#learning to manage them in a way that you can cope with them is

[eldritch-spouse]

Seeing you new xenomorph OC reminded me of an old idea I had so long ago that I have never shared and I thought I've forgotten.

It was about a new rare species where there could be males and females unlike the original species where they were all females or asexual (i didn't check, correct me if I'm wrong) and looked like the drones except they have a simpler "crown" on their heads like the xenos queens. Like they are more like "princes" or "princesses".

The main differences are that they need another species to reproduce and the mature one can leave peacefully their hive to find their own mates and start their own. They prefer intelligent species as their mates (like humans! wink wonk).

Once they find their life mate (cuz they are monogamous too) they enter their "courting phase" where they are extra aggressive against everything specially those physically near their chosen mate. With their mate they try to show how attentive and capable to provide they are, like bringing trinkets similar to your belongings or something you seem to like (like that snack from that vending machine you seem to like, they swear they will learn how to get it from it like you do or rip it open and loot everything), other prey or some tough enemies like a yautja or a pile of marines.

Mostly, they would watch their mate from the shadows to learn their behavior and adopt it but sometimes they would approach and grope their body to learn about their anatomy and what make them tick. This last bit is important for the next phase, the "honeymoon".

Once they have learned enough and prepared a nice nesting spot, no matter if their mate is willing or not (although if they seem willing that would speed things up) they will knock them out and bring them to the nest. There they will seal the entry and start breeding their mate until "genetics decipher out". Once they are expecting they will start to grow in size until they are a xeno queen/king and being even more territorial. Don't expect them to stop trying for more offspring once they are kings/queens, the size difference won't deter them (maybe even encourage them). Btw, it's impossible for the offspring to be anything but xenos.

Also, I don't why I like to think if their mate dies for some reason or another they become depressed, like swans. They won't even be as aggressive as when they met their mate, maybe even passive to anything but not before getting revenge.

… Man, that was long. TL;DR: new species of monogamous xenos that need other species for reproduction and they are like xenos queen

I thought about something similar too years ago, but then I veered into a different scenario where a hive stricken by a virus that eliminated all females -Leaving none to become Queen- Had to adapt and pick another species' female to become their Queen. An old hive, with many a specimen from different hosts.

This is a grossly short summary of a rather complex idea that I'm freaky about, but naturally, you would be chosen. And part of the story I had concocted involved you coping with your new role, the new instincts and abilities you acquired, as well as managing to keep some of your creature comforts through it all (hilariously also watching xenomorphs of varied casts adapt to them). There was also a ridiculous amount of porn, because it wouldn't be my story otherwise. Since all males had to adapt to his new reproductive system, they would develop ruts and the hive would fall into chaos because hormones get in the way of their perfect routines. You come along and a selection process begins, wherein you must pick mates from all casts of xenomorphs present (they're all peacocking in efforts to get chosen) -To keep population levels stable- And those males will later enter your chambers to deposit the eggs within their painfully engorged ovipositors inside your adapted womb.

And who wouldn't want to mate with the Queen, right? Especially this new Queen, affectionate and soft and warm as she is...

I never played too much with the concept of a xenomorph King, but if I had to pick a specimen to base the concept off of, it'd be a tie between these three.

The "xenomorph King" figure, the "Chimera" from Aliens Rogue and the "Alpha" from Alien Bloodlines. I'm partial towards Alpha.

[anon-1863727]

dear fake autism assholes:

erasing the parts of ASD that make it difficult to live with so that it's cute and quirky for the internet isn't "acceptance" or "education" it's just calling us retarded in a different typeface. it is a disability. it is a disorder. by saying that those things are "offensive" you're saying "disabled" and "disordered" are insults. you're doing the exact same thing you make all your posts about stopping.

my disability is not your cosplay. my headphones are not your prop. my stims are not your choreo.

i can't find community online because every group, subreddit, etc is so flooded with mushroom hats and unofficial diagnosis.

i understand there are circumstances where people can't reasonably get diagnosis and that i am lucky to have been able to, but it makes no sense to me that i see more undiagnosed people who *think* they're autistic speaking for us than i see actually autistic people. it's just as bad as autism speaks. I'm not taken seriously when i mention my condition and it isn't because of people having misconceptions about autism, it's because of people immediately assuming it's fake because I'm within the age range of the people faking it.

I'd just ignore it and leave it be but its so hard to avoid the effects.

just because you're irritated by sound or like to jump doesn't mean you're autistic. AUTISM IS A DISABILITY. IT IS A DISORDER. YOU DON'T HAVE AUTISM IF ITS NOT DISABLING, IT IS A DEVELOPMENTAL DISABILITY. YOU WOULDNT FUCKING TELL A GUY IN A WHEELCHAIR THAT HES NOT DISABLED BECAUSE HE CAN LIVE A FAIRLY NORMAL LIFE. YOU WOULDN'T SAY THAT BECAUSE YOU'RE ON CRUTCHES FOR A WHILE WITH A BROKEN LEG THAT YOUR LIFE IS THE SAME AS SOMEONE WHO'S MISSING A LEG. SAME GOES FOR US.

if you only use autism as a conversational point or internet persona chances are you are not fucking autistic. it affects day-to-day life, it doesn't just turn off when you're alone.

i understand there are flaws in the diagnostic process. i understand it's harder for women. i understand that some people do genuinely find out they're autistic because of the internet. low support needs autism is just as valid as low-moderate support like myself or high support or anything in between. i don't think being young or part of the alt scene invalidates asd either, I'm 16 and for a while yeah i did like the goblincore style. it's just a very specific group that I'm fed up with that's made themselves a very loud minority and screams ableist when questioned.

i don't know why people fake things like this but y'all need to take it elsewhere. I'm sorry you feel the need to do something like that but you're damaging the community while you pretend to be our saviors and it has got to go.

that being said i don't support things like r/fakedisordercringe and such bc dude its just making fun of kids 90% of the time and harassing people isn't ok or productive even if it were. if those who want to trash those kinds of people's accounts had any sense they'd just stop commenting or reposting etc bc all it does is boost the post and encourage it. just suffocate it please. and if you're one of the people faking that kinda shit... dude stop. seriously stop you're just hurting people and making a fool of yourself. it doesn't make you a bad person but you're definitely making bad decisions so just please for the love of g-d give us back our space.

[thethingything]

so CBT never worked for us in therapy. basically every instance of it was therapists trying to get us to stop being anxious about very real problems that were very likely to happen. like, situations that were not only likely, but would be very dangerous if they did happen. sometimes even things that had already happened and were likely to happen again.

meanwhile we have an app on our phone that guides you through various CBT exercises and it turns out when we use that for the kind of shit where we already know our brain is being irrational and we just want to get our thoughts together and work through the issue by writing it out, it works really fucking well and oh look suddenly we've been doing CBT for an hour and processed the root cause of several key emotional issues we've been having for years.

funny how that works. it's almost like we can actually figure out for ourselves when something is irrational and when it's an actual real problem that could put us in danger and shouldn't be dismissed. who'd have fucking thought it

[syekick-powers]

man you know i understand why some people are pushing really hard for the idea of mental illness/disorders being as a result of stress in capitalism. i understand that a lot of depression anxiety etc is often triggered by shit ass conditions that exacerbate misery. but i really don't think we should swing all the way in the other direction of "all mental disorders are due to stress and if capitalism didnt exist depression/anxiety/etc would simply Go Away Magically" like. homie. sister. gurl. bruh. i am bipolar. i will basically always be bipolar. i will need to be medicated for my bipolar for the rest of my life because my brain swings back and forth between manic and depressed for lengths of months on end. even when i am very heavily medicated and in a relatively stress-free environment i can still tell that my brain is going back and forth between depressive/manic episodes basically constantly because certain symptoms still display even with the amount of mood stabilizers i'm taking. even if capitalism vanished tomorrow and all world governments were replaced with socialist systems and climate change was suddenly reversed and everyone on the planet lived in harmony, i would still fucking be bipolar and still have manic and depressive episodes. mental illness will never be defined by a one-size-fits-all definition. some people's mental issues are caused by stress. some people's mental issues are exacerbated to unhealthy levels by stress. some people's mental issues will continue to exist regardless of their stress level. all these things can be true at once.

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job. 

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him. 

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back. 

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later. 

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it. 

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room. 

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is. 

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence. 

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that. 

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you. 

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly. 

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate. 

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation. 

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it. 

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought. 

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates. 

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word. 

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks. 

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake. 

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter. 

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying. 

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow. 

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain. 

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists. 

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?” 

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try. 

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction.  But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more. 

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes. 

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.” 

You bow and head out the door. 

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. 

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now. 

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently. 

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance. 

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed. 

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door. 

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves. 

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do. 

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home. 

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought. 

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere. 

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you. 

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration. 

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect. 

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door. 

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too. 

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe. 

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor. 

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore! 

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum. 

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say. 

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours. 

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did. 

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.” 

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you. 

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out. 

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason. 

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before. 

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage. 

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning. 

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt. 

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment. 

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over. 

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him. 

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed. 

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now. 

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him. 

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget. 

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed. 

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him. 

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern. 

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___.  But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth. 

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline. 

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.  

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well. 

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices. 

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop. 

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context. 

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back. 

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress. 

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it. 

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at. 

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat. 

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back. 

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence. 

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs. 

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger. 

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore. 

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. 

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all. 

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about. 

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you. 

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough. 

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love. 

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all. 

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units. 

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing. 

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?” 

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight. 

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays. 

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway. 

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung. 

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again. 

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard. 

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they. 

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking. 

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway. 

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night. 

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really. 

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name. 

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else. 

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face. 

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[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Lonely Together ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

LONELY TOGETHER | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  1.8k | CONTENT: disgusting brainrot from the Jackson era Joel pic being released, unhinged delulu take on him being sad and lonely and fixing it with sex as a coping mechanism, just general filth idk what to tell you, he's got a mouth on him, degradation kink?, use of derogatory terms but in a sexy way, my result of "sad horny" on the what kind of horny are you? quiz making a lot of sense in this fic

| SYNOPSIS: Joel is lonely. You're lonely. You decide to be lonely together.

It had started out naturally. Joel Miller’s house was remarkably quiet these days, some fracture in his relationship with his step-daughter Ellie being the catalyst for her departure, and he walked around most of the time looking like a kicked puppy. You were no better and with much less of a valid reason to be such a sad sack. You shared one thing in common above all else: loneliness. You’d both honed in on it, recognizing it in another person but not really knowing what to do with it for yourself let alone somebody else.

That is, until, the root of the loneliness made itself clear. You were desperate to be wanted, and Joel was desperate to be needed. A symbiotic give and take that restored some sense of equilibrium to the world when you gave into the urges and gave into each other.

And maybe you wouldn’t normally be so whiny and so pathetic. Maybe Joel wouldn’t normally speak so harshly and demanding. But you drew it out of each other, a safe place to be the worst versions of yourselves and chase what the mind and body needed to make things feel better if just for a little while.

There was no shame in how you meshed together. No second thoughts or chastisement for any notion of your ego being left completely checked and abandoned at the door or his flying off at the mouth with some manic call to ownership. It’s part of what made this dynamic work so well.

You refused to let yourself feel guilt or embarrassment over how he made you feel and act, and he didn’t kick himself for this rough, insistent version of himself that you brought out. It’s what led to a nearly constant need for each other, saying and being things that never left the walls of his home where you normally met up and often stayed the night.

“I know you’re not muffling those pretty little sounds,” he grunts and jerks your head up from where it’d been buried in the pillows as he slammed into you from behind. “Those are my sounds. They belong to me, and I wanna hear ‘em.”

You choke out some pathetic moan and let him puppet your head with his hand clutched around a fistful of your hair. The impact of his drives intensifies as he seeks out more of his sounds. Between the air being punched from your lungs and the mouth of your cervix being punched by his cockhead, you aren’t entirely sure what sounds you’re making, let alone if they’re enough to feed his demand for them.

“Yeah, there you go,” he husks and grips his free hand around the crease of your thigh to pull you closer to him. 

There were times when he was particularly possessive and desperate, and your body subconsciously pulled away from the intensity of his focus, only to have him drag you back even closer to his whims. You always let him. He never gave you more than you could take, and, when he did, it always ended up being just a touch further than what you understood you could manage. He was always forcing you to learn about yourself like that. You resented and pursued it all the same.

“You know better than to make me chase this sweet little cunt,” he snaps. 

You mewl out some kind of apology, but you both know this is just another part of the dynamic that feeds you both.

He pushes your shoulders down into the mattress, head sideways so he can still hear what he does to you, and jerks your hips back. You’re practically limp as a ragdoll, having gone at this now for the better half of an hour, growing exhausted from being taken to the edge so many times just to have him draw back at the last minute.

He pounds into you, and the wet smack of your smeared arousal sounds with each snap of his hip against you. Your slick is everywhere –  your pussy drooling and begging and crying for release – a sort of debauched canvas he’s made out of you in all the ways he’s bent you and folded you and angled you for his liking. He locks your wrists behind the small of your back and uses the leverage to somehow pound impossibly harder.

You feel like you’re about to push through the mattress in a few thrusts if he keeps up this pace, a mind boggling stamina for someone in his 50s. It felt like at times his need to be needed outweighed your need to feel wanted, but you would never complain about the frenzied fervor it invoked in him.

