#i hope everyone finds that person for them sincerely

[9haharharley1]

For the prompt ideas, how do you feel about hanahaki? Vlad not knowing how to handle having this, trying to keep it a secret from everyone around him.

I've never done hanahaki before, I don't really read it, but it's starting to perk my interest, so this couldn't have come at a better time! I hope this is OK, it's my first time lol

---

Vlad excused himself from the meeting with his CFO as a cough welled in his throat. He barely managed to get out of the room before he doubled over with it, handkerchief covering his mouth. Stumbling away, he headed for the nearby restroom where he hunched over the sink to hack his aching lungs out. The porcelain cracked under his grip as he heaved.

A red glow cast over the sink, his eyes having turned red from the force of his body trying to expel the nuisance in his throat. He sincerely hoped no one was in one of the stalls or would come waltzing in as he spat the first of a blackened petal out of his mouth.

It tingled on his tongue.

Blood blossoms were old magic, rarely found in the wild in this day and age, but they had always been a rare species of flower to begin with. Black petals tipped with a streak of violet, they were a morbid flower, and Vlad had always appreciated their otherworldly beauty.

At least, he had up until they started growing on his lungs.

Once upon a time, Vlad had thought hanahaki disease to be a myth, a silly superstition meant to coerce young lovers and abusers into staying together in relationships that should have never made it past the first date. He'd been on the receiving end of such advances, one woman in accounting going so far as to shove actual flowers in her mouth to cough up the next time they were in the same room together. There had been threats of the same kind in his mail, strangers vying for his attention by saying they were suffocating on their love for him. He'd never believed their rubbish and had his systems trace back to the perpetrators so either he or his security team could deal with them.

Turns out all of those people had been perfectly healthy and were just trying to guilt him into giving them some attention. Go figure.

He spat out another petal, glaring at a drop of blood landing next to it in the sink. Whoever said hanahaki was supposed to be a tragically romantic disease was a damn liar. He couldn't say he was a fan.

It was even worse when the subject of his so-called unrequited love wasn't the person he had imagined it would be.

The day he woke up with the first petal in his throat, after weeks of increasingly violent couching fits, the source of which he couldn't find, Vlad had had an outright panic attack. He had sat curled up in his shower, the heat cranked all the way up to combat his shaking, but it had done little as he stared at the single black petal. He had sobbed. He had screamed and wailed, punching through the tile beneath him as he struggled to breathe with thorns stabbing his lungs and flowers in his throat. It hadn't been a pleasant morning.

It was made all the more unpleasant when he had finally calmed down enough to think logically again, to analyze the facts of what was happening to him and why.

He was in unrequited love. He knew that much about the disease, that the flower only grew when a person couldn't admit their feelings to another. At first, Vlad had tried to refute that fact, thinking back on the multitude of times he had tried to make Maddie Fenton his, to convince her to leave her bumbling husband for him, who could take better care of her and her children than Jack ever could. He had made his intentions quite known to her that time in Colorado, even, so even if it was unrequited, at least Maddie was aware enough to reject him outright.

But that was years ago. The disease hadn't manifested itself back then, which meant - if the tragic love poems were to be believed - that Vlad had never really loved her in the first place. It was a hard pill to swallow, even as he had picked his sorry self up off the shower floor to go to his lab, running an MRI on himself to check his insides.

He had been horrified by what he saw.

A black mass had planted itself in his lungs, tendrils of vines stabbed into the sides of his organs to grow upward into his throat. That, at least, explained the slight wheeze to his breathing these past few weeks, growing steadily worse as the plant grew in size. In a moment of panic, he had attempted to phase it out of himself, going so far as to have a clone reach into his body and yank the thing out, only to be painfully repelled back with a scream, hands burning and blistering even through the gloves his ghost wore. After coming down from yet another panic, Vlad had analyzed the single petal he had coughed up.

His horror grew after concluding it was, in fact, blood blossoms flowering in his lungs.

He threw up in the trash shortly after this revelation, not needing to do anymore research as he realized who could possibly be causing this in him.

There was only one person. Only one person had ever matched him, who had stood up to him and mocked him, thwarting his plans time and again because Vlad was too soft on the boy to go further. Only one person had ever superceded his obsession with Madeline Fenton to make himself Vlad's whole world, to want to win his affection, to be in his life, to go so far as to make a clone copy of him if he couldn't have the real thing for himself.

Back then, Vlad hadn't thought it anymore than wanting a son of his own, to want Maddie's son for his own, but he knew better now. Thinking back, he should have wanted young, brilliant Jasmine as his daughter as well, and some part of him still thought that she should have been his, too, but that want, that yearning he felt for Daniel had never quite extended to Jasmine. He had once chalked it up to just never having wanted a daughter to begin with, and his chest ached knowing that his little Danielle was out there somewhere, far away from him and hating him so spectacularly that he may never get a chance to rectify the pain he had caused her.

This... disease put into perspective what he lacked - companionship, love, family - and as he spat up another petal with a fleck of blood on it, he knew that he could have had all of that with Daniel, with Danielle by their side.

The perfect little half-ghost family. Everything he had ever wanted.

His lungs burned from the poison of the blossoms inside him, his throat sore and raw. Vlad spat into the sink, glaring at the mess of blood that came with it. He grabbed a paper towel, using it to clean the petals and throw them away without touching them directly, washing out the sink and his mouth once they were dealt with. He still had a meeting to get back to, so he stood up straight, fixing his tie and his ponytail until he looked every bit the put-together CEO he showed the larger world. His handkerchief was folded up and placed back in his breast pocket, and when he stepped out of the restroom, no one would ever realize he had just spent five minutes literally coughing up his lungs. He strolled back to the meeting room with his head held high.

A rush of red steam slipped from his lips, Vlad quickly reaching up to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. He glowered, glancing around for whatever ghost dared to enter his building. He still had a schedule to keep.

His eyes went wide when he turned around, however.

"Daniel?" he wheezed around the flower threatening to choke him.

Daniel stood in the hall, shivering and miserable. There were deep bags under his eyes, his hair unkempt and windswept. His clothes were wrinkled, like Daniel had grabbed them straight from the laundry basket and thrown them on, flying as fast as his exhausted body possibly could to stand before Vlad. There was a dribble of blood on his lips, like he had just finished a painful coughing fit of his own, and the horror that crept over Vlad had him all but running to the younger man. Daniel hung his head as Vlad knelt before him, grabbing his arms.

"Daniel?" he practically pleaded, willing the young halfa to look at him. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Nothing could have prepared him for the shock that jolted through him when Danny held up a handful of blood blossom petals in a shaking hand. Vlad's breathing went ragged.

"C... Can we talk?" Daniel muttered, voice wheezy and hoarse, his pain significantly worse than Vlad's. Vlad met his pleading eyes with his own wide, bewildered ones, barely registering the bloom of hope in his lungs. He fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Hello, Dolores. Cancel my appointments for today."

#thank you for the ask!! #harley writes #pompep #pompous pep #danny phantom #my writing #fic #harley answers #asks #this was a fun little challenge

[06sunnybunny06]

Love for three. [18+]

(Diluc, Kaeya)

Tales of happiness have always been represented by bright colors in the picture of life. Happy couples, families and even friends met their end under the sunny sky. This is how the end of almost any work is described. Previously, the world was reflected in your eyes exactly the same, fabulously happy, and only now the awareness of real life is repainting the palette in dark tones.

The Dawn distillery has been gripped by bad weather in recent days. It rained almost every day. The only thing left for you was to sit on a chair near the window, looking at the cloudy landscape. How did it happen that the distillery became your home? Just yesterday, you and your brother listened to your father's stories about his military exploits on a quiet summer evening. The work of a knight is a dangerous business. Not everyone is lucky enough to return safe and sound. And so it happened. Only recently you were holding a death note in your hands. I still remember the funeral well in my head. Now it's just the two of you in this world.

Despite the fact that there was an accident in your family, you tried to maintain a good atmosphere in the house. Unexpectedly for you, your brother decided to follow the path of a knight. He obsessively claimed that his father had been murdered. Every day you tried to get him out of the training ground until late at night, but it was all in vain. It was as if a vengeful spirit had possessed him, driving his body to exhaustion and his mind to madness. It seemed like a black streak covered all areas of your life. The only consolation was the support of the cavalry captain. The young man tried to make friends with you and protect his brother from unnecessary actions. Thanks to him, hope was born in you. Your new friend can help free your brother from his thirst for revenge.

Over time, you and Kaye have become good friends. His company turned your dark days into vivid memories. At first it seemed that he was trying to seduce you, but later his intentions became more sincere. Admittedly, you didn't have enough to lean on a strong, masculine hand, to be in someone else's arms, to feel protected. Perhaps such a person has appeared. But no matter how hard you tried to find happiness, it still did not want to be present in your life.

One evening, brother did not return home. After a long search, you found no trace of his presence. Two, three days have passed, or maybe a week of waiting for at least some news. It was raining just as hard. There was a tall man in black robes on your doorstep. Who but a Diluс, the owner of the Share of Angels tavern, could have such scarlet, flaming hair? Ruby eyes, having studied your restless face, softened.

- You're in danger. Get ready. I'll take you to a safe place. - the only words that came out of his mouth. Then you really got scared.

That's how you ended up at the distillery. The maids have received you as an honored guest. They even allocated a separate room. More than one day has passed since then. The staff went about their business, and the owner was often not at home at all. Your presence was perceived as the norm, although not much time had passed. A lot of questions were eating away at the inside, but no one could answer them. Adelaide calmed you down by serving you a cup of tea when she noticed your nervousness. But she didn't say anything either. Only once did you witness the revelation of the truth.

Sleep did not come at night. I wanted to quench my thirst. You didn't want to disturb the servants, who were probably asleep. It was only through getting used to the darkness that the eyes were able to make out the corridor. Candles flickered around the bend. Someone was having dinner. They say Diluс returned home very late, most likely it was him...

"And what brings you here?" Diluc put the empty plate aside. "You probably didn't just come here to have dinner."

- You know, sometimes you just want to be in the warm company of your brother, but you're right. Two people have recently gone missing. Have you seen anyone like that? - There was someone else there. The voice is similar to the Kaeya.

- Yes, I kind of saw the flyers. Unfortunately, I have not met anyone with a similar appearance.

- Really? But for some reason I'm sure that at least the girl was here.

Dilyuk sighed heavily. "I can't hide anything from you. It may seem difficult, but she is alive and unharmed."

- Where is she?

- Better take care of the second missing person. He's probably looking for help.

- Once their now deceased father was my comrade. I have to solve this case and bring back his children. This young man was one of my soldiers. He kept saying that he would avenge his dead father. His sister often visited to find out how he was feeling. Circled over him like a mommy. And that led me to a conclusion. If he left, she most likely followed him.

Dilyuk shuddered at that moment. He was feeling the bridge of his nose. This whole situation was one continuous headache for him. -

"Okay. The girl is really safe, but the boy is.... he's dead. I killed him."

At that moment, you pressed your hands to your lips so as not to make an unnecessary sound. Tears rolled down cheeks.

"So you admit you killed him?"

- The case is much darker than it might seem. He was recruited by Fatoui. He was their spy. According to my contacts, he tried to sneak into the headquarters more than once. Maybe he even managed to get something out of there.

- And the girl?

- She has nothing to do with it. If they don't know about his death or think he's escaped. Perhaps they will come to their house to find out where he is or get rid of witnesses. That's why I decided to take her away.

- That's how it is.

It may have been a little while, but it's slowed down a lot for you. The legs moved towards the room on their own. Tried to stifle your sobs. Soul ached badly, as if she had been betrayed. Meanwhile, the brothers continued to talk among themselves as if nothing had happened.

- So you can put her under my care. I am ready to take responsibility for her protection.

In less than a moment, a frown appeared on Diluc's face. Kaeya knows that look well. Diluc doesn't trust knights. He looks more like a dog that is ready to protect the innocent until death. Whether it's one girl or a whole Mondstadt. It was bad. They could cross clenches if he decided to take her away like that.

- I think it's worth asking her opinion on this matter. She could have just heard everything.

Diluc, dissatisfied with his position, got up from the table and headed towards your room. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Should have known it differently, but there's nothing can do.

The door to the room slowly opened, letting in a dim light. You were lying on the bed, covered with a blanket. Fear overcame all thoughts, devouring your heart. You felt a heavy hand on your head. A small voice whispered almost soundlessly. - "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to happen like this."

- Why didn't you say anything? Why did you drag me into your house and leave me alone with my thoughts? I didn't know what to think. Why is my brother dead?

- I didn't want to kill him. It just happened. He fought too fiercely against me. I had no choice.

Your sobs are getting louder. A muffled sob filled the small room. Diluc wanted to take you in his arms, but shame and bitterness did not allow him to do so. Meanwhile, Kaeya had already entered the room. The door slammed behind him.

- Well, then. There will still be time for mourning. I wonder what you're going to do now?

- Nothing. She's staying here. Fatuis may be waiting for her in the city. - Diluc answered him without hesitation.

- You can't hide it forever. There are a lot of people at the Distillery to generate rumors.

- My people are quite competent, unlike the soldiers. They'll just leave her unattended. The enemy never sleeps.

- I. I'll stay here. - Your quiet voice involuntarily interfered in their conversation. It's scary to imagine what might happen if you left the distillery. "I'm scared. If you promise to protect me, I will stay. And the people here have made me very welcome."

For a moment, it seemed as if Kaeya's eyes reflected emptiness before assuming a painfully familiar friendly expression. - " OK. If the lady wants to stay, so be it, but at this rate I'm becoming your accomplice. You are considered missing in the city. Only I can hide the information of your arrival. In return, I wish to visit you sometimes. I'm worried about staying in the dark." You nodded hesitantly.

During your stay at the Dawn distillery, it seemed that your shock had passed, but thinking about dead brother gave you reason to be a little afraid of Diluk. Otherwise, almost nothing has changed. In addition, the owner has become more likely to be at home, and Kaeya visits you almost every day. The meetings were more like small dates than regular get-togethers. The guy tried to get your attention as sweetly as possible, starting with gifts and ending with awkward gestures.

In fact, Keia made you his target a long time ago. From the day you first met, he couldn't take his eyes off you. At first it looked like a harmless flirtation, but over time his mania began to grow at an incredible rate. Few people manage to turn the head of a young, handsome, charismatic cavalry captain. In society, he may seem like a ladies' man, because only such a melodious voice is able to convey all the charm of the beauty of femininity itself. It was as if an incubus had come from hell to please the most closed girlish hearts.

On the contrary, you either studiously did not show a reaction, or did not notice at all. The guy was ready to swear that he saw the unsuccessful cupid diligently trying to hit you with an arrow, but fate forced them to fly in different directions. Kaeya mistook your closeness for a challenge. He has to win you over.

For Diluc, your presence has become commonplace. The situation you got into through brother's stupidity made his blood boil. This scene was directly imprinted in head with fragments of the past. He seriously did not understand those who are ready to betray their loved ones. You can't deserve to be treated like this.

Once he managed to capture your figure at an open window with a book in his hands. Just noticing him, your face lit up. A question popped up in the young winemaker's head - "What is it like to meet this smile every day?". Soon, the eternally closed and stingy guy began to exude tenderness in your direction.

Kaeya easily recognized his brother's infatuation. Of course, he wasn't particularly happy about this outcome, because you were supposed to be his alone. If you look at it from the other side, Diluc is a paranoid, focused on protecting his loved ones and just the innocent. Who better to entrust such a fragile flower to than him? Even if you decide to run away, the Distillery itself is a vast territory. There are people everywhere. You can't go anywhere unnoticed.

Diluc is also not a fool not to see brother's love interest. Unfortunately, there is no place to put it and there is no getting away from it. The three of you are connected by the same situation. It remains only to silently agree to the division of your attention between them. If only you could be in his field of vision.

It all started with small signs of attention until you yourself began to notice how suffocated you were by their presence. Personal boundaries were being destroyed right before our eyes. Even if they weren't around, the servants were always watching you. Over time, you began to suffer from panic attacks. Paranoia about other people's views even in a closed room haunted you. The feeling of loss turned into stress, and stress gave rise to a personality disorder.

One day, passing by the mirror, you stopped at a frozen figure. The reflection no longer had that calm smile on the familiar face. Fear appeared in his dull eyes, and his lips trembled. All this did not go well with a beautiful dress, expensive jewelry and delicate makeup. Previously, you might have been happy with such an update, but now. It wasn't a girl in the reflection, but rather a soulless doll.

- Isn't she beautiful? - Kaeya always had a habit of sneaking up behind jokingly. He hugged you lovingly, allowing himself to touch your neck with his lips. The man became more insistent every day. It seemed that his patience could come to naught at any moment, until one day you found yourself on his lap, impaled on his penis. No matter how hard you tried to resist, euphoria was playing in your mind. Strong male hands let go and lifted you up. He was strong enough to grab unexpectedly in any available place. Your desperate eyes excited him. Something dark and unknown was awakening inside. He was always looking for his little fawn. Even if you didn't belong only to him, he desperately tried to fill all your time with his presence while Diluc was away on important business.

When Diluc returned home, you could already be fast asleep. The man tried to visit you as often as his time allowed. Here is your sleeping figure. Diluc felt his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. He loves you, and even if he can't show it that often, he has money at his disposal. Your lace nightgown shows it. Last time, my hands couldn't help but touch your soft skin. Maybe even lips kissed yours. He's ashamed, very ashamed, but how can you stop when you're so obedient and sweet? He didn't want you to see him like this at all. Because of her nervousness, Adelaide often gave you a sedative and Diluc knew it. So now he could have done anything and you wouldn't know about it. In the morning, you could expect a small surprise in the form of a white sticky mass that forgot to remove.

Even if you make a scene, a pile of gift boxes will be delivered to the estate the next day just for you. Many people may start whispering that a spoiled child has appeared in the house. Maybe you don't even know about it. They were afraid of the master, who might even kill for you, and the head maid is not averse to handing out serious punishments if such rumors reach her ears.

Kaeya didn't lag behind either. Fresh flowers often appeared in your room. The captain knows how to take care of girls, unlike his embarrassed brother. He could give his love with affection and attention without fear of being rejected. Although you have nowhere to go.

Endless days in a long-familiar room turned into weeks, and weeks into months. You managed to remember who will be at home when and why. Only once, on the occasion of the holiday, no one bothered to check on you. Everyone was busy. You've rehearsed it many times and you were ready to leave your cage with confidence. Everything went according to plan, everything was fine, you were almost at the border with Li Yue when you suddenly lost consciousness. The eyes opened in the same damn place. This time, the movements were severely constrained. Golden chains were found on the wrist and legs. Your breath caught in your throat when suddenly a red-haired man entered the room. There was anger in his eyes.

- How could you? How dare you leave without saying a word? I almost lost my mind. Do you understand how many monsters are outside and it's not her to count all kinds of scumbags?!

He came too close, but softened when he saw your eyes wet with fear. Nevertheless, your words almost broke out into a scream.

- I don't want to be here anymore. This place is driving me crazy. It's all you and your brother! You've made a doll out of me. I want to live quietly somewhere far away alone. And now you've turned me into a puppet by putting me in these chains. How else can I understand this?!

- I'm doing this for you. Fatuis may be close...

-I'm sure they don't even remember me anymore. These are all your pathetic excuses! I'd rather die than be here and submit to your perverted fantasies!

Diluc measured his anger with a heavy sigh. - "Someday you'll understand why I'm doing all this. We try to take care of you. Wouldn't asking for a little love be a good price to pay for a life of comfort and security?"

- You're already delusional about this idea. I'm sorry, but I don't feel safe around you anymore.

