absorb her anguish and bleed it out. You would do it, if you could. You’d take all of her pain away in an instant. 

In your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts swells up and disgorges bubbling, burning ideas into the pit of your stomach, none of them quite fitting as an explanation for her distress. Is she hurt? Is she missing Alexia? Or is it something deeper, something you’d overlooked? 

You can be selfish, you know that. Perhaps you have been too focused on getting over the destruction of your family that you have forgotten said family in the process?

Perhaps this has happened before! You were touring for a while.

As you hold her, helplessness washes over you, as though the pool you are right next to has grown thrice the size and is trying to drown you both. You wish Alexia were here all of a sudden. Alexia, gifted at soothing crying children and being a mother and managing a career and parenthood in a way that you have never quite managed. 

Alexia, who gave into your request for children and ended up besting you at it. 

Alexia, whom you still love and miss and hope, sometimes, will wake up beside you even if you know that it is wrong and pathetic and… God, do you really lack such self-respect that you’d take her back? Are you this useless that the crying child in your arms should be passed off to someone else because you can’t cope and you never will and you still smoke because you’re stressed and the last time you took drugs was far too recent to be called a good mother and Elena cries and cries and cries and…

You take a deep breath. 

“It’s okay,” you repeat, hating that you are lying to her. It’s not okay! None of it is okay. “Mama’s here, Lela, Mama’s here. You’re safe.” 

Your voice trembles, and she hears the weakness of your tone, unconvinced and uncomforted, failed by the woman who is supposed to guide her through all of her storms as steady as the sun’s movement each passing hour. Elena’s cries continue unabated, her small frame wracked with sobs as she clings to you, squeezing your skin tightly in a way that tells you that you are not enough. 

You, alone, are not enough for her. 

You can’t do this. 

With your arms holding her securely in place, you dip down slightly, grasping your phone from the tote bag it’s shaded in. It has been warmed by the sun anyway, but the heat of the screen as you press it to your ear is nothing in comparison to the burning in your chest, the fire her cries have ignited in a way that destroys everything in you. 

She continues to scream into your body as the dial tone buzzes and beeps three times, picked up on the fourth as if she has been counting the rings.

“Dime,” Alexia’s gruff voice huffs out, unimpressed that you have called her after refusing for the past month, seemingly always busy. Anya and Gio had given her excuses; you were busy talking to Leah, you were in a meeting, you didn’t want to speak to her. “Now is not a good time.” 

You only manage to breath out her name before she understands that something is seriously wrong. 

“Alexia, it’s Elena… she’s… she’s crying, she hasn’t stopped. Alexia, I-I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice breaking. You know she will be able to hear the sobs coming from the toddler, her voice mighty and fierce despite how small she seems. “She hasn’t slept at all, and it just… happened. I can’t calm her down.” 

“Is she hurt?” 

“No, no,” you stutter, words tumbling out in a rush, “I don’t think so.” 

“What do you mean ‘hasn’t slept’? Not even a nap?” 

You shake your head, panicked. At Alexia’s lack of response, you remember that she is not here with you. You swallow your own sobs. “She’s been sharing a room with Nico and everything’s been fine, except, last night, she wouldn’t sleep. It was like she was terrified of it. She begged me to let her sleep with me, so I brought her into my bed and, I don’t know, it didn’t help. I tried to tire her out, read to her, sang to her, told her off, comforted her, but she wouldn’t and so I drifted off and she didn’t and we were relaxing today – it’s just us, today – and she started crying half an hour ago and hasn’t stopped.” 

As if on cue, Elena’s sobs grow louder, piercing through the phone line in a way that makes both you and Alexia feel sick. But Alexia has heard these before, and has kept them from you for a very good reason.

“She’s exhausted,” Alexia decides calmly. “She’ll cry herself to sleep.” 

“She doesn’t want to sleep!” you snap, frustrated. 

“She’s scared you are going to leave her. She usually… she usually cries for you, when she’s with me. I guess not seeing me has flipped it.” 

“Usually?” 

You pale. 

“Usually, Alexia?” 

You hear a sigh. “Do you want me to talk to her?” she asks, ignoring your horrified question. “Rub her back and keep touching her, so that she knows you’re there. I’ll… I’ll see if I can get her to calm down a bit so that you can – you need a breather, don’t you?” 

“My daughter is crying as though the world is about to end.” 

“Well, for her, it feels like it is. Put me on speaker.” 

You obey her instruction, reclining on the lounger so that Elena is now curled on top of you, wetting your chest with her tears. You place the phone near her head, both hands trying desperately to remind her that she is not alone. 

“Lela, petita, no estàs sola. Estoy aquí, y Mama también. Mai et deixarem.” 

Elena sniffles, surprised by the sound of Alexia’s voice. 

“That’s it, darling,” you encourage as the sobs are quickly replaced by resigned whimpering. Alexia continues to talk, hardly understandable as you let yourself succumb to your own emotions, your tears running down the sides of your face, hands still drawing circles on your daughter’s back. “That’s it,” you whisper. 

Alexia hangs up when she hears both of you breathing deeply, slowly, softly; fast asleep. 

…

She wipes the sweat from her brow, more exhausted from this than the gym session she had stepped out of. 

“What was that about?” Codi asks her curiously, taken in the blush in her captain’s cheeks, the slight dent in her lips from where she has bitten them. “Rather inappropriate to pick up a booty call when we’re this close,” she pinches her fingers together, “to the semis, no?” 

“Elena won’t sleep with her either,” Alexia says, if not because she needs to tell someone then because she relishes in the embarrassment that clouds Laia’s face as she hurries to take her comment back. 

“I thought you’d overcome it,” Laia replies sadly. “She was sleeping the whole night in her own bed, wasn’t she? That was only two months ago.” 

“She can’t deal with it, Codi.” Her sigh is a little more heartbroken than what is fitting for such a communal area, but Alexia does not care that her hunched shoulders have caught Irene’s attention, the defender well-acquainted with the signs of family issues. “She can’t deal with the back-and-forth. She is only three.”

“It has been a year,” comforts her friend. “Maybe she needs more time to adjust.” 

“Laia, you did not hear her. She cried like she was going to die, and I felt like I was going to die with her. You know how Y/n is with… You remember what it was like when Nico was a baby, when he wouldn’t stop crying. We were lucky that Elena didn’t have that, or that the doctors were more vigilant or whatever, but… I was keeping this from her for a reason.” 

Alexia doesn’t want to guilt you back to her. There is the slightest possibility that, if you were to know just how much Elena has been struggling while away from you, you would suffer through your heartbreak and pretend everything was fine, just to make her happy. Just to make their lives easier. 

But Alexia knows. Alexia knows you wake up every day and relive it again and again. She sees the repulsion in your eyes when you look at her – she saw it through the wine and the pleasure. 

She knows you smoke, she knows the rumours about the parties you go to are mostly true. She knows that the album is about her, and that the success didn’t taste sweet because it exploited your heartbreak. 