Just as you’ve accepted your fate of being plowed through the mattress, he’s yanking you flush against his chest and driving you down onto his cock. Your hands fly for an anchoring point, and Joel obliges by wrapping an arm under yours and crossing it against your chest and neck until he’s cradling your throat in his palm. Your hands claw onto his forearm like a port in a storm, and you hold on for dear life.

He grips your throat, just enough for you to respond how he wants: a tiny shiver and a throaty moan.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunts. He’s slamming you down onto his cock now, almost deranged in how he seeks out any and every way to make you come completely undone. “My little fuckhole. Say it.”

“I’m–I’m your little fuckhole,” you choke out around the squeeze of his hand.

“You better mean it, baby. Any hole is mine, ain’t that right?”

As if to prove his point, he slips his thumb into the rim of your ass with ease, all the smeared lubrication of your unfulfilled orgasms making a slippery entrance for him to finger. You gasp and clench around him, around his thumb and his cock, all excitement and nerves and anticipation for where he would take this.

You cry out when he plunges his thumb deeper, maybe a reminder that you hadn’t answered him, and you were expected to always answer him.

“Anything! All of them!” you yelp. The sting of his thumb now steadily pumping in and out of you made you feel all the more dizzy and keen for release.

Apparently pleased with your corroboration, he slips his thumb out and grips onto your hip once more to resume his devastating drives. He presses your head back against his shoulder until your ear is next to his breathy mouth.

“Bet you’d let me wreck you there, too, wouldn’t you? Rip you open on my cock ‘til you were gashed and gaped, huh?” He sounds unhinged and so close to spilling inside you that you can’t help but moan and clench.

He breathes a laugh, all he can manage at this pace, and bites onto your earlobe before letting whatever crazed thought that passes through his pussydrunk brain spill from his lips. “Would wreck that hole, baby. Would have you sent up to the clinic just to see what they could do for it. Tryna hide your face all embarrassed when you gotta tell ‘em it’s all wrecked like that because you’re such a nasty fuckin’ whore for my fat cock. Let me use whatever hole I want just because I can, ain’t that right?”

You don’t question why his frenzied promise of fucking your ass so hard you’d need to go to the clinic makes your orgasm come blazing from out of nowhere up the back of your spine. He’s not far behind, a few more thrusts before he’s groaning and filling you with more wet and slip. You collapse together onto the bed and lay limp and panting for what seems like forever as he softens inside you.

You come back to earth when Joel gently nudges you and nuzzles your neck and ear. “You okay?”

It always struck something strange in your chest when he got tender like that, sounding genuinely worried he’d gone too far or been too rough. But, just like always, it was exactly what you needed. What you both needed.

“I’m okay. Felt so good,” you tell him in earnest. He pulls you closer to him and drinks in your praise. He needed this as much as he needed to bury himself inside of you. “Always make me feel so good, Joel.”

He hums a little gravelly acknowledgement and presses a line of soft kisses to your neck. You smile and wiggle your head for him to kiss more of you. It felt unreal in these moments afterward, each time building something strangely sacred and dangerously close to attachment. To companionship. To raw, genuine feelings. To love.

But that hadn’t ever been the point of this, and it felt terrifying to acknowledge. It was easy to say you came to him because he made you feel wanted. It was easy to say he broke you down and built you back up because you gave him that control.

It was decidedly complicated to say you maybe had found more in each other than intended, and neither of you needed complicated. So you deflect. You change the subject. You skirt around the elephant in the room.

“So,” you start and turn over to face him. He hisses as his softening cock slides out of you. You feel his cum dribble out of your cunt, and you want so badly to press your hand down there to keep every bit of him inside you longer.  

He props himself up on his elbow to focus his attention on whatever it is you’re about to say, his fingertip drawing idle lines across your jaw and lips.

“You wanna fuck my ass for the first time, and I’m gonna get reamed so bad I’m gonna need to seek medical attention?” you tease.

He laughs a little at your delivery and at himself for getting so unhinged that he’d babbled about it in the first place. “Nah, baby, just got caught up in the moment. Would never wanna wreck it that bad ‘cause then I wouldn’t be able to fuck it again.”

You snort and grab at his chin. “Wow, not because I would have a wrecked asshole for the rest of my life? You just want it intact enough to fuck as many times as you want?”

He shoots you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t that the point of all this? Me fuckin’ you how I want? You gettin’ what you need?”

It sounds false on his lips to the point that even he makes a microexpression of acknowledgement that it might’ve started that way but had morphed into something more – something complicated. But, at least for today, you were going to keep it easy.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you agree with an impish smile. You drag Joel down into a sloppy, lazy kiss.

[sharkylass]

YOU I LIKE YOU @faislittlewhiteraven These questions are a little hard to answer with doodles but I tried my best- Nil generally has a pretty heroic and brave personality overall. She's loud and brash and ready to jump into things super quickly.

She's not the best with words, but she is very reliable overall

More art and writing under cut, it's just a long post man-

In terms of helping about during travels, she likes doing a lot of heavy labor jobs- She's the type to fix broken fences, gather supplies for folks, carry stuff around, tend to crops or lend a help wrangling animals. Nil wouldn't be great at things like sorting and organizing tho- Just tell her what you need and where to put it and she will! I mentioned she's not really the best with words (she is very emotionally intelligent just sometimes struggles to communicate stuff), HOWEVER, With folks that have been frozen she connects with a lot. How it's scary that you've been frozen for so long when your entire belief is to change and evolve, how (if Mal Du Pays is anything to go by) they had to fight their own demons in there, how everything can change so easily without you even noticing- It's terrifying to think about.

Actually- a while ago I made battle sprites with Nil- I wasn't happy with them so I never shared them BUT

Specifically I wanted to contrast her frozen sprite with everyone else's- Cause if she were to SOMEHOW be frozen again, knowing what it feels like, what could happen while she's out- It would TERRIFY her instantly. Not just a mild shock or surprise, it would stick with her for a while-

Speaking of battles tho-

Nil is super brash and lively as a whole. She puts up a brave face for a LOT of things, including fighting. She jumps in without really thinking, and as long as it goes their way, she'd have a smile on her face doing it.

However, while brave, it does come from both a place of coping and naivety. She's not used to genuine fighting, in fight or flight situations she actually tends to flee. (Which is why honestly, if she had to fight the King I don't think she could do it-)

If a battle were to start going south, she'd actually start to panic more then anyone else- Physical wounds and seeing the people she loves hurt would lower her accuracy and general capabilities, despite the brave face she puts on.

And due to her lack of experience, especially in bigger groups- Nil tends to... miscalculate sometimes

She had to learn the hard way not to just jump at any opportunity she sees. The party can see where Bonnie got it from (also after the battle Nille proceeded to heal Sif, profusely apologizing, I forgot to doodle that whoops-) (Also gameplay wise, imagine every second turn she does an action of her own without your command)

Also just the Sif image by itself cause I liked it :]

As for chores and stuff-

She does foraging and stuff! Honestly I don't think the other 5 would have done so before they traveled together.

Mira would have most DEFINITELY learned about it but didn't feel confident in her abilities. Bonnie will grab stuff they think is edible from what they remember Nille telling them and they'd grab a stick to cook. Odile would not be interested and would prefer buying the ingredients rather then wild scavenging. Isa doesn't read to me as a biology student, I see him more of a math history type of guy, so either he doesn't know, or him and Mira did it occasionally together, but only as a last resort type of deal (maybe when it was just the two of them and they had to manage alone) And Sif in my mind is an accident prone goober who'd forget which ones are edible and which ones aren't so I wouldn't trust him personally.

SO! LONG STORY SHORT! I don't think any of them are really experienced with foraging. And as a means to make money management easier- I imagine Nil (nature being a passion of sorts to her) took up the mantle! Probably taught the rest how to do it too!

That's it when it comes to stuff specific to her- Other then that she's kind of ready to help out with anything! She can help set up tends, do odd jobs for money, help cook if for WHATEVER reason Bonnie wanted her to or wanted to do something else in that time, bring water, wood, fish, help with weapons- She's not the best at those things, but if anyone needs a hand to be lent- she is there!

I'll be entirely honest, I don't think I understand your last question- But I do wanna say that Nil and Isa become like. Best buds real quick. He is the first one she instantly trusts, since she rivals with Mira, is prickly with Odile and Sif is someone she wants to help rather then ask for help. So if she needs someone to turn to, or needs a partner in crime- Nil would turn to Isa And now I just imagined Mira and Nil bonding over how to grow plants. Cause Mira tried REALLY REALLY HARD and couldn't do it, so Nille would actually love to give some tips- Imagine Mira genuinely walking up to her with a little alive plant with a proud glint in her eyes and have Nil fully support her- Honestly I could keep going for forever, I have so many thoughts on her and her dynamic with everyone- Bro I even have nicknames, you don't even know-

BUT I'M GONNA CUT IT HERE, HAVE FUN, I'VE BROUGHT SOME FOOD FOR NOW-

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I feel like advice on loneliness comes in only three flavors:

"It's all mindset, learn to embrace being alone and you'll never feel lonely!"

"Your head is lying to you, you have friends and they love you!"

"Here's a list of places you can go to hang out with people and make new friends!"

Those are usually well-meant and I'm sure there are situations where they do help someone feel better - but they're definitely not universally applicable.

The first one is even plain wrong: connection is a basic human need. You can't just "change your mindset" and turn that off, the same way you can't turn off your need for food or air or mental stimulation. Humans are group animals. We absolutely need social interactions to stay healthy and sane. It is true that some people do not need a large number of friends and are happiest with just one or two close friends, and it is also true that some people prefer to fulfill their social needs in other ways than what's traditionally defined as friendship - but that's not something you can (or should) try to train yourself to do, that's just natural differences and preferences!

The only thing you could "train" yourself to do would be to learn to ignore your social needs and bury them deep down under layers of denial... and you don't need me to explain to you why that's a very unhealthy idea. It's sad enough that so many people have to do that to not lose their minds in loneliness, we certainly don't need to celebrate an unhealthy coping skill as a "superior mindset".

The other two at least get a bit closer to the truth: the solution for your unmet need is not to kill the need, but to fulfill it... but that's easier said than done, isn't it?

After all, "Don't worry, your friends love you!" doesn't help if you have no friends. Loneliness is not always "all in your head": Maybe you moved to a new place and don't know anyone there. Or you cut off contact with all your friends after a big fight. Or you grew up neurodivergent (or got mentally ill at a young age) and had no chance to learn how to make friends at the age most kids do, and by now you have been friendless for so long you don't even know where to start.

Same with "just go to a bar and talk to some new people" or "Take a pottery class and you'll meet some interesting people there" - that's not factually wrong, but also not helpful if the reason you feel lonely is that you struggle to make friends (or even struggle to just talk to people). Which can also be part of neurodivergence or mental illness, or just be a part of your personality (shyness), or be a result of isolating circumstances (like having spent a lot of time in a closed environment, for example a long hospital stay, and now feeling unsure how to connect with people outside of that environment). 

And those are just a few of the many, many possible explanations why someone may be lonely that require a more individualized approach - which is why we can’t solve loneliness with any one-size-fits-all solution.

That may be a somewhat disappointing-sounding conclusion in a letter on loneliness, so let me also tell you: hope and support are always within reach, even if it might take some time and patience to find them. The key is to remember that your feelings are valid and that you're not alone in your struggle.

First, recognize that admitting that you feel lonely, and wanting to take action based on that feeling, is a sign of strength, not weakness. You’re pretty insightful for recognizing your loneliness and super brave for wanting to reach out!

Secondly, be kind to yourself and allow yourself to take small steps. Small, actually manageable steps are crucial in any healing journey! If it’s not an option to just go to the bar or that pottery class, then it’s okay to start somewhere else. Maybe a therapist, a support group, or even online communities can be valuable “training sessions” for social connections. Even reaching out to one single person can make a significant difference over time. Your journey to finding companionship and connection might be different from someone else’s, but that doesn't make it any less valid (or achievable!).

Lastly, do consider embracing new activities that you may enjoy - but not just for the sake of meeting others. It’s important to nurture your own happiness and well-being when you’re feeling lonely. Those can be activities you can try out alone and even at home, for now! Anything that enriches your life is good. Long down the road, maybe it will lead to opportunities to connect with others, but even if it doesn’t: it’s important to incorporate new experiences into your life.

While there isn't a universal solution to loneliness, I truly believe there is a path forward for everyone. It's all about finding what works for you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[fastcardotmp3]

Eddie Munson does do the whole rock star thing, but it doesn't quite go the way it did in the daydreams of a sixteen-year-old kid trying to stay awake in school.

He leaves Hawkins after the world doesn't end, gets himself out there, takes all the hurt and fear and fucked up shit and puts it into a handful of good enough songs to get himself signed.

It's not quite the genre he grew up with, not quite something any of his idols might have played, but only because it is so entirely Eddie, so influenced by where he's been and what he's seen that it kind of doesn't fit one specific influence.

It's new and it's good, is the point. Really good. And he skyrockets fast enough to give himself the spins.

He's recognizable and then he's famous and then he's too famous and too young to know what to do with it and too far from home and everyone he loves to really cope with it and it's just.

Eddie isn't built for it. Eddie hasn't even processed the fact that he was maybe supposed to die in that place, or the fact that he did watch people better than him actually die, but he's out here shooting to the top of the charts and being called the next big thing and it's too much.

It's just enough, at the end of it all, for him to self-sabotage his way out of being more than a one-hit wonder.

One big hit, a contract broken by the guys at the top with the fancy lawyers because Eddie has become the too much thing, just like always, and it's over as quick as it started.