Diluc left the room without hesitation, leaving you all alone. The chains rattled uncomfortably as you tried to get out of bed. There was a box with another gift on the bedside table. You unpacked it automatically, it used to be fun. Now it is not clear what can be dug up. Inside was a leather collar with a leash and a note. "I've heard you've been behaving badly lately. I hope you'll be wearing it when we meet. Do not forget. You have to behave yourself to get what you want. I'll be happy to give you this. With love, Kaeya"

The gift was immediately in the far corner. You huddled into the wall, hiding your face. Tears streamed from eyes. You used to be their toy, but now you've become a pet. After all, this is not the end you were waiting for.

The glasses of the pink glasses flew in different directions, leaving scars in the cornea for the rest of days. The world has changed its palette to dark tones, emptying you and your mind..

#yandere diluc #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere themes #yandere genshin imagines #diluc #genshinimpact #headcanons #genshinheadcanons #genshin_impact #Genshin_impact #genshin x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere kaeya #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #genshin kaeya alberich #gi kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #genshin kaeya

[enluv]

having a friend that you can go to and they can automatically make your day better is so refreshing and i hope everyone finds that person for them because they’re an essential person in life

#coming back from vacation i was a bit upset because of some family issues #and mind you i haven’t been keeping up with many of my uni friends because we all have an understanding of our lives and such #but i do have one friend I text everyday and i adore him #he’s just a really good friend and i haven’t called him at all because he’s a really busy person #he’s currently at our uni doing stuff and he’s just very busy #but i asked if he was busy and he said no so I called him when I was unpacking #and he just instantly made my day so much better #he’s just a really good friend and i hope that everyone can find that person for them #because people like that are essential for you #you’d think he wouldn’t be that person because his personality is so sarcastic and a little like mean/teasing in like sweet way #but he’s just so easy to talk to #i go to him for literally everything 😭 #and then after I ranted to him we just jokes and talked #he sent me an iq test 😭😭😭 like i just idk man #i hope everyone finds that person for them sincerely #chit chat with coco <3

[littleragondin]

Hiii! May I ask for the top 5 French songs? Could be all-time favs or current ones. I haven't listened to anything French in ages and I would gladly reach for some.

Have a great day! :)

Hiii! Thank you so much for asking ♡ I spent the whole day thinking about it and I am (again) gonna cheat a little and do two tops I hope you'll forgive me 🙈

Top 5 all time favorite french songs :

"3eme sexe" by Indochine - specifically this live version, tho I also dearly like the original from 1985

"Virages" by Yves Duteil - i do NOT like the original instrumentation but this guitar + soft percussion version? ♡♡♡

"Je te rends ton amour" by Mylene Farmer - she's the artist I've seen the most live in my life (ノ*°▽°*)

"Le bal des Laze" by Michel Polnareff - but frankly, he has tons of gems through his whole discography

"Rimes feminines" by Juliette - this one's a utube because that live version? lives rent free in my brain (´꒳`)♡

Top 5 of recent(-ish) french songs :

"Le chrome et le coton - Lafayette remix" by Jerome Echenoz, Anna Jean - this specific remix beats both the original and all other remixes imo

"Le Monarque des Indes" by Pierre Lapointe - actually canadian but still in french! this one accompanies all my summers since 2020

"Ivre d'amour" by The Rodeo - it's a song about lycanthropic love, what else can I say?

"Charisma" by Daisy Mortem - there is always something a little ... sticky in their songs despite the strong electro aspect of it that works on me 100%

"Une danse de mauvais gout" by Mansfield TYA and Odezenne - Mansfield TYA are a long time fave of mine, and the way the voices go together?♡♡♡

#thank you very sincerely for asking #♡♡♡ #but let me tell you picking only 5 was SO HARD lol #I tried to pick personal faves that avoided like - the big french classics (like yes I do think Brel and Ferrat and Barbara are brilliants) #(but so does everyone) #the first one is uh very Teen Ragondin-core lol but they are still my absolute faves to this day #if you like them I'd rec all the discography of those 5 artists (Y. Duteil too even if I know he's very has-been lol) #the second is more ... recent-ish songs I adore and also genuinely consider very good #like objectively if that makes sense? #anyway! I hope you'll find something to enjoy in there =D #the ragondin answers #music

[arthur-r]

hi so this started as a life update and then turned into a major vent and i am very sorry so i am putting it under a cut. content warning for medical stuff and surgery and also college and also generally being upset

oh hey arthur update the medical issues i’ve been vaguing about for the past like week are officially not life threatening or anything and will be getting resolved in a surgery this tuesday. so recovering from that will be a super fun way to spend the last three weeks leading into my senior year, which i really badly overbooked with babysitting nearly every day and working my pizza job extra hours, both of which jobs are the kind where just calling in sick for one day causes actual problems for real people in ways that other jobs maybe wouldn’t. so i’m taking off both my jobs on the actual day of the surgery but otherwise i’m just. powering through it all

#starting on monday i’m taking on a whole other family to babysit on top of everything else!! wasn’t planning on a surgery in the midst #on the bright side maybe the money i make from the extra work will maybe possibly kinda sorta make a dent in the fees for all the #surgery and appointment costs even my fifteen minute visit at the cvs pharmacy cost a hundred freaking dollars #so umm let’s hope that the working i’ve been doing this summer amounts to a little more than just. not being in debt #also the family i babysit for hasn’t texted me back after i told them i had to schedule the surgery during a time i was supposed to be #babysitting. and i think they will understand but i feel terrible because they’re supposed to be able to count on me #and i also don’t want them to know i have a surgery because then they will ask me questions and i want my relationship with this family #to start and end with how i do puzzles with their kids. i don’t want to talk to them about scary personal stuff #plus what if they try to send me a care package or something they think i’m a cis girl named ari they wouldn’t know they have to be discreet #and i don’t want people irl to know about the surgery before it happens because then they’ll ask to see it and i don’t want them to see it #because at work i’ve been wearing a mask and nobody knows i’ve had a potentially cancerous growth for a freaking month #and anyway it’s not cancer or anything it’s just my stupid macrophages but i don’t want people to see it or talk to me about it until it’s #gone. in other news my older sister starts college on monday at the local community college that i will probably go to despite my efforts #so. no anxiety here tonight why in the world would i be terrified about anything right now what are you talking about how could there ever #(/s) #i sincerely hope everyone here is doing okay. i am sorry for kind of venting but i have been holding this stuff in a little bit too long #two people total outside from me and my family know what’s going on and i’m not looking to have any more irls find out #but i am bursting at the seams and a little bit terrified. not to mention the stupid college everything piling up on me right now it’s just #a little bit much. anyway the medical world is ridiculous and stupid and if i have to be on hold with one more surgeons office i will cry #and i’m just kind of here. i’ll put a thing at the top so that nobody has to read this. and trigger warnings and everything #and i really hope everyone is okay i am sorry for being a little too much right now #vent tw #medical tw #ask to tag #anyway i’m going to bed really soon i just. really really needed to yell about how much everything is. even if it’s going to get fixed #me. my post. mine. #delete later

[corviiids]

my top bit of advice going into the new year: compliment people. especially strangers. literally everyone you interact with if you can. when you buy coffee in the morning compliment the barista's tattoos. when you're chatting with a coworker tell them that by the way you like their outfit. always find something they've chosen to do on purpose. nail polish, jewellery, tattoos, hair colour/style, statement accessory, outfit, etc are all good bets. things people hope will be noticed. things that aren't too personal so it doesn't make them uncomfortable (eg probably not their physical features). i've gotten into the habit of scanning everyone i talk to for something about them that i think is cool so i can tell them. it's a great habit because it makes me notice people and realise just how many neat little details there are in people's presentation of themselves that might pass me by if i wasn't paying attention. and it brings out so much joy. you'd be surprised how much it disarms people to receive an unexpected compliment from someone they don't know. it is the most sincere smile you will see all day long. it feels nice to make people happy but it also means you win the social interaction. establish dominance by complimenting a stranger's earrings and disappearing into the fog

#rookposting #the little 'oh!' followed by a big grin is now my highlight in every interaction i have with a stranger #you can always spot the things people hope will be noticed and you have no idea how happy it makes people when it gets noticed #i find it's always better to compliment things they did deliberately vs complimenting stuff like their voice or their face or other things #that are inherent or they cant change because that can make people uncomfortable for one thing to hear that from a stranger #but it's also just less meaningful imo because they didnt do that on purpose

[reveluving]

Ok, so Soap and shy wife. We all know he's the definition of sunshine/happy puppy and has the energy of an entire class of kindengarden. Imagine when they first meet the couple and he's all loud and jolly, and wife quietly shakes their hand and says "Nice to meet you" and he INSTANTLY quiets, because he's proud of his Darling to meet his friends/family, also because they're all wondering how she puts up with him🤣❤

LOSING MY MIND AT "they're all wondering how she puts up with him" BECAUSE THAT IS BASICALLY THEIR DYNAMIC 🤧💗💗

Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

You just know this man does not shut up about you every time he meets up with his team for work. 

And then, one day, he surprises them with a “she’d love y’all to come over one day.”

“Didn’t you say she’s a lil’ shy?” Kyle voiced out everyone’s thoughts, so to be offered not by the man himself but the meek lady in question was a little surprising, to say the least.

“She is, yeah, but she’s open t’meeting a few pals o’mine.” Johnny meant it to sound casual, but with his mates knowing him for a long time, it wasn’t hard to catch the hint of care in his voice.

And, well, it would be rude to decline a lady’s generous offer, now, would it?

Johnny’s hyped, no doubt, his friends—no, brothers, and his other half finally meeting in person. They didn’t even have to ask, just by the way he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel or the way he hummed to the radio, likely a playlist the two of you shared.

And with the boys holding some sort of gift for you, just as a thank you for the invite, you greet them by the door as soon as your husband announces his and his friends’ arrival. 

With Simon physically being the closest to you, you wiped your hands on your apron before holding your hand out. Simon nearly struggled with his strength, not expecting your lack of hesitation to greet him, out of all of them.

You introduced yourself, “It’s nice to finally meet you guys.”

Ah, such a sweet voice. So sweet that had Johnny not gone on and on about your shyness, they would’ve thought you were scared of them. But, you weren’t and the proud smile on Johnny’s face says it all. 

Why wouldn’t he? With your warm smile and even willingness to shake Kyle and John’s hands as well. Albeit, you had a habit of looking down every once in a while, especially if they tried to show their respect, i.e. complimenting your cooking, the decor or you in general, it was hard not to find you endearing.

But God knows how you, of all people, manage to put up with his nonsense. 

In the words of Johnny; “Opposites attract, after all.”

And seeing it now, to say Johnny was whipped…. Was putting it lightly.

It’s funny to see Johnny trying his best when it comes to lowering his gruff voice for you, even if you loved it just the way it is.

Though he has a lot of things to tell you, so much love to give you, you have his full attention the moment your lips part.

Each time you open your mouth, he closes his. As if fearing that one word from him would mean talking over you entirely, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. The hearts in his eyes were tough to miss. He’s expressive, too, hanging on your every word like you were giving him a task when it was just you talking about how you learnt to make the lasagna you served for dinner.

‘SHUT UP, MY BABY HAS SOMETHING TO SAY’ type of beat, but it’s the man who’s saying it that has the loudest voice (and the gentlest heart).

But they’d be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy listening to the stories of how you met and how emo Johnny gets when the dates or outings don’t go his way, even though it all went well in the end.

Why wouldn’t they enjoy seeing his soul leave his body when you mentioned his baby pictures that his mother not only showed you but gave some to you as well?

“Johnny, c’mon, now, she’s a part of the family! She’ll need some photos o’you for when you move in together soon.” Says his mother, gifting you probably a stack of them, as if unfazed by the sight of you and Johnny covering your faces, the temperature of your body heat rising that even you feared you might pass out right then and there. He couldn’t even find the energy to stop his sisters from teasing him.

But besides allowing you to embarrass him a little, even if it wasn’t your intention, your home is another.

A small unit, located on the second floor. The candlelight colour, the cute indoor plants in each room, and the seats. 

Oh, the seats.

John nearly passed out just moments after he sat on it. 

Just by the way you maximized the apartment space, it’s no wonder Johnny always looked forward to returning home. Not necessarily the apartment, but to you. 

Dare they say, the visit felt like a ‘cultural reset’ (is that what the kids are saying these days?). Largely because one; they were able to finally confirm that Mrs MacTavish is a real person and two; one cannot simply ignore the dynamic you and Johnny have. It may be eye-roll-worthy to some, but Johnny learns it isn’t something worth fighting about. So long he has you, those people can yap and nag about it all they want. 

Bonus: John’s definitely the type of person to tell Laswell about it like it was some kind of a mission—like it was almost unbelievable to see you, well, you!

“M’tellin’ ya, Laswell. As soon as his wife had something t’say, he shuts up faster than when I tell him to.” He chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.

“Sounds like a keeper to me.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

#— reve's reverie 🌹 #— reve's asks 🌹 #eyes locked hands locked series #soap #soap x reader #soap x f!reader #soap x you #cod soap #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x f!reader #soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x f!reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod mwiii #cod mw3

[maxtermind]

if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

★ : summary :: when they lose a race ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort; angst; fluff ★ : word count :: 2.7k

Max Verstappen

Max had never felt so distant from you. He had the win in his bag, he started good and was going to give it his all but was forced to retire due to a sudden engine failure while leading the race.

He was rightfully disheartened. The post-race meeting only added to his frustration as blame was thrown around instead of taking responsibility. It only got worse when he walked out of it with a, ‘This is such a waste of time.’

As he ranted in the car, his anger palpable, you listened silently, and caressed his hand when, had gotten a call from his dad.

“Just let it ring,” you whispered from the passenger seat. Your attempt was futile though before he picked up the call and put it on bluetooth in his ear.

You waited until you reached home before discreetly ending the call, giving Max a moment to compose himself. He didn’t let you hear anything but as he sat in his seat, rubbing his face to get rid of his emotions, you knew the conversation had affected him deeply.

Opening his car door, you pulled him out using his hand before getting home before you both took a shower in silence, allowing Max the space to process. It wasn't until you were tucked under the covers, clean and warm, that he finally spoke.

"I just hate feeling like I let everyone down," Max confessed, his voice heavy with guilt.

"You didn't let anyone down, Max,” you reassured him, kissing the top of his hand. “You gave it your all out there.”

"I still feel like I'm constantly disappointing everyone," Max muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

"You're not a disappointment, Max. You're a phenomenal driver, and sometimes things just don't go our way.”

"It's hard to believe that sometimes," Max admitted, his gaze distant and you realized what exactly he was thinking about right now.

"Your dad's words don't define you, Max. You're so much more than that," you said firmly, refusing to let him internalize the negativity.

"It's just… I've always looked up to him, you know? His opinion matters," Max confessed, his tone tinged with sadness.

"But you're your own person, Max. And you're incredible in your own right," you reminded him, squeezing his hand gently.

"I know, but… it still hurts," Max admitted, his shoulders slumping with the weight of it all.

"I wish I could shield you from all of this," you murmured, feeling a pang of helplessness. Your boyfriend nodded softly, looking so so so small that it was physically hurting you to even keep looking at him, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within.

"Hey, look at me," you said, gently tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "You are loved, Max. Don't ever forget that." "Thanks, Y/N. I needed to hear that," Max replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Anytime, Max. I'm here for you, through the highs and the lows," you said earnestly, offering him a comforting embrace.

He looked conflicted for a second and you were sure whatever he was about to say was going to officially break your heart into two. Max's voice was barely above a whisper when he admitted it, his expression pained,"It's just… seeing them celebrate my failure, it stings."

"I know it's tough seeing those celebrations, Max, but remember, those people celebrating are just haters who can't accept that someone is doing better than them," you said firmly, trying to inject some perspective into the situation. "Their joy comes from a place of envy, not genuine happiness. Don't let their negativity dampen your spirit."

"I hope you're right," Max said, his voice tinged with doubt. "Thanks for always being there, babe. I don't know what I'd do without you," Max said sincerely, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"You'll never have to find out, Max. I'll always be by your side.”

Lewis Hamilton

Your heart dropped the moment you saw the tire puncture Lewis’ car in the second last lap of the race. His frustration and curses echoed through the headphones, reaching you with a painful clarity.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! This is all so shit!” Lewis’s distorted voice cried through the radio. “I was so fucking close!”

As much as it hurt you to listen to this, you decided to keep your emotions at bay so you could handle your boyfriend’s better. Silently making your way through the people in the paddock to the back.

The chaos and disappointment from everyone forcing your chest to hurt a little. The only thought in your mind was how Lewis was probably feeling much much worse than you right now.

You heard his car before you saw him, and when you did, the defeat etched on his face made you want to cry. Lewis seemed drained and defeated, devoid of the usual fire.

“Baby?” You called, catching his attention. He nodded at someone before making his way towards you. Pulling you into a less crowded area before wrapping his arms around your shoulder.

"I don’t think I can face the interviews and media circus after this," he confessed, his breath warm against your neck.

"Should I go get the getaway car ready?" You joked, delighted to hear a small huff from his mouth.

“Can’t really leave before that though,” Lewis replied. “I’m beat, just wish it wasn’t this close to winning.”

Realizing he needed encouragement, you took a deep breath and spoke softly.

"Lewis, it's incredibly tough luck to have a tire blowout so close to the finish line, especially when you were leading so strongly," you said, feeling his grip tighten around you. "But these moments, they test your resilience and determination."

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as you continued to rub his back.

"I know it's hard, Lewis, but remember, every setback is just a setup for a comeback," you whispered soothingly.

"I just had my heart set on this win," he murmured, disappointment evident in his voice.

"I know, love, but sometimes things don't go as planned," you replied, offering a comforting squeeze.

"It's like the universe has it out for me today," Lewis said with a bitter chuckle.

"Maybe it's just testing how badly you want it," you suggested optimistically. "Well, it's certainly made its point," he said, a hint of bitterness lingering.

You were about to speak again when he interrupted.

"I just wish it had been enough."

"It will be next time," you said confidently, refusing to let him dwell on the defeat.

"I hope you're right," Lewis said, a hint of determination creeping back into his voice. "Thanks for always believing in me.”

"Always, Lewis. That's what lovers are for," you said, smiling warmly at him, admiring his eyes that had some of their shine back intact.

Carlos Sainz

The relief you felt when Carlos walked out of the safety car before making his way towards you was indescribable. From the moment his car collided with another due to a racing incident until now, with his arms around your shoulders, you hadn't taken a single calm breath.

It was probably less brutal than what was shown on the screen, given that it happened so fast that none of the drivers had even processed what was happening. Still the incident had left you with a knot of dread in your stomach.

Carlos was okay, you repeated to yourself, but it didn't quell the pounding of your heart or the trembling of your hands. You were trying to stay composed but it was really hard while your boyfriend talked to someone from the team, frustrated that he had to retire so soon.

"Hey, at least you're still in one piece," you pointed out, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation but it sounded dry and that was when Carlos took a good look at you, his gaze sharpening as he realized how shaken you were. "Babe, are you alright?" Carlos asked, his concern evident in his voice as he reached out to touch your trembling hand.

"I'm fine, just a bit shaken," you admitted, forcing a shaky smile as you tried really hard to stay in the present and not let your brain run rampant.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," Carlos said, his eyes filled with regret as he pulled you into a comforting embrace. Knowing that he would’ve been the same if it was the other way around.

"I promise I'll be more careful out there," Carlos vowed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"I'm just glad you're okay," you whispered, burying your face in his chest as you finally allowed yourself to let go of the tension you had been holding.

"It's not your fault, Carlos. These things happen in racing-”

"I know, but I hate putting you through this," Carlos said, his voice filled with remorse. "Let's forget about the race for now, okay? We'll focus on us."

"That sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you leaned into his warmth, longing to put the ordeal behind you.

"I love you so much," Carlos said earnestly, his eyes filled with love as he looked at you. Hands holding you tight against him, grounding you so you could understand that he was real and wasn’t going anywhere.