She knows that you don’t feel anything towards Leah Williamson, that you’re only trying to get her attention or fill her place. 

Alexia knows all of this, because you are a part of her. She knows how you feel like she knows where her right hand is, and, the worst part about that, is that she knows it is all entirely her fault. 

“Irene, where is Mateo?! Alexia needs her little person hugs!” shouts Laia, sympathy hidden by her teasing tone, which Alexia is very grateful for. “Get the nen, and get him now!” 

…

The unopened ring box travels with you to Australia. 

Spain’s failure to lose has led them to the World Cup Final, and while you are going to support your own country, Elena and Nico are dressed in ALEXIA jerseys, yellow and red stripes painted onto their chubby cheeks. 

You had found out, after the Elena incident, that your friends had been lying to Alexia for your peace of mind, or so they claimed. 

You don’t know how to tell Alexia that you called Leah before you left for Bali and told her that you couldn’t be with her. Or that Gio and Anya had been meddling, going as far as to calculatedly gift Nico an iPad in preparation for a summer of trying to save you from a broken heart. 

So… you send her a heads-up that you’ll be attending the final, wish her luck (but not too much, for the sake of the Lionesses), and ensure the children are down for naps so that they have energy to party late into the night regardless of the outcome. 

As a desperate, short-term solution while separate from Alexia, you had your manager seek out the best paediatrician in Bali and get a reasonable prescription for melatonin, just so that Elena can sleep. You plan to let Alexia focus on her tournament and bring up the issue when preseason starts, aware that drugging the child to sleep is definitely not the best option. 

With another hour of sleep in their systems, you have time to re-pack your suitcases, ready to leave the next day. 

And you are reminded of your unopened gift. 

Alexia had said to open it when you were home, but you reason that home is with your children, and home, due to your career, is often also in the hotel suites in foreign countries. 

You root through the piles of neatly-folded clothes, searching for the box you had buried at the bottom. Its velvet edges are soft under the wrapping paper and the box is sitting in the palm of your hand, naked now, before you realise what you are doing. 

The lid flicks open, and you prepare yourself to see something shiny, some insanely expensive diamond that certainly won’t fix all that she has done. 

But you brace for nothing, for inside the box lies only a slip of paper. 

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in aged, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows. 

Eleven digits. 

Your old phone number. 

You remember this. 

It was the night you first kissed Alexia, or, rather, she kissed you. You’d been at some FC Barcelona event, and you’d gone outside because you had realised it might not have been acceptable for Alexia to hit on you in front of all those people, no matter how much she had wanted to. 

You’d smoked to get her attention, to get her to tell you off. To start a conversation. And you had loved her from the minute she kissed you, so tentative, so unsure. 

The boarding pass is sentimental, and you are amazed at the condition it is in, or even the fact that she still has it. 

You drop the box, plucking the paper from the slit it had been situated in, unfolding it, examining it with tears in your eyes. 

You turn it over in your palm, re-acquainting yourself with your memories from that evening. 

And you notice fresh, blue ink written on the back of the boarding pass. 

It’s Alexia’s handwriting, this time, though neater than usual, having clearly taken care to form her letters correctly. 

Can we start again? it says.

There is a drawing of three stick women, short dresses, high ponytails, too. One is circled, an arrow leaping out of the wobbly shape. That one is labelled with your name, and, underneath, ‘esta es mi favorita y me casaré con ella algún día’. 

Marta once told you, at the expense of her club captain, that that had been Alexia’s only comment about you back when they were all obsessed with your break-out girl group and could never talk about anything else. 

Twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas knows that her mistakes have lost her many battles, but twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas also knows that her love will win her the war. Because there you are, and nothing is worth fighting for more than you. 

(to get back to the main post)

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 6 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin���s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,” Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

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[honkthehenry]

unnamed slime game - part 1

Masterlist

The way you suddenly snapped into awareness without realizing you drifted off at all was something akin to having a bucket of ice-cold water thrown into your face.

You... dozed off in class again. In hindsight, it was inevitable – the last time you got hours of sleep instead of something in-between nothing at all and a 2-hour-nap was last Saturday. You've been running on nothing but bitter, cheap coffee and sheer spite for almost a week now, it was high time you finally crashed.

Still, you should have woken up at Uni. You should have woken up to your professor huffing and puffing and glowering in your face about your terrible conduct, about how your generation had no respect for his generation, about how such a complicated and beautiful science like Robotics was not a place for slackers like you (which, fair, you had no idea what you were doing in Robotics either), not... alone and certaintly not in the middle of a forest.

You ran through a bunch of scenarios quickly, but none stuck.

Kidnapping? Far-fetched at best. You lived alone, only barely making ends meet by running yourself into the ground as you tried to marry working retail with being a full-time student, so ransom was out of the question and being kidnapped for the sake of doing bad things to you... Why bother? You didn't know anyone nearly well enough to be kidnapped due to personal feelings and you were neither good-looking enough (perpetually tired goblin that you were) nor famous-, connected- or skilled enough to be kidnapped randomly.

Besides, you were at the University, on the 5th floor, in the middle of the city that had no forests for miles! You were surrounded by 20-odd other people, there was no way someone would be able to kidnap you with so many witnesses around.

So, not kidnapping.

Dream then?

Also unlikely. Your dreams were few and far-between and when they did happen, it was either you being surrounded by characters from the show you happened to be fixated on at the time or it was you getting repeatedly chased and swallowed whole by a dinosaur on a loop, until the dream finally ended (probably Jurasic Park childhood trauma, now that you thought about it).

Still.

This was so weird, because you knew for a fact you were much too aware of everything to be dreaming and yet the things you saw didn't makes sense at all!

You didn't have any arms for one!

And your body was purple!

You could feel electricity zapping at your body and it didn't hurt, it was more like being swallowed in a blanket burrito and nursing a comforting mug of hot chocolate, while watching your favourite show with no worry for deadlines or money!

You weren't supposed to feel like that, you were supposed to be tired and grumpy and irritable and not nice and not toasty and certaintly not so comfortable!

Drugs? Hallucinations? You never partaked, you didn't drink alcohol either, so that was a no—

—A purple crystal you were under zapped at you again and you positively melted on the spot, basking in the feeling and letting the troublesome train of thought go like the wind, before it inevitably derailed and caused you undue anxiety as it always did.

...it was very nice actually.

Maybe losing opposable thumbs wasn't so bad if you got this in exchange.

You could live like this.

×•×•×•× Honk!!! Corner ווו×

You know that one post lurking on Tumblr where OP is turned into a frog by a witch as revenge? And just vibes? Basks in the sun without worrying about life? This is MC now.

I don't care how long or how short chapters are, they're just gonna vibe as they are because I am a goblin with a short attention span and no actual ability to write.

Something to get you thinking - MC is an electro slime for a reason and that reason is electro immunity.

I wonder why?

*smiling like a particularly smug cat*

Did I mention I can't draw lightning/electricity? Because I can't, so I didn't.