He disappears, becomes one of those whatever happened to him? he was supposed to be the next big thing? stories that travel by word of mouth and then fade with the shift in conversation.

So what does happen to Eddie Munson?

He falls hard, he hits rock bottom, he crawls his way home to an uncle who deserved for Eddie to really make it, make him proud, have him financially set for life and get him into a real house with two stories and a garage to park the truck in, maybe even a yard for a dog.

He spirals and isolates and falls apart and stops letting himself make music at all and makes some personal choices that will probably have lasting effects on him for the rest of his life and then somewhere along the line a girl with hair like tangerines and terrible aim manages to smack him with her cane and says if I learned to walk again, so can you, asshole.

There are people in his life again after that, a reason to get out of bed and realize that he can make Wayne proud in more ways than the one he'd already fucked straight to hell.

Eddie watches a bunch of kids graduate high school and then he packs up and chases down some people who pulled him out of hell once before up in Chicago, crashes on Steve and Robin's couch until he gets himself a job painting houses and they can afford three bedrooms instead of just the two.

He cuts his hair, not short but shorter, and he gets more tattoos and itches for the guitar that sits in a case under his bed, ignores it. Itches for the pen in his hand, ignores that too.

He's still barely past his mid-20s and he still has some fucking around left to get out of his system, some finding out to accomplish doubly so, but he learns as he goes no matter whether it's forwards or backwards.

He falls in love and falls out of it, gets fired from jobs and tracks down new ones, gets into fights with his friends because they're all a little fucked up and codependent and weird but makes up with them for the same reasons.

The thing with Steve happens slowly, going from tolerating each other for the sake of knowing they'll always be on the same team to genuinely liking each other to discovering a care between the two of them that's a bit too strong to be normal about even if it still takes them a half-dozen so-called turning points to really name it and take it and keep it.

Eddie's 33 when they buy a condo together on the outskirts of Chicago two weeks after they fall into bed with each other for the first time, and he's over a decade on from being a kid who rose to the top too fast but it doesn't feel dissimilar, that sensation of a too-good thing that's bound to go wrong.

Only this time he doesn't try to sabotage it, tries the opposite, tries to hold it tightly in ways that would probably be too tight for anyone other than Steve Harrington with all his deeply intense feelings and inability to love at anything other than an eleven.

It's in the move that Steve finds a box of notebooks, snoops because it's who he is, and finds years worth of words that never made it past the tip of a pen but did, eventually, make it that far.

And it's not an easy thing, convincing Eddie that they're words worth sharing, because Eddie doesn't want it to be an easy thing. He can't let kind words shoved into his orbit by a beautiful man be enough to make it feel worth it, can't see a world where sharing his art doesn't end in another great big self-induced mess that he can't let happen when he's finally found something good.

He doesn't want to go on tour and get screamed at on stage and, besides, he's pretty sure the rest of the world doesn't want to scream for him anymore either, but then Steve has to go and remind him--

"You don't have to be the face of it. You can just be the words; you are so fucking good at being the words, Ed."

Which still isn't quite enough to be convincing, but it's a start in a solid six months of the words coming easier now that he has someone to share them with, someone to listen as Eddie plucks away at a guitar that sits out in the open now, free of dust.

It stops feeling like something shameful to hide, his music, and the thing is? It doesn't feel how it did back then either.

It's not an escape or a purge of violent energy or a distraction from everything he didn't know how to think about. Sure, it takes all of that into consideration because it takes the whole of Eddie into consideration, but more than anything it's just fun.

Like he's thirteen and still learning how to play the guitar, like it's just a hobby that never has to go anywhere, like it's just art that maybe deserves to be heard.

Everyone pitches in on ideas when they find out he's trying to come up with a pseudonym, and it's goofy and supportive and kind of the final straw in reaching out to old, burned bridges to see about any new artists looking for equally new tunes.

The first time Eddie and Steve catch familiar lyrics being sung by a new hotshot band on the radio, Eddie cries not because he's jealous or disappointed, but because it feels right.

He doesn't like being up in front of the crowds, had only ever walked across tables and made himself big and scary and loud out of self preservation, would always rather his biggest performances be for the people he knows really care.. Besides, after everything he's survived he's learned, albeit slowly, that he really likes the freedom of the quiet.

This way he still gets to say what he has to say, gets to throw his hat into the ring of an artform that he loves without selling his soul to a machine that tried to eat him alive (trust him. he knows what that feels like.)

Of course, someone is going to put 2 and 2 together eventually, the industry isn't as big as it looks and pseudonyms only pull so much weight when you went out in such a spectacularly messy and memorable fashion, but Eddie's got his condo in Chicago.

He's got the guy he shares it with in his bed.

He's got two cats and a windowsill full of plants he's going to keep alive this time, Steve, just you watch.

He's got his uncle settled in Indy these days, a small place with a small yard.

He's got music, too. Turns out even his own tendency to self-destruct couldn't take that away, huh?

It's what got him out of hell alive, after all.

[adventuringblind]

Joint Coping

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst

Dialouge: "Help me understand."

Summary: Max helps his partners learn to cope in healthy ways

Warnings: Selh-harm, unhealthy Coping, blood, Ferrari, Max being the sane one of the group

Notes: I would like to emphasize that this is a thing that does happen. I know because I've done it. This specifically is not something to be glorified at all. Self-harm done in groups can become competitive. This is a pretty toned down version of things I've experienced and it's less toxic. THIS IS NOT REACHING OUT. Just wanted to clarify :)

This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open if you'd like to participate (the link will take you to the request form).

Masterlist

Max knows something is wrong with his partners. It's like an itch in his brain he can't scratch. A sixth sense, if you will.

The two Ferrari drivers are struggling with their team. Every problem is their fault. They have become the Ferrari scapegoats. When they do poor, it's the driver. When they do good, it's the team and the car.

He's coming to the end of his patience. If he has to hear them self deprecate one more time he might actually consider making them stand in the mirror and say nice things about themselves. Can he fuck it out of them? Is that a possibility? He really doesn't know but is desperate and willing to try anything.

They both DNF at the next race. Max is a man on a mission through media and debrief. He needs to see that they are okay. At the very least not sitting through some kind of lecture a parent gives to a child.

He sprints to the Ferrari garage and runs into Carlos. Despite his injury that took him out of the season, he still comes to support his team and teammates.

"Carlos!" The Spainard spins around to face him. "Have you seen-?"

"They already left over an hour ago. Did they not text you?"

There are warning bells going off inside of his head. Something is clearly wrong and they aren't telling him about it. He's about to sprint away when Carlos stops him.

"Before you go, you should that there were some awful things said by their engineers and they looked really upset about it."

"Thanks Carlos."

Max is back at the hotel as fast as he can manage. He tried both their cells with no answer. It's killing him from the inside out with anxiety. He's probably just overthinking, but it'll feel better when he sees they are okay.

He keys the door open and doesn't bother taking off his shoes. The lights are off aside from the one in the bathroom. Maybe they decided a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. Max could also go for one. He pushes that thought aside for now.

He knocks gently on the door. "You two in there?" No response. Or at least - not one to him directly. There are a few hushed whispers, but nothing loud enough for him to hear.

He waits Aproximatley ten seconds before he can't handle it anymore and swings the door open. He expects to see fogged mirror and water on the floor. Instead he's met with the sight red wrists and thighs.

He's lost. Max Verstappen has no idea what to do.

They are stripped down to undergarments. Legs dangling over the side of tub. A switchblade in the hands of Charles. They both look teary eyed and doped out. Are they enjoying this?

God, he feels so stupid. Weeks of having Sex with no lights on, sweatshirts in hot weather, no swimming and doing private ice bathes away from trainers. He should've noticed. Max could've stopped this sooner. He wants to rewind and tell them to come to him instead of relying on this to get the through.

"Guess you caught us." Charles let's out a half assed laugh. "You gonna stare at us all night? Or can we get the yelling part over with? Last three partners left us when they caught it. I understand if it's to much. Not your burden."

Max had been a later addition. The two in the bathtub had been together since their teenage years. Had they been Coping like this for so long?

"Sorry about the mess. Relapses are hard. We made it all season until a month ago." She leans her head onto Charles' shoulder. How can they make this type of environment endearing? This is unreal and they need serious help. Which Max will eventually get them when he can get his act together.

He kneels on the floor in between them. Max is just now registering the tears on his cheeks. They'd been in pain for so long. It hurts him just thinking about it.

"I'm not going to yell-" he looks at one. "-I'm not going to leave-" he looks at the other. "But help me understand. I want to help."

"It's easier to do with someone else around. It's more therapeutic." The lopsided smile on the female's face is not helping Max. He has to many questions.

First, he gets them cleaned up. Neither of them flinch when he disenfects the wounds. They don't look at him as he wraps them in whatever gauz is in the first aid kit. They look ashamed as he puts the knife in his bag and rinses the tub.

The one that gets him, however, is the look of pure confusion when Max hugs them both so tightly. It's like they don't know how to respond.

They sit in a circle on the bed. It's comfortable and Max can see both their expressions clearly.

"I know the struggle." He starts. "Punishing yourself is better then someone else doing it, right? But I had Daniel there reminding me to reach out."

"It's just easier this way."

"Easier isn't better. Look at the state you're in. I'm not leaving, but I am getting the both of you help."

He followed through with this the next morning. Then looked supposed to see him when they woke up. He, and his childish mind, kissed all the cuts and scars. Every single one of them received proper treatment.

The female cried and thre her arms around Max. Charles had looked away in shame. The reasons they started this are still foreign to him, but that's not his priority.

He gets them help. All of them, mind you. They do group sessions as the three of them to find healthier ways to cope with each other.

Reasons seem to fade into the background because they don't matter as much. The important thing is that Max caught it in time. That he didn't lose them to their own minds. They are partners, and Max would be devistated to lost someone he loves to those dark places.

He rests easier now that the itch has been scratched. His partners are doing better. They smile and laugh at his stupid jokes again. A bit of confidence regained.

And Max reminds them daily that nothing is worth it if you have to destroy yourself for it. Drivers or not, he loves them regardless.

[rose-pearls]

Hiiiii i really love your work and was wondering if i could request a clarisse x daughter of Athena fic where (tw: sh) the reader has some control issues/is a bit of a control freak and sh to feel in control and clarisse finds out and helps her find some healthier coping mechanisms— idk like sparring or screaming at broken spears😂 if you’re not comfortable with this no worries— just thought i’d ask. have a great day!!!

Hi! Thank you for your request hopefully you like the way I wrote it! It is a bit short but I have kind of a writer block these last few days, but I am working on the requests I received (thank you so much for sending them)!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @kmc1989, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303

Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads

Warnings: Self-harm, talking about doing it!!!

It wasn’t easy being a daughter of Athena, your mother was seen as the Goddess of Wisdom, and she always excepted perfection from her children. Some of her children managed to make her proud while others tried their whole lives only to have her ignore them as they hadn’t accomplished what she had expected them to. 

To say you where someone stressed would be an understatement as you always found yourself wanting to control everything, practically losing your mind when you couldn’t control it. You learned to take control through small things, such as eating things in a certain way, that you only wanted to come out even numbers when you did something or the way you had to have every decoration perfectly centered. These were small things that everyone noticed but there was one thing that you hadn’t showed, too afraid of someone telling you that you are weak and that you aren’t a real daughter of Athena. You knew it was bad, from the first time you did it till now, taking that small blade from under your pillow to cut a small line across your skin. People couldn’t really see it, unless they really played attention to it, but you had always been careful. It was like doing it kept you in control of yourself and allowed you to focus more and be better. But it quickly became addicting, that grounding pain keeping you away from your mind running a thousand miles an hour. 

You didn’t know what you were going to do when Clarisse would want to go further into your relationship, as the scars had always been hidden behind layers of clothes. Deep down you knew she would find out one day, but you just wanted to push it away for as long as you could, not wanting the brave Ares girl to see you like this. Only she learned it much faster than you could have imagined. 

“What are you doing?”, you hear someone whisper and you turn around to find the door you thought locked wide open with Clarisse standing there. She looks pained at the sight of the small blade and your naked skin covered in small scars. 

“Nothing,” you whisper, trying to quickly put your clothes back on but a soft hand stops you. 

You look at her but as you are expecting her to be looking at the scar, she looks at you with sad brown eyes.

“Are you self-harming?”, the word is said so quietly that you barely hear it, but it still makes you flinch. You never wanted to say the word, thinking that if you didn’t it wouldn’t make it as important as it is.

“I do,” you whisper softly, not able to lie as she looks at you with tearful brown eyes. She looks even more pained at the words before getting closer to you.

“Can you let me disinfect the cut and put something on it?”, she asks, and you can only nod as she sits you back down and starts cleaning up the cut carefully. It is only when she finishes that you both find yourself in a long silence.

“You can always come to me when you need to talk. Please just come to me when you think of doing this, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she whispers and you nod slowly, even if you did it you knew it was a hurtful thing to do. 

“I just, I can’t stop,” you whisper, and she closes her eyes at the words, pain etched over her features.

“I’ll help you stop; we will find ways to help you cope without doing this,” she tells you and you nod slowly at her words, unable to figure out if you would ever really be able to stop doing it. 

“I-I know it will be hard, but I will be there right by your side helping you. You can always come to me when you feel the need to do it,” Clarisse whispers as she holds your hand tightly, she seems scared that you are going to refuse her and not try to stop.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything just yet,” you whisper, and she nods quickly, there is a certain understanding in her eyes.