"Let's get out of here and grab some dinner, just the two of us," Carlos proposed, eager to shift your focus away from the day's events as he led you towards the exit. Mentally making a list of things he would tell you to take your mind off of what happened today.

Charles Leclerc

You found yourself seething almost as much as Charles after yet another podium slipped away due to a messed up pit stop. It lasted more than a fucking forever at such a pivotal moment in the race.

It really made you wonder whether his team was even working with him or deliberately against him to make sure that neither of them could score more points. He had opted to stay silent, shutting out the media and team meetings, and unfortunately, that meant withdrawing from you too.

“Charles?” You asked after giving him ample time to process the race in the sitting room all alone like he requested.

He simply hummed before taking a sip of whatever his glass held before you carefully took it from his hand and put it on the table. Crawling into his lap to make sure he knew he could lean on you.

"This isn't the solution," you whispered, pointing to yourself. "Talk to me. Mid-life crises are lighter when shared."

“I don’t think I have the brain to make a correct decision ever.”

"Hey, don't say that," you said firmly, looking into his eyes with a mixture of concern and determination. "You're one of the most talented drivers out there, Charles. One pit stop mishap doesn't change that," you assured, brushing a stray hair from his face.

"But it keeps happening, Y/N," Charles replied, his voice heavy with frustration. "I know, love, and it's unfair. But you can't let it define you," you said, cupping his cheek in your hand.

"I understand how frustrating it is, Charles," you said, your voice soft but determined. "But dwelling on what went wrong won't change anything."

"What do you suggest, then?" Charles asked, a hint of desperation in his tone. "Let's analyze what happened today. Break it down step by step," you suggested, gently guiding him to a more constructive approach. "Let's start with the pit stop. What went wrong there?" you prompted, encouraging him to identify the specific issues.

"It was a miscommunication between the crew members," Charles recalled, his brow furrowing with concentration.

"Okay, so how can we prevent that from happening in the future?"

"Maybe we need to implement clearer communication protocols," Charles suggested, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes.

"That sounds like a solid plan. Let's discuss it with your team tomorrow," you said, nodding in agreement.

"But what if they don't listen to me?" Charles wondered, his confidence wavering.

"You're their driver, Charles. Your input is invaluable. They'll listen," you assured him, offering a reassuring smile.

"I feel a bit better now," Charles admitted, a hint of relief in his tone. “I was just so lost, I should've talked to you a bit sooner.” Your boyfriend whispered before leaning down and dropping a soft lingering kiss on your lips, conveying what words couldn't. "I'm lucky to have you, Y/N."

"And I'm lucky to have you, Charles. We make a great team," you replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Lando Norris

The usual smile was off of Lando’s face. He faced an unavoidable collision with another car in the chaotic start of the race, resulting in damage to his car and an early retirement. Though he tried to maintain a facade of normalcy, the tension in his jaw and the sharpness in his gaze betrayed his true emotions.

Lando typically a laid back playful guy who was always joking around, had retreated into himself on this dismal day, with even the reporters giving him a wide berth. No one has seen him this dejected before and it was killing you.

However, as soon as the race concluded, it was clear why he was keeping up appearances. Lando pecked your cheek and told you to stay put before following the rookie who had collided with his car.

Alarm bells rang in your head and you were right behind him, stopping him using his shoulder.

“Babe, maybe it's best to cool down before confronting him.” You saw him sigh and open his mouth to retort but you were quicker. “Walk with me.”

You understood him obviously, knowing that the incident was beyond his control and shattered his hopes for a strong finish.

"I can't just let it slide, Y/N," Lando said, his voice tight with frustration as he glanced back towards the rookie's garage.

“I understand, Lando, but lashing out won't change anything," you said gently, placing a comforting hand on his arm, relieved when he finally started walking away.

"I just feel so helpless," Lando admitted, his shoulders slumping with defeat.

"You're not helpless, Lando. You're just taking a moment to process everything," you reassured him, placing a gentle kiss against his lips.

"It's just hard to stay positive when everything feels like it's falling apart," Lando confessed, his usual optimism dimmed by disappointment. "I just hate feeling like I'm at the mercy of circumstances.”

"I know, love. But remember, you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together," you assured him, intertwining your fingers with his. “You, me and the team. He’s going to face penalties anyway.”

"I just wish I could turn back time and avoid that collision," He sighed, letting you drag him to a park nearby for a walk.

"I understand, love. But dwelling on what could have been won't change the present. Let's focus on what we can do now," you suggested, leading him away from the chaos of the race track.

"But what if this affects my standings in the championship?" He wondered aloud, his brow furrowing with worry, a pout evident on his face.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, babe. Right now, let's focus on taking care of you," you said, your voice filled with determination. "Let's just take this walk and clear our heads, okay? If you still want to talk to him later, I’ll support you."

He was extremely grateful that you pulled him away at the time because not even an hour later, the rookie approached Lando and apologized for his mistake.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #f1 angst #★ : my work ! #f1 fluff #hurt/comfort

[communistchilchuck]

Noha reached out to me on Twitter to share her fundraiser. She's urgently trying to raise $95,160 to evacuate her 22-person family from Gaza and help them gain access to life-saving medical care. She's only made $7,942 out of her goal so far! Please donate, and if you can't, please share!

From her GFM page:

Help me save my family

Hello, I am Noha Ayyad, a Palestinian from Gaza, specifically from Shujaiya. My family was forcibly displaced from their homes to the southern Gaza Strip, and they now live in tents in the central area, where 22 people live in a small tent suffering from a lack of water and food, including children who were deprived of their basic rights to education and life like the rest of the children in the world. The Israeli Defense Forces completely bombed our house, and we lost our business. My brothers worked in the clothing trade and had a clothing distribution shop. It was destroyed along with the house. They lost their work and all their money, and they no longer had a place to return to.

My mother suffers from arthritis and back pain, and my brother suffers from paralysis in his right leg and needs regular treatment. He also suffers from a lack of necessary medicines in Gaza, as you know.

I lost my only child and my husband in the 2014 war

Now I am afraid of losing the rest of my family and I have nothing to do but ask them to evacuate from Gaza to a safe place to save their lives.

Travel is through the Rafah crossing. I asked for $5,000 per person over 16 and $2,500 for children under 16, which means I need $95,160 (13 adults x $5,000 + 9 children x $2,500) + GoFundMe fees( %2.99 + 0.05 cents for every transaction) total of ($2660)

Finally, $5,000 for travel expenses.

I hope for help from you and from everyone who has humanity and hears and sees what is happening in Gaza in terms of genocide and war.

Note that I was not accustomed to asking anyone for help before, but the curse of war, my longing and fear for my family, and I hope to meet them well before I find myself losing one of them again, as happened before in 2014. War. Whether this is due to bombing, it will be due to hunger and disease

Sincerely,

Noha Ayyad

#palestine #gaza #free palestine

[kpop]

K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

#day6 #day6 kpop spotlight #kpop spotlight

[gaysindistress]

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man? - part two

a/n: I know John isn’t American but I kept picturing him as Joe from SIX and honety Gibs from NCIS and I couldn’t stop myself. I sincerely apologize that this John is American-grumpy-hot-military-older man coded (not really). Also I know it took a month and I’m so sorry 🙈 I got so busy at work but it’s here! Enjoy!!

Warnings: smutty smut smut, phone sex

non-mcu masterlist

part one

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @calicocat45 @whos-fran @vonev @yyiikes

The situation at hand is tricky to say the least. Waiting around and trying to be careful of everyone’s feelings will push you away. On the other hand, he’s wanted to show you the love that you deserve and now is his chance.

Fuck Simon.

Fuck him for treating you like a safety net and like you’re replaceable. Fuck him for letting you shoulder the burden of your relationship and expecting you to always be at his beck and call. Fuck him for lying to you instead of having the balls to just be honest about why he wanted to break up. Fuck Simon Riley for saying that you could find a better man and expecting you to not listen to him for once.

“I want a lot of things,” he starts and takes a moment to choose his words, “I might be a gentleman but I’m a selfish man. I won’t take what’s not offered but you’d be hell bent to find me sharing my life with others. If you say that it’s over and mean it, well then love, I’ll be the most selfish man you’ve ever met when it comes to you. Im not some young lad anymore; I’m settled in my life and now that things are stable I want someone to share it with. I’ll follow your lead when it comes to how we share it but just know that I don’t want something casual or even friendship.”

You’re still resting your chin on his shoulder, listening to his every word as hope begins to fill your eyes. It’s the last sentence he whispers as he gazes down at you that causes your breath to hitch;

“I’ll love you until my lungs give out.”

And this man Delivers. The capital d is not a typo. John Price understands that you’re an independent person and he respects that. That’s not to say that he doesn’t spoil the absolute shit out of you and ensures that you are happy in every facet of your life imaginable.

The dogs are being wild today and overwhelming you? As soon as he gets home, he’s taking them out on a walk and giving you instructions to go have yourself a nice hot bath. Dinner is already taken care of so no need to worry about that. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the quiet.

He’s been on deployment for a couple weeks and the loneliness is starting to creep in? You will be getting at least two check in texts a day and a call or FaceTime if he can before you go to bed. You should also expect some sort of care package to be on your doorstep weekly. This could be anything from flowers to your whole ass Amazon cart, all you need to do is say you miss him and he’s got you covered.

Things have been a little tense between the two of you? Well get ready because you’re going to be doing a check in that night where the two of you talk about whatever is going on. If it’s something small like you’re both stressed from work and a weekend getaway is needed, he’s already got that planned. If it’s something that needs more work, he’s ready to dive right into it and figure it out.

Still true to his internal word, nothing physical happens between you two at first. He wanted desperately to kiss you when he told you he would love you until his last breath but he didn’t. Disgusted by the enormity of his craving for you, John vowed to wait until you asked for his physical affection. Of course this meant he wouldn’t give into any of your advances until you told what you wanted.

After that night, you began the long and arduous process of breaking down John’s resolve. While it may have been unspoken, you knew what he wanted but you weren’t going to give into him so quickly. It started with closing the distance between you two. Instead of sitting on opposite ends of the couch, you’d lay your feet in his lap or move just close enough to trail your fingers over the back of his hand. Only would you move to sit beside him if he slung his thick arm over the couch’s back and beckoned you closer. Then you would take every opportunity possible to cuddle into his side and slyly skirt your hands across the waistband of his sweats when you wrapped your arms around him. If you were in the kitchen together, you were always just out of his grasp. His fingers could grasp at the back of your shirt but never fully grab you. You’d swiftly slip around him if he moved behind you but not before brushing your hands over him in some way.

Eventually you grew bolder and began to shower with the door propped open. You’d said it was so the dogs could still see you but John isn’t stupid. He knew that you wanted him to catch a glimpse of your body through the foggy glass doors. But here’s the thing; he’s not Simon. Simon would’ve joined you and fucked you on that glass door like your life depended on it but not a captain price.

No no no. John Price is going to make you say those three little words, ‘I want you’, before he touches you even if it means leaving on for a mission without so much as a chaste peck on the lips. No amount of sly looks and sneaky touches is going to convince this man to give into you.

He starts beating you at your own game though. his bedroom door is suddenly always cracked open making it so that you can hear every rumbling moan and gasp of your name when he fists his cock at night. You no longer feel the waistband of his underwear when you wrap your arms around his am waist during your cuddles. Instead your fingers find the thick trail of hair that disappears under his sweatpants. Speaking of which, John knows about grey sweat pants and he exploits that turn on every chance he gets. Soon it goes from just wearing them low on his hips to forgoing boxers (as mentioned above) and sometimes he even ‘forgets’ his shirt. The memory of his thick bare chest on display alone is enough to make you clench your legs together.

When he finally does have to leave for work, he presses a light kiss to your temple and tells you to be careful. It goes without saying but John makes your promise anyways. Eases his old heart as he likes to say. If only he would go easy on yours…

Nearly every photo, FaceTime, what have you, this man is bare chested with lidded eyes and a knowing smirk on his face. He knows that you’re frustrated with the way things have played out; namely his departure with no memorable moments. He’s already become an expert in you, knowing what your body langue means, what your blushes mean, and most importantly, what your words truly mean.

Probably about a month in to this mission is when it comes to a climax. Your hands were doing nothing to ease the ache between your legs and your toys were making it worse. It was as if your body knew that it was you instead John rubbing small circles into your clit late at night. You’d tried nearly everything you could think of aside from finding someone in a pub and telling the older captain about your dilemma. While you two weren’t anything more than roommates with feelings at this point, it still felt wrong to find someone else to help you out. With only one person that your body wanted and nothing you could do about it, you settled for being sexually frustrated and irritable.

John is finally able to get some alone time to call you and actually talk to you. Settled into some poor excuse for a cot, he makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to pick up. It makes maybe a few rings before your tight voice comes through with a short ‘hello?’

He wants to chuckle and fails to suppress it, “Well hello to you too, love.”

Immediately you sigh when you recognize his voice, “oh John it’s you. How are you?”

“Been better. What’s been going on with you?”

You let out another deep sigh, pausing to answer as you contemplate what to tell him.

“What is it, love? Something bothering you?”

“I…I’m just….im just irritable,” you attempt to pass off as the full truth but John knows you better than that.

“Irritable you say?”

You can hear him shuffle around on his end and it causes your legs to cross to even think about him. God it’s beyond annoying to be this turned on over just hearing him move around, let alone hear his voice right now.

“I’d say a relaxing day is in order,” he teases with a low pitched sultry tone, “find some relief in a massage maybe.”

Relief.

The word feels hot as it washes over your brain and invokes images that would make a nun curse under her breath.

You snort at his suggestion. In that small noise, he finds all the answers he needed; you’re about to break and murmur those three sweet words.

“No appeal to that, love?” He asks and you can just hear the smirk he’s wearing. “A massage isn’t the relief you’re looking for though is it? You need a different type of relief, isn’t that right love?”

That bastard.

You hear him shuffle again and you swear to god you hear the sound of a belt coming undone.

“Talk to me. Tell me how I can help.”

If you weren’t needy before, you must certainly are now. You feel pathetic, a bitch in heat with the way your body starts to react to his simple words. Practically mumbling you attempt to tell him to fuck off but it doesn’t sting as much as you’d hoped. John laughs off your feeble attempt at hiding the true reason you’re in a mood.

Instead of adding flame to fire, he stays quiet.

It takes 40 agonizing seconds of silence for you to groan his name out of frustration. The captain only hums his acknowledgment that you spoke.

Phone sex isn’t new to you by any means however there’s something about this time that causes you to falter. There’s something about the way he initiated it but is allowing you to lead where it goes. There’s something about the way he knew what you needed within seconds. There’s something about the way your body seems to know that it craves his without ever touching.

“Yes,” you mumble while your cheeks burn and your body sings at the thought of getting what it truly desires.

John chuckles under his breath and the sardonic sounds causes your eyes to squeeze shut.

“Be a good girl for me and slip your hand into your panties.”

Your hearing dulls to a muffled tone as your hand follows his instructions. Barely does your ears register the sound of skin on skin, a slick hand taunting an impossibly hard cock. Your name comes out as a groan when you tell him to continue.

“Fuuckkk, love. Tell me are ya wet?”

“S…soaked.” You sigh as you roll your clit with your fingertips.

He lets out a string of curses as his hips buck up into his hand and his cock throbs from his slow pace.

“I want you to keep rubbing your clit and fuck yourself with your fingers,” the captain orders you, “and dont try to hide any of those pretty sounds.”

You mumble a weak ‘okay’ as you work your clit in small circles, feeling yourself become even more wet.

Strings of curses fall from his lips as he listens to your desperate cries of pleasure. The sounds of his thrusts get louder and louder in time when you bury two fingers in and become to fuck yourself like he told you to. It feels better than all of your other attempts but it’s not enough.

Nothing will be enough until you can feel John’s cock deep inside of you. Until you can feel his hips rut against yours and his hoarse moans in your ear. Until you feel the burn that his facial hair will give you when he eats you out like a starved and neglected dog. Until you feel his warm speed leak from you after he’s worked you through several of your own orgasms.

The thoughts of what is to come push you over the edge and you moan out his name in an absolutely pornographic manner. It stirs something disgustingly powerful and sinful deep in his gut when he hears it. He can only imagine the beautiful display of pleasure and bliss that you’ve come as you lay panting post orgasm.

You can only imagine how stunning he looks with his sweats pulled down to his mid thigh, his bare chest rapidly rising and falling while his stomach is painted with his own cum.

“John?” You whisper after your breathing has returned to normal(ish). “When are you coming home?”

His lips turn up in a smirk at your word choice, “missing me more than you let on, now are ya love?”

“Yeah it’s lonely without you here. you can’t leave on another deployment like this without fucking me before.”

“I promise it won’t happen again, my love.”

#john price imagine #john price x reader #john price #john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price #captain price smut #price x reader #cod price #price #price smut #captain price imagine #price imagine #cod x reader #cod smut #call of duty imagine #call of duty #call of duty smut

[fraugwinska]

Going with the times was amazing! Thank you so much. If I may can I get another Alastor x Reader who is a very affectionate person like always going in for hugs if she's close to them and she gets drunk and starts trying her hardest to give Husk a hug because he looks so grumpy, so he summons Alastor to come get his girlfriend. Who then gets incredibly happy to see him and just clings to him after he picks her up. Id also like to see Angels reaction to all of this.

You are awesome!

No, YOU are awsome! :> I do love Husk and Angel together, throw drunken Reader into the mix and we have ourselfes some chaos :D I sincerely hope you like it! <3

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Take the edge off

It had started so innocently. 

For the first time since you met him, Husk had actually, actively invited you for an after-dinner-sendoff-drink at the bar, along with Angel. 

Coming from him, the one that had been the most on the fence with you, you didn't dare to pass this opportunity. It was understandable though. Husk had a deep distrust in Alastor, and, by proxy, in you when he had introduced you to the surprised residents as his ‘courtship’. 

You had visited the hotel often after that, staying for activities or dinners, bringing over some baked goods or homemade treats if your work schedule allowed time for it, lending listening ears and comforting hugs in spades to anyone who needed it and earned the admiration - or at least acceptance of your presence - from almost everyone over time. Almost. 

Husk, ever the skeptic, had made it clear to you he wouldn't want to have any relations to demons who chose to stay at Alastor's side, let alone his ‘partner’. 

But you stubbornly persisted, even though it had hurt, even though Alastor would pat your head and tell you it was wasted labor - you still tried, bringing an extra bottle of the herb sirup you knew Husk liked to spice his drinks with, or you tried to engage him in conversations about things you learned he was interested in. Now, your earnest efforts had seemed to finally been fruitful - instead of invading, you were finally invited to sit at his bar. 

In all the nervousness of not fucking this up, you drank too much, way too fast. You were a lightweight on good days, but now, after five not-so-kid-friendly drinks in the span of less than an hour, you were… unhinged. 

“I told ‘ya the last Gin Tonic was too much for her!”

Angel snorted with laughter, two hands holding you back from climbing over the bar to an aggravated Husk, arms outstretched and whining loudly. 

“Huuuuuuusk, come on, just oooone!”, you struggled against Angels grip on your waist, eager to reach the furry demon and put your arms around him, “I give the bestest, bestestest hugs ever, you cannot not smile, I promise!” 

Husk ducked with a mumbled curse, dodging your gripping hands when Angel temporarily lost grip on you because he laughed too hard at the chaotic mess that you were - normally his job, with Charlie as the babysitter - oh, how tables turned. 

“Fuckin-... how the hell was I supposed to know that she'd turn into a goddamn demonic care bear?!” Husk grunted, pulling the feathery end of his tail out of your hands - you had caught it with delighted giggles and glee, and pouted when it slipped out of your fingers. 

“Niffty! YO, NIFFTY!”, he bellowed, looking down to find her already at his side behind the bar. 