Also fvck me, my tags didn't saveeeeee 😭

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/755740224846528512/i-had-such-a-great-time-jayde-thank-you-so-much?source=share

Zizz: *concerned* “You…weren't able to get any sleep? Why?”

Jayde:thinking about taking SO's virginity with roses and candles scattered around the room. She's wearing nothing but the finest jewelry on her body. She's bashfully presenting her pussy to him “Please be gentle with me” “Ah~ Mhm~ Ohhh what's this feeling? I've never felt anything like this before!” “Oh God! F-Fuck I- I- Jayde! Jayde-

Zizz: -Jayde, Jayde?

[Okay, but like, you're assuming that Zizz doesn't regularly invade his dreams. Come on, he's been inside every servant's dreamscapes at this point.]

Jayde sincerely hates having dreams. He wishes he had nothing but dreamless, void-like spans of unconsciousness.

Because dreams have never been the same ever since he started working for King Zizz. Dreams are now not just a string of random events to which the imp is nothing but an immersed puppet simply obliviously going with the flow- They are now incredibly vivid and lucid ordeals he sometimes can't escape as easily as he'd like.

It's odd, to be entirely lucid, yet not have as much control over his "dreamscapes" as he wants to.

This puts Jayde in very uncomfortable and embarrassing situations, such as this one.

It must be like the fifth time he's had this dream now, in such a short span of time. Of himself above you, the two of you tangled together in a bed far too luscious to be real, the scent of perfumed petals and the flickers of restless candles providing an ambience that he can only hope he'll be able to capture when the moment comes.

The sensation of your skin on his are the most incredible thing he's ever felt in the land of the dreaming, and Jayde can only wonder what kind of embarrassing noises he must be making in the real world. Please Lords please, let the pillow not be between his legs this time.

" I've... Jayde please look at me. " Your suplicating voice has his attention instantly, the imp's eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when you wrap your legs around his back " Th- That's how you do it, right? "

He's going to make a mess in his pajamas at this point.

" Yes- " He sounds choked from his own excitement, though urges you to set your legs back down. " But let's start this slowly, okay? "

He shows you his hand, face flushed almost as furiously as yours as he lowers it to let you know what he's going to do, so you have time to protest. There's never been a more erotic moment in his existence than watching dream-you's face twist at the sensation of someone else playing with your clit.

He's drooling on the sheets by the time he's got two fingers in your virgin cunt, tail swaying like that of a playful cat's and breathing heavier every time your legs quake from a jolt of pleasure as he hits the spots you seem to prefer the most.

" Is this okay? Does it feel go- "

" Yes! "

" Do you want me t- "

" Please Jayde! "

He's lined up to you in the blink of an eye, mildly curious as to how the feeling would translate in this dream, beside himself with arousal, when a far too tall door Jayde didn't even know was there bursts open.

" Ah, there you are! I was wondering where you'd gone to, your mind is very restless tonight. Would you like to- "

The imp takes on the shade of a cauliflower. You begin screaming at the top of your lungs.

" I see... "

All Jayde feels is the harsh sting of a slap across his face before he's forced into the waking world, chin coated in his own drool, his boxers tight and humid, a molested neckroll pillow by his legs and a level of mortification that could very well send him into an early grave.

[etheries1015]

BOOK 7 SPOILERS BELOW

I finally decided to suck it up and catch up with twst book 7, I stopped after seeing Silver cry because I'm sCARED OF BEING SAD 😭😭 anyway here's a few reactions I had to it 😭

And hearing about the update coming soon-ish to ENG servers I really need to read up

Lilia pressuring Epel like the old man he is 😭😭 I love the moments that they remind us just how old Lilia actually is and how he sees most if not all the students as if they were his children/grand children, making sure they get the most out of the party and drink...its giving "What do you mean you're not hungry? Absolutely not. Here Is at least 5 servings of whatever dish I made to help u grow big and strong."

Okay I didn't take a screen shot of it but the entire section where Lilia looked kind of guilty with Ortho about exchanging addresses because you just KNOW he probably isn't gonna check in, presumably because he doesn't want anyone to get More attached to him seeing as he is nearing the end of his life span (crying shaking throwing up)

THIS. THIS. THIS INTERACTION HE HAD WITH US. I LOVE HIM. I AM SO SILLY FOR HIM. I totally forgot I changed my in-game name from my nickname to my REAL name and when he said my name I verbally yelled "WHAT THE HELL" before giggling and kicking my feet hehehehe I'm clinically insane for him

But the fact that he acknowledged us as Malleus friend probably means we've spent a lot of time at the dorms or around Lilia for him to see how our friendship and interactions with him work, and it melts my heart hehe. Being part of the diafam fr. But honestly bro back me up, I'm tired of being called a hench-human 😭💀

I wonder just how bad we must look with everyone noticing the strange shift??? Either we REALLY made a scene (tripping over, going pale) or the twst boys are just that attentive to us and I think that is the sweetest thing ever 😭😭 Ace and Deuce is so sweet for thinking of us and trying to get us out while also being polite to the people who kindly held the party. Despite not being there long, ace and deuce is willing to skip out on free food and drinks in order to make sure you're okay and I'm just 😭😭 ANGELS. I LOVE THEM.

But also the way Lilia worries for you is so sweet 😭💜 I should write a fic of sick reader and Lilia, or reader trying to tough it out because I know for a FACT Lilia would not let that slide! (Hypocrite 😐)

I ACTUALLY DROPPED MY JAW WHEN SEBEK SAID THIS SHIT. I WAS. WHAT. WHAT THE HELL LMFAOOOOO 😭 thats fucking insane bro I actually found myself chastising him thru the phone, I would NOT let that discrimination against humans bullshit pass fr 😭 slap him right upside the head and give him a stern talking to. I like seeing Lilia get frustrated, he's so cute and UGH. Although it went in one ear out the other, Seeing Lilia mad is so hot if I'm being real with y'all rn BUAHAHA.

I didnt screen shot this either (and I can't fit anymore photos on this post smh) but Silvers nose being red and obvious he was crying but Lilia confused. DudE OF COURSE he was crying!!! You're his dad!! You raised him since he was a baby, he's just now going into adulthood and doing that WITHOUT HIS DAD who is going to a far away land! Sure, traveling is a thing , but honestly nothing beats having that support just a moments away. Silver is literally the sweetest and wants to support his dad , but who's going to support him????!?! Lilia is putting him in a position where Silver feels the need to be strong and hide his tears for Lilias sake, but of course this is hard on him, its so sudden, too! Being so close to your parent and next thing you know mere days later they are stripped away from your arms?!

I just want to give them all hugs. Lilia obviously has some issues and misconstrued ideas of love (a million people have made posts and comments on this, so I will not repeat it) and I just. Need them to all sit around and be their mediator while we go thru their emotional states.