“That is completely normal, I don’t except everything to be alright in a second. Take your time,” she says softly, and you nod before you trying to blink the tears away at her reassurances, but even as you try not to let them fall, they slide down your cheeks. Clarisse doesn’t say anything as the tears fall down your cheeks, she just brings you into her arms and hold you tightly. And if you feel tears against your hair, you don’t say anything, you just hold her tighter.

It isn’t that easy to stop, you knew it wouldn’t but having Clarisse by your side helps. She tries to find new ways with you to cope with your control issues, but it seems you don’t manage it the same way as her. She is more used to taking a sword and destroy a dummy while you look at the sword with disdain, rather wanting to plot the attack and using a dagger. But you find that baking is the solution, following a recipe and watching it all come together manages to keep yourself together and your mind away from things. It doesn’t solve everything, but it helps putting some thoughts away and focusing on something else. You don’t know how it comes that you are so lucky to have Clarisse by your side, but you cherish every second you have with her and her wide smiles as you put another baked treat in front of her. 

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of The Danger of Romanticizing. Part One. Part Two. Ao3 Link.

Over the next few days, Steve asks Robin to tell Eddie he says hi, adding it to his morning routine. And every day without fail, he gets a responding hi back. Sometimes, he even gets a question about what the polo of the day is. Robin starts shoving Steve sticky notes to write down whatever he wants to say which she hands off to Chrissy. 

He finds himself looking forward to the notes whenever he gets home, fingers tracing over Eddie’s slightly sloppy handwriting before sticking them to his wall. 

On Thursday, Steve comes home to find Chrissy sitting on the couch with Robin, fingers intertwined as they appear to do their separate class readings. “Hey,” Steve says, hoping that they’re not too deep into the studying zone. 

Chrissy gives him a bright smile and says, “Hi, Steve.” 

Steve can’t help but glance around, trying to find some trace of Eddie in the place. For some reason, he thinks that he would know if he was there. 

“He’s out with his... friend,” Chrissy explains, giving Steve an apologetic smile. 

Steve nods. “Right, the sort of boyfriend.” 

“I wouldn’t call him that,” Chrissy says with a slight frown. She shakes her head and turns back to her work. 

Robin stares at her girlfriend for a moment before asking, “How come you never talk about him?”

Chrissy glances at her and her expression immediately softens. Steve feels like he finally understood the phrase “heart eyes” when he first saw the way Chrissy and Robin look at each other. 

“I haven’t met him yet. But Eddie doesn’t have the best track record with guys. I mean, he deserves the world, but he doesn’t understand why. I used to make him recite these affirmations to try to make him understand his worth, but he’s Eddie, you know? A lot of those deep emotions he deflects with jokes.” Chrissy sighs and holds up a packet of paper. “Sorry, I’m currently learning about coping mechanisms.” 

“No apologizing, remember? You’re allowed to talk about the things you’re passionate about,” Robin gently reminds her. 

Chrissy leans over and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” she says softly. 

Steve turns away as he watches Robin blush and duck her head. He resists the urge to make a comment that will ruin their moment and instead goes to the pantry and pulls out a box of pasta. He silently starts on dinner contemplating if he can pry about this mystery man in Eddie’s life through the sticky notes. 

“Oh, Steve!” Chrissy says over her shoulder. 

“Yes?” 

“Eddie said that he’s sad to miss you and he hopes he can see you again soon.” 

Steve smiles. “Tell him I hope I can see him soon.” 

“Will do,” Chrissy replies with a bright smile. 

And god, Steve really hopes he can. 

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning is rough. 

Steve sleeps through his alarm and in the process of rushing out the door he forgets to write Eddie a note and spills a cup of coffee on himself on the drive to work. 

He walks in pressing napkins against his shirt, trying to soak up some of the liquid. Of course, this is the day he decides to wear a light pink polo. 

“Nice look, Harrington,” Collin says loudly, causing everyone else to look up from their desk at him. 

He already gets enough shit for being the boss’s son, so he’s sure that today will be worse than usual. 

And it is. 

It’s like everyone teams up on him to make jokes pretending to trip while holding coffee mugs in their hands. It gets old pretty fast, especially when his co-worker Aidan actually ends up pouring more coffee on him while he’s talking to a customer. And while he’s cleaning up again, Collin is able to swoop in and swindle his customer. 

It’s all bullshit. 

When the workday ends, he tries to grab his stuff and stalk off to his car quickly, but Collin manages to get in a quick, “Better luck next time, champ.” 

Steve ignores him but he can’t help but feel like the final straw was broken for him. 

He gets stuck in traffic and wants more than anything to just get home, shower, change, and put on a shitty movie. When he finally gets to his apartment, he manages to drop the keys while unlocking the door twice before pushing it open only to find Robin standing on the other side. 

“How was work?” she asks overly bubbly. 

“How do you think it was?” Steve asks gesturing to his shirt. 

Robin cringes and teases, “Clumsy day?” 

“Not now, Robin,” Steve sighs, trying to take his shoes off quickly. He finally gets them undone and finds that he’s wearing one navy and one black sock. 

Robin points down to them and laughs. 

“Seriously, Robin, I’m not in the mood,” he says and crosses his arms. 

Robin grabs onto his arms with a bright smile and says, “But I have a surprise for you.” 

Steve sighs and ducks his head, trying to make his way past her. 

“Hold on!” Robin says, blocking his way. “God, you reek of coffee.” 

For some reason, the comment really gets to Steve, and he snaps, “Can you just fucking give me some space?” He storms past her and rounds the corner to his room only to find that they’re not alone. 

He looks up and takes in Chrissy and Eddie standing in the living room looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“I...” Steve starts then turns around mumbling, “Fuck,” under his breath as he practically runs out the front door, grabbing his shoes on the way out. He jogs toward his car and pulls on the handle, realizing it’s locked. He digs into his pocket and mumbles, “No.” He checks his other pocket and comes up with nothing. 

Of course, he left them on the hook by the front door. 

He quickly puts on his shoes, wincing when he feels a rock in his right shoe. He sighs and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t run. He always runs. 

He hears footsteps thudding on the sidewalk behind him. “Hey,” a voice softly says. 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut a little harder before running his hands over his face and slowly turning around. “Hey,” he mumbles, making fleeting eye contact with Eddie before staring at the pavement. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Steve crosses his arms and leans back against the hood of his car. “I was, but I left my keys inside.” 

Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, dangling them in front of him. “I have mine. Come on,” he says, already stepping back on the sidewalk and walking away from Steve. 

Steve pauses but follows him around the corner of the building where he’s parked. He wonders if he purposefully parked there in order to surprise him. God, it just makes him feel worse. 

He climbs into the passenger seat and stares ahead. 

“Where to?” Eddie asks. 

Steve sighs, “Whatever store carries pints of coffee chocolate chip ice cream.” 

Eddie starts his van and asks, “Your favorite?” 

“Robin’s favorite.” 

“Ah,” Eddie says as he backs out of the side parking lot. “I have an extra shirt in the back if you want to change.” 

Steve almost passes it up, but he doesn’t think he can stand the smell of coffee any longer. He twists in his seat and glances at the back, finding a random shirt thrown on the seat along with a lot of random shit that Steve wants to ask about. Instead, he tugs his polo off and quickly shrugs on Eddie’s shirt. 

In any other situation, he would’ve been ecstatic about the softness of the shirt and embarrassingly tried to smell the collar or something to commit the scent to memory. But the heaviness of how he treated Robin weighs too heavily on his mind. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, and Steve grows increasingly sorrowful. 

“Want to talk about it?” Eddie asks. 

Steve glances at him, noticing the lack of judgment in his expression which puts him at ease. “I just had a really bad day at work, and I was an asshole and took it out on Robin.” 

“Chrissy always tells me that we take out our stress on the ones we love the most.” 

“There’s definitely a reason she’s a psychology major.” 

Eddie snorts and shrugs, eyes not leaving the road as he talks. “She’s going to be an amazing therapist. But what I meant by that is that I’ve had my fair share of frustrating exchanges with Chrissy as well.” 

Steve sighs and leans back in his seat. “Yeah, but usually I save the part where I reveal that I’m an asshole at least a few months after meeting someone.” 

“Romanticizing yourself,” Eddie says with a small smile. He approaches a red light and turns to Steve to state, “You’re not an asshole. You’re just human.” 

“A little too human,” Steve argues. 

“The best people are.” 

“Sounds like you’re romanticizing me,” Steve says, trying to brush off the sincerity of what Eddie said. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns back to the now green light. 

They sit in comfortable silence as they make their way to the parking lot of a grocery store. 

With the words still weighing heavy on his mind, Steve finally says, “Thank you.” 

Eddie pulls into a parking space and replies, “No need for all that.” He gets out of the car before Steve can argue with him. 

As they make their way inside, Steve changes the subject, “Ever since you brought up how empty my room is, I can’t stop noticing it.” 

Eddie winces. “Sorry, I have a tendency to chronically put my foot in my mouth.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just suddenly want to do something about it.” 

Eddie suddenly stops in the middle of the store, causing the person behind them to nearly hit him with their cart. Eddie turns and says, “Sorry,” before placing a gentle hand on Steve’s back and guiding him away from the frozen aisle they were walking toward. 

“Where-” 

Eddie puts his finger to his lips and says, “No questions.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrow but he keeps his lips shut as Eddie guides him to some random place in the store. He lets the warmth of Eddie's fingertips through the thin layer of the shirt distract him for a few moments until he notices that they’ve stopped. 

Steve glances around and asks, “Clocks?” 

Eddie sighs and tugs him past the section to the picture frames. “Stay here and pick a few you like. I’ll be right back.” 

Steve can’t even give him a confused look before he takes off. He turns back to the frames, scanning them before he grabs a white frame with a gold stripe that he thinks looks nice. For some reason he also finds a small silver circular frame that he thinks is kind of cute and funny, so he grabs it. He holds the two side by side and smiles. They look horrible together, but he likes them. 

Eddie suddenly appears at his side, winded as if he just ran across the store. He holds up a small disposable camera and smiles proudly. “And this should be good for now. Time for ice cream.” He turns and heads toward the frozen aisle before stopping in place suddenly again. 

Steve runs right into him and stumbles back. “Do you do this often?” 

“Absolutely,” Eddie answers. He glances down at the frames and says, “I just realized I didn’t look at what you chose. The small one is funny.” 

“Right?” Steve says, relieved that he understands. 

Eddie looks him in the eye and his smile grows. “Good choices.” 

Steve finds himself flushing a bit red after the direct affirmation from Eddie. Luckily, Eddie doesn’t notice as he leads the way to the ice cream. 

It takes a few moments to find the ice cream, but Eddie suddenly excitedly says, “Yes!” and grabs a pint out of the freezer. Steve can’t help but think that he might be his good luck charm. 

They check out quickly. Eddie asks Steve to grab him a candy bar, taking the moment of distraction to hand the cashier money, paying for everything. When Steve realizes, he tries to protest but Eddie shuts him down saying, “I’m the one who told you to get those things. It would be a dick move to make you pay for them too.” 

“I could’ve at least covered the ice cream.” 

“And risked it melting while we wasted time with a second checkout?” Eddie asks, acting flabbergasted at the idea. 

Steve just laughs and at least takes the bags from him. 

“My hero,” Eddie jokes, fluttering his eyelashes. As they get to the car he asks, “By the way, what candy bar did you get? I forgot to check.” 

“A Three Musketeer. I hope that’s okay.” 

Eddie smiles and hits the center console excitedly. “That was the inspiration behind naming Dart! You know? D'Artagnan.” 

Steve shakes his head coming up with nothing. Eddie digs into the bags and grabs the candy, pointing it out to Steve. 

“Oh. Dustin’s going to be so excited to hear that. Three Musketeers are his favorite.” 

“You really love that kid,” Eddie comments with a smile as he starts the car. 

“He can be an annoying little shit sometimes, but I love him like a brother.” 

Eddie laughs. “I’m excited to meet him.” 

“Me too,” Steve replies and suddenly remembers what Dustin told him. “Hey, I didn’t know you also illustrated the book. I don’t know how I skimmed over that, but that’s incredible.” 

A light blush covers Eddie’s cheeks. “It’s alright. I used to design stuff for Hellfire in high school, but I’m absolutely shit at faces. That’s why you never see The Boy’s face.” 

“I somehow never noticed that. But I think it’s a good choice. It lets the reader kind of imagine themself in the role, you know?” 

Eddie pauses for a moment before asking, “Yeah? You can relate?” 

Steve shrugs and leans back. “I can relate to the found family, and I mean...” Steve trails off and looks down at his hands. “Sometimes I feel like an outcast. And yeah, that sounds ridiculous since I was a pretty popular jock in high school. But I had this kind of reality check and suddenly I didn’t see the appeal of being ‘King Steve.’ I spent the last semester of my senior year sitting next to my ex and her new boyfriend during lunch. It was a miracle that I put in my resume at this ice cream shop because that’s how I met Robin. But even at work now, I just don’t fit in.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe we’re the same,” Eddie cheesily quotes the title of his book. Before Steve can ask what he means, Eddie presses on. “I have one question.” 

“Mhm?” 

“Did they really call you King Steve?” 

Steve groans, “Yes. God, I hate that nickname.” 

Eddie laughs. “Alright, I promise not to call you that.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Your Highness.” 

Steve sighs but he fails to hide the slight humor in his expression. 

“Okay, I promise to never bring it up... After this car ride, my lord,” Eddie says with a wicked smile. 

Steve buries his face in his hands for the rest of the ride home, trying not to laugh too hard at the ridiculous nicknames Eddie pulls out of his ass. But as they get closer to his apartment, his happiness dies down as he faces the reality of what he’s returning to. 