“Shit, you're fast. Oy, go and get Alastor, pronto, tell him his friggin’ girlfriend is…” Husk was pulled back by his neck, a sudden weight on his back making him swallow the end of his sentence. You had managed to escape Angels restrictive hands, and slung your arms around the cat demons neck, nuzzling your cheeks into the fur on his back. 

“Theeeere ya go! Feel the frown turn upside down!”, you sang, words muffled by his pelt, grip as strong as iron. Husk groaned, prying at your hands, but - to no avail and Angels absolute amusement - you tightened your hold on him the more he struggled. 

Niffty tilted her head, clearly not fazed by what was happening. Angel heaved, clutching his chest as he tried to calm down enough to speak. 

“Niff, just… pfff, stop that, leave his whiskers alone babe, holy shit, huh-huh, okay, okay… just run an’ tell Smiles to get his doll before she strangles Husky, okay?”

The little bug nodded eagerly and scurried away. 

Angel turned to Husk, still a highly bemused grin on his face. “‘Ya know, having the radio demons lover hanging around ‘ya neck might earn ‘ya some major street cred.”

“Oh, you fuck off if yo’ can’t help.”Husk growled, trying to ignore your figure, still clutched onto him like a living backpack. “Get off me kid, come on, dammit.”

“But you're not happy yet.”, you said innocently, refusing to let go. 

Angel gave Husk a meaningful look. “‘Ya know, she really does give great hugs, when she's sober and not batshit crazy drunk like this.”

“I don't need hugs, I need a fucking drink is what I need.”

“Huuuuusk…”, you whined again, quieter now, sadder. “Why do you hate me?”

Husk stood still, exchanging a look with Angel, who seemed pitiful now. He nudged his head to the two of you as a silent command: Say something nice. Husk sighed, patting your arm around his neck awkwardly. 

“I don't hate yo’, kid.” 

“Yeah you do… I just want to be friends, see your happy face, smiling… but you hate me…”

Angel narrowed his eyes at him, mouthing ‘Do better’, and he huffed. 

“Jesus fuckin…, listen, I don’t like yo’ choices of men, but ...you're alright. Way better than yo’ bitch ass of a boyfriend at least.”

Angel opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of Alastor's signature jazz background music approached and he quickly decided to just sit back, out of the immediate danger zone but near enough to have a first class seat to whatever would happen now. 

Alastor walked up with an amused smile and curious expression. 

“Evening, my fellow friends. Niffty came to me with a cryptic message, about my darling doe strangling our beloved bartender?”

Husk scoffed, turning around so the radio demon could see you hanging on him like a koala on a tree trunk, pointing at you. “This yours?”

Alastor laughed, his face lighting up in a softness Husk had seldom seen before. 

“Indeed, it seems to be.” He chuckled, stepping up to you. “Darling?”

You rose your head at the sound of his voice, smiling happily when you recognized him. 

“Al!” He caught you with ease when you jumped from Husk’s back straight into his arms, patting your back as you locked your arms around his waist. “My, those two did their diligent work, you are quite inebriated.”

You giggled into his coat. “Yup, I am hammered like a rusty nail!” You lifted your head, beaming up with tired eyes at his bemused grin. “And Al, guess what! Husk said I'm not an ass like you, so he doesn't hate me anymore! I’m alright!”

Husk, who rubbed his sore neck, froze at your words, quickly shooting the radio demon a glance. Static crackled and for a second, he shivered from the licks of electricity running over his spine, making his fur stand up. But nothing further happened. Alastor just smiled at you, ignoring the cat demon completely, and ruffled your hair. “How good for you love, you did it afterall! But it’s late now, why don’t you stay here tonight?” “That’d be nice…”, you sighed, sleepy and exhausted.

You let his waist go, only to wrap your arms around his neck as he scooped you up to carry you. Angel and Husk gawked at the scene before them, questioning reality as Alastor, of all people, pressed his lips to the crown of your head, which made you humm and turned to leave, leaving the bar without so much as a cheerful "Good night, chums.".

Angel leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands in his hands, watching the pair disappear in the dark with an amazed expression. "Man, she really takes his villain-y edge off, doesn't she? Kinda scary how she gets Smiles to almost behave human." Husk poured himself another drink. "Scary doesn't even cut it." He took a huge swig, but he still had to grin.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #fraugwinskawrites #quick fic

[literaila]

house rules (roommate au)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else."

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, slight angst, mentions of tampons (terrifying), suggestive comments, absurdly long, alternate universe characters

a/n: to all of my frequent readers--i have never claimed to be sane :)

*

in the broad spectrum of things, opening the door in nothing but your bathrobe and a ridiculously bright orange clay mask is not the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. 

oh no, puking on your first ever date at seventeen definitely takes the cake. finding your seventh-grade friends bent over a table reading your diary--in which you wrote many explicit things about them, not to mention, yourself--might be even worse. riding your bike into the pond by your house in front of all of your--much older, much cooler--neighbors, even. picking up your coffee in your favorite cafe and spilling it, which was not only devastating but humiliating because you managed to spill your mocha on every other drink waiting there (effectively banning you from returning) still haunts your dreams. even walking down the street and trying to pretend like you didn't just trip over air in front of every single one of your peers still lingers in your mind, waiting for a moment of peace before it attacks.

you're used to the feeling of dread in your stomach and the nights spent thinking about all of these moments, like a scrapbook in your mind--just there to make your skin itch. 

but, it does get a little bit worse when you realize the man you've opened the door to is none other than a potential roommate; and when you remember that you forgot he was coming. 

or when you have to pull your robe tighter around your abdomen just to make sure that you don't give this man a show before you even shake his hand. 

"is this apartment 214?" he asks, looking right at you--and your legs, naturally--with a confused grin on his face, but grin nonetheless. 

so immediately you slam the door. 

you turn around, with wide eyes, face crackling from the movement, and check your phone frantically. yes, it is the 18th, and yes it is 11:32, which means he was supposed to be here over a half-an-hour ago. 

and also you've just slammed the door in his--satoru gojo, the only person who's even bothered to respond to your ad about an available room--face. 

oh, fuck. 

so you groan, refraining from knocking your head against the door just in case he can still hear, and open it again. a little bit less this time. 

"gojo?" you ask, voice rough and slightly irritated. 

"the one and only. i'm pretty sure this is the right apartment," he says, and you don't fail to notice his tone of voice as he continues, "but if it's not, then fate must've brought us together."

you narrow your eyes, hoping that he doesn't notice the specks of dust that ebb from your skin. "you're late." 

"and you're less than dressed." 

"i thought you stood me up." 

he snorts. "so you started an impromptu spa day? or was this supposed to be another perk of the apartment?" 

you glower, opening the door a bit more just so he can see the fury in your eyes. "i don't think someone who doesn't even text to cancel has any right to judge my self-care practices." 

"i didn't cancel. i'm here." 

"you're late." 

"so i've heard..." he drawls. 

you blink at him, and he blinks back--or at least, you're assuming. because he's wearing sunglasses even though it's cloudy outside. 

and he's aggressively taller than you. he might not even fit through the door. 

you don't look away, waiting for him to break. which he does because you're well-practiced in men of his standard. "so, are you going to let me in?" he asks. 

"are you going to apologize for being late?" 

"i'm sorry that i'm late," he says, immediately, with an air of fake sincerity. "i got stuck in traffic. i would've called, but my phone died." 

"really?" 

the smile reappears, as if from magic. "no, but did it make you want to let me in?" 

you glare even harder--which is tough, honestly--and begin to shut the door. until your plan is interrupted by a foot. "excuse you," you say, to this man, who you already hate. and his stupid chelsea boots.

"look, i'm sorry. i'm trying to ease the tension--because honestly i wasn't expecting to get an eyeful this early in the morning, and you seem uncomfortable--" 

you slam the door against his foot again. 

gojo doesn't even wince. "and also, you're, like, the only person with a room in the middle of october. and i... could really use a place to put my bed. so, can i look around, at least? i'll keep my eyes closed every time i'm facing your direction. i can even give you my rent money today if it works out."  

something in his voice already implies that it will. 

and, well. despite your very short robe and your very dry face mask, he is the only person who's even inquired about the room. and you desperately need a roommate; someone to clean up with, someone to make coffee for, someone to argue about toilet paper direction with, and, most importantly, someone who has money and can keep you from getting evicted from the only place you've lived since high school. 

so you sigh. think about moving back home and suffering at the will of your parents. 

it takes about three seconds to say, "will you wait out here while i get dressed?" 

an eyebrow peeks out from behind the sunglasses, as white as his hair. "how long?" 

"ten minutes. maybe twenty." 

"do you have a chair?" he asks and moves his foot from the door. 

and so you close it without answering and rush to your room to find something that's still clean. 

there's nothing that you'll actually wear, but satoru gojo doesn't deserve your fresh appearance anyway. he can have day-old wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt you got when you were twelve. 

as slow as humanly possible, you remove the face mask, trying to keep your hair out of the way, and think about putting on makeup--which you probably would have done, had you remembered he was even coming--but decide not to. 

in reality, it only takes about seven minutes for you to look mostly presentable and get rid of the mugs you left cluttered around the dining room table. 

but you wait an extra four, just to mess with him. 

and then, eleven minutes later, you open the door again to the man leaning against the wall, playing what looks like candy crush on his phone. 

you attempt a fake smile. 

"hey," he says, with that same grin, "you have clothes." 

you drop your face. "i will close this." 

he isn't phased, just pockets his phone and leans in to look behind you at the entryway. 

you roll your eyes, but open the door anyway, and usher him in. he rubs his feet against your welcome mat and toys with a keychain you have hanging from a coat rack, then looks to you, like he's waiting for a tour. which, you guess, he is.

"there's only two rooms, one bath. it's not very big, so if you need a lot of space..." 

"i can manage," he says, and follows you as you walk into the kitchen. "did you decorate?" 

"um... sort of." 

"sort of?" 

"i, uh, had a roommate before and he bought most of the decorations before i moved in. but i've added a few things. i'm not picky about aesthetics." 

gojo hums. "why'd he move out?" 

"we were together and he cheated on me," you say, flatly, as you have been for the past month and a half. "and then told me i couldn't use his netflix account anymore after i broke up with him." 

gojo merely blinks and gestures toward the wall behind you. "so you didn't buy that dancing frog thing?" 

you turn around, rolling your eyes. "no. i forgot that was there." 

"okay, good, 'cause that's hideous." 

you snort, but nod your head and walk down the hallway. gojo's footsteps follow you as you open the door to his potential bedroom. "it's the bigger of the two," you tell him, "but the bathroom is next to mine." 

"did you change rooms?" 

"what?" 

"when your ex moved out. why take the smaller one?" 

"oh," you rub a finger against the wall, rubbing dust off of it. "it was his room before we got together. and then we shared my current room. this was his man... den?" you try, shaking your head. "gaming room? slaughterhouse?" 

gojo snorts. 

"what?" 

"oh, nothing," he says, airy like he's teasing you. "just curious."

you step back so he can walk around, check the carpets for stains, or look for drywall you could've hidden a body behind. but he doesn't, only watches you as you furrow your brows. 

"you're not going to look around?" 

"it looks like the pictures." 

"yeah, but what if there are, like, bugs in the carpet? blood on the walls?" 

"are there bugs in the carpet?" he asks. "blood on the walls?" 

"not that i know of..." 

"great, then it's perfect," he says, and steps out of the room again, whistling as he goes. 

this time, you follow him, like he's the one giving the tour. 

he pauses at the door a couple of feet down. "this your room?" 

"yes." 

"can i see?" 

you scowl. "no. what do you mean 'it's perfect?'"

"i mean, i'd like to live here. it's nice. besides the frog." 

you lean against the wall, trying to inspect him for any mechanical parts. is this a ploy? some joke? "you've barely been here five minutes." 

"twenty with all the time i waited outside..." 

"you can't just take one look and say 'yup, this is good.'" 

"can't you?" he asks, challenging. 

"no." 

gojo's grin seems to widen, impossibly. "well, i'm not picky." 

and somehow you doubt that. 

but you don't get the chance to tell him that, or anything else, because he leans against the wall, still smiling at you, and asks, "so, are we roommates now?" 

"you haven't even seen the lease. or heard about the house rules." 

"house rules?" he repeats, dubiously. like you're making this up (which you are). 

"yes." 

"such as?" 

"no..." you pause, 'cause this is a fickle argument. something about his stupid smile makes you want to argue with him. or maybe it's the hair. or the sunglasses. "murdering anyone in the apartment." 

he laughs, unexpectedly, and sighs. "well, i guess i'll take my murdering someplace else." 

"and... you can't leave any utensils in the sink." 

"okay." 

"and i'm not cleaning up any beard shavings, or sharing my tampons with you, or any people you have over." 

"these are very extensive," he says, unserious. "anything else?" 

"i..." your brows furrow. "no hogging the bathroom. hot water is fickle. and you have to recycle." 

"it might be challenging, but we'll figure it out." 

"these are not negotiable." 

he only continues to smile at you. 

eventually, after staring back with a frown that feels slightly permanent for more than a minute, you sigh again. at least you won't have to worry about moving out. 

"fine. you still want to live here?" 

"mmhmm." 

"okay," and you stick your hand out for him to shake like this is a business transaction. 

and it seems that you'll be seeing a lot more of that grin in the future. 

*

living with satoru gojo is not... well, it's not hard. he's a normal enough roommate. 

he pays his rent on time and doesn't touch the coffee you make in the morning most days--coughing when he does. he man spreads on the couch and watches movies way too loud and doesn't hang his bag up at the door, preferring to, instead, set it on the counter like a maniac. he whistles when he walks, and wears his stupid sunglasses 80% of the time, and grins at you when you're irritated, and, honestly, he's not really half bad. 

he doesn't leave any huge messes for you to clean up (mostly because he doesn't use the kitchen or the dining table ever). he doesn't invite people over that keep you up all night (because he's gone most nights). and, actually, he keeps the bathroom quite clean (even if he takes up well more than half of the shower space with his weird face creams and deep conditioning treatments). 

but satoru gojo is hard. 

it's not what he does, but rather who he is. with his infuriating good looks--taking up most of the fair share for the rest of the population--and his subtle charm, which, if you didn't know who he was, might actually work on you, and his morning voice and his messy hair and just the way he lives. 

like breathing is just what he's supposed to be doing. like he doesn't need to worry about a thing because nothing should matter if he decides he doesn't want it to. 

so easygoing and naturally intuitive and far too exhausting for you. 

because, as a fatal flaw of your own, you love to mess with him. somedays you'll hope he shows up just so you have someone to fight with. just so you'll be irritated instead of stressed, frustrated instead of exhausted. 

it's kind of addicting, in a way. and masochistic, but you've never claimed to be completely sane. 

and honestly, gojo's just asking for it. 

after a mere month of living with his aura around, you come to expect his cockiness. you live to take him down a notch.

so when he's up this early in the morning, whistling like it's his god-given right, you scowl at him just as he enters the room. 

"woah," he says, sliding on a bar stool in front of you. "starting early this morning?" 

"you're banned from talking to me until noon." 

"is this about the ice cream i ate? cause there was only a little left..." 

"no it's--" you pause, frowning at him. "you ate my ice cream?" 

he lays his entire torso on the counter, pathetically. "i was dying, okay? low blood sugar was going to kill me, and i couldn't see anything else but that ice cream and it wasn't even very good anyway, so, really, i was saving you from having to endure the rest of it." 

"you ate my ice cream?" you repeat. 

"i'll buy you more. a better kind. and then you'll understand that i was doing you a favor." 

"i might kill you." 

"i thought we banned homicide from the apartment." 

"i was going to eat that," you whine, shoving his hands away from trying to grab your mug. 

he smiles, too bright for so early in the morning. "yesterday you told me sweets weren't an appropriate breakfast." 

you scoff. "yeah, cause that's all you eat. you need a green smoothie or something in the morning just to keep your heart beating for the rest of the day."

"my heart beats very well, thank you. wanna feel?" 

you roll your eyes and sigh into your mug. "i'll be expecting three pints of ice cream as an apology later tonight." 

gojo has already moved on, typing away on his phone, probably to some groupies he manipulated into loving him. "i can't. it's flip night at laurent's tonight, and suguru has already threatened me into coming." 

"why did you say laurent's like i'm supposed to know what you mean?" 

"laurent's," he repeats, looking at you.

you blink. 

"the bar?" he questions, like you're crazy. 

"okay, sorry, i don't exclusively hang out at bars filled with frat boys." 

"it's very sophisticated,” he corrects, his frat boy nature very obvious. “i mean, i frequent there." 

you laugh. 

"clearly you've never been." 

"i'm still expecting ice cream." 

he sits back in his chair. "i have class all day." 

"like you've never skipped a class." 

"encouraging ditching?" he asks, mock appalled. "what kind of roommate are you?" 

"the kind that doesn't steal her roommate's food. just get one of your servants to pick it up.”

gojo waves a hand at you, and that statement, apparently. and then he types another thing into his phone—to said servants you assume—and grins again. his face must’ve missed the feeling. "how about i buy you a drink instead? you can come with me tonight. meet my friends. maybe make some of your own." 

"haha," you cross your arms. "if they're as bad as you, then i'm good." 

"you'd probably love them. they also like to torment me, even though i'm pretty and perfectly nice to them." 

"i seriously doubt that." 

his eyes--oh, yes, this early in the morning he skips the sunglasses--sparkle like gems. "i have to play wingman for suguru, but it probably won't take long. you can mingle. meet someone. i think you could use a way to relieve some of that stress." 

"oh, you mean the stress that you cause?" 

gojo grins and you realize that you've fallen into his trap. "i'm willing to help out whenever you like," he says, deviously, "you just haven't asked yet, sweetheart." 

"nor ever will," you grind out.

gojo hums and taps his fingers against the countertop. the two of you stare at each other, grin matching scowl, and eventually, he loses the contest. "so, can i plan to steal you away from eternal solitude at six?" he asks.

and just because he's right--in his weird, satoru gojo way--you nod. it might be nice to get out of the house; and meet people other than the lost freshman at work. and because you know that gojo will continue to bother you about it otherwise. he’s a very difficult person.

as if proving it, he grins all pleased with himself, so you add, "but you're buying all of my drinks." before he can get too ahead of himself. 

*

it's not nearly loud enough in this bar. as soon as you walk in, you're sure of it. 

because even with a band up on the stage, singing about loving someone or money or drugs, you can still hear gojo as he flirts with every single living thing in his twenty-foot vicinity. 

he's got his grin on, styled his hair all fancy, and his clothes are signature in the way that you've probably seen him wear the same thing fifty times. maybe in a row. 

but the people in this bar don't care. no, they flirt back like they already know who satoru gojo is. and maybe they do. 

you don't really care, but you do have to drag him along so he can show you where you're supposed to sit and tell you the names of his friends before you get drunk enough to forget. 

it takes three minutes of trailing after gojo like a lost puppy to remember that you hate going out. that you hate everything about your so-called roommate and you should've shoved his invitation down the drain along with him. 

as if gojo can hear this thought, he peeks over his shoulder, smirking at you. "enjoying the view?" he asks, and you try to trip him by stepping on his heel. 

unfortunately, he only swings around, walking backward through the crowd like it's going to part for him. 

oh, wait. it does. 

you frown at him. 

"what? you don't like the music?" he pouts because that would personally offend him, of course. 

"where are we going? i think we've passed that table four times already." 

"i have to say hi," he says like this is obvious. "it's rude to just walk into some place without greeting everyone." 

"do you own this bar?" 

"what? no." 

"then find your friends so we can sit down," you grumble, trying not to lose him in the sea of people. it's unlikely that you've ever seen a bar this packed. more like a club, honestly, but you wouldn't put it past gojo to lie. 

eventually, he does lead you to a table, announcing, with a flourish. "don't worry, everyone, i'm here," while he bows--because of course he does. "and," he adds, "i brought a stowaway." 

you peek around his shoulder to meet three people, all staring at him with the same unamused expression. one, suguru--from the many photo albums and 'trips down memory lane' gojo has bombarded you with--gives you a little wave. the other two just continue to stare at gojo. 