Ugh. I was in my twst burnout stage and still low key am, but fuck does it spark so much passion in you 😭😭

[hiskillingjar]

Could you maybe elaborate on Strade forcemascing you? Because the thought of him calling you his boy did... things to me

alrightttt you absolute perverts, let's fucking do this i guess. we're doing actual forcemasc too, not the lame tboy poetry kind

2100+ words, fem mc (for now), faggot isn’t a slur, she’s a sister to me (but cw for slurs i guess and also drug use).

"Why do you even have these?" 

You poked at one of the little red bottles on Strade's desk as he worked on something new for his website, recognising the shape, colour scheme and font choice almost instantly from your days of partying with the GSA committee in college. You couldn't resist a little scoff as you looked up at him, raising a brow.

"Aren't you a little old for poppers?"

Distracted from his work (albeit just momentarily), Strade looked up with a surprised look on his face, letting out a huffed laugh as he turned his attention from the computer and onto you.

"You know what poppers are?" He asked, raising a brow. "That's a surprise. I figured that you wouldn't...not many know about them anymore. Not without looking it up, at least."

"Come on, I'm not an idiot," You replied, rolling your eyes as you leaned against the side of the desk, peering at the silent video auto-playing on his screen, as grisly as ever. No doubt you'd have to get on an edit for it, soon, and distribute it to his growing audience. The longer you did it, the more you didn’t mind doing it. "And, I mean, I had a lot of gay friends in college, too. It's, like, super trendy now, way more than it used to be."

"Hah, nice to hear that it's still a thing with the younger generations then." He chuckled, resting his arm on the desk and letting his cheek loll down lazily against his fist. "I'm surprised a pretty, young lady like yourself knows all about them, though" Strade then leaned forward and picked up one of the bottles, tapping the top of it playfully. "Usually this kind of thing would be reserved for fags like me."

You rolled your eyes again when he called you a 'young lady' (though the age difference between you was becoming less of an issue the more times he spoke of it, and only caused more and more of a stirring in your core) before sitting up on the desk top and spreading your legs a little, your shorts riding up your thighs and clinging tight.

Oh yeah?" You tilted your head, your tone a little teasing. "Wanna share any fun stories?"

Strade's eyes flitted from the little bottle and back to you, spanning up your spread thighs (lingering on the tight gusset for maybe a second too long to be innocent) and to your face, his own smirking and smug. 

"You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine." 

"Well, I've had a lot of experiences," You replied with a casual shrug, as he rolled his chair in front of you and placed his hands on either side of your hips, his knees pressing up against your calves, pinning you in place. You found that you didn’t mind it so much, though. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Hmmm..." He hummed, as if deep in thought, and his gaze flickered from your eyes, down to your mouth, then to your chest (you weren't wearing a bra either and you were sure your top was a little too small and clinging for you) as he thought about your answer. "Well...tell me anything you think I'd be surprised by." His gaze came up again to meet yours, a knowing smile on his lips. "Something you've never told anyone."

"Hm...I've had a threesome?" You suggested, resting your palms behind you as you leaned back on the desk, smiling coyly.

"A threesome?" He repeated with a slightly impressed look. "With a guy and a girl, or two guys...or two girls?" 

"Two guys," You replied with a little titter, knowing why he was asking about the latter (like the dirty old man he was). "My housemate is-" You hesitated, wondering how you should speak about your past life…you probably should have been more upset about considering it a past life, but you were far from sorrow at this point. "Well...he was bi and had a long-term boyfriend, but he wanted to...you know, get a girl involved. Remember what he was missing, or some shit." 

"Mmm, I bet," He hummed again, moving his hands up and down your calves. You couldn’t remember the last time you shaved your legs, but Strade never made you feel bad about that. "...And, what, you decided to volunteer yourself as tribute?" He continued with a grin. "Kind of slutty, kind of hot, fraulein. Did you have fun?"

You laughed at the idea of 'volunteering yourself' for such a situation, but shrugged your shoulders again, taking in a slow breath as his hands roamed up your hips and to the waistband of your shorts, feeling where they dug into you and marked your skin with pink indentations. 

"Yeah, it was a lot of fun." You nodded, letting out a soft sigh as he eased his hands past the waistband of your shorts and took a firm grip on your hips, calloused skin on skin. "We got high on Rush," You nodded back to the little red and yellow bottles. "And...yeah, had a good time."

"Right..." His smirk curved into a salacious grin as his hands slid from your hips and round to your ass, pulling you further up the desk and closer to him, your legs spreading completely on either side of the computer chair to give him room to slot between. You should have felt more vulnerable…you should have. "And why do you think they were interested in you, of all people?"

"I-I don't know..." You mumbled, taking in an unsteady breath as he continued to grope and knead at your flesh and leaned in closer between your spread legs. "Close proximity, maybe…I was down for whatever, too, that was probably pretty convincing, too..."

"Hmph...you know," He tilted his head, giving your ass another firm grope. "Maybe the reason you were pulled into that threesome was because you're so... boyish, you know?"

"Boyish?" You repeated, giving him a questioning look as he groped you, forcing your body to sit up straight in a squeaking flinch. "I'm not...I'm not that boyish."

"Oh really? You think not?" He asked innocently, feigning surprise as he took advantage of the little jump and worked on dragging your shorts down your thighs. "I mean...come on now, have you looked at yourself? You couldn't pass as a girl if you tried..." He shrugged casually despite the filthy subtext behind his words, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

You said nothing to that, and your face flushed a bright hue of red as you tried to look to the side and appear as aloof and distant as you should have been.

His words were playful for the time being, his tone more teasing than anything else, but his teasing nature did nothing to stop him as he pulled your shorts past your knees and sat up in his seat to pull you closer and place a whisper of a kiss on your neck.

"You know…if I wasn’t looking at you really closely, I could almost be fooled into thinking you were a boy. Maybe that’s what you should be, instead…you’re a little too filthy to be a girl, after all."

You let out an unsteady breath as he kissed and licked and nipped at your neck, pressing your thighs together to stop yourself from trembling as he tossed your shorts to the side.

His kisses and nips became more and more drawn out and teasing as he dragged his thick tongue against your bare neck, stimulating each nerve and making you shiver and tremble and tighten up against him. As he did this, his strong hands (calloused, scarred, masculine) slid up your legs so that he could force your thighs apart and spread you open completely, despite the tightness in your body. 

Keeping one hand on your knee, the other started to trace small circles along the inside of your thighs, his fingers starting to move higher and higher to the wetness that lay between them.

"Ahhnn..." You groaned, pressing yourself closer to him, your legs tightening on either side of his body as his fingers breached your entrance without even a degree of resistance.

His lips never lost the momentum they had, kissing and nipping and biting from your neck down to the edge of your collarbone, but eventually, he decided to stop entirely, instead bringing his mouth back up to your ear as his fingers kept delving deep inside of you, his calloused thumb rubbing against the blooming bud of your clit and making you tense even more.

"You wanna know why I think those boys got you involved?" He asked softly, his words hot against your sensitive skin.