Eddie quiets down during the last minute, sensing the shift in emotions from Steve. He parks outside and quietly asks, “Are you ready?” 

“No,” Steve says, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his bags before getting out of the car. 

He slowly steps up to the front door but pauses to turn around to Eddie. “Thank you for all of this. Really.” 

Eddie just puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I had a good time. I hope your day has gotten a little better.” 

“It has,” Steve admits with no hesitation. “As long as I can apologize to Robin after this and hope she forgives me.” 

“Something tells me that she will.” 

Steve glances up at Eddie, wondering if he can express how much that fills him with relief. He steps forward, intent on wrapping his arms around the man and holding him for as long as he’ll let him. 

The door swings open before Steve’s arms can come up. 

“Hey, I thought I heard the van doors shut,” Chrissy says with a small smile. 

“How is she?” Steve asks immediately. 

Chrissy puts a hand on his arm. “She’s alright. I think she’ll be happy to talk to you.” She squeezes him before turning to Eddie and asking, “You ready to go?” 

Eddie’s eyes flicker to Steve before settling on Chrissy. He gives her a conflicted look, but Chrissy raises her eyebrows at him causing Eddie to sigh and turn to Steve saying, “Maybe I’ll see you soon? We’ll plan it this time.” 

Steve feels his face suddenly get very warm with embarrassment. “That would be great.” 

Eddie nods at him and turns away to make his way back to the van. Steve waves goodbye to the pair before going inside. He drops the bag with the frames and camera on their table in the small dining area before grabbing two spoons and the bag with the ice cream.  

He purposefully makes his footsteps a little heavier as he makes his way to Robin’s room to prepare her for his presence. He lightly knocks on the door and waits. 

“It’s open,” she says. 

Steve slowly pushes the door open and finds Robin lying in her bed staring at the ceiling. “Hey.” 

Robin turns and gives him a small smile. “Hey.” 

“I brought the goods,” Steve jokes as he walks toward her bed. 

Robin sits up and makes grabby hands at him, taking the pint and a spoon as soon as she can. Steve can’t help but think that’s a good sign, but he’s not going to pretend everything is normal. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to you. I shouldn’t have taken out my bad day on you.” 

Robin glances at him with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. She takes a moment to eat before she sighs, “It wasn’t just you though. I shouldn’t have been so pushy and glossed over your bad day. And I definitely shouldn’t have surprised you like that.” 

“Are you kidding? Any other day, I would’ve been ecstatic.” 

“Just not today,” Robin says, staring down at the ice cream before taking another spoonful. She glances over at him and asks, “Want to talk about your day?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Just Collin being an asshole and the other guys joining in.” 

“Charles and Ryan?” 

“Aidan this time.” 

Robin sighs, “I wish I could go in there and give them a piece of my mind.” 

“I think I deserved it today.” 

Robin raises an eyebrow at him. “No matter how much of a dick you can be, I’m not leaving you, dingus. And you definitely don’t deserve that shit.” 

Steve shrugs and takes a stab at the ice cream. “Eddie made things better.” 

“Yeah?” 

Steve nods and avoids eye contact as the coffee flavor melts in his mouth. 

“Speak of Eddie, is he the reason you’re wearing a Metallica shirt?” 

Steve glances down at the shirt and smiles. He had forgotten he was wearing it. “Yeah. He had an extra shirt in the back and let me change out of the coffee-stained one. I think I left that polo in his van though.” He shrugs and gets another spoonful of ice cream. “He’s really great.” 

There’s a longer pause before Robin rests her hand on Steve’s and asks, “Steve, do you... like him?” 

Steve’s eyes snap up to Robin quickly, swallowing a mouthful of cold ice cream in the process. His heart beats a little faster, and he hopes Robin can’t feel his pulse. “No, it’s not like that. Besides, I barely know him.” 

“Yeah, but you’ve liked people with a lot less information about them.” 

Steve sighs and puts his spoon down to lay his other hand on top of Robin’s and look her in the eye. “Even if I do like him, he has a sort of boyfriend. Plus, I’m not going to do anything reckless that will risk the happiness of your and Chrissy’s relationship, okay?” 

Robin stares at him for a few seconds too long before she nods. “Okay. But... you can talk to me if those feelings ever change.” 

“And they won’t,” Steve reassures her. 

Robin looks conflicted before she gives him a small smile and goes back to the ice cream. 

Steve is able to easily change the subject and things finally feel normal again once they’re both laughing so hard they have to wipe at the tears running down their faces. 

But when Steve lays in bed that night, his thoughts drift to Eddie. He can’t fall for him. Really, he can’t. He can’t do that to Chrissy and Robin. 

So, for once, he tries to turn off all the thoughts romanticizing the man. But he doesn’t know how to humanize the man when he’s been nothing but... perfect. 

He’s so screwed.

Part Four

Hi Tag List <3:

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[goldengirlgalaxy]

After Danny has managed to smooth things over with his rogues, helping them cope with their obsessions in ways that don't cause massive property damage for the living, he ends up getting some lessons from a few of them on different topics.

Technus ends up teaching Danny how to properly overshadow and upgrade electronics.

So when, for one reason or another, Danny ends up in the DC universe, he decides to have some fun when he learns about this world's thing with superheroes.

The next time Superman is dealing with a robbery, a car suddenly appears with a black and white color scheme, and starts to heckle the robbers before stopping their car with some kind of tow line.

Wonder Woman ends up encountering a talking fan that somehow manages to produce gusts of wind strong enough to take most people off their feet.

The Joker hijacks a news broadcast to announce his next plan, only for the camera system to come to life and record the mad clown getting the tied up by wires and beaten up by boom mikes.

The Flash gets some help from a living heater that can shoot flames.

Captain Marvel ends up befriending a talking vending machine that throws concussive soda cans at villains. And can also dispense normal drinks.

Someone ends up meeting a talking phone that just so happens to have a recording of the big bad's evil monologue.

Strange machines suddenly come to life all around the world, often helping various heroes. It's gotten to the point several Justice League Members are betting on who gets a mechanical partner next, and what form they're going to be in. The only thing about this mysterious hero that the Justice League knows is that he goes by the name Rotom.

(Whether or not the DC universe has Pokemon in order for them to get the reference is up to you)

[muchosbesitos]

i’d love like a scenario about his infinity or something like that where he never lets anyone touch him even the reader but there’s like a moment where he does or something? could be an established relationship or not idrc. and you can make it smutty or not it’s up to youuu.

- 🫶🏼🫶🏼

within infinities

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader

contents: angst, brief mention of self harm from satoru, alc consumption, fingering, some nipple play, use of lube, unprotected sex (wrap it 🤨🫵🏼), and aftercare (sorry if i missed anything)

synopsis: after suguru left satoru behind, he was left to try to rebuild what was left. he shut himself down, blocking out the world as an attempt to keep himself from getting hurt. after trying out several methods to cope with the pain inside of him, he learned that it wasn’t what he needed.

author’s note: thank you for the request, anon! hopefully you enjoy <3

word count: 7k

Gojo Satoru was the strongest sorcerer alive.

And yet, an overwhelming sensation of weakness filled his body like a cruel poison. Slowly clawing away at him and his body until there was nothing left but a simple hollow shell of what he used to be. Nothing left but just the memories of a time where he used to actually be happy. Of a time where he wasn't depending on memories to keep him going throughout the day.

He thought he noticed everything, small details that nobody else would've thought to pay attention to. The cigarette brands that Shoko consistently pilfered through to find the one with the strongest nicotine output. A different colored ribbon that Utahime put in her hair on a random Tuesday morning.

The one thing he'd been so oblivious to was the suffering that Suguru had been going through. The one thing that should've been clear to him since the start. The immense amount of blame that Satoru placed upon himself would've been too much for a regular person to handle, but he'd convinced himself that he deserved to feel like this. Convinced himself that it was only right for him to feel a fraction of the pain that Suguru must've been going through.

Satoru tortured himself mentally for days on end, thinking about what could've been different if he hadn't been so consumed with his own problems. If he would've been enough reason for Suguru to stay. Though, he liked to imagine that maybe things would've been different if he had begged, other times he wasn't too sure. But it all stems down to the same thing, if only he had noticed. If only he'd tried harder. If only. If.

Gojo attempted to put up a front, to pretend like nothing bothered him with the stupid jokes that he shared and the smiles that hurt his cheeks from how unnatural they are. Yet after a while, little cracks started to show in his otherwise perfect image. Black rings circled below his eyes, almost an unnatural look on his pale skin. Tiny crescent marks formed on his palms from how deep he dug his nails in.

He grew accustomed to hearing "Are you okay?" directed towards him, growing even more accustomed to saying yes and giving them a polite smile so he'd be left alone. Even with Shoko, he'd grown used to lying through his teeth to her. He could see the suspicion lying within her expression, but it wasn't addressed. Much like how her own pain regarding the situation wasn't addressed.

The group of four broke down as Satoru’s absence continued, the only ones left being you and shoko. He hadn't meant to push the two of you away, but a part of him couldn't fathom that the two of you could be capable of hurting the same way he was. He and Suguru were connected in a way that he'd never managed to achieve with anyone, a way that made him forget he was the strongest sorcerer for a moment.

You knocked on Professor Yaga’s door after getting called down here, listening for a 'come in' before stepping into the office. If that was even an appropriate name for the space that Yaga had. The walls almost seemed to close in as you walked inside, approaching him slowly.

Yaga was in the middle of sewing one of his dolls, barely giving you a glance as he finished up with the stitch that he had to make. "You called for me?" You asked him after a couple seconds of uncomfortable silence. You felt yourself shrink when he looked up from the task, his face completely void from emotion.

"I need you to check up on Gojo. His behavior recently has been concerning, to say the least," he put down the wool he had in hand, a stern look on his face. "I know that he's going through it, but we need him. He's been disregarding his missions and frankly, we don't really have enough resources to replace him with. Just try, please," you nodded along to what Yaga was saying, departing from his office shortly thereafter.

You stopped by town, looking through a couple shops to find some snacks that maybe Gojo would enjoy. It was a fairly simple task, he tended to enjoy any snack as long as it satiated his sweet tooth. You picked up a slice of strawberry cake and grabbed a couple pieces of kikufuku. After contemplating in front of the candy aisle, you decided to throw a bag in your basket just for safe measure. You doubted he'd pay attention to you for more than two minutes if you didn't take these.

"Hey, do you wanna come over with me over to Gojo's?" You asked Shoko after finding her in the courtyard, cigarette dangling in between her pointer and middle finger. She exhaled the smoke in her mouth, hesitating for a couple seconds. "I don't know if he wants to see me right now," she responded, glancing over at the snacks you had in a woven basket. You hadn't considered what you'd do if Gojo decided to turn you away, the thought only coming to the forefront of your mind now. "Good luck with that though."

You waved over at her, leaving to go to Gojo's dorm. The clan had arranged for his to be separate from the student body, another method of protection for the heir. Well, if he kicked you out, you'd just leave the snacks and try again, later? After all, that's really all Yaga had asked you to do. Try. You knocked on the door and waited for a couple seconds for some kind of movement. No answer. You decided to test your luck, jiggling the doorknob. The door swung open, an almost rancid smell hitting your nostrils immediately.

A couple of soda cans were thrown on the floor without any regards to where they landed and boxes of takeout littered the entrance to his dorm. You took your shoes off, setting them in a somewhat clean corner. You made a little maze to move across his dorm without making a noise, having to stretch your legs at an unnatural angle to get through. After maneuvering your way through the living room, you got to his bedroom door. You hesitated as you stood in front of it, bringing your hand up to knock. Before you got the chance to do so, you heard a loud creak from behind the room.

The door swung open like a scene from a horror movie, dust bunnies flying off the TV table when the wind blew inside. The room was on the borderline of being pitch black, some shadows appearing on the floor from the dim sunlight coming through the thick curtain. You squinted as you tried to make your way through the room, letting out a small grunt when your knee hit the corner of a desk. You rubbed your hand against the sting, walking over to the king sized bed situated in the middle of the room.

You reached out to touch him, but despite your best effort, you couldn't bring yourself to actually touch him. You were so close to him, yet he was so out of reach. The ray of light that did manage to peek through the curtains he'd pulled back accentuated how red his cheeks were, dried tear streaks on a otherwise perfect face. His face was contorted into an expression of pain, his brows furrowed while his breathing started to pick up.

"Please don't go," his ragged whispers came out, his body shaking under the thick blanket he wrapped himself in. Since you couldn't actually touch him, you decided to try out the next best thing. "Gojo, wake up. You're having a nightmare," you whispered, standing as close as you could. His eyes shot open, his breathing slowly starting to slow down as he gained consciousness of his surroundings.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair as he sat up. The blanket pooled by his body, unraveling his body. While Gojo had always been somewhat on the lanky side, you couldn't help but notice just how skinny he's gotten throughout these past couple weeks. Now you wished you'd brought him a meal instead of a bunch of candies. "No, you're good. The door was open and I just decided to come in, I hope you don't mind."

"Uh no, I don't mind. Just excuse the mess, haven't gotten around to cleaning it up," he told you, giving you another one of those forced smiles that you'd grown accustomed to seeing by now. You nodded, standing by his door awkwardly before attempting to offer some kind of reassurance of your own. "If there's something that I can do for you, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Actually there is something that you could do. Do you want to have sex with me?" the question caught you off guard, having expected something completely different. He'd gone from having his infinity on at all times to wanting some form of intimacy? Even through his request, you could see the hesitation lingering behind his eyes. He was forcing himself to pretend like he wanted this. "No, I don't want to."