"everyone, this is y/n, my favorite roommate. y/n, that one is suguru," he says, pointing towards him, "which you already know. the short one is shoko, and the blonde one is--" 

"nanami," you cut in, "hey." 

gojo frowns, looking between the two of you. "you know each other?" 

"we have analytics together," you answer, sliding in to sit across them, next to gojo, naturally. "i usually cheat off of his notes." 

"she gets me coffee," nanami adds, like this information is imperative. 

gojo grins again. "why didn't you say anything nanamin?" 

"because i didn't realize." 

"who else could i have been talking about? do you know several pretty girls named y/n? you a player?" 

nanami has a very familiar frown on his face, and is about to say something when suguru seems to kick gojo under the table. "satoru, i told you to stop referring to other people as 'players.'"

gojo merely rolls his eyes. "can't fight the truth," he says.

you almost smile. almost. but your eyes drift over to shoko, who sighs. "how'd you get stuck with this one?" she asks, not harsh, but not quite soft. 

"he promised me alcohol." 

she nods knowingly. 

speaking of, you turn towards him. "you and i both know there's only one reason i'm here." 

gojo flicks your forehead, but stands up. "i'll be right back," he says, "don't miss me too much." 

and you all watch as he walks away, conveniently stopping at least four times to talk to several different people. 

you groan. "he's not coming back is he?" 

"he will," suguru says, not quite reassuringly. "probably. in an hour or so." 

you cover your eyes with your hands and listen as the three of them laugh at you. 

*

it probably is an hour or two later that you see gojo again. 

you'd fallen into smooth conversation with his friends, talking about classes, and dancing, and the fact that you all shared a common enemy. it was easy enough, talking to them, like ripples in a pond. but surely if gojo had stuck around, it would've been more of a tsunami. you could see the appeal--at least for someone like your roommate. they all seemed responsible enough. 

but shoko, after a twenty-second lull in conversation, decided she was better off drinking at home, and nanami quickly agreed. watching them, compared to gojo, disappear into the crowd was a different experience. 

you bite your cheek unnervingly, wondering if it made you a bad roommate to want to let gojo suffer here alone and walk home by himself. 

suguru pats you on the shoulder when he stands up a moment later, brushing his pants. "i'll go find satoru," he says, softly. you feel that same irritation when you realize that gojo had probably lied to you about coming here for suguru. it was almost infinitely more times likely that suguru had come here for him. "do you want me to tell him you went home?" 

"how likely is it that he'll go home with someone else and it won't matter if i wait for him anyway?" 

the dark-haired man considers this with a sly grin on his face. "if i tell him you left, he'll find someone to cling to. but if you're here he'll go home with you. probably drunk, though." 

you run a hand through your hair, waving him off. "it's fine. i'll wait, then. but tell him that the homicide clause doesn't apply to outside the apartment." 

suguru laughs, not questioning this, and walks away. 

you sit there, toying with a glass someone had left behind, watching the people around you dance like it really was a club. with absolutely no one watching. not even god, evidently.

as usual, gojo lied--even though you hadn't really believed him when he said this place was sophisticated. the clear air of stale beer and vomit is enough to prove that.

you almost laugh bitterly, but then a mop of white hair appears in the chair next to you, and his grin is wider, larger than you'd remembered. 

how long had that taken? 

"hello hello, roomie," he sings, leaning close to you. he moves his chair, shuffling across the floor so that he's near enough to touch. "i heard you were threatening me again." 

"you could hear that over the sighs of your fan club?" 

gojo giggles, like he's in on the joke. his breath falls on your face. "i like it when you tell me you're going to murder me, you know." 

"of course you do. how much did you drink?" 

"it's not the quantity," he whispers, "it's the quality." 

"your friends told me you could get drunk off of hand sanitizer." 

gojo leans back, his long legs knocking against yours. "are they spreading those rumors again?"

you kick his foot away from yours but don't say anything. his eyes seem somehow wider right now, even behind his dark shades. almost like you could see them. 

you blink, and gojo does it back. his lashes fluttering just enough to tell.

it almost makes you smile. laugh a little bit at his innocence--especially right now, when he's clearly not himself--some more unperturbed version of who he normally is (if that's even possible). he probably wouldn't even remember if you did laugh at him. but you refrain anyway. 

gojo gasps suddenly. "oh! let's go to the store. you want ice cream, right?" his elbow slides onto the table as he rests his chin on a hand. 

you kick his foot again. "i wanted a drink," you correct, "but apparently you got distracted." 

"'s not my fault," he almost slurs, sadly. 

"are you ready to go home?" 

"i'm ready to leave. so we can get your ice cream. want to share a spoon?" his grin is unabashed. you could tell him that he is a vile, disgusting creature right now and he would probably agree. 

you don't, for whatever reason. 

"i don't think anywhere's open, and i don't want to drag you around while you're this drunk." 

he taps your thigh with a finger. "hey. i'll have you know that i am a very proficient walker." 

"oh, really?" 

"learned when i was a kid and everything." 

"wow, gojo, i'm very impressed," you deadpan, and look around. "do you need to say goodbye to suguru?" 

he frowns. then points to himself. "gojo," he repeats, and into the crowd, "suguru." 

like he's an actual toddler.

you shake your head and stand up, still looking. "can you text him?" 

"i guess," he mumbles, getting out his phone and almost dropping it. he frowns like this is deeply upsetting. 

so you grab it from him. "what's your passcode?" 

"one one one one." you look at him with a brow raised. "cause i'm number one," he answers, pridefully. 

you scoff, but look through his texts anyway, and tell suguru that you're taking him home--and never ever coming out with him again--and then hand it back to gojo. 

he smiles at you. you roll your eyes. 

then he grabs your hand, and begins to pull. "c'mon before they find us," he says, and it doesn't make any sense. 

but were you really expecting it to? 

*

perhaps the aftermath of drunk gojo is even more entertaining than the actual thing. 

shoko hadn't been kidding when she said he was the worst drunk--and even worse when hungover. 

how do you know this? oh, because you woke up at one in the afternoon--perfectly respectable for a saturday--and as soon as you dared to even open your door gojo was already groaning about the noise. so you slam it a little as you leave. 

there's a grunt, like a dying cat, and two minutes later he is walking into the kitchen with slits for eyes and cotton for hair. you're not sure what he's wearing--some video game shirt--but it's wrinkled enough to match your roommate's appearance. disheveled and slightly peeved, he's almost glaring at you--like he's capable of such a thing.

you try not to laugh. 

"where's the bacon?" he asks, almost slipping off of the counter as he leans on it. his hands rubbing at his eyes. 

"sorry?" 

"wheres the bacon?" he repeats, his voice a different register this morning. "i need emergency bacon." 

"so make some. there's a pan and probably a package in the fridge." 

he whines, falling against the counter again. his natural habitat. "i can't make it, i'm dying. you really want your terminally ill roommate to cook for himself?" 

"i want my overdramatic roommate to act like an adult for a change." 

he blows a raspberry, and his face is hidden beneath the tile of your table. you can only see his hair, which looks surprisingly soft for his state. 

"did you lose some pigment in your hair?" 

gojo snaps up, immediately, gasping. he pulls a strand so he can look at it, blinking rapidly. his panic quickly fades, and he blows the strand out of his eyes. "it's just dirty." 

"from what?" 

"i forgot to buy new bedsheets," he grumbles, once again hiding his face. 

"your bedsheets are dying your hair?" you ask, with a raised brow. 

"they're dirty," he repeats, rolling his eyes as he sits up. "i need to go to the store." 

"um..." you look at him as he slumps against his own body, feeling greatly concerned for his survival abilities. "you buy new bedsheets?" you confirm, "instead of washing them?" 

he waves a hand, blowing you, and your clearly audaious sentence away. "bacon," he says, flatly. 

you roll your eyes. "pan," you point, "stove." 

gojo looks like he might start crying.

and it might be his state or the fact that you don't think you've ever seen him like this--in the month you've known him--all lost and confused and a little bit ruffled at the edges. gojo's snark is usually in its top form when you see him in the morning. 

so, just this once, you grab a pan, and turn on the burner. 

"i'll be expecting payment for my time," you say, as you grab the bacon from the fridge. 

and maybe you get your first real smile from your roommate. 

*

you're lying on the couch reading a book when he appears, swarming like a fly. 

"hello, roommate," he says, uncharacteristically pleasant, and then he sits on your legs. you try to kick him, but it proves futile because apparently he's a giant, so you wiggle your way out from under him and sit up, frowning. 

"don't you have a room?" you ask. 

"i could ask you the same thing," gojo tries to tickle your feet, but you move them away before he can. your frown turns into more of a glare. "what?" he asks, "we can't hang out?" 

"no." 

gojo pouts. "but we're roommates," he says as if it's an explanation. like being roommates binds your souls and forever intertwines the two of you. 

"we are roommates because i had an extra room and you had money. that doesn't seem like thrilling grounds for friendship." 

"well, how about the fact that i let you use my hair dryer the other day?" he lays down on the other side of the couch, smirking at you. "that's a friendly thing to do." 

"that's the polite thing to do. i'm trying to train you. speaking of which..." you point towards the floor, "down boy." 

he takes off his sunglasses, throwing them on the coffee table--which probably explains the broken mug pieces you found in the trash the other day--and lays back with his arms behind his head. his eyes are closed. "i can't be trained." 

"clearly." 

you sigh and relax in your corner of the couch, picking up your book again. his presence lurks like a nightmare, but, you figure, eventually, he'll get bored. 

you just can't entertain him. it's like the advice you'd give to a kid being bullied: they only care about your reaction... 

as if proving your point, after twenty-seven seconds of silence, he opens one eye, peeking at you. "whatcha reading?" 

"a book." 

he plucks it right out of your hands, inspecting the cover. how he got across the couch in 0.2 seconds, you don't know. 

"what is this?" he asks, snickering a little. "word porn?" 

you take it back. "it's called romance, gojo. not that i'd expect you to be familiar with anything of the sort." 

he smirks, laying back down. "i have references if you need proof." 

you shake your head, flipping him off, and continue to scan the words on your page without retaining any information. 

seriously, his presence is impending doom itself. 

"it's okay," he whispers, "you don't need to be embarrassed. everyone craves intimacy." 

"i crave my fist on your face." 

he snorts. "that's not very friendly." 

you sigh, dropping the book again so you can look at him and his obnoxious eyes. "look, i'm tired, it's been a long week, and if you don't leave me alone i'll probably lock you outside." 

"probably?" 

"it's that or throwing you out the window." 

gojo laughs once again, but mimes zipping his mouth shut. you roll your eyes and open your book again. your feet are entwined, but you don't mock this--if only because you're sure that gojo will start an argument about it.

the quiet lasts for two minutes and then he turns on the tv. 

you groan and he laughs at you.

*

you're getting used to having him around, at least. and in turn, his friends. because they seem to be a package deal. 

after that night at the bar, gojo--apparently--feels much more comfortable having them over. trying to bake cookies with shoko or interrupting what's supposed to be a study session between the four of them. 

at least, you think, watching this happen, that you're not the only person forced to endure him. 

but it's kind of... nice to see him act like a normal person, for once. to get teased by someone other than you and pout like a begrudged younger brother. the person who invites his friends over for game night (getting aggressively angry every time he loses) isn't satoru gojo, the man whom everyone is drawn to. he isn't some drunk guy charming everyone around him or a roommate that you just happened upon. 

he's just another college student, laughing along with people who aren't nearly as bad as him. 

and, naturally, you find yourself intertwined with these 'hang-outs' because the apartment is small, and you don't want to be left out--no, you choose not to think about how pathetic it is that satoru gojo has more friends than you do, so please don't bring it up. 

and it's on this night when you're not playing uno with the four of them, but rather, watching behind all of their backs and trying to mess with gojo as much as possible. 

you pretend to be idly cleaning in the kitchen, when really you're standing behind him, mouthing to suguru what color he has whenever he's about to win. 

"hmm," the sly-mouthed man says this time, "green." 

shoko puts down a seven, and gojo groans again. "seriously?" he asks, but begins drawing cards. 

you try--and fail--not to giggle behind him. to which, of course, he turns around with an obvious glare in his eyes. "what are you doing?" 

the sink isn't on, and there are no dishes to be seen in the kitchen. nonetheless, you point uselessly to the roll of paper towels on the counter. "cleaning." 

"you're cleaning air?" 

"sorry, i didn't realize i was banned from loitering in my own home." 

he turns back around, looking at suguru for a moment, then back at you. it's very hard to keep the smile off of your face, especially when nanami looks like he's about to break and shoko is pretending to rifle through her cards again. 

how many times have you done this to him? oh, just a mere eight. 

to be fair, it would've ended a long time ago if gojo wasn't such a sore loser. 

he looks back and forth once more. then he frowns. "what are you doing?" 

"do you want me to go hide in my room, gojo?" you ask, trying to scowl. "because i will. i was just trying to be hospitable--" 

"nanamin," he interrupts. "go." 

so another round of cards is placed, and this time suguru plays normally, keeping his face straight to not draw any suspicion. you lean against the wall, enjoying yourself. 

(don't tell anyone, but this is the most fun you've had in a while). 

and then, after a couple of rounds go by, you finally clear your throat. gojo turns to glare at you through his sunglasses and says "go stand behind suguru if you're going to watch. i don't trust you." 

you raise your brows but do as he says. 

and when shoko has to draw the next time, you smile and tap a couple of times on your thigh. 

suguru does his best impression of gojo's grin, and says, "draw four," to shoko. 

she smiles back. turns to gojo. "draw four," she repeats. 

and he stares at the two of them, then the cards stacked on top of each other, and then to you, right across him. "what are you doing? i know you're doing something." 

"satoru, she's just watching--" 

"no, she's smiling." he looks back to you, "you're smiling. you don't do that unless i'm in pain." 

"so you just assume that you're losing cause i'm... what? drawing your cards for you? shuffling the stack so only you get the bad hands?" you cock a brow at him, willing yourself not to look at anyone else at the table. it would only end in disaster. 

"i--" gojo runs a hand through his hair. then he sighs and begins drawing his eight cards. 

and several rounds later--with gojo losing once again--you've begun moving around the table like you're inspecting each player. gojo doesn't let you look at his cards though. 

and it takes a while before he notices anything. particularly after suguru wins for the third time in a row. 

he looks at everyone--brows pulled together, irritated eyes hiding behind his sunglasses, and his cheeks are flushed from how frustrated he is--and as soon as you start laughing at his face, everyone else does too. suguru throws his cards down and shakes his head. nanami shuffles the deck while trying to keep his laugh muffled--but it's there. and shoko is outwardly laughing at him, pointing at gojo and then at you. 

"are you guys stealing the cards?" he asks, almost disbelieving, his voice so childlike that you start laughing even harder. "look at the deck! it's half the size that it was." 

and then he's standing up and inspecting you, sticking his hands up your sleeves and finding dozens of cards hiding there, falling onto the floor. 

gojo gasps in outrage, but it doesn't even matter to you. 

everyone else is clutching their stomachs and gojo begins to pout. "you're all traitors," he's saying, and "how long have you been doing that?" and you almost can't breathe-- 

so yeah. you don't really mind these kinds of nights. and you don't complain about the messes gojo and his friends leave behind. 

*

you shouldn't have given suguru your number. this much is obvious. 

but, to be fair, you weren't exactly thinking when you were talking to him about a self-help book you'd picked up, and he was mentioning a podcast, and then he was taking your phone and putting himself in it--which, in itself, should not be dangerous--telling you that he'd send you a link and that you should let him know if you liked it, and that was that. 

and really, there shouldn't be any repercussions to this. suguru is your sort of friend, and sort of friends can text on occasion. 

except for the fact that he's also satoru gojo's friend. so when you wake up at ten--silently thanking yourself for taking a day off before a week of back-to-back classes and work--he's already texted you, and it's obvious that you failed somewhere in life. 

maybe when you accidentally invited a demon into your house and allowed him to stay. 

from suguru :p : 

hey satoru is supposed to be in class right now and he won't answer me 

can you please kick him awake? 

but maybe it wasn't a mistake. because at least you have a good excuse to give gojo a bruise. 

so you creep down the hall, reluctantly knocking on his door even though it ruins the element of surprise (you're not a monster) and listening as there's no response. 

gojo must be asleep. or dead. honestly, you might've killed him in your sleep--wouldn't be the first time. 

so you peek the door open, realizing now that you haven't been in his room since he moved in, and watch as a figure slithers under the covers almost before you notice. gojo is completely covered except for the foot he's left hanging off of the side of the bed. 

"get up," you tell him, looking around at the sparse decorations he's put up. there are books, candy wrappers, and socks all over the floor, but it's not the messiest room you've ever seen. which is slightly surprising, considering all that you know about gojo. 

he whines from under the cover, turning so you get a view of exposed skin on his back. "sleeping," he says as if you might believe him. 

so you creep over trash and textbooks and pull the blanket right off of him. 

gojo is already looking at you, pouting. his hair is in his eyes and his mouth is puffy--probably from kissing his pillow in his sleep. "what if i was naked under here?" he asks you, very seriously. "i don't let just anyone see that, you know?" 

"you're wearing the same silk pajamas you wear every night." 

he tries to pull the blanket away from you, his fingers peeling yours away. he huffs. "it's the principle. you don't just wake a man up from slumber." 

you snort. "did you travel a century in your sleep?" 

"yes, now go away." and then he falls back into the blankets, his words muffled. 

"you have class, your highness. i've been sent to fetch you." 

one eye appears from under the blanket. "how do you know my schedule?" 

"telepathy. now get up." 

"i can't," gojo fake coughs. "i'm sick." 

"suguru said you'd say that." 

he groans, turning over and muffling a few explicit words that sound like a curse upon his best friend. 

you poke his back. "did you sleep through your alarm?" 

he doesn't answer. his body has gone limp like you might not notice that he's there if he stays still for long enough. so you pull his hair, turning his head towards you. "you're not usually this whiny in the morning," you tell him. 

"why are you so mean to me?" 

you hum, pretending to consider it. "i think it's the hair. i find it pretentious." 

"i could sue you. discrimination is very serious. i've got a good lawyer, too."

"i'll sue back for mental damages." 

he laughs, and wiggles from your grasp. 

you sigh and finally sit down at the edge of his bed, observing the lollipops he's left lying on his bedside table. gojo's bones seem to crack as he sits up with you, moaning the whole way. 

you're silently observing him--with his slightly red eyes and heinous mouth. you're not used to seeing him like this in the morning; usually, he's chipper and annoying. when he walks into the kitchen in the morning you half expect him to start singing. 

but this gojo is tired. he rubs at his eyes. "did suguru text you?" 

"yup." 

"he's a terrible friend." 

you nudge him, almost like an agreement. "why aren't you in class?" 

"what's even the point of going? it's not like i get a reward."

"i think the reward is graduating, but you might have to fact-check that one." 

he nudges you back and then takes your hand. his fingertips are soft as they trace the tendons and veins he can see on your skin. his hands are softer than you'd have expected. his eyes are wary as they look towards the floor, his mouth twisting in displeasure. but he doesn't stop touching you, he does so idly that you almost don't notice. "i have an a in the class," he tells you, "and i already know most of the material so why would i go to every lecture?" 

maybe it's the way he says it; so sure and nonchalant, in his typical over-dramatic fashion. maybe it's just that he's never mentioned any of his classes to you, or the fact that he's taking any. maybe he's just crazy--that's the most likely option--but you're suddenly curious. 

"what class is it?" 

"theoretical physics." 

you whistle, shaking your head. "and you already know most of it?" 

gojo drops your hand and looks at you. his eyes are wide. maybe he's just realized that he's been talking to you this whole time. "when i was a kid my, uh, my dad had a bunch of textbooks in his office that i used to read through every time i got in trouble," he grins, "which was a lot." 