"W-Why?" You stammered, trembling a little more, biting your lip as he dragged his fingers against your insides.

"Because they saw you as one of them. A boy. A faggot, no less." His voice dipped down into a low whisper that always got your heart racing. They had a playful tone now, as if he were joking, but when he reached down with his free hand to grope and squeeze his cock through his khakis, you had a sense that he wasn’t joking or trying to tease you.

He was enjoying this.

"I mean, you are one, aren't you?" He then asked, his golden eyes flitting up to meet yours. “That’s why you take poppers, and spread your legs the moment a guy is rough with you, hm? Am I right? Come on...say it." 

"Nooo..." You pleaded softly, your fluttering eyes rolling back into your skull as his fingers delved deeper, your breathing even heavier as your chest rose up and down forcefully. “No, noooo, no no I’m not…ah-I-I’m a girl, I’m a girl…”

"Ah, come on…ust say it. It'll be fun.” He chuckled, continuing his cruel assault on your clit as he continued to stimulate himself, despite the barrier between his hand and his cock. “I won't judge. But it'd be nice to know the truth, for us to share some truth, too. To know you better…" He then tilted his head for a quick moment of consideration. “And maybe I’ll fuck you like the faggot you are, if you do…”

"Hmmmph, please..." You pleaded with an erratic nod of your head, biting your lip. “Please fuck me, please…”

"Say it, and I'll keep going." He then said, his voice taking a tone of stern authority (that made your cunt tighten around his fingers), as he leaned up close to your neck again, forcing you down against the desk, his dark gaze almost piercing. "Say you're one of us...one of the boys..."

"Hahh...I'm...I'm a boy," You murmured airily, mindlessly, feeling a little light-headed as you did so, watching as he deftly unbuckled his belt with one hand and kept working on himself. "Mmph, I’m a boy, I’m a boy…I-I'm a faggot..."

"Mmm, good boy…my boy.” He praised with a truly lecherous look of pure delight in his golden eyes. “Did that feel good to finally admit to me?" He then asked, as he slid his fingers out of you (wiping them off on his trousers), and pressed his body down against yours as he forced your back flat onto the desk. "Was that so hard?"

"Yes...hah, it felt good, yeah..." You slurred with a nervous smile, pressing closer to him as you felt the head of his cock graze over your cunt and tease you even more. “Mmph, please…”

“Ah,” He let out a little sigh as he slowly slid inside of you, just a flicker of pleasure showing on his face as he pressed into the wet warmth of your cunt. “Well…I did promise to fuck you like a faggot if you admitted it to me…and I do tend to keep my promises.”

As he slid completely inside of you (so deep, he could have impaled you) and took a moment to adjust himself to the tight grip of cunt and your legs tensing up on either side of his body, he reached to the side of the desk for one of the bottles of Rush and brought the plastic cap to his mouth, twisting it open with his teeth.

“Raise your head for me, mein herr.” 

His voice was a low and fond murmur after he spat out the plastic cap and brought the bottle to your nostril, pressing the other shut with his thumb and forcing you to inhale the fumes from the bottle as he fucked you deep.

“Take it like a man.”

[vaguely-concerned]

I listened to the first episode of vows and vengeance and... god. god forget waiting for veilguard, how the fuck am I going to survive the wait between each episode of this???? tl;dr: I loved it, I love dragon age, I love audio dramas, I love voice acting and music, I love thedas, I am IMMEDIATELY painfully invested. if nadia doesn't get her sweet fancy lad back whole and unharmed by the end of this I am killing everyone in tevinter and then myself.

more thoughts under the cut! not a lot of deep analysis just flailing and feelings today haha

I hadn't realized that elio would be a magister! idk if it was in any marketing beforehand, but if so I didn't pay enough attention to remember it lol. he sounds like he might be prime lucerni-material politically, so I'm a little sad we didn't get even a subtle dorian or maevaris easter egg in there, as far as I could tell, but hey, you can't have everything. (honestly unless BIG changes are upon us (which tbf they probably are) it might be just as well that this went down as it did, b/c I'm not sure how long elio would survive in the magisterium that we've heard tell of, he's quite -- either soft and shortsighted, or politically reckless, I think nadia was right there.)

I found nadia, elio and their dynamic very effectively introduced -- the fact that they haven't quite figured out how to be good to each other yet but so clearly both desperately want to be and are willing to work for that is a smart place to start the story. it makes it feel all the sadder if they never get the chance to work it all out, because I think they could have every chance to, given the time.

The voice actors for the central characters are all wonderful (orin's was. fine! doing a good enough job with a slightly more thankless role, let's call it that.) also so nice to hear people humming the tavern songs we heard in inquisition. god I love thedas I'm so glad we're getting to go right back in there soon

The episode was longer than I thought they would get, and it was all the better for it! I'm so happy it seems they'll get the space they need to tell this story, especially since nadia appears to be setting out on quite a continent-spanning odyssey here (I'm so sorry about your life nadia)

SOLAS solas solas! solas. solas!!!! he is such a BITCH and I love him so much. he is being aggressively himself and I didn't realize just how much I'd missed him. no one gets me frustrated quite like you baby you know better than this I KNOW you could know better than this why do you never learn a single thing I know you have the capacity somewhere in there. patron saint of endlessly fucking up. WHERE do you get off being condescending to nadia when all your ~*brilliant*~ plans backfire catastrophically on you every single time solas. yeah of course you're sorry, and you fucking better be, if she stabbed you I'd be sad but also like 'yeah I mean you had that one coming sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯' about it!!! what the fuck. come home please

such a weird feeling to have him be an ominous stranger on the road to elio and nadia while I was standing there with my arms crossed and my foot tapping irritably like 'oh so now he shows his face, there he is. my husband. my ex-husb -- my nemesis and poor little meo -- it's complicated alright. he's in the dog house, but the dog house he's in is still mine'. I do adore how unstoppably solas clearly wants to be a teacher, he works so hard to be mysterious and aloof but the lonely insufferable chatterbox knowitall jumps out at every turn.

neve trying and almost succeeding in freezing the whole bay I'm

like. okay then! much to think about

the only thing I'm not a big fan of is the characters calling out in-game spells in sort of a self-indulgent way, but hell if I know how else you'd communicate exactly what's going down magically in an audio format like this so y'know. very easily forgiven from my side honestly

[piracytheorist]

Episode 34 notes!

I was a little surprised we had a "previously on" part on this one. Were they trying to fill up time? XD

I do love, though, that they thought it very important for us to see this face (and getup) of Loid's again.

Best Spy of Westalis, everyone.

Anyway, onto the action! Damn McMahon scared me he was going to die, with how he lay there slumped like that.

Yor really got a second wind after her realization. Seconds ago she was barely able to lift her head up, and now she's up and fighting with multiple open wounds, and still getting the katana guy all bruised up and tired.

And I'm thinking, she believes Loid would forgive the blood on her hands and the fact that she may have to leave them, because he'd see how she's done it for the betterment of the world... and he actually would, because he's doing the same. We now need to see that she'll provide the same understanding and forgiveness when his secret comes out.