If you were in a different situation, you might've let out a laugh at the way his jaw comedically dropped open. It was a word he wasn't used to hearing, much less from someone he was trying to get with. Half the time he didn't need to make the effort, they just said yes to whatever he suggested whenever they got a smidge of attention. "Are you not into me or something? I could've sworn i caught you staring a couple times."

Now it was your turn to have your jaw open. Well, metaphorically speaking of course. You thought you'd been discreet with the stares towards him while he was training, though you couldn't deny that maybe you looked for a couple seconds too long. You cleared your throat, pretending like he hadn't exposed the feelings you had towards him with just a single sentence. And yes, while you did want to fuck him, you didn't want it to be under these circumstances.

"I just don't think fucking me is what you need right now," you hesitated to answer, the tension between the two of you so thick that it could be broken with a knife.

"Please. I just need something to help me forget," he sounded so pitiful when he was on the brink of begging. You weren't even sure when was the last time he bothered to take a shower, his clothes being the same ones you'd seen him with a week ago. He wasn't in the right state of mind to even function properly, much less have sex.

"It's not gonna help. If anything, you're just gonna end up regretting it later."

"Please."

You remained firm in the position that you were in, holding up the basket of snacks. "I can stay with you for a while if you want, but I don't want to have sex with you while you're like this," you responded, handing over the basket once he let the suggestion go. He took the basket, grabbing the kikufaku immediately. "I thought friends were supposed to help each other out."

You wanted to argue back to him, but you decided to keep quiet. You'd excuse his behavior with the fact that he was in pain right now. Despite all that, he let you stay in his dorm for a couple more hours. The two of you sat at a distance, an invisible barrier set between the two of you. Gojo settled on a horror movie, a series he'd been talking about nonstop throughout most of the year. Even if most of the gore was unrealistic and you could see the jumpscares coming from miles away, it still felt like somewhat nice being so close to him.

Much to everyone's surprise, Gojo had managed to make it up to graduation without missing another day. You could tell too clearly that the smile he had plastered on his face for every class picture that he took was a facade, something to play off for the fact that his heart was in shambles at the absence of his best friend. He accepted every congratulations with a thank you, the words seeming to slip out with much more ease the more that he said them.

If anyone else could notice that look on his face, there was nothing said to acknowledge that fact. Mostly because a majority of the student body was facing some kind of internal issues of their own, whether it be Haibara’s death or the shock of what Geto had done. Even then, words couldn't make up for the absence that Suguru had left within him. An 'I'm sorry' wouldn't do anything towards the fact that he was still gone. Even with all the extra work he'd done to make sure he graduated on time, the fact remained. Suguru wouldn't be coming back.

Gojo could remember the conversation he had with Suguru months prior to the accident, the two of them color coordinating what their suits would be. What apartment they would get together, somewhere that was near a sweets shop. All he had left was the apartment lease in his hands, the paper straining underneath his tight grasp. While some people were eagerly sharing what their plans were for that summer, he was left staring from a distance until eventually, the ceremony came to an end. He was starting to feel a midlife crisis peeking through at just 18, of having no actual sense of direction in his life.

Frankly, Satoru wasn't a big fan of alcohol. he found that he hated the way it made him feel, from the way he felt while he was drunk to the way that he felt the next morning. It made him feel out of control, out of his own body. But, that's exactly what he found himself needing now. The first sip of sake made his throat constrict, his first instinct to throw it up. But he swallowed it down, determined to go through with this. None of the euphoria that he'd heard came with alcohol ever came for him.

The next morning, he woke up with vomit splattered all over himself and the sides of the toilet. His head pounded from the sheer amount of alcohol he'd consumed, his eyes rimmed red. "Ah fuck," he muttered, his voice coming out strained from the effort he'd put into throwing up earlier. He got up from the bathroom floor, deciding to take a shower and clean himself up. His head hung low as he stood underneath the boiling water, a reminder to himself that he was still human. That he could still feel things.

He got out of the shower after spending an ungodly amount of water, wrapping a fluffy white towel around his waist. He grabbed his phone from the pants he used last night, letting out a small groan as he saw that it was on 2%. Of course he'd forgotten to charge it last night with all the stupid shit he'd done. He looked down to see that he had a voicemail from you, barely sent half an hour ago. He clicked on it, your voice filling up the four walls of his bathroom.

"Hey Gojo, I was calling to say goodbye but you didn't answer. Uh, I'm not sure if it means a lot to you but congrats on graduating!" He could tell the little strain you put on your voice to attempt to sound somewhat cheerful but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"And since were probably not gonna see each other again, I guess I should probably admit that you had a point when you mentioned those 'longing stares.' I did have a crush on you, so I hope that doesn't make you too uncomfortable," his heart dropped down to his feet as he listened to the rest of the message, a boarding announcement.

Now he was really starting to regret the way that he acted. he had somewhat of a feeling that you had a crush on him, making you the perfect person to propose the idea of having sex to. That and the fact that he found your company to be quite nice. The day that you'd last been over to his place, the two of you had sat in silence throughout the duration of the film playing on his TV. And it wasn't uncomfortable. Sure, the fact that he'd gotten rejected had lingered in the air but he still enjoyed having your presence around.

He restarted the message over and over again until his phone died. He'd thought about different apologies that he wanted to type out while his phone was charging but every time that he got close to pressing the 'send' button, he just never did. Too corny. Too short. Too long. Too sentimental. There was an excuse for every draft that he typed out, none of them really accentuating what he wanted to tell you. He ended up deleting the drafts, setting his phone down as he buried his head in his knees.

As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you never truly felt like you belonged with the students at the Tokyo campus. Despite the fact that you'd been in the group with the trio, it never felt quite right. It felt as if Gojo and Geto were connected in a way that you and Shoko would never be able to compare to. The thought of leaving hadn't cemented into your head until you looked down at your certificate, imagining what future was left for you here. Of fighting curses with no sort of attachment for other people out of fear that they might die?

A part of you had been wishing that Satoru didn't pick up the phone after having a conversation with Shoko, yet you couldn't help but feel disappointed the second you were told to leave your voicemail. You were prolonging getting on the airplane, waiting for some kind of indication that you shouldn't go. But there was nothing holding you back. nothing to tie you down to Tokyo other than the memories you had in this place. With that, you grabbed your carry on bag and prepared to get on the plane once your group was called.

Unfortunately, Satoru had found out the hard way that you were right to reject his advances. He tried to force himself to sleep with different women to try to forget, to have something more to think about other than Suguru. And yet, he could never actually bring himself to actually go through with any of them. The flirting had brought him temporary relief, only for old memories to hit him ten times harder when he was alone. If anything, it'd made him feel even worse for attempting to use someone for his own gain.

Once he got to raise Megumi, however, he had less time to think about what he was going through and rather how to keep the tiny human alive. Satoru didn't think that it would be that hard, all he had to focus on was keeping him alive and fed. The kid had matured way faster than he really should've, uninterested in most of the things that other children were doing at his age. While the kids at the playground were busy playing hopscotch or tag, Megumi was in the corner with his head buried in a book.

It'd barely been a year since you left when Yaga’s name flashed on your screen. You were barely getting home from the store, setting your bags down before pulling your phone from your pocket. "Professor Yaga," you answered, using the title out of courtesy. "Just Yaga’s fine. Look, I was wondering how long you planned on being on this little sabbatical," he got straight to the point as he spoke, a couple voices coming from behind him. None that you recognized.

"Well, I wasn't planning on coming back to Tokyo if that's what you're asking," you responded once the noise behind him died down, a sharp exhale coming out from the other end. "Look, I wouldn't be asking if I didn't need you. Nanami went off to the world of business and whatnot, there's a dire need for professors," he spoke up, leaving no room for discussion. As much as you would've liked to stay, you decided to accept the job 'invitation.'

There weren't many things that you had left to pack up, just your clothes and your shoes. Despite how hard you tried to make this new place your 'home,' you found some type of excuse to put off unpacking your stuff completely. Whether it was that you were busy with work or that you had to do groceries. Or maybe because you were looking for an excuse such as this one, an excuse to prevent you from actually having to settle down. It no longer seemed like it was the place, but rather you.

Maybe you didn't belong anywhere.

"You have a child," your eyes widen in surprise upon seeing the kid Gojo had clinging onto his side, having caught him while you were out in the market. "I have a child," he repeated, holding the kid's hand within his own. The kid resisted at first before letting himself be held, looking up at you with an unamused expression on his face. "Megumi," the kid told you, extending his hand out. The two of you exchanged pleasantries, a short exchange of your names and a 'nice to meet you.'

"I'm dropping him off at a friend's place tonight if you want to come over and have dinner," Gojo suggested once the two of you met up at the entrance of the market. You wanted to do everything in your power to not have to be alone with him after what you'd told him during your last call, but you decided to agree. After Megumi was dropped off, the two of you drove back to his place in silence. Every time you wanted to bring something up, you decided to just leave the topic alone and continue to stare out the window.

"I wanted to apologize to you. I never found the right words to tell you, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for trying to use you for my personal gain," the words practically flooded out of him as soon as the two of you got back home, his hands struggling to keep up with the pace he was talking in. "You don't have to apologize," you assured him, going to bring one hand over to his shoulder. Unlike the last time you tried to comfort him, you were able to touch him this time around.

"And I know you only admitted those things to me since you thought you'd never see me again but I have to tell you that you haven't left my mind since the day I lost you," he spoke slower this time around, the words lingering in the air for a few seconds after he'd finished speaking. You were speechless, your mouth opening and closing back up like a fish. "Oh," you managed to finally say, the apartment seeming to close in on you as a silence settled in.

When you'd told him that a year ago, you were convinced that he hadn't felt the same way. That you were being delusional. You knew how unavailable he was, whether it be from his job keeping him too busy or the fact that he was so different from everyone else. Now that he told you this.. you actually weren't sure what to do with this information. As much as you tried to convince yourself that you left the crush behind in Tokyo, you still found yourself thinking about him when you were alone.

His brows furrowed, immediately making you regret not having any more to say to him. "Sorry, it's just I wasn't really expecting that," you tried to quickly fix the situation, a small sigh of relief escaping from his lips. "I wanted to thank you, actually. You were right in rejecting me when you did, it wouldn't have been a pleasurable experience for the both of us," he finished up, walking closer to you. his voice dropped to a low whisper as he spoke, "But what if I said I wanted to have sex with you now?"

"Then I guess there'd be no logical reason for me to say no."

The notion of dinner was quickly forgotten. His lips were on top of yours as soon as the words escaped from your mouth, kissing you like a man depraved. He did nothing to hide the desperation radiating off his body, not that there was much he could've done. Your hands went up to his hair, tugging at the white strands as you tried to bring him impossibly closer to yourself. The kiss itself was more of a clash of tongue and teeth, but it did its job in showing the amount of need the two of you had towards each other.

He tapped on your thigh to jump, your legs wrapping around his waist with ease. He hadn't bothered to stop kissing you as he led the two of you over to his bedroom, only stopping to reach over for the doorknob. "You’ll find its more organized this time around," he spoke up, gently setting you down in silk sheets. "I'd hope so after a year," you responded, laying down with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He started off taking your pants, tossing them off to the side once he managed to get them off.

Satoru’s fingertips ghosted up your legs, applying only the lightest of touches. It was almost like he was committing the sight of your body to memory, of all the little scars and moles on your legs. Your slick was starting to run down to your panties, creating a wet spot right in the center. He hooked his fingers in the flimsy material of your underwear, slowly starting to slide it down.

"How do you feel about socks during sex?" The question caught you off guard, a laugh threatening to overcome your lips at how serious the question sounded. You looked down at the end of the bed where Satoru was situated, noticing that his glasses were long discarded.

"You're actually being serious?"

"Well yeah. It's a controversial topic, y'know?"

"Do what feels natural to you. You have my full consent to take my socks off if you want."

"What an answer," he muttered, sliding the black socks you had on before letting them fall on the floor. It was at that moment that you felt just how intense his stare was, seeing him completely mesmerized by finally having you in his bed.

You wanted to shut your legs upon feeling how intense his gaze was but his large fingers kept them apart. "Keep them spread for me, pretty," his voice sounded different from normal, he almost sounded desperate? His dominance over the situation was hanging on by a thread, the need to have you overtaking that desire. You felt somewhat awkward at being so exposed, but you kept your legs open for him.

Despite the attraction that women presented towards him, he never quite entertained it up to this point. A couple meaningless flirts, a few whispers of sweet nothings, Of promises that he would never imagine going through with. But this? He was completely sure that he wanted nothing more but to worship your body the way that it deserved. The way that he'd been dreaming about since he found out you shared the same feelings he did towards you.

He was going off what he viewed as something natural, from what he'd heard from other people. He leaned down, pressing his lips on your ankles as he left an open mouth kiss on it. His other hand raked up and down your left leg while his mouth explored every inch that your right leg had to offer. Based on the way that your breathing was steadily starting to pick up the more he moved up, he was guessing he was doing a pretty alright job at this.

You let out a small gasp at feeling his finger sink inside of you, his large fingers filling you up with ease. He pulled them out, dragging out the action before revealing his fingers completely coated in your slick. He swirled his tongue around his fingers, almost like he wanted to savor the taste of you. And in a way, he did. Every piece of candy that he'd eaten paled to compare to how sweet your essence was.