"i can imagine." 

"well, it turns out you can only read something so many times before it becomes ingrained in your brain." 

you pull at his bedsheet. "do you have a test today, or something?" 

"no, suguru just thinks i'm lazy." 

you laugh, because he is. gojo rolls his eyes at you so you don't say it. you're a little bit surprised, actually. you knew that gojo wasn't stupid (or at least, you might've known) but there's something about the proof of it. like you can't just read right through him. like maybe there's still more to learn about your roommate and maybe there always has been. 

or maybe you're just tired, and he's always had the strange ability to draw irrationality out of you. and also he's an idiot.

"i just..." he starts and his smile fades, but only a little bit. he keeps a layer on while he peels a layer off. "i mean, i like the class. math is cool. but i just don't feel like it today, you know?" 

and there's something about his voice as he says it. steady and true, as always, but softer. but compeltely honest. 

and you've heard him complain about a million things, like every time you and suguru talk about something he doesn't understand or when the door isn't unlocked when he gets home, or when you won't add his one shirt to your laundry. you've heard every whine and every groan come from his lips. 

but he's not complaining about this. just confiding. 

and there's such a drastic difference that it takes you a moment to respond. 

but you do eventually. "yeah, i know," you tell him and rest a hand on his thigh to squeeze. 

and the way that gojo looks at you after--like you might just be saying it to make him feel better--is perplexing. his eyes are blue and maybe you've just noticed this--just started to realize that you're actually sitting with him like a normal person. and that he actually looks grateful. 

you shake your head, willing yourself to look away, because maybe there is something sort of magnetic about your roommate. and it feels impossible to only have noticed this now. to realize how warm he is next to you, and how your muscles tense up when he shifts. gojo is looking at you, and it might be the first time.

so you stand up, flicking his chin. "i'll tell suguru that you're puking your guts up." 

"really?" 

"yup. but next time you sleep through a class i'm going to wake you up by pouring ice water on your face." 

he grins. "cruel." 

"and i'll record it." 

you step over candy wrappers and dirty socks as you leave his room, and as soon as the door is closed you sigh in relief. you're probably better off never opening that door again.

*

it's a ridiculously cold night when he shows up. 

you're sitting at the front desk in the library, pretending to study for a mid-term, and trying to smile at the fifth lost library card you've heard about tonight. you got this job at the beginning of the year, and it pays horribly. but at least you can sit around and study, most weekends it's quiet enough to take a nap, and no one tends to bother you when you're drooling all over the reception desk. 

most weekends, that is, because as soon as he walks in through the door--letting in air so brisk that it has the potential to kill you--it gets significantly louder. 

because satoru gojo is not affected by trivial things such as snow, or blizzards, or the fact that the library is supposed to close in less than ten minutes... 

still, you don't really notice him--a rare circumstance that you will question later that night--until he's right next to you, breathing in your ear. 

"slacking on the clock?" he asks, and just for a moment, you almost disembowel him with the pen you're holding in your hand. 

but then you grunt, used to this sort of intrusion from your roommate, and push his head away. "how did you find me?" you ask him, because, honestly, this job is just an escape from his neverending antics at your house (no, it doesn't matter that you got the job before you knew that such an annoying person could possibly exist). 

"i microchipped you in your sleep," gojo says, smoothly, sitting in the chair right next to yours, swiveling around. "i thought i told you about that?" 

you blatantly look at the clock and ignore him. "you know that the library closes in seven minutes?" 

"...and?" 

"so go torment someone else," you answer, standing up with a stack of fileable papers, "i'm busy until eight." 

"i'll help," gojo says, eager as always, and takes half of your stack. "where to?" 

it is from two months of experience that you know he will not leave you alone. even if you chew off his fingernails and keep them to make into necklaces, gojo will follow you around as long as you make it clear you don't want him to. 

so you walk towards the copying room, smiling at all of the sleep-deprived students you pass by and rolling your eyes when gojo does the same. 

"how did you even find the library?" 

gojo walks like he has absolutely no equilibrium; knocking into you every couple of steps, and then falling in the other direction. it must be a consequence of all of his strenuous leaning. 

so he bumps into you as he replies, "tracker," like it's obvious. 

you snort. "no, seriously. i didn't think you knew that libraries existed. aren't you allergic to reading?" 

"hey!" he tries to trip you. "i'll have you know that i am very studious. top of my class." 

"that's why you pay suguru to write your papers for you, right?" 

gojo makes a small noise in the back of his throat. "he doesn't write them," he grumbles. "well, not all of them." 

you snort and open a door for him to follow through.

"my study group meets here on wednesdays," gojo answers, finally. 

"you're a part of a study group?" 

"where do you think i go all of the time?" 

you briefly consider this, setting the papers down. "cemeteries to mourn all of the people you've annoyed to death, probably. or your girlfriend's house." you shrug.

gojo sets his stack on top of yours, diligently lining them up. "i don't do that every night," he drawls, rolling his eyes. and then he winks at you. "and i don't have a girlfriend. thanks for asking." 

you mess up his stack and turn away from him. "sorry, i meant girlfriends as in plural. girlfriends." 

"nope, again." 

gojo follows closely behind you as you begin to lock up all of the spare rooms, turning off lights and looking for any lost items. "commitment issues?" you ask, fake sympathy clouding your voice. 

"sweetheart, if you want me, then just say that. you don't need to pretend to worry about anyone else." his cockiness is infuriating, but you don't even bother to scold him for it. you turn towards him with sharp eyes.

"do i seem worried to you?" 

"no, but you're a bad actor," gojo hums, fingertips grazing along your skin as he inspects your face. "denial is serious. you might want to see a doctor." 

"you would know," you answer, glaring and pulling away from him. the two of you walk as people begin to trek out of the library, no longer held captive by the idea of studying. 

gojo is much too close, as usual, his sweater brushing against yours. 

"how'd you even know i was here?" you ask him, after a minute of silence. 

"please," he answers, grinning down at you. "i got a PI as soon as you gave me my key." 

you squint. "did you actually?" 

he laughs. "no. you told shoko, and shoko told me..." 

you nod, clearing the desk of your things, tossing your bag at gojo for him to carry. "so why are you here?" 

he clears his throat, unplugging the cord to your computer and wrapping it around his hand. "i was walking by, and i thought i'd see if you wanted to come with me for drinks after your shift."

"drinks?" you repeat, taking the cord from his hands. 

"flip night." 

you groan. "i am never participating in that again after what happened last time." 

"it wasn't that bad." 

"i had to drag you home and you almost threw up in my hair." 

gojo smiles. "consider yourself lucky." 

you push him out of the way and put your coat on. then you turn off the lights and push in all of the chairs, gojo not helping at all. "i didn't even get my drink," you remind him. 

"okay, so let me make it up to you."

and his voice is a bit different. still arrogant, naturally, still smiling and easy--but maybe he means it? maybe beneath his, frankly, soft exterior, he feels bad for getting drunk before you could? maybe he's not actually a complete monster? 

you laugh that thought away as soon as it comes.

you sigh. "are your friends going to be there?" 

"yes, our friends are. they suggested i invite you." 

you sigh--again, because the air is quite thin when gojo is around--and consider it. for just four seconds. but eventually, you shake your head. "i can't," you tell him, looping your arm around his so you can drag him out of the building. 

"why not?" 

"i'm tired, and i still need to study for a test on monday..." 

"do it in the morning." 

you give him a blank look. "i won't want to study if i'm hungover." 

"then don't study." 

you let go of his arm, shivering from the cold. gojo, of course, is not wearing a jacket, or even a little bit bothered by the air. "you're a terrible influence." 

he grins. "i get it from you." 

you shake your head, keeping the smile off of your face. "maybe some other time? when it's not freezing, and i don't have a big test?" 

gojo looks like he wants to argue with you some more--which he usually does--but eventually, his grin ebbs into something simple and he nods. "okay, but you have to come next time i ask." 

"no. what if i'm sick, or something?" you definitely would not put it past him to ask you as a method of torture. 

"that's what alcohol is for." he sticks out his hand, too big and too sly. 

but you relent, shaking with him, and rolling your eyes.

"okay, gojo. have fun. do not wake me up when you get home." 

and you turn to walk away, but his hand catches your wrist. "what are you doing?" he asks, brow furrowed. 

"...going home?" 

he lets go of you and flicks your forehead. "you're not walking back by yourself," he says, like it's a crime. "c'mon." 

and he falls into pace with you, even with his longer legs and fervent energy. 

"this is stupid--" you start to complain, but gojo reaches for the strap of your bag, sliding it off of your shoulder. he then slings it on his own, and pulls you in a bit closer by the hem of your jacket. 

he doesn't say anything, just shoves your hand in his pocket, and whistles as he walks you home. 

*

its a couple of weeks later when you're standing at the door again, trying not to open it more than necessary. 

but, really, how wide is too wide? will a half-opened door signal any longing? will he think that you want him back if you open it more than three inches to pass him his box of stuff that he'd left behind and take your key back? 

how do you navigate the trade-off of a frog statue that will probably haunt your dreams till the end of time? 

"key," you say, without any pleasantries, not bothering to even really look at him. 

even though he looks just the same, your ex. still the lying cheater you'd almost fallen in love with. 

is it wrong to miss his netflix password more than him? 

"thanks," he says, and you've probably been standing there with him for thirty seconds when a head appears on your shoulder. 

white hair gets in your eyes, and you try to push gojo away, but he's already intruded on this exchange and you know he's not going to leave. 

"go away," you tell him, not very softly. 

"hello," gojo holds his hand out over your shoulder, because, again, he is ridiculously tall. "i'm--" 

"key," you say again, swatting his hand away. 

your ex looks at your new roommate--with all of his charm and irritating sunglasses and perfectly shaped teeth--with obvious disdain. you want to push both of them out the door and live here by yourself forever, but unfortunately, living prices disagree. 

so you grab the key from his hand, give him a bland smile, and slam the door with gojo's fingers still in between. 

he pulls them back just in time, still almost on top of you, and smiles when you turn around with a scowl. "a friend of yours?" he asks, slyly. he's about as subtle as a third-grader.

"no." 

he messes with your hair idly, pretending to fix it. "i noticed an obvious absence where our dancing frog used to be." 

"i told you, that's not mine." 

"so you gave it away?" 

you cross your arms. he is far too close to you. "you told me it was hideous." 

"it was," he nods, vehemently, and you know his eyes are grinning at you behind those dark shades. "but now there's an empty spot on that shelf." 

"we can put your tongue there when i cut it out," you give him an innocent smile and walk past him to sit on the couch. your pocket burns with the key you put there, metal like an obvious stain on your skin. 

it's not that you care about him anymore, really. you don't, not even when you lay alone at night and think about him. it's more that... he doesn't think about you. he didn't, and he wouldn't have, even if you were still together. 

is it wrong to be wanted by someone whose opinion is worth about as much to you as a penny you could or could not pick up on the street? should you crave being cared about by someone as awful as him?

you want to throw his key in bleach. maybe take a dip yourself.

gojo follows you, throwing himself down on the couch, and brushing you as he does so. he is very used to this kind of proximity, and the annoyed look you give him. "so that was your ex?" 

"yes." 

there's a brief pause, and a nice person might leave it like that. might try to console you, tell you better off. but satoru gojo is not nice, and he probably never has been. "really?" he asks. then clicks his tongue. 

you interrupt whatever obnoxious statement is supposed to follow: "if you're about to say that there are a lot of more eligible bachelors, including yourself, then i'm going to say that you should probably make a zillow account." 

gojo pinches your thigh. "i would never say something like that." 

you look at him, just barely able to make out the shape of his eyes when he's this close. "you told me that last week when i was complaining about dating apps." 

"well, it was true then." 

you roll your eyes. 

"i wasn't going to say that anyway." 

you hum, relaxing into the hold his legs begin to have on yours. despite his abrupt and terrible personality, gojo is very warm. and he's already intruded into so much of your space--your home, your head--that it almost feels normal. 

with his thighs pushing against yours and his fingertips trailing up the back of your neck. 

you should slap him away, but you don't. 

the last person you cuddled with was the same man who gave you the greasy key in your pocket. 

you look at gojo with inquisitive eyes. "really? no bad pickup line? you were going to say something meaningful?" 

"would've blown your mind, but you interrupted..." he teases, and pulls on a strand of baby hair. 

"whatever will i do now?" 

his hand falls from your neck, and if you weren't as comfortable as you are currently, you might think about what he's doing. 

like the fact that you haven't even questioned this, or his following you around, or the fact that he knew you needed someone to pull you away from that door. 

you don't think about that, but maybe you should. 

still, his hand wraps around your shoulder, and you slump against him without question. 

"i was..." his voice is softer, calmer than you've maybe ever heard it. it should jolt you away from him. it should do anything but keep you planted on the couch right next to him. "i was just going to say that i'm glad he's an idiot." 

"getting turned on by my pain?" 

he laughs. "no, but, i mean, your pain my gain." 

you don't even notice it when he slips off his glasses, his fingers curling around your forearm. 

"where else would i find a roommate that threatens me with bodily harm?" he asks, right in your ear. 

it's true enough, you guess. and at least for a moment, you don't want to rip off his arms. 

and gojo mutters something that sounds like "stupid," but you aren't listening.

*

gojo has called in your agreement; that is the only reason you're sitting at the bar, watching him dance around with shoko--purposefully stepping on her toes--and sipping on some drink he ordered for you.

it's terribly sweet and reminds you of lotion but you drink it anyway. it's not like you bought it, and you're sure that gojo wont buy you anything else until finish it. plus it's giving you a light buzz, just enough to feel comfortable sitting there, and not like you want to run away.

it's not as busy as it was last time, the music slightly quieter, the air in the room less stiff. gojo seems less energized tonight--considering that he hasn't abandoned any of you to talk to the houseplant in the corner--even with the dancing. 

which he is terrible at. it's like watching an eight-month-old learn how to stand. or a man trying to impress absolutely no one. his limbs move like they aren't even attached to his body.

"is he drunk?" you're asking suguru and nanami--who have been sitting there longer than you have. "i didn't see him order anything." 

nanami laughs and suguru ruffles your hair. "that's satoru completely sober." 

"...are you sure?" 

"yeah, he doesn't usually drink. even that," he nods to your drink which you're sipping with a wince, "is too bitter for him." 

you raise a brow, watching shoko frown at him, and then nudge him away. "he drank last time i came, though?" 

suguru nods, looking away like he knows something you don't and nanami snorts.

"what?" 

"he was nervous last time," nanami answers. he's got less than a smile on, but it's better than the frowns you've observed sitting next to him in class. 

your brow furrows. "about what?" 

suguru is about to answer, nudging nanami not very subtly, when the very topic of conversation pops up, bumping into you as he squeezes himself in between you and suguru. his presence is an interruption in itself, but he's smiling like he always does, acting like he's been there the whole time. 

you might've pushed him away a week or two ago. now you just sigh and move a little so he can fit.

"did you miss me, sweetheart?" he asks you, leaning against suguru. "don't worry, i'll dance with you next."

"no, and i don't dance." 

gojo rolls his eyes. "everyone dances." 

you look pointedly between him and the group of people dancing in the middle of the room. an image of him almost tripping over shoko makes you smile. "well some people shouldn't." 

suguru laughs and gojo grins even wider at you--his hair is slightly sweaty and his eyes are peering at you over the glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. "let's test that theory," he says, taking a step back. his tone is nothing less than suggestive. and his fingers wiggle towards you, beckoning for you to follow.

there's a twinge in your stomach and you adjust in your seat, frowning at him. "i told you that i don't dance." 

"well, i do. and you owe me for last time." 

you balk. "owe you for what? making sure you didn't get murdered on the street?" 

gojo pouts, his face so unserious and completely genuine at the same time. "you made me dance all alone. you didn't even come watch." 

"you left me--" 

"just one dance?" he asks, leaning in towards you. his eyes are sparkling. "i'll get you another drink." 

"you'll get me that anyway." 

"i'll let you pick it this time." 

"that's usually expected, you know?" 

he ignores that, "c'mon," he pleads, "you know that you want to." 

"i don't know that, actually." 

and then someone coughs behind gojo and you realize that your friends have been listening to this entire interaction and that you'd completely forgotten they were there. how long has he been standing like that? just two inches away from your face? 

"just go, y/n," shoko says, "put the rest of us out of our misery. i've been listening to him whine all night." 

"hey--" gojo turns, his voice defensive. 

but you take another sip of your drink, sighing as you stand up. "fine," you tell him, rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a smile. "one dance, and you can't ask me for anything else tonight." 

his teeth are like rows of knives. sharp and inviting. "okay." 

he holds his hand out for you again, and you take it, feeling that strange pull in the pit of your stomach. 

it's probably just the alcohol, though. 

*

you don't know how long you've been dancing with gojo. 

it started with one dance where he didn't do anything except twirl you around and sway with you, like he'd accepted the fact that you weren't exactly light on your feet, singing along to the music in your ear, making snide remarks about where you'd placed your hands. moving them like pieces on a chess board.

his breath was hot on your ear. condensation on a glass. 

and then you'd gradually moved to letting him lead you, after who knows how many songs, following his steps and not apologizing when your foot slammed against his, or when you bumped shoulders with him, probably creating marks on your skin. 

and then his hands were on your hips, his chin resting against your shoulder, and it felt almost nice to be dancing with him. almost relaxing to forget momentarily about where you were and who you were with. it shouldn't surprise you that you're comfortable with him, but it does. there's no worry about the way you're looking at him or if anyone is watching the two of you--but then again, you might be slightly drunk. 

gojo hasn't commented on how long the two of you have been dancing, and evidently, you've let the alcohol sway you into staying for more than just another song. 

so now, with his lips on your ear, you're almost smiling into him. your heart is fast, and the adrenaline rush you're experiencing is a pleasant thing; if someone ripped out your heart right you wouldn't even notice.

"see?" gojo says, his voice just a murmur with all of the music swimming in your ears. "you're not so bad." 

it sounds like something else to you.

"you won't be saying that in the morning," you tell him, stepping on his toes, but he doesn't pull back or move too quickly. if you thought rationally about his movements you might notice that everything he's doing is slow; like you're an animal he's trying not to scare. 

"i'm used to it," he pulls back a little bit. "shoko does that too." 

"'cause you deserve it." 

he laughs and leans in, so you follow him. 

are you just swaying now? or is he leading you in something more complex? a dance you've never heard of, or a simple in and out? 

you don't know, and you really don't care. 

after a moment, you sigh. "i've never danced with anyone before," you whisper to him, almost like not saying the words at all. it might be a lie, you're not quite sure. 

your words are just thoughts now with no sort of intervention between your brain and your mouth. intoxication fills your lungs. 

"really?" 

"mhm," you hum, "no one's ever asked me." 

"i don't believe you," his voice might be teasing, or serious, or he might be barking at you.

you laugh anyway. gojo's hands are firm against your skin. he feels kind of hazy, like a dream. so you laugh again. 

"you okay?" 

"i think i might be a little drunk." 

he snorts, his breath short. "really? i didn't think you'd be a lightweight." 

"you're a lightweight." 

"yeah, but you already knew that. i only drink when we come here, anyway. nanami doesn't like having to drag me home." 

"you're heavy," you agree, looking up at him. you can see his eyelashes from under his glasses. you can see his tongue as he moves it, and the tip of his nose. you can almost feel it when he swallows.

"sorry," he teases. his face looks different under these lights. it looks different when you're looking at him this close. 

"you're kinda pretty," the words fall from your mouth as you think them, and you grin. "huh." 

it shouldn't be an odd realization, but it is. his skin is almost translucent, and his mouth is sinful. his eyes are wide and bright and satoru gojo could be a sculpture if he wasn't a man.

gojo looks down at you, his brows raised. "you just noticed?" 