I find it a little funny that all this deathly action was taking place up above and everyone else, even Twilight, were none the wiser. Like we go from Yor and Katana Guy fighting to the death and then there's Anya jumping from excitement from the fireworks and Loid just being like "I'm glad you had fun".

And again, following what he thinks is her worries, he apologizes for not being able to find Yor. He's determined to comfort her and I find that so sweet. And then

Anya may be realizing she's too young to have the attention span needed for a professional spy. She's prioritizing fun without realizing it, and to the detriment of her plans, Loid is actually enabling that XD I love my weird family XD

Loid finds out about the bombs and though his spy training tells him to stay out of it and leave it to the SSS to handle the crisis, his knack for amassing responsibility rears its head.

He not only considers the worst possible scenario, he also takes it upon himself to avoid it, like he does with the cold war situation. Nothing of this is on him to blame, but he still thinks that "I can help avoid that" and he just runs straight into danger to do just that.

I wonder if he considers that a consequence of his enhanced abilities. If he believes that he's not above anyone else because he's smarter, faster, stronger, etc than the average human, but because he has all those innate skills and talents, he owes it to the world to use them for good. I don't know, maybe I'm taking it too far with this XD

Anyway. He will certainly be questioning how the very ship he happened to travel on just happened to have a ton of bombs on it to make it sink. That's another thing that will make total sense post-identity reveals when Yor tells him why she was really on that ship XD

Loid doesn't even get to start coming up with ideas for where to leave Anya, and Anya already very conveniently offers the probably best solution: a kids play room XD

Like, again, this show is comedy at its core, so even when there's action and tension going on, things will conveniently happen without making the most sense because it's how comedy works XD Endo knew what he was doing when he started it XD

But also, another thing that will make more sense to Loid after identity reveals. Because he wanted to focus on the bomb, Anya said she wanted to play and he was like "Please for the love of god not now" and she somehow went like "Imma go play on my own and have supervision so you go do your thing" and he should know this isn't common at all. He does say it's lucky but he has no idea XD

The anime added a bit more in this small section, as in the manga the daycare worker doesn't even get to speak to Anya, because she escapes immediately. In the anime Anya plays with a ball for a bit, then asks to draw, and as the woman starts picking up drawing supplies, Anya takes her chance and she's off!

"Hello, I am most definitely not voiced by Takuya Eguchi"

I just love how he just dropped his voice a few pitches instead of putting on a fake voice. And just as I wrote a meta about how Twilight uses a different timbre of his voice when he speaks as Loid, huh XD

Again, we get a mention of "Western extremists". Loid mentioned at the start of the cruise that Princess Lorelei is "the pride and joy of Ostania", so it would make sense to take it down as a fuck-you to Ostania from a rival country. However, without relevant intel, Twilight also considers the possibility that it was simply rigged to spark the fire of war between the two countries, without swearing on it. That's some pretty good deduction without passionately taking sides.

I just think it's very interesting that despite being from Westalis, he never takes the side of its government. He's only on the side of peace and he'll protect both or either West and East interests if it means peace can remain.

It's amazing how Anya's involvement helped things! And how it was even set up!

I was just thinking, a little before I watched the episode, that indeed Yor was missing her weapons. The first dagger was left in the crow's nest where the sniper was, the second was broken by the guy with the mace, and the third slipped from her hand when katana guy first fought her. Which means all this time she's managed to bruise and tire out Katana Guy with her bare hands, while he had his katana on O_O

Ok listen.

First of all, consider the muscle strength a five-year-old would need to throw that dagger that far. And it's not a simple, light dagger, it's strong and massive enough to break through a wooden door and a human skull at once, it's gotta carry some weight. And Anya was able to throw it up an entire story above her and then some more.

But then, it's also the placement of where the dagger ended up - in front of the pipes so that the other guys wouldn't see it immediately upon turning the corner.

Like, they would see the pipes, and prepare to jump over them as they turned the corner, but it would be easy to not spot it and slip on it - and again, because of its position, the guy who slipped on it had the pipes on the right height to first hit his head on them before his back could land on the ground. If it was a little closer he would hit his legs or hips on the pipes, and his body would bend over backwards, and if it was further he would first land on his back and probably not hit his head and lose control of his weapon.

But as it was, he did hit his head, he did lose control of his weapon, and he did shoot the other assassin.

Okay, it was a little ridiculous that the dagger had so much velocity from being slipped on to jump around and land with its pointy end right on the ass-assin (sorry), but it's funny so I don't mind at all.

Just according to keikaku.

Watch out, she's armed!

I love how Katana Guy had been fighting her bare arms and was still exhausted and bruised, and yet when she picked up the weapon she's proficient in he went like "Hmph! I will finish this" like my dude where do you find the confidence, she's been mauling you bare-handed and you think you'll handle her armed??

McMahon coming to at the very right moment to kick Sniff Jobs' ass and I breathe a sigh of relief. (Thanks to tare-anime for sharing the fandom's chosen nickname for that guy! It's funnier than calling him "Turtleneck Guy" XD)

Gotta love how she goes from "demonic assassin" to "sweet cinnamon roll too good for this world" in a single blink.

Katana Guy is down and I breathe another sigh of relief! That was intense!

Anya was so happy she helped her Mama! I still don't know if she grasps the actual gravity of the situation, she should normally be having nightmares about it XD

Twilight is more stressed of being surrounded by SSS agents than having to diffuse a bomb and I think that says a lot about him XD

And then Yor used too much power fighting all those assassins that she couldn't even wonder properly how her weapon ended up in the butt of a guy she wasn't even fighting. The family braincell was being thoroughly used by Twilight in that moment, it couldn't multi-task XD

I saw the blood on the ground from Sniff Jobs and immediately went like "O_O Where did that guy go!"

And then, even in the midst of a very important and dangerous situation, the SSS agent is being a dick and bossy. In the manga Twilight wonders it the SSS are trying to save face and that actually would make a ton of sense.

I like how in the manga, when Anya walks next to Sniff Jobs, his thoughts are shown in bubbles with a black background.

Dark thoughts, dark background. It's happened before.

Then he puts his nose at work and actually becomes the reason the ship is saved. He smells the explosives in the clock, Anya hears his thoughts, then casually transfers the info to someone who can take care of it.

I love how the security guy was so worried about how to find the bombs that he yelped when Anya said a simple "Excuse me" XD

The guy dismissed Anya's request at first, which got her to cry, and I wonder how real that crying was. She was, after all, facing the threat of a bombing attack. But it got the guy to check the clock in the end! And also because Anya is such a small kid that he wouldn't suspect something's up with her.

Sniff Jobs was right - the assassin profession is one built on trust, yet he didn't follow his own advice. The informant didn't trust the assassins and put bugs on them, they didn't trust him and planned to betray him, and because of that they all died. The informant planted the bombs, and the guy followed him to kill him, and one of those bombs ended up being the death of both of them.