"Would've tried harder last time if I knew you tasted that good," he told you, his fingers finding their way to your cunt again. "What makes you so sure I would've relented?" You challenged, the last bit of defiance dying out as you felt his pointer finger find your clit with ease. You were sure that if he pressed his finger on it, he'd be able to feel just how much it throbbed for some kind of attention. You bit down on your lip, unwilling to give him that satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you.

"Given how wet you are now, it wouldn't have been that much of a challenge," he responded with a cocky grin, letting out a small chuckle at the way you rolled your eyes. He slid his pointer finger, curling it to find your g-spot. "Got it," he whispered, noticing the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your slick coated his fingers every time that he pushed his fingers inside of you, your walls clenching at the motion.

He brought his mouth down to your breasts, watching them harden at just the slightest breeze flowing through his apartment. He took the left one in his mouth, your hand immediately coming down to his hair. Your grip on the white strands tightened as you felt his tongue roll around your hardened nipple, your legs instinctively shutting around his hand. He didn't stop fingering you, opening your legs with his other hand.

You were approaching your orgasm rapidly, the knot inside of your stomach starting to tighten. Moans escaped from your mouth in a slew of curses or small whimpers of his name. All which sounded like the most angelic music to his ears. "There we go, I got you," he whispered, looking up at you as he tugged on your nipple with his teeth. You started to move away from him as you felt yourself on the brink of your orgasm, though the grip that he had on your hip made it impossible to do so.

The knot inside of you snapped with a thrust of his fingers, your cunt soaking his fingers with your release. He pulled them out, the juices making his fingers glisten underneath the moonlight. He brought them over to his mouth once more, savoring the way that you tasted. Maybe one day he'd get to have a proper taste of you. But for now, all that he wanted was to feel the way your walls clenched around his cock. He leaned in, your lips parting as he kissed you. all so you could taste yourself.

His lips went down to your jawline, planting a couple open mouthed kisses before he moved down to your neck and collarbone. While his touch was nothing short of delightful, you were starting to grow needy. You bucked your hips against him to try to get some kind of friction, your attempts dismissed with a chuckle. "Please," you spoke up, his lips pressed against your stomach. You wanted some kind of mercy, some kind of relief.

He didn't seem to do that, though. Satoru continued to ignore your pleas, his fingers barely moving along your thighs as he resumed with kissing your body. He almost seemed like he basked in making you into a desperate mess for him, on the borderline of begging him to do something. "Touch me," you whispered, trying to move your hips to meet his fingers. One of his hands went over to your hip, holding you down. "I'm sure you can ask better than that, no?"

Damn him. Damn the way that he looked at you while he said that, pale blue eyes almost shining underneath the moonlight. He looked at you with fascination, curious to see what it is that made your body tick and what made you lose your composure. And damn yourself for not being able to resist. To be fair, you don't know how anyone could possibly resist him in this situation.

"..Please touch me," you muttered, unable to speak louder if you even tried. His finger prodded at your entrance, only sticking the tip before retracting it once more. You felt yourself clench around nothing, your desperation growing tenfold. "I can't hear you properly. Come on and speak louder for me, princess."

You wanted to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but the rational part of you knew that the longer you dragged this out, the longer it'd take for you to receive some kind of relief. "Please touch me," you spoke a bit louder this time, the words hitting his ears with ease this time around. Despite the fact, he stayed in the same position he was in. "I thought I was touching you already. Be more specific."

You let out an exasperated huff, looking over at him to realize he was being serious. His fingers applied featherlight touches onto your inner thighs thighs, barely moving towards your wet cunt before abruptly pulling them away. "Please fuck me," you relented after a couple seconds of internal debate, his fingers pulling away from your thighs. You were about to open your mouth to complain from the loss of contact until you realized what he was doing.

Satoru did quick work of removing his pants and boxers, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. As weird as it was to admit it, he had a pretty dick. White tufts of hairs leading from his abdomen to his pelvis were trimmed down to a manageable length, his happy trail looking all too inviting. Pre cum leaked from his reddened bulbous tip, leaking down his shaft and some onto the floor.

"There's some lube and condoms in the first cabinet if you could get those for me," he spoke up, pointing with his lips over to the night stand next to you. You handed him over the bottle of lube, feeling the cold liquid running down your folds a few seconds later. A small shiver went down your spine, your cunt clenching around pure air in anticipation. "We don't have to use a condom if you don't want to," you spoke up, watching as he lathered lube onto his shaft.

"You sure?"

You nodded before answering his question, “I'm on birth control and i'm clean." he set the condom off to the side, his hands coming onto your legs. He brought you closer to himself, aligning his cock with your entrance. Despite the fact that he'd worked you open with his fingers and there was an extra level of lubrication involved, you couldn't help but feel nervous once the size of his cock registered in your head. How was he going to fit?

Almost as if he could sense the worry emanating off you, he gently rubbed your thighs. "I’ll take it slow, don't worry," he assured you, slowly pushing the tip in. His head lolled back at the sensation of your walls fluttering around the tip, a small groan escaping from his lips. The sheets rustled underneath your fingers, your grip on them tightening with every inch that he pushed inside you. The sensation between your legs was starting to get uncomfortable, your walls stretching past their limits.

"Stop for a moment," you choked out, his movements halting immediately. He brought his hand over to yours, his fingers intertwining yours. In a way, that small gesture took you out of your head and brought you back to the moment. I'm sorry," you looked over at him, feeling his cock twitching inside of you. He wiped one of the tears running down your face with his thumb, leaning in and pressing his lips against your forehead. "Don't apologize. We have all night."

Satoru was glad that you asked for a break. He'd resorted to thinking about a cursed spirit he had to fight earlier so he wouldn't blow his load upon the first thrust. The way that your walls clenched around him, like they never wanted to let his cock go was almost too much for him to bear. "So, How'd your day go today?" He decided to ask, wanting to make you a bit more comfortable in this situation. One of the questions you weren't expecting while having a dick inside of you.

“It was good,” you responded, taking a couple deep breaths to calm yourself down. The two of you got into a conversation of what’d you’d done for the day. Eventually, the pain in your vagina started to contort into need. The need for pleasure, for some kind of friction. "You can move," you spoke up after a couple seconds, letting out a gasp as his cock unsheathed from your cunt. He slid back inside, the tip of his cock hitting spots that most of your vibrators couldn't touch.

His rhythm started off slow, his main concern being on getting you adjusted to the sensation. Despite how much he'd thought about this moment, how much he wanted to claim your body as his, he decided that he would be patient. Your pleasure was miles above his own right now. He'd wait until you were comfortable enough to ask him for more. His thrusts were slow but deep, molding your cunt to the shape of his cock. With each thrust that he took, he made sure to hit your g-spot every time to have your toes curling and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"Faster, please," you moaned, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. He placed both hands on your hips, his balls slapping against your ass every time that he pushed his cock inside of you. The tip of his cock went deeper inside of you each time, your hand clinging onto his as your body shook underneath his. "Such a pretty cunt. Just made for me to fuck you," he babbled, moving one of his hands over to your clit. His thumb started to rub the nub in small circles, matching it to the pace he was setting.

You weren't sure if you wanted him to stop or keep going, the pleasure inside of you felt almost overwhelming. Your orgasm felt much more different this time around. Your body convulsed as you felt the pressure inside of you build up, your cunt gushing when he pulled out. Your release squirted out of you, leaking down your thighs and spraying up to wet his legs. "That was so fucking hot," he groaned, his cock twitching as he moved inside of you once more. The euphoria you felt from your orgasm was something you'd never felt before.

His thrusts started to grow sloppier by the second, a groan escaping his lips as he started to cum. A mixture of his fluid and yours leaked down onto the bedsheets below, your cunt filled up to the brim. He pulled out slowly with a squelch, the sight of you full of his cum almost being enough to give him a hard on again. He took a couple seconds to regain his breath, getting off the bed before walking over to the bathroom.

You wouldn't deny that a part of you was expecting for him to kick you out, that your time together was finished. He emerged from the bathroom with a white towel, getting in between your legs. He cleaned you up, wiping the fluid leaking down your thighs with more gentleness than you'd expected. "You don't have to go yet if you don't want to. I have some ice cream in the fridge to share if you wanna stay and watch something."

"Surprised you're willing to share."

"I guess I can make the sacrifice just this once. Just for you, though."

He walked over to his dresser, grabbing a white tee before placing it next to you. "The dress you're wearing isn't exactly ideal to spend the night in," he told you, as if that was enough explanation. Well, in a way it was. It was his way of asking you to spend the night over without actually having to do so. "If you didn't want me to leave, you could've said so," you called out after him as he left the room, getting up to put the shirt over yourself. You grabbed your panties off from the floor, sliding them back on.

He came back with two bowls of ice cream, a reasonable amount for you and the bowl filled to the brim for himself. "Wonder how you haven't gotten diabetes yet," you pondered out loud, grabbing the bowl once he passed it over. "If I do, I'll just use RCT," he responded, setting the bowl of ice cream down on his nightstand. He grabbed a clean bedsheet from his closet, pulling the soiled ones off before setting in the black silk sheets down.

He grabbed his ice cream before getting in the bed after you did. He wrapped an arm around you, the bowl of ice cream now situated in between his legs. The two of you got into a debate about what movie you wanted to watch, eventually just settling on a comedy that the two of you would enjoy. He held you close to his body as the movie started, a warm blanket pulled up to cover the two of you.

Despite the fact that his hands were all over you earlier, this was the most rewarding part of spending this time with him. His hands were wrapped around you, holding you close to his body while the movie played in the background. There was no invisible barrier separating the two of you anymore. In a way, you felt even closer to him now rather than when he was inside of you.

"What's on your mind?" He broke the silence, grabbing white bandages from his nightstand before wrapping them around his eyes. You finally felt as though you belonged somewhere for once. That place being beside satoru. "Nothing too serious," you assured him, resting your head against his head. He stole some of your ice cream, no complaints coming from you though. If a bit of ice cream was something you had to share, then there would be no problem.

[gatitties]

Hi can you do yandere bonten (separately where their s/o (who knows they’re a yandere and gose a long with.) is being targeted by another gang. ( Trying to kill them and shit) and on day they see a red dot on their s/o forehead. (Coming from a laser on a gun) and then there’s gunshots everywhere. Do they manage to tackle their s/o on those and save them? ( you can pick) and what do they do to rival gang when they find them?

─Yandere!Bonten x reader (separately)

─Summary: a moment in which your life is threatened, a moment of despair for these boys

─Warnings: death, blood, mention of drugs, toxic behaivors, yandere stuff

─ It was very strange to go from not being noticed socially to having a psychopath holding your waist every second of your existence.

─ You knew that his behaviors went beyond a toxic and controlling partner, perhaps because you were aware that you knew how to cope with it in a certain way, in any case accepting his madness made many things easier, it was better to be on Mikey's good side.

─ That you were docile could only improve Mikey's condition, although sometimes it was like dealing with a capricious child, you had to at least pretend not to be uncomfortable twenty-four hours a day stuck to him in any way.

─ Although there are situations in which due to certain circumstances he needs to move away from you, it will bother him even if it is a few seconds in which he has to greet someone important, but he will always have a part of his body attached to you, whether it's his hand on your shoulder or his knee touching yours, he needs to make sure that you won't vanish out of nowhere even though it's physically impossible.

─ In the event that your life was threatened for just a measly second, it was like starting a war.

─ You didn't even know what happened before his body locked you against the floor and dragged you under one of the tables.

─ You were at a dinner with some executives and out of nowhere you found yourself being suffocated by Mikey on the floor listening to a lot of guns and screams.

─ He knew that he had enemies around every corner, but he didn't know that they were stupid enough to point a gun directly at you, at his most precious being.

─ You were lucky that he was able to react in time due to his constant fixation on always having you by his side, if it weren't for his mania perhaps your destiny would have been different.

─ Although unfortunately this event reduced your time outdoors, at least until Mikey wiped out each and every one of those involved in your near-death.

─ It wasn't a good start because it started with your kidnapping.

─ But perhaps the effect of narcotics on your body was what made you stop fighting against someone who had more power than you in society, you were condemned and you accepted it.

─ Sanzu doesn't care enough not to traumatize you and you have to get used to the fact that every time he takes you somewhere someone ends up dead because of him.

─ He doesn't require so much continuous physical contact, however whenever he wants it you will have to be on his lap without any complaints, you learned the hard way that it was better to listen the first time he wants something.

─ You're his little toy and everyone knows it, maybe, too many people know who you 'belong' to and that caught the attention of a certain gang that Sanzu had previously had problems with.

─ That's why the moment when you find yourself in a brothel having a drink with Sanzu and the Haitani brothers and a red dot forms on your forehead is not surprising to him.

─ It was the lack of reaction, the mental block and the speed with which the murder happened, it was a clean shot, your blood splashed on his stupefied face and he couldn't even catch your body before you collapsed against the elegant sofa.

─ It broke him, not the fact of your death, but the fact that another person had played with the life of his obsession, his new toy, and maybe he didn't accept so easily that you were dead, maybe he kept your inert body in his bed, your pajamas on as if it were just another ordinary night.

─ To say he was a disaster (even more) was an understatement, he was going to find those bastards and going to torture them while 'you' watched, hoping that it would entertain you, at least this time you would look and not look away like all those other times.

─ He's probably one of the most normal, if it's normal to be harassed for months and have 'unintentional' encounters with Kakucho all the time.

─ Kakucho was more of an observer and stayed in the background, he knew that his obsession was not a good thing, but at least he accepted that he was aware of it and that you would have to accept him.