"i don't look at you a lot." 

"oh, please," he shakes his head. "i've caught you staring." 

"i only stare when i'm worried that you're a robot planted by aliens or something. you say weird things." 

he laughs, and his hands squeeze your waist. he could stab you in the back right now and it wouldn't even matter. you're not even worried about it. he could flirt with you all night and you don't think you'd quite mind.

you giggle at the thought, heart beating fast with every breath that comes from him. 

"what?" 

"you're not a bad roommate, you know?" you ask him, but maybe you're asking yourself.

"i'm not?" 

"no. you're actually... kinda considerate. my old roommate--my ex--he never wanted to go anywhere with me. he wouldn't have asked me to dance." 

"why not?" 

"i think he thought i was stuck up. or embarassing. or not worth it," you breathe, almost airly, the words are true but they don't matter to you. not like this, pressed up against him. "i don't know." 

gojo's brow furrows. "how?" 

your brows furrow. "how what?" 

"how could he think you're not worth it?" he repeats, and you laugh back. because it's a joke.

"you'd have to ask him." 

"i don't think i'll ever be talking to him," he answers, voice rough. "it wouldn't be good for either of us. and i don't trust people with such terrible taste." 

you giggle at the thought of the frog sculpture, the disgusted look on gojo's face. you can almost see through him.

"you shouldn't," you answer, not even thinking.  

there's a moment where the room is quiet, everyone inhaling at the same time, and then exhaling. you feel like you fit here, somehow. like everything is moving at just the right place. this silence is a comforting feeling, the bubbles bursting in your stomach reiterating it. 

"hey," gojo says, interrupting that feeling. 

"what?" 

"you're a good roommate, too. you're not stuck up. or embarassing." 

"i'm not?" 

he smiles at you. "well, you're a little mean." 

you smile back. "only to you, satoru." 

his face drops, but you don't notice. you lean against his chest again, your eyes fluttering shut. if you were focused enough, you could feel his heartbeat. but you don't. and you don't watch as he swallows. as his voice falters, for only a single second.

but you do look at him when he says, "my friends like you." 

"they do?" 

he laughs, pushing his sunglasses back up on his face. "wasn't it obvious?" 

you shake your head. you're not sure how long you've been standing with him, or if it even matters. you're not even sure if you're still in the bar, or your bed, being covered with your blanket, tucked in by gentle hands. 

how long has it been now? 

"i like you too," gojo whispers, "just so you know." 

and you could be at home, with your roommate. you could be right next to him. it doesn't matter, because you only whisper, "good," and then it's all gone. 

*

when you wake up the next morning, gojo is already laughing at you. 

your headache is a curse. your mind is in shambles. and your body aches with the manipulation of only one person. 

you hate your roommate and his terrible taste in drinks and that he doesn't even say anything when you slump against the counter, not even bothering to make fun of you or complain about how terrible you are when you're drunk. 

he just smiles easily, ruffling your hair.  

and when he starts to cook some bacon in the pan, you don't say anything, but you go and stand next to him, letting him hold you up. 

there are no words. only the popping of oil in a pan. 

and that feeling, of course. because it wasn't the alcohol. 

*

so maybe satoru gojo is your friend. you will not admit this to anyone aloud, but you concede a little bit in your head, because it's a fragile place there, and you're a terrible liar. 

and so maybe you hang out with him sometimes. 

it's not just the game nights or study sessions anymore. you sit on the couch and play with your phone and he sits down next to you. he'll rub your feet, or massage your legs and you let him. 

only because he's kinda good at it, of course. 

and sometimes you'll turn on a movie and he'll appear out of nowhere, complaining about whatever you picked, but laying down nonetheless. and after several minutes he'll move closer to you, resting his head on your thigh. and you might play with his hair, but only because it's unreasonably soft. 

and some mornings when you wake up and make yourself breakfast, not even trying to be quiet, you'll make a little extra. but it's not for him, it's just a coincidence. 

and he stops by the library on his way home from suguru's, or some girl's house, and the two of you will walk home together, talking about class, or the weather, or whatever gojo wants. you let him do this, because it's usually dark outside, and you don't like walking home alone. 

and if he barges into your room sometimes--obviously not knocking--you only complain a little bit. and then you let him lay in your bed and mess with your things. 

but only because it's the easier option, of course. 

and you've missed the feeling of having someone near. and satoru gojo is easy to be around. 

*

"gojo," you gasp, as soon as the door opens in your face. and then you scowl. "don't you knock?" 

he pushes you so he can move past, raising a brow at you. "i live here." his hands are empty, and he's not wearing a coat again. just a weird button-up probably more expensive than your share of the rent. how he's survived over two decades, you're not sure. 

your brows furrow at him. "well, you could give some warning if you're going to kick open the door. what if you broke my nose?" 

"well, why were you standing right in front of the door when i kicked it?" gojo mimics, flicking you away, then looking down to your hands where your wallet and keys are piled up. "you going somewhere?" 

"to the store." 

"it's eleven." 

"why thank you for that update, gojo. i really appreciate it," and then you move beside him to open the door. 

but gojo grabs your hand, making sure to roll his eyes at you where you can see it, and pulls you away so he can step in front of the door. "what could you need from the store right now?" 

"i need stuff." 

he crosses his arms, uncharacteristically stern. "like what?" 

"stuff. girl stuff. you wouldn't get it." 

he gasps, mouth dropping. "oh no, did i steal too many of your tampons again?" 

"first of all, that's against the apartment rules, so you better hope not. second of all, please move," you glare at him. "i need to hurry." 

"you can't leave right now." 

"i believe there's such a thing as free will..." you try and push him away, but he doesn't budge. "and you're not the boss of me." 

"it's too late for you to walk to the store. go tomorrow." 

you cross your arms. "when have i ever listened to you?" you ask him, feeling that familiar irritation crawl up your skin. 

but then gojo is pulling your arms apart and resting them at your sides and saying "stop that," as a gentle chide. and that irritation molds. you push his hands away. 

you want to push his hands off of the edge of the earth just so that he'll never touch you again.

"seriously, gojo, i need to go. they close at midnight." 

"you can't walk to the store by yourself in the dark." 

"i can do whatever i want." 

"then i'm locking you in your room until tomorrow. you're grounded." 

you poke his shoulder. you can't decide if he's serious or not. his voice is always teasing, and you can't see enough of his eyes. and you can't trust a single thing he says. "when did you become so overbearing?" you ask him, trying not to grind your teeth. 

"when i realized how weak you are." 

"weak?" you balk at him. "i'm not weak. please retract that sentence before i accidentally punch you." 

"you can't even push me away from the door. i'll take my chances with your fists." 

"that's because you're irritating me," you tell him, as you try to do it again. "anger distracts me." 

he laughs at you, leaning even further against the door. 

"gojo," you whine, trying to pinch him away instead. "stop being an ass. just get out of the way." 

he holds a hand to his chest, offended. "i am showing concern about your safety," he claims, shaking his head at you. 

"you are ruining my mood." 

"oh, good." 

you scowl. "move. right now." 

"that was very intimidating," he grins at you, "but maybe try again." 

you groan and try to stab him with your key, which he pushes away, still smiling, still completely the worst. 

"i--" you sigh, "i don't like you very much." 

he snorts. 

then you pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. "please, gojo. i'll be back in fifteen minutes." 

"what is that?" 

you frown. "what?" 

"what's wrong with your face?" 

you throw your arms up, shaking your head. then you mutter another thing about hating him under your breath and finally turn away. you set your keys and your wallet on the counter, pouting as you sit down on the couch. 

gojo is there a moment later, laughing at you. "was that supposed to be convincing?" 

"don't talk to me. ever again." 

you shake your head, fed up with him and everything about this living situation. how are you locked in your apartment right now?

gojo tilts his head back, and then pauses for a moment.  

"then how am i supposed to ask if you want to come with me to the store?" he asks, nonchalantly. "i need some stuff." 

and you should be angry at him--you should probably break one of his fingers or cut his hair off in his sleep. you should tell him that you hate his company and that if he ever tells you what to do again-- 

but instead, you jump up from the couch, smiling at him. "let's go," you say, quickly, before you change your mind. 

and you don't get to see it when gojo smiles back at you, softly. 

*

"hey," he whispers, "you shouldn't sleep here." 

gojo is shaking your shoulder gently, his breath on your face, his voice soft--even in the haze of disrupted sleep. there's a warm feeling in your belly as he speaks to you, an unknowing smile on your face.

"hmm?" you answer, trying to remember who you are and why you're here. who he is.

"it's almost midnight. what are you doing on the couch?" gojo is helping you sit up. his hands are ridiculously warm, and you don't think about how nice they feel on the bare skin of your back. 

"gojo?" 

he laughs. "the one and only. c'mon, i'll tuck you in." 

"did you just get home?" you must still be sleeping, because his hands are so soft right now. and his voice is so quiet--like the creaking of an old house. 

"yeah. are you going to get up?" he's kneeling in front of you, and his face is bare. you almost want to laugh at how bright his hair is even in the dark. 

"where were you?" 

he shakes his head, smiling up at you, and moves from the floor. "c'mon, sit up," he beckons, trying to get you to move your head from its place. you wince. eventually, he gives up and your heart almost disappears when he picks you up, tapping your legs so that you'll wrap them around his waist. 

you do it, but only because you don't want to fall. 

"why are you so tall?" you complain as he carries you to your room, feeling much more awake when you're this high in the air. 

gojo snorts. "i'll take that as a thank you," he whispers in your ear and sets you on your bed. then he sits on the edge and takes your socks off, pulling the covers out from under you. his movements are slow as he covers every inch of skin he can see, his breath the only sound between the two of you. 

it's colder when his hands move, and he looks at you for a moment as if trying to make sure he's satisfied with his job. 

"are you going to make fun of me for this in the morning?" 

gojo grins, squeezing your leg as he stands up. "probably. but only a little." 

"okay," you yawn, blinking as he backs up towards the door. 

"night, sweetheart," he whispers to you, and then a flash of hair is all you see before your door is closed and you drift back to sleep. 

and in the morning you wake up and can't remember how you got in bed. gojo doesn't say a thing. 

*

satoru gojo can say so much without saying a single thing. 

when he burst into your room--surprising you because you hadn't realized he was home--throwing himself on your bed and mumbling something about hating his life, you didn't say a word. 

and he'd sat there for ten minutes while you typed out a paper on your laptop, glancing over to him every couple of minutes, slightly worried because he hadn't moved an inch. 

you've seen a lot of his moods recently. you've seen him excited about some movie you didn't understand, exhausted after a long day of classes, angry when suguru and you leave him out of a joke. but most of that, you assume, is just him being himself. every feeling he has is probably seven times larger than the average person's.

but now that he's groaning into your bed, you can tell, just from the way his body deflates, that there's something wrong. you could see it when he walked in the room, and felt it because he'd told you he was getting dinner with his parents tonight. 

but if you know one thing about him, it's that he won't talk about it if you ask. 

because after a couple of weeks of spending more and more time with him, you'd quickly realized that you didn't actually know much about his life. he doesn't tell any stories about his childhood, or high school years--minus the ones that he tried to suffocate suguru for letting slip. he doesn't mention his parents much, and when he does, it's nothing but the bare minimum. he mentions classes so offhandedly that you hadn't even known how extensive his studies were until suguru was teasing him about an award he'd gotten a couple of years ago. 

he could talk to you for hours on end, but he wouldn't say anything. 

so after realizing this, you'd resorted to asking suguru about it.

that night, gojo was asleep on the floor between your feet. his hand was under his head, and he was snoring loud enough for you to notice. you'd sat down to watch a movie with him after he'd claimed that you and suguru were losers for being tired at this hour and that he was the youngest of you all. 

suguru only smiled a little bit at your question.

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else," he'd said softly, into the warm air of your apartment. "even with me, and i've known him since we were kids. his family..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

you'd frowned. "what?" 

"he's always been too much for them, in a way. i mean, you know, he is too much most of the time. but he does all of it purposefully; the arrogance, the bravado. i don't know... i think he just wants to control whatever image everyone has of him. to the extent that his personality is based on pushing people away, just so he can figure out who's actually going to stick around." 

you'd watched him then, with his fluttering eyelashes--his sunglasses lying on the ground next to him--and his bright hair. the gentle movement of his lips as he dreamt. he was softer like this, less forceful, less of a burden, and more of a boy.

and beautiful, of course, but that's an offhanded thought you wouldn't acknowledge.

"so, he doesn't talk to you about--" the words felt wrong, and you almost felt guilty for talking about him like this, with his best friend. but still. "--important stuff?" 

"he talks to me about a lot of things. but, no, not really. i get a long-winded rant sometimes, but not often." 

"then how are you supposed to know anything about him?"

suguru smiled at you, looking between you and gojo like there was a secret he didn't want to tell. he sighed. "satoru doesn't really tell me any of the important stuff because we've known each other for so long. i understand how his family is because i've watched him deal with them. i can guess how he's feeling based on his expression. but for people he hasn't known as long, like you, getting to know him is like i-spy." 

suguru didn’t need to elaborate. you got it.

like trying to find little hints of him hidden between all of the mess. you'd snorted and agreed. 

and it feels even more true now, with him cowering in your blankets. but still, you say nothing. 

you get it, to a certain degree. vulnerability was one of the feelings you liked to push away; secrets were only supposed to be coveted by you. getting close to people was a dangerous thing, risky in its own way. 

but, thinking that gojo doesn't trust you--couldn't trust you... it's more irritating than it should be. and maybe that's just because you're arrogant, and think yourself to be trustworthy. or maybe it's because you trust him, in your own unique way, even with all of his too much and extremeness. 

you don't say that to him though, just like he doesn't say anything to you. 

"hey," you push him with a foot. "are you drooling on my comforter?" 

there's a moment of silence, then gojo rolls over. "not a lot." 

you roll your eyes at him and type another sentence--a collection of words that have nothing to do with the actual essay you're writing, naturally--waiting for him to say something else. 

and, predictably, he does. "why aren't you paying attention to me?" 

"i'm busy, gojo." 

"no, you're not." 

"i am doing homework." 

he looks up at you. his sunglasses are somewhere on your floor. "well, then you're definitely not busy," he grins. 

you swat away a hand that tries to steal your computer. 

"aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" you ask him, trying to seem like you don't care about the answer. 

he sighs again. "canceled." 

"why?" 

"my dad had a meeting or something." 

"oh." 

you let the silence wade for a minute or two, trying to be discreet when you watch his face for any signs of discontent. but gojo just has his eyes closed. his hands above his head. 

eventually, you nudge him again. "did you eat anything?" 

he shakes his head. 

"do you want me to make you something?" 

an eye opens. he turns over and rests his head on his hands, squinting at you. "are you being nice to me?" 

"not intentionally." 

he snorts, poking you, almost in awe. "you are." 

"i'm just trying to make sure you don't die, okay? who knows what you've eaten today." 

he crawls up your bed, sitting right next to you so he can rest his head on your shoulder. and you should push him off, but you don't. "it's okay. i'm not very hungry." 

"that's not what i asked." 

gojo laughs against you, his hair brushing against your neck. 

you shouldn't say anything more. you shouldn't even entertain him and his antics, and you shouldn't even care (but you do. for some, stupid, infuriating reason). 

so you look at him, and your voice is soft when you ask, "you okay?" to him, hoping that it doesn't seem too intrusive. wishing that you didn't actually care if he was or not.

gojo's eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you get that feeling again. 

that feeling in your stomach that makes you want to jump away from him. that makes your hands want to shake, and your voice fade. that feeling that you know--too well, too much--but can't get rid of. 

like an itch you're not really supposed to scratch. 

gojo swallows. "yeah," he answers, with no grin, no conceit. "i'm okay." 

and it shouldn't feel like a relief to hear, but it does. you nod, look away, and go back to your computer. back to your actual life, which shouldn't have any satoru gojo in it. 

but a minute later he adds: "i'd be better if you made me dinner, though." 

and you pull on his hair a little. you try to pretend like his smile doesn't fill you with butterflies. 

*

this shouldn't be happening. 

it's the only reasonable thought running through your brain at the moment. the only echo you can discern, the only words you can make out in the jumble of anxiety and horror running through your mind. 

he should not be this close. 

gojo had only picked you up from work once again, his easy smile meeting yours as soon as he walked through the door--you'd been waiting, wondering when he was going to show up. 

at seven-thirty he was there, letting in the cold air and sitting in the seat next to yours, complaining about the fact that you had a job that diverted your attention away from him while you rolled your eyes. 

he sat there for the half an hour remaining in your shift, distracting you. 

two months ago you would've kicked him out. would've called some make-believe security. 

but you just listened while he talked to you about space theories that didn't make any sense. 

and then he'd grabbed your bag for you, turning off the lights before you could, pushing in chairs while you organized the reception desk. 

and his hand grabbed yours before you thought to notice--swinging along while the two of you began the walk home. 

and halfway there, gojo stopped, looking up at something. "hey," he'd poked you. "look at the stars." 

you'd done it, begrudgingly, squinting. "i can count, like, three." 

"there's at least five." 

"why did you stop me to do this? it's cold." 

"because they look nice," he argues, looking down at you. "you have no eye for beauty." 

and, really, you might've agreed with him. you might've pushed him away from you and told him to hurry up and you might've not cared at all. 

but you could see his eyes, just a little bit, behind his sunglasses. and his smile was alabaster, and that feeling--that gasping for breath, trying to hold on to anything feeling--was there again. 

and it was poking you. like a push in some direction. like a laugh telling you that you were too afraid to do anything. 

you were looking at him. right at his face and the only thing you wanted to say was that he was wrong. 

he was wrong because at least you knew that he looked beautiful. 

but those words wouldn't leave your lips--that thought couldn't leave your head--so you were only staring at him. wishing that you'd never let him into your apartment and that he hadn't started becoming a person to you. 

it wasn't fair like this. 

"what?" he whispered, his smile dropping, like he could tell there was something wrong with you. like he knew you that well. 

if he'd kept on smiling, you wouldn't have done it. you wouldn't have pushed up on your toes and leaned into him, and you wouldn't have kissed him like you did. 

like you're doing. 

and it would've been fine because you never would've started this knowing that it would eventually have to stop. 

and even though it takes him less than a second to kiss you back--his lips molding to yours like an automatic reaction--you know that you shouldn't be doing this. 

that you can't be doing this. not with him. not like this. 

so when gojo's hands move to your waist, his breath even in your mouth, you push at his chest. and you want to run away. 

"i'm--" you swallow, trying not to taste him, the bubblegum flavor of him, and almost flinch away. "i'm sorry." 

gojo's mouth is frozen from where he stands two feet away. his hands are in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them. "you..." 

and you've never heard him speechless before. just the idea of it makes you blurt out whatever comes to mind. "i shouldn't have done that," you tell him, and, "i didn't mean to--i don't--" you shake your head. "sorry. i'm sorry. can we forget about this? can we get home because i'm really cold?" 

"you kissed me," gojo says, so simply. 

the words are another blow to your heart. you were hoping that he wouldn't have noticed. 

and wince and watch him, his face as it shifts, moving with each thought in his head. 

"gojo, i'm really--" 

"no," he interrupts, taking a step towards you. 

"what?" 

"that's not my name." 

you frown. "yes it is?" 

he shakes his head. "no, it's satoru. you've said it before, you know. you should keep saying it." 

"when have i said it?" you ask, momentarily blinded by how he demands this. who is he to demand anything? 

"when you were drunk." 

you scoff. "i'm not just going to call you by your first name cause you want me to," you tell him, "who do you think i am?" 

and then satoru laughs, shaking his head at you, his grin full-force on his face. "are you serious? you kissed me and now you don't want to call me by my first name?" 

you freeze. "i said i was sorry about that," you say, weakly. 

you feel like who you've always felt around him. not as easy, not as cool, never as smooth. you feel like a child caught doing something they're not supposed to. you want to run away from him, but he knows where you live. 