That said, I kinda love how that story ended. I have a weakness for a felled villain trying to reach out in despair and anger, even while they're heavily wounded and in pain, and then just getting their comeuppance for good. There's some sort of humanity shown there, but that they use to such wrong lengths that you can't feel sorry for them. But it is interesting to me, in a way :D

I guess Informant Guy didn't expect an elite spy to be on board who'd want to stop his plans. Twilight wonders what purpose the bomb in the clock had and I'm a bit confused. The bombs in the lower decks were there to create holes to make the ship sink. Wouldn't the bomb in the clock cause commotion in the upper decks, making it harder for people to escape as much as it's possible?

If anything, Informant Guy was counting on the devices being retrievable so that the Ostanian government would blame the bombs on Westalis and start another war. It's creepy, too, how lightly he was taking the whole thing.

Knowing how it goes it's actually pretty funny to see Twilight just rip the clock off and go like "Imma throw this into the sea bye" and then just run for it.

Rip I guess, whatever that was.

THIS WAS SO SWEET AAAAAAHHHH

AND THEN THIS

And what Olka says to her too! It's practically the realization Yor had on her own about her job. That she gets her hands bloody and risks her life to provide a better world for her loved ones, but she doesn't see those hands as worthy of affection. And yet Olka shows her that, and an innocent child does as well!

This is what she coats her hands in blood for, and this is a moment of someone recognizing her for that, giving her physical affection and affirmation as a thanks for her sacrifice.

Yor reached that point on her own, but Olka and Gram giving them their affection reassured her of it. It's worth it. She is worth it.

Just let her work under a less abusive boss please I beg

Olka actually wishes for Yor and her family to find happiness. Yor was there simply to provide protection, but they both gave each other hope for the future. And that ties back to the main theme of the entire story. Hope. Humanity. Connection. We're not meant to fight. We're meant to love.

Excuse me while I ponder over this for the next three to five days and probably my entire life T_T

As others have mentioned, McMahon reminds Yor to not become sentimental, that they're merely foot soldiers on the trenches of the cold war, yet he gives her the last day off to relax with her family. And he actually says that is a reward for her doing her job well. The music even turns hopeful and sweet.

I just realized that it looks like Yor hasn't sleep at all during the trip? The first night she stayed vigilant while the others slept (though Olka was awake for some time, too), then she had a long fight with a bunch of assassins, and now McMahon told her to stay on alert until dawn breaks. So she's pulling two all-nighters with an extended fight in between where she got injured and hit her head. Is my girl okay???

And a bunch of steps back on the acceptance front stands Twilight.

He worries about having left Anya on her own, not because he might look suspicious, but because he's spent most of the trip focusing on her emotions and trying to help her have fun. And in the midst of that, he had to pass her off to a daycare to go be a responsible spy saving the world. The fact that Anya had the time of her life and was excited that he was saving the ship is irrelevant, since he doesn't know she was, and he only sees that as a failure of his as a pretend father.

And then catches himself, but even then! He can't even fully justify it to himself!

Boy is starting to slip majorly and he's starting to lose his footing on his denial. His "for the mission" excuse is starting to not suffice... and he's starting to see that.

That's a big step both Yor and Loid have made in their progress of accepting their place in the family, though Yor has a huge head start and Loid will probably still hang onto his denial as much as he can. I'm really curious to see how their dynamic will develop now that they'll meet on the island, and how it will continue once they return home!

As I said this was sweet af but it's also funny how there's so much inconsistency on Anya's size. Like! She legit looks like a baby here! I know Loid is supposed to be bigger than you'd expect but Anya isn't that small XD

The music that played in this scene was a soft variation of the theme playing when they board the ship, as well as during the fight in the previous episode after Yor secures the trio. It's very subtle cause it's mostly a piano playing the harmonies instead of the melody.

Yor put her earring back on! As in the manga, in the end of the fight with Katana Guy she's still missing the earring that she threw at Sniff Jobs and probably ripped her earlobe with. But when she met up with Olka and helped them off, she had put it back on. So she did an absolutely insane thing and put the earring back on even though her earlobe was wounded. This woman eats hot coals for breakfast.

And off we go! Three episodes left in the season and this anime only is trying to not lose her mind 🤪 it's been a wild ride and I've loved every second of it but I am really trying to not despair over the fact that it's three weeks left and then another year of waiting 🥲

[all-pacas]

wrote this for something i'm working on; it didn't fit but i saved the scene. sad chase backstory headcanon, i guess:

-

What made you want to be a doctor? is a common enough question.

He knows Cameron’s story: to help people, and be the one to help — and Foreman’s: to help people, but feel superior about it. Knows House’s, more or less (to solve people, to understand and take apart and know), and Chase supposes he’d be closer to the latter example than the former if want had ever factored in.

The truth: Chase has known he would to go to medical school since he was four and fell out the upstairs window.

He remembers the day dimly. The room vividly. His father’s study was the only room in the house that locked from the outside, and even then his father had rarely been home long enough to use it. Stately desk, wooden chair. A small closet packed with banker’s boxes, shelves lined with textbooks and journals. In those days, Chase had still thought of himself as Robbie, and Robbie’d eventually thought to stash a throw pillow in the closet for when he fell asleep waiting to be let out. Spend hours looking at pictures in textbooks, struggling to read the dense medical texts. His first year of medical school he’d been made fun of, pronouncing terms wrong, more used to seeing them in print than heard.

That day, he'd needed the toilet. Banged on the door, shouted for his mother. He’d grown desperate, and afraid of punishment if he’d wet himself or made a mess. The house had a large screened porch spanning the first floor. He must have thought he could climb out the window, onto the porch roof. Jump or climb down onto the lawn, to freedom. Sometimes he thinks it’s surprising he hadn’t tried sooner. Sometimes he thinks it’s worse he never tried again.

He can recall — or imagine he recalls — his rush of excitement as he’d gotten the window open, and the incredible heat of the roof on his bare feet in his moment of triumph. How big he’d felt, how high up and free.

He doesn’t remember falling, but he had.

His mother found him on the gravel outside and called an ambulance. He’d been taken to his father’s hospital: his father had been furious. Less about the neglect and more the embarrassment of it, the nurses gossiping about his wife’s blood alcohol level. He remembers the plastic furniture of Pediatrics: the tropical landscape painted onto the far wall, bright orange curtains on the windows, and his parents arguing in whispers. Broken arm, broken shoulder. Cuts and abrasions. He tells girls he got the scar from a shark, sometimes. If they seem likely to buy it.

It had been a nurse who’d fussed over him as his parents argued, told him how brave he was being, made Robbie feel like he was. Your dad’s a great doctor, love; he’s looking after you personally, she’d lied. I expect when you grow up you’ll want to be just like him!

This had been enough to catch his father’s attention across the room, turning away from the palm trees and his wife. Of course he will, he’d said.

Chase had been too young to wonder: did he mean be a doctor, or want to be like him?