─ No matter how much you ran away, what you did, you always had his eyes on your figure, you were a kind of divinity for him and he didn't even want to do anything perverse, he wanted to love you. Was he asking for much? Well, he could always resort to other methods anyway, if he wanted something, he had the power to get it.

─ He didn't ask for much, he just wanted you, and he became so sincere as to confess to you everything he had been doing, everything he would do if you agreed to be with him by hook and by crook.

─ He's not very good with romantic relationships if his last option is a threat, but you decided to take the easy way out and accept all his madness towards you.

─ He was too paranoid to let you go out on your own, to do anything without his supervision, he had lost Izana a long time ago and it was too painful and traumatic for him to happen to you.

─ It's quite rare that your life is threatened because you practically don't leave your safe place, but like any good gentleman, he always has some romantic plan for two and that means going out from time to time.

─ Don't worry, the second that red dot is on your forehead you were probably protected by a mass of muscles from several bodyguards and immediately guided out along with Kakucho.

─ He will not personally be in charge of finding and killing the gang that was behind the attempt on your life, but he will know when they are all three meters underground, which will be sooner rather than later.

─ Oh poor thing, did you really think you could escape his clutches once he met you and became infatuated with you? That's sweet of you, but Takeomi already has you under the palm of his hand without you knowing it.

─ You noticed each of his manipulation tricks and his strange fixation on you, he laughed knowing how perceptive you were and admitted to you that he had not been able to get you out of his mind since the first time he saw you and that it would be better if you accompanied him for the good ones.

─ He was good enough that you could face him and move forward despite all his toxic behaviors, and even though you missed your old life and freedom, you bitterly accepted that it wasn't that easy to get rid of a mafia executive.

─ He showered you with luxuries and praise whenever you behaved as he wanted, and he tried to make everything as least uncomfortable as possible since he was hungry for love, but he knew that forcing some things on you would make him feel as if everything was a lie (despite that it was in a certain way, he wouldn't admit it).

─ He thought that no one would be stupid enough to even think about hurting you, you were always well protected and a few threats would be enough to stop anyone from wanting to look at you.

─ Poor little gang that tried to annoy him by threatening you at gunpoint, Takeomi is not stupid and expected your life to be threatened sooner or later, he is not a saint and has enemies left and right, this devil knows more because he is old than by devil

─ The whole band died that night while he was enjoying his dinner with you without any altercation, you didn't even know and you didn't need to know, he wanted to continue in his bubble of happiness and a trauma to you would break that illusion, you were behaving so well, you didn't need to feel fear, at least not fear from other people.

─ You were smart and applied, probably what caught Kokonoi's attention, it started as a small crush that got worse when he saw how your attention was not only for him.

─ You were smart, but not smart enough to notice how he drugged you to kidnap you that night he invited you to dinner. If you didn't notice his obsessive behavior before, now you did.

─ The amount of luxuries and whims increased, you didn't even need to behave well, he would have you with money as he had always done with everything, and you had no choice but to accept that a crazy rich man had kidnapped you and that he wouldn't let you go unless you were his partner or something like that.

─ Sick, yes, but you didn't want to know what would happen if you refused, or maybe it was Stockholm syndrome, at this point you no longer knew how to differentiate it.

─ Kokonoi is not always with you, which gives you a false sense of freedom, false because you always have a bodyguard watching from afar, and although you don't know it, there are more eyes watching you.

─ Kokonoi is not stupid either, he knows that they will use you to get to him, but he anticipated the facts, he managed to bribe the murderer of the gang who had problems with him to make sure that you would be fine, he would break if he lost another important person.

─ Astute enough to foresee a possible murder but not enough to foresee a betrayal, his whole world collapsed when one night he found out that you had been murdered, that was not supposed to happen, he should have been there.

─ He faced your death with vengeance, despite not being the most bloodthirsty in Bonten, the only thing he wanted to do was torture the gang that had dared to take your life, that scum that decided to betray him, he would not be the one to apply violence, but he would enjoy the cries of those bastards.

─ You were a whim of the younger brother of the Haitani, a whim that he couldn't get out of his head.

─ It started out as a normal relationship, but his delusional obsession with you and his changes in behavior made you think that everything was much more complicated than a mere relationship.

─ Rindou watched every step you took, he started getting rid of 'unnecessary' people in your life and you couldn't do anything about that, you accepted it too easily, so much so that you even thought you weren't completely sane.

─ You didn't need anyone else, he is always there, literally always because he loves to be by your side, he loves to squeeze your waist and bring you closer to him while others see him, he loves to kiss you in front of everyone to make it clear that he is the one who has you and no one else.

─ He can be suffocating at times, but it's not like you can do anything, if necessary he will chain you to him to stay together until death.

─ Speaking of death… the threats don't take long to arrive, knowing that they could use you against him, he will not leave you alone even to go to the bathroom, anything can be a threat, even an innocent child could be a spy looking to kill you.

─ Locking you up and depriving you of going outside doesn't make it any less likely that you'll end up dead, even though he didn't leave you for even a second, he wasn't fast enough to throw you to the ground when the red dot on your temple became visible.

─ He saw how your gaze was lost until it was lifeless and he saw red, all the people who were close to the scene died in painful ways in the following week, whether they were innocent or those involved, Rindou needed someone to pay for his loss, maybe he wasn't cautious enough.

─ You fell for his sweet charms, charms that had a lot of corpses, blood and torture behind them, but it was all for you, why would you get angry? He thought he wasn't doing anything wrong and would make you think so too, Ran is very patient.

─ Whatever it was, you accepted all of his macabre behavior, the murders, the jealousy, the obsession, you had to put up with everything.

─ But it's okay, Ran will be generous, he will offer you a lot for little, he just wants you to pay attention to him, he needs to know that you will be there for him no matter what he does.

─ He doesn't always have time for you unfortunately, but he will always have an eye on you, he needs to make sure that no one, not even you, does anything stupid when he's not there.

─ He treats you as if you couldn't do anything on your own, as if you were weaker than him, he likes you to be like the typical character in trouble, it makes him look cooler, doesn't it?

─ He probably received some threat, he could only laugh at the band that thought could touch a single lock of your hair.

─ The problem is that your restrictions increased and your 'free' time decreased, typical, but in this case Ran will be much more paranoid, don't think about spending a single moment alone from now on until he investigates and kills all those cockroaches who dared to threaten your life.

─ The moment he sees that the shooting starts in one of his brothels when he is spending time with you he gets furious, he will get you to safety immediately, he locks you up and even gives you a gun in case some smartass find you.

─ He will personally take charge, with some help from his brother, of killing the gang that had started the destruction in his business right there and will return to you to calm you down with a session of kisses and hugs if you get scared.

─ Poor Mochizuki was never good at romance, he didn't have many partners and his position in one of the biggest mafias in Tokyo was not a positive incentive to find someone who loved him.

─ So he thought that his obsession was justified when you showed some interest in him, of course that was before you knew who he really was, but it was too late, he got his hopes up and he wouldn't let anyone break them, not even yourself.

─ If he needed to have you drugged for you to accept him, he would do it, but no one would take away what he had longed dreamed for so long.

─ Don't let his tough exterior fool you, he could be a total idiot just for you, although he didn't always use the most legitimate means to get something you wanted, you couldn't do much either.

─ He always keeps you in a close hug, squeezing your shoulder and holding your body close to his as if they were going to steal you from his hands.

─ It's impossible for him not to worry, he knows the world he moves in and he is the weakest link among the Bonten executives, the guy who is in charge of some of the dirty work and knows that he has many guns pointed at him.

─ That's why he couldn't help but get involved in a shootout when he was trying to enjoy a night walk with you, he was incredibly quick to get you out of the way of the bullet that was aimed at your head, but he didn't expect for another one to embed itself in your lung seconds later.

─ His whole world shattered because he thought he had been able to save you, but seeing you dying in pain while he tried to take you to the nearest hospital was something worse than death for him, especially because you didn't make it.

─ It's not a surprise that the day after mourning that entire band was brutally murdered with just his fists, the sound of bones breaking under his knuckles was music to his ears that day.

[bg-brainrot]

Alone in a Crowded Camp

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: A short Astarion reflection, where he realizes that company isn't so bad.

Tags: Astarion POV, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings

A/N: My ~mood~ persists and I wanted to make this real angsty, but even I couldn’t do that to myself hah. A short little oneshot to try to get me out of my funk!

Word count: ~1.1k

Alone.

Astarion has gotten quite good at being alone.

For two hundred years, he's been surrounded by people– their faces, their bodies, their sickly sweet words and insincere affections. But all along, he has been deeply, achingly alone.

He's had his siblings, ugh, if that's what you could call them. They’ve been a constant, annoying, and at times cruel presence in his life. They’ve felt like a growth he could no more remove than he could ignore. And, through the misery and the pain, he somehow still managed to feel gods awfully alone.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the source of his loneliness. After all, he has nary a moment to himself. But no matter how many people, no matter how frequently he’s with them, something is missing. There is no connection, no kindness, no caring. He simply is alone.

As such, Astarion has grown downright skilled at solitude. A practical art form, he's certain– someone else may call it a method of coping. Either way, it’s not a skill he's comfortable to admit.

Especially not when he suddenly finds himself surrounded once more, veritably drowning in the same disgusting familiarity and the startling newness of companionship. Because this time, he's free. Or as free of Cazador as he's willing to believe for the moment. And his companions don't expect much from him. At least not more than he's willing to provide.

So when he settles into the motley crew, he’s prepared to face the same discordant discomfort of isolation, all while being a hair’s breadth from falling into someone’s bedroll.

Instead, what he finds is an unconventional, at times chaotic, symphony.

The loud sheering sound of weapons being sharpened.

The heat of bodies surrounding a late night campfire.

The beautiful, desperate joy on the faces of those who may not live to see another day.

Astarion soon discovers that, despite the dirt, despite the tentacled doom lingering over his gorgeous head of curls, the boisterous mundanity of daily life is oddly… welcome.

For so long, as long as he can remember honestly, he’d dreaded meeting someone new. Meeting someone new meant as much a death sentence for them as it meant a detestable evening for him, a night lost to his inevitable withdrawal into the deepest darkness he could muster. 

But here, in the warm glow of firelight, the darkness abates. 

Against all of his efforts, he actually learns about the group.

How Lae’zel single-handedly took on her entire crèche while training, how many rooms Gale’s tower boasts back in Waterdeep, how far Wyll’s travels have taken him along the Chionthar, how Shadowheart didn’t need her memories to remember she hated bad wine, how Karlach once defeated a Pit Fiend in the hells themselves. None of them are things he expected to learn, nor care about. But he finds himself listening, chortling along all the same.

And then there’s you.

At first, he’d kept you a careful arm and knife distance away– an asset surely, but just as surely a dangerous one. He’d learned early in his time with Cazador that anyone who could wield both blade and charm was not someone to be trifled with.

What he hadn’t expected was the way that you made him feel: Distinctly not-alone.

Whether it be catching the mischievous twinkle in your eye from across the room or finding himself wrapped in your arms, feeling your body heat slowly seeping into him– he simply can’t understand how you make the world feel so full.

Astarion isn’t sure if he loves this new feeling of overwhelming closeness or misses the solitude. He wonders if he’ll ever feel alone again, and the idea that he may not both thrills and terrifies him.

Because there is something soothing about being alone, a type of insidious succor only his own thoughts provide.

The ache loneliness has carved in his chest is as lingering as it is deeply rooted within him and, like a plant desperately trying to survive, he finds the roots digging deeper and deeper in an attempt to stay grounded.

His moments of actual time to himself have been scarce, of course. So, in his fear, Astarion has gotten used to finding his solitude among the chaos, sequestering himself away from any who might hurt him before such a chance could arise.

Retreating from their kindness, reciprocating with sharply worded barbs, shooting utterly underserved glares in every direction. Their wounded looks mean nothing to him– why should they? They are just another group of strangers, one vampire lord away from becoming another pile of corpses.

However, much like every other of his carefully thought out plans, you are ready to thwart him. For every attempt he makes to withdraw, you’re right there, proving time and again that you are no stranger. Not anymore.

“Astarion.”

It’s a simple thing, his name. The last remnant from a mother he no longer remembers. It sounded wretched upon Cazador’s lips, a curse he could never break. Upon yours though? It may as well be a blessing. 

With that one, simple name, his loneliness is allayed. The roots embedded within him pull back, if only for the moment.

Despite his best efforts, he remembers that he is not alone. Astarion feels at ease.

His heart opens, little by little, and not just to you.

Living hundreds of years as he has, faces had begun to meld together, names began to lose their meaning, voices their distinct candor. But for the first time in a long, long time, he finds himself seeing, listening, connecting to others in a way he no longer believed himself capable of.

It’s… nice. Not that he’ll ever tell the others.

Naturally, his past doesn’t simply up and vanish. His mind still drifts, and he finds himself retreating into the damning safety of solitude from time to time. But each and every time, a hand reaches out– at times jovial, sometimes tentative, other times caring– ready to pull him back to the present.

“Astarion?”

One such hand comes into his field of view, and he takes it instinctively. It’s warm, comforting, and scarred with the beautiful history of an adventurous past. He could get lost in the look and feel of this hand.

“Astarion? Are you alright?”

Your voice is soft, tone gently questioning– yet still worried. Adorable, but you needn’t worry about him. He doubts he’s ever been better.

“Mmm, yes, darling. Quite alright.”

“Good.” 

Your hand squeezes his as you respond and he’s certain that, as long as you’re next to him, he may never feel alone again. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing after all.