Robert, his father had added, his voice icy with anger, is a good boy.

His mother was crying, he remembers.

-

When Robbie was twelve, a classmate of his had his tonsils out, missed exams, and came back to school a week later bragging about how his parents had bought him a SNES for the trouble. They’ve long since lost touch, but Chase has been using his story for years.

[benkyoutobentou]

Ranking the books I read in Japanese this year

It’s the end of the year and I don’t think I’ll be finishing any more Japanese books this month, so I thought it would be fun to rank what I read! I read twelve novels in Japanese this year, hitting my goal (but not quite reading one a month). There won’t be twelve rankings here, though, because I read multiple books from the same series and will be combining those.

9. コーヒーが冷めないうちに - 川口俊和: This book just didn’t do it for me. I listened to it on audiobook in February for a target language listening challenge and got stuck in a vicious cycle of not paying attention because the story was boring me and being bored of it because I wasn’t paying enough attention. Most other people I’ve seen who have read it in Japanese also thought it was boring, though, so I’m not mourning any loss.

8. 宝石商リチャードの謎鑑定 - 辻村七子: I really wanted to like this series but the negatives outweighed the positives so much that I only read the first volume. The most damning part of this for me was that I couldn’t stand the writing style. It was extremely confusing, and having a language barrier on top of that just made it miserable. I’m really glad I read this with others because I was not the only one who found the writing style to be ridiculously confusing for a book that doesn’t even handle confusing or difficult topics. Seriously, the writing was so bad that I considered continuing the series in English. But the characters were good.

7. あん - ドリアン助川: Now we get into the books that I enjoyed, just not as much. I liked this book well enough, but it was just a bit middling. I wasn’t overly invested in the characters or story and I found myself wondering how on earth this story could go on for another hundred pages. It was sweet, but ultimately I don’t think the story will stick with me at all.

6. ちょっと今から仕事やめてくる - 北川恵海: This was another audiobook read and although I know I enjoyed it, I really don’t remember much about it. I’m also not sure if the twist, which I did think was really good, actually happened or was something I misunderstood (I’m pretty sure I understood it though). Overall, this one goes on the to-reread pile, just as soon as I can find a physical copy of it.

5. 旅猫リポート - 有川浩: This was an adorable story perfect for cat lovers, but the end had me a little bored. Honestly though, it was quite the experience to go from being a bit bored to crying my eyes out in the span of ten pages. The writing style and the main cat’s perspective was super charming as well.

4. 人間失格 - 太宰治: This was my first classic in Japanese and wasn’t as difficult as I expected. Dazai’s writing style is a pain in the ass, but I will admit that it started to grow on me as the book went on and now I find it endearing. It also wasn’t as depressing as I had heard it was, and I really enjoyed getting a perspective of that time period.

3. 美しい彼 - 凪良ゆう: I only read one volume of this, probably exclusively because I suddenly couldn’t stand romance when I had fifty pages left of this. What can I say, I love a good toxic gay romance. The writing style is chronically readable and the story is super engaging.

2. No. 6 - あさのあつこ: I’m a fan of the anime for this and the novels have not let me down. I’ve only read two so far, but the story and characters are super gripping. I really love the emphasis on dialogue in this series, I really feel like it makes the characters pop more. The only problem I have is this odd quirk in Asano’s writing style, where the majority of the series is told from third person point of view, but will suddenly switch to first person point of view for a single sentence. It’s not enough to deter me, but it is a little odd to see.

1. キノの旅 - 時雨沢恵一: My number one favorite read in Japanese this year and no one should be surprised. I’m a massive Kino fan and read three volumes this year. I love books that I can analyze the hell out of and this is exactly that. Additionally, I think the writing style and the way both Kino and Hermes are characterized adds so much to both the stories and the underlying meanings that Shigusawa is trying to get across.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Itadori Yuji x Reader

⚠️ Spoilers for chapter 257 and also a warning for cannibalism

Itadori Yuji

You enjoy fawning over babies, are a dog person or you have the attention span of a goldfish

First Date:

You were ecstatic. You never would have dreamed that your crush would agree to go out with you. Yuji insisted that the two of you meet up outside the theatre. Something about how he wanted to show you this romance movie? "I don't care as long as I'm with you itadori." You then heard what sounded like someone trying to vomit? "What was that?" Before Yuji could respond he slapped himself. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Just swatting an annoying mosquito. Anyway I'm gonna go grab some popcorn now..." You wondered why Itadori was acting so nervous. "Maybe he's just as excited about this date as I am?" You then made sure your mascara was on fleek and then made your way to the screening. "Great, you made it! It's just about to start!" You sat down while the previews began playing.

You couldn't help but notice how your date was shovelling fists full of popcorn down his throat, almost as if he was eating for two people. "Hungry?" you whispered. You then heard a voice saying "No more brat, this tastes awful!" It was probably just the movie since you two were the only ones in the room. Yuji then gave you a bashful look as he rubbed the back of his head. "I guess I've always had a larger appetite. My grandpa once mentioned something about my uncle eating his twin in the womb?" You were too stunned to speak.

The title of the movie showed up on screen. 'HUMAN EARTHWORM 4'. You cringed. How was this a romance movie? You were starting to fall asleep out of boredom when you heard a voice that was far too deep to belong to Itadori. "Pathetic. This is your attempt at courting a woman? Back in the Heian era I would-" There was a loud clap that was enough to fully wake you up. "What happened Itadori?"

Yuji was now sweating bullets. "Oh, You fell asleep? Is the movie not to your liking? We can always do something else if you want." Why did your date have to be so sweet? "No, it's fine. I suppose I'm just tired." The movie soon ended and the two of you decided to get something to eat. You then stopped at the local KFC. Yuji sat down while you went to order. You then returned to see him with a strange look on his face. "What's the matter?"

"I think I just saw my teacher? No wait, maybe it wasn't him? But then again who else has white hair in Tokyo? Anyway, I think this girl in blue robes dumped him or something? He just started crying. Look, he's still there!" You cast your gaze down the street. Itadori was right. There was a man sobbing on the ground while slamming his fist into the concrete. "SUGURU, WWWWHHHHHYYYYYYYY?????? PLEASE I NEED YOU!!"

You turned away. How embarrassing. You were just glad that he wasn't your date. "Hey, the foods getting cold. Let's eat!" The two of you then began to feed each other chicken tenders. You were so lovestruck that you failed to notice the burnt piece you had picked up. If anything it resembled a claw made out of hot dogs more than fried chicken. You put it to Yuji's lips and watched him swallow it whole.

Somethings wrong. Why was your date convulsing all of a sudden? "I swear if they gave you food poison!" You then noticed black markings appear on Itadori's skin. "What the hell-" You were then cut off before you could finish speaking. Literally. Next thing you knew, you were being cut apart into tiny meat cubes. Your date then took a slice of human meat, savoring the flavour. He then started tasting the blood on his fingers. "I guess that's why they call it finger licking good!"