"you're sorry?" 

"i didn't mean to." 

he quirks a brow. "you didn't mean to?" 

"it was an accident?" 

he takes another step closer. "it was an accident?" 

"are you just going to keep repeating everything i say?" you ask, voice hard. this must be a dream. 

satoru shakes his head at you. "no, but i have a question." 

"...okay." 

"if i try to kiss you right now, are you going to try and murder me? i know that we're away from the apartment right now, but it would really ruin the mood." 

you stare at him. 

it must be answer enough because he steps forward and he kisses you again. but this time, it feels less mechanical. his lips are soft and smooth as they push against yours--and he pushes like he's demanding something from you. like he knows more about what you can give than you do. 

and he grins against you like he's doing everything exactly right. 

but when satoru pulls back, your eyes stay shut. you try and banish the feeling in your stomach from your body, but it doesn't respond to idle threats. 

"we shouldn't do this," you whisper to him. you don't open your eyes. you don't want to see his face and fall victim to another one of his schemes. 

"why not?" 

"the last time i kissed one of my roommates..." you imply, hoping that you don't have to tell him that you're scared. 

"oh, right," he brushes some hair from your face. he has not moved an inch away from you. "i forgot that you're experienced." 

"wasn't it obvious?" 

he laughs, and then nudges your cheek with a finger. "look at me." 

you shake your head. 

"c'mon, just a little." 

his voice is so soft. satoru is whispering like it's just for you. and you've never heard him like this and you don't think you want to see him. 

"please, sweetheart?" he asks, one last time, and you have to. if only to put yourself out of your own misery. "good. now listen--" 

"don't tell me what to do." 

he rolls his eyes. "listen," he repeats. "i know you don't like me very much. and i know that you only keep me around for my rent money and my pretty face--" 

you kinda want to hit him. 

"--but i've wanted to kiss you for weeks. and i'm not good at the..." he swallows, blinking just briefly. "all of the telling stuff, but i want to be. with you. for you." 

you're not sure if that's the end, or if it's the beginning. your eyes are stuck on his smile, and you're not listening to anything he said. 

he's very close right now. so accessible. and it's just another reason to want to push him away. 

satoru clears his throat, nudging your head with his nose. "and i'm tired of shoko and suguru calling me a coward, so it'd be great if you'd mention that you kissed me first." 

your brows furrow. "you told shoko and suguru?" 

"i didn't say anything," he almost swears. "they tricked me into admitting it." 

"when?" 

"...the day after i introduced you to them." 

you pull away to observe his face. "really?" 

he groans. "stop looking at me like that," he says, "it's mean." 

you almost smile at him again. then close your eyes. "okay."

"havent you listened to anything i've said to you?" he asks, rhetorically. "i flirt with you every day." 

"you flirt with everything." 

"mmm, true," he leans his chin against your head, breathing you in. "now that i've poured my heart out for you, can we go home? it's cold out here, and i'd rather make out on our couch than that bench over there." 

"who said anything about making out?" 

"please," he wraps an arm around your shoulder, and smiles down at you--with all of the typical swagger--and maybe this time you let him. 

*

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[miseries-mistress]

SOLICITUDE | LEGOLAS GREENLEAF

Synopsis: solicitude /səˈlisəˌto͞od/: care or concern for someone or something.

The fellowship had set camp for the night in a clearing in the forest. They had set a fire and took refuge around it to stray off the coldness the night always seemed to bring. However, when you elicit to sit by a tree, a decision made out of insecurity, you find yourself not alone for too long as a certain elf notices your disappearance, 

Warnings: female reader, insecurity, some self-depreciation, fluff. W/C: 3153

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"Do you not wish to join the others?" a soft-spoken voice breaks you out of your stupor. You jump, startled by Legolas's sudden appearance, and he cocks his head to the side at your fright. He must have thought I heard him, you muse silently. 

You flash the elf a smile before returning to inspecting your blade slung casually over your thigh. The others, the fellowship, had gathered around the fire, telling stories of better times and victorious battles alike, their eyes gleaming with a joy that would soon diminish on your coming journey to Mordor. 

It was rather embarrassing to admit why you had secluded yourself to a tree away from your newfound companions. There had been a lack of room around the glowing embers, everyone else already fitting comfortably in their spot, laughing as the halflings cracked jokes, and well…you didn't want to intrude. It was evident that your presence was not warranted or needed, so instead of bothering them, you had taken refuge under the shade of the tree, and while the bark dug uncomfortably into your spine, it helped you ignore your strange longing to be apart of the group of men who had obviously grown accustomed to each other in your short time together. However, Legolas seemed to be the only one to notice your absence, hence his imposing figure standing above you with innocent curiosity adorning his profile. 

You admired Legolas far more than was permitted for a human such as yourself. His serene nature was a long-forgotten melody, gracing your ears with the enriched words that flowed effortlessly from his dainty lips. His personality, sharp wit, and impeccable features were a delight to be savored and worshiped, as his majesticness was truly a sight to behold.

It was painful to get around him when your feelings grew with every passing day, but the journey you had voluntarily embarked on was one without an end in sight. The ground you covered in a day trek was not nearly enough to get you to that wretched place in any small amount of time. 

But that endeavor of putting distance between Legolas and you was for not as he waited patiently for an answer to his question that took root in the back of your mind, the sweetness of his voice a delicacy to be enjoyed for centuries.

You try with all your might to maintain truth in your smile, but he sees through your thinly veiled lies, and his lips curve into a frown at your saddened gaze.  

"I fair fine here, Legolas. You should return to the others," you offer, dropping your gaze from the intensity of his. From the moment those words parted from your lips, Legolas seems to read your expressions, your feelings like a child's book in Elvish. Your inability to lie to him was humiliating, and you were mortified that you could not lace your words with enough sincerity to prove convincing to not trouble others with your burden because the last thing you wish for is for Legolas to pity you. That would twist your guilt further into something much darker, you surmise as your finger glides across the metal of your sword. 

You can feel his gaze bearing down on you as if he is considering an idea before his feet shift and some hopeful part of you wishes he would not abandon you; he would see through your struggle and wordlessly share his company with you. It takes a moment before you realize that he has, in fact, taken a seat next to you, and the air seems charged with energy and anticipation of what is to come. 

"Why do you detest me so?" The words leave him quickly as if he did not intend to speak them. In your surprise, you raise your head, only for your breath to stutter at his closeness. There's no more than a couple of inches separating you two. It's exhilarating but yet so daunting. "Please tell me what I have done to not earn your eye."

You blink at him, astonished. Even though words cannot convey the severity of your feelings, any other speech fails your tongue. 

Your irises which once held a far told sadness, fall away from his, and Legolas concludes that your lack of acknowledgment simply won't do. Gentle fingers lift your chain so you can gaze upon him once more. The connection is not rough or demanding but hopeful- pleading. Your heart scatters at the contact, beating erratically at the softness of his skin, being like the drip of silk, too impossible to feel so beautiful at the touch. 

You turn his question over and over through the gorges of your thoughts, the answer as clear as day, but a vulnerable emotion holds you back. 

Fear. 

It's easily recognizable and brings a dim chill over the cloudless sky of your admiration for the elvish male. 

"I do not detest you." Your words are simple, keeping your feelings at bay behind the motor and stone of your mind. 

"Then why do you avoid me?"

"I do not."

"I didn't take you for a liar."

Shame befalls your features, and Legolas's hand retracts from your face. 

"If you will not share with me that, then tell me why you retreat from the others."

Your eyes search the ground in determination for a good lie. However, Legolas reads your face with ease, practically predicting your formation of a lie, and his gaze falters at your unwillingness to share the truth with him.

More so, worry sets in his stomach. What had he done for you to despise him? He didn't think that your past conversations served with colorful banter were filled with ill intent on his behalf but had you taken something he had joked about to heart? Was that the reason he could not earn your gaze? Legolas was conflicted, toeing the lines of a worry that bordered something more than friendliness or natural curiosity with his willingness to right any wrongs he may have imposed upon you. 

"I would most certainly like the truth if you would grant it to me," he tries. 

Once more, you rip your gaze away, and embarrassment overturns your expression. You resign to following the thick roots that snake across the forest floor while you try to gather your thoughts, quite an impossible task with an elf of his caliber next to you. 

"It's rather foolish, I'm afraid. You would think me to be silly." Your defeated sigh does not go unheard, for Legolas's ears pick up every hint of dejection and the undercurrent of embarrassment lingering in the phrase cast into the open air. 

"I could never think of you in such a way," he affirms hesitantly, almost as if he had deliberated the action for quite some time. Then, finally, he places a tense hand on yours. 

Your breath stutters at the contact, and his muscles seem to pull even tauter at the breathless hitch. You silently chastise yourself for such an unbecoming reaction. He was only trying to comfort you as a friend would, yet you twisted his intentions into something entirely impure. It's shameful that you would even entertain the idea that he would want something more than mere friendship. He's never shown any inkling of that line of thought, and yet you let your fantasies run wild like some little girl. 

You turn your mind back to his statement, tossing it around, weighing the pros and cons while Legolas watches with interest, his careful eyes never straying from your hunched skeleton. 

"My presence was not needed, so I decided to resign myself to my solitude," you spoke plainly, your woes weighing down your spirits. Legolas stills. 

"It's silly, I know-"

"Why would you believe such a thing?" he asks suddenly, and your body betrays you as your eyes snap up to meet his worried ones. It takes a moment for his question to register, and before you know it, the words hastily tumble from your lips. 

"I was obviously not needed, and I did not want to be a bother and intrude..."

"So you thought you were unwanted?"

You frown, shame burning your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears. With your blade now forgotten on the forest floor, you curl within yourself, desperate to hide from your own insecurity and Legolas's gaze. What would he think of you now, knowing how easily you succumb to your insecurity? How weak and pitiful must you look, curling within yourself like a frightened animal? 

You hear faint shuffling before his body is pressed against yours so intently that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. 

"Look at me," his voice is a gentle command, yet firm in its intention, but you don't have the heart to meet his eye and face his disappointment. "Your insecurity is misplaced."

At this, you cannot help but search for his features for falsities or ways of deceit wormed into the etches of his skin only to find none, just kind eyes glittering with empathy. Legolas's expression seemed to brighten at your acknowledgment, and he continued. "You have no reason to believe that we lament your person accompanying us. You are part of this company, the same as Aragorn or me, and you have proven your worth and reliability many times over. You could never be a burden or an annoyance."

"How do you know that?" your question strays on the path of bitterness, and you are tempted to turn your head away but not before gentle fingers grip your chin, forcing you to remain in contact. 

"I have come to know you and the company. They would have expressed their dissatisfaction by now," he replies simply, the warm brown of his eyes blazing with the truth he believes so heartily.

"How do you know for certain they do not talk behind my back when you or I cannot hear?"

"I would hear them."

"Legolas," you gently scold. The twitch of his lips indicates his amusement before his face morphs to one of gentle compassion.

"Heed my words, you are by no means a burden, meleth nin." 

Legolas holds for a moment, his eyes aglow in surprise at his own words. 

The crease between your eyebrows furthers as you study his uneasy expression. You can't hold back your curiosity as the question slips between your parted lips. "What does that mean?"

"It matters not, only that you are not plagued by what appears to trouble you." 

Way to turn the conversation around, you think bitterly, your head falling ahead to the fire by which the others ignore the two of you.

"Confide in me if that would ease your burden. Seeing you so troubled over matters I do not know of worries me greatly," Legolas fairly pleads, his voice not rising above the faint chatter of noise and voices of the forest. 

"It is nothing in which you can aid me, Legolas," you reassure him, but by his dissatisfied expression, he does not fall prey to the illusion you have spoken of. His hand falls to your thigh, and in an instant, it feels as though all oxygen is violently sucked from the air, leaving you unable to swallow the growing lump in your throat. Every nerve comes alive at his touch as if your soul is burning with the same adrenaline you are feeding off of. 

"Please." 

Oh, valor almighty, you didn't know how you possessed the strength to stray from this elf as long as you have; to resist his presence that intoxicated you because now, at the slightest taste of it, you were addicted, like a practiced addict. 

Still, he begged so sweetly. An elvish prince asking for you to share your woes unknowing that he was the cause of them. Every second thought, every hesitation was a result of the influence he held so fiercely over your heart. 

It's as if the Maker was pulling every winding tension tighter, making the oxygen that has now returned to your lungs come in short pants and allowing your mind to spiral as each moment passed in minutes instead of seconds. Eternity felt closer than the second this instant would end. 

A shadow casts over his pale features, making his already unreadable countenance impossible to decipher. His dark pupils seemed to have swallowed the riches of his irises, drawing them into a sea of darkness. The source of this darkness, the specification of what kind of darkness that seemed to linger in his hardened sight, was unidentifiable in the light given to you. His hair, braided in the ways of his kin, framed the strong muscles of his face as his jaw clenched, and you could find the peaks of his ears behind the waterfalls of blonde spilling over his shoulder. 

Irresistible. 

You met in the middle. 

There was no tender or ounce of patience to be found in the dance of his lips but the hungry desire of a starved being engulfing you. From what you could decipher over your pounding heart, his lips were slightly chapped and thin as your mouths tangled and tangoed, learning that language of lovers as they explored every unknown crevice of one another. It was all so much, yet not enough. 

You craved to feel more of him, of his body's sinful softness or his hand's possessiveness, which had begun to move up and down your thigh tentatively as if he was unsure what was allowed. 

Among the silver of devotion coming from tentativeness, there was passion, built up and overflowing, and you couldn't tell what was up and down from the way his mouth claimed yours. 

Your mind moved too fast to comprehend the full scale of his actions. The elf you had secretly pined for was kissing you as if Middle Earth was going to end with you under a tree with your friends mere yards from you. But for the moment, you let yourself succumb to your passion and indulge in a moment of weakness before this moment inevitably ends. 

And it did as all things do. 

You both pull back, gasping for breath while short pants leave those kiss-bitten lips of his. 

"Forgive me if I have overstepped–" Legolas unceremoniously trips over his words as they rapidly slip out of his mouth fervently. You shake your head and press your forehead against his, sharing a breath. 

"No, there is no reason to forgive you." Legolas's hands meet your face in a touch so light you were unsure if it was there. He waits for a moment for you to raise your objection or pull away, but when you remain firm, his deft fingers become more confident as they trail the contour of your face. You sink into the feeling, pushing out all else for a second of forever; of all that could be. 

"I didn't know you felt the same," he chuckles elatedly, and you press your lips together to contain what might be a wide grin of pure elation. 

"I did not know either," you both share a peal of laughter before a moment of quiet passes over you, the tone shifting into something more doleful. 

"I still know not of that which troubles you." He brushes the hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear, his hand blazingly ghosting over the shell of it. 

"I was afraid. Afraid that you would never harbor the feelings I do for you." The audible slip of breath makes your chest clench in anticipation. "I distanced myself from you to protect my heart from heartache."

"Did it work?"

"It did nothing but make me long for you even more than I already had." His hands smoothed down your dirt-ridden skin. There was no need to address what would happen now after you revealed feelings towards one another and you found no reason to. For spoiling this moment you have dreamed of would be a great sorrow, but Legolas seems to feel otherwise. 

"What will happen to us now?" he asks, fingers passing over your lips before cradling your face.

"I do not know," you murmur, tracing the lines of his skin with the gift of light bestowed upon you and him. His hands slip from your face, and your head moves back, startled by the sudden loss of touch. However, he did not stand or even attempt to put space between you two, but his fingers began to undo his braid behind his right ear, his dominant side, with the ease and precision only an elf could possess until all that remained were strands of crimped hair and a delicate silk tie that mirrored the color of his hair in his hands. He gazed down upon the band as stillness filled with buzzing energy grew as the seconds he spent focused on the tie. 

You knew little of the elvish culture, but from what you did know, braids were quite crucial to them, and who did them appeared to change the meaning behind said braids. So why had Legolas taken his? Did he intend for you to braid his...?

Oh. 

Oh.

Legolas outstretches his hand, his palm facing upwards in an offering to you. Inside his palm sat a hairband of string. In what you could only describe as astonishment, you looked up to find him proposing to you a smile as sincere as the admiration brimming in the palace of his eyes.

You pulled away from his face, back to his hand where the hair tie stood waiting for you. No doubt stood in your mind, nothing besides your undying and unyielding feelings that filled your body with giddiness of the likes of which you've never known. You trusted Legolas, not with just your life but now with the very essence of your soul and the light in it. 

You took the hair tie. 

Your fingers began weaving through his silky hair, as soft as you imagined, sewing a new braid into his locks of gold with diligence and patience. You threaded a new promise through his soft strands, one that could not be conveyed by tongue but by emotion. 

It was as if the light herself guided your fingertips, showing you the path in which your hearts were now embedded to, destined to be intertwined for all of eternity.

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas lotr #the lord of the rings #lotr legolas #lord of the rings #fluff #the lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr movies #legolas #lord of the rings fic #lotr #middle earth #lord of the rings legolas #hair braiding #x reader

[blorbosinmyheadcentral]

Hey Val!

So (if you've seen it) what do you think of episode 2?

Here's some thoughts!

GANGLE

When will Gangle know happiness... 

KINGER

Kinger was adorable as always. I like how the others can rely on him when they're feeling emotionally vulnerable. That scene with Ragatha and her self-doubt, and how Kinger reassures her? I'm glad he has these moments of clarity. Old man even tries to help Pomni, even if he's bad at it. He's so well intentioned. <3

JAX

Jax is a terrible person. He was already very bad before, but somehow got worse. No care for his companions (Pomni and Gangle mostly), no care for the NPCs (he was very eager to see them die horribly). There's some indication Jax might have cared about Kaufmo, but overall, his attitude is so dissonant. It's hard to understand what's really going on inside his head.

RAGATHA

I like that Ragatha didn't hold any grudges over Pomni abandoning her in episode 1. Ragatha is just so sweet. Constantly worrying for Pomni's well being, being considerate enough to try to cheer up Jax of all people. She makes a huge difference in this group, like a glue that keeps everyone together.

GUMMIGOO

LOVED Gummigoo. Yeah I wasn't prepared for him. I didn't know what to expect of him (he looked like a serious bad guy type?), but what we got was so good. Loves his two gummy gator friends (wants to preserve their minds from the weight of self-awareness). His connection to Pomni, the way they could relate, it was all believable and palpable. Nice guy.

POMNI

Pomni herself was my favorite. Compassionate, empathetic, expressing her thoughts calmly and sincerely. Determined, inventive - trying to find ways to get herself and Gummigoo out of that place. 

I think the fact that she spent most of these two episodes physically separated from everyone else was no coincidence. Pomni was disconnected from them. The dream sequence at the beginning? A reflection of her own doubts and fears. That she's nothing, or that no one in the circus would care if she was gone. So she, either intentionally or by happenstance, distanced herself. 

I'm super happy that the episode ended on a hopeful note. Pomni found that her companions would care for her and remember her, and so it turned her views on her head. She's not alone. She has people that she can rely on.....

KAUFMO

(The Kaufmo funeral was very touching too, especially with Zooble organizing it. I've seen jokes that no one cared much that he died in episode 1, so seeing otherwise was pretty cool.)

FANDOM

I hold no ill will against Caine, and this is coming from someone who really really liked Gummygoo (literally screamed a big NOOO when he poofed). It's a little concerning how feral people are getting about Caine.

CAINE

Speaking of Caine, I need understanding between them, I need it SO bad. He keeps making these little decisions that impact the human characters. Especially Pomni. And he's not even aware of how much it hurts them, or that it's harmful at all!!

The way some of them are so dismissive (Zooble waiting for him to go away), annoyed, or only see Caine as a bot that fixes things when everything goes wrong... it makes me think they've tried to reason with him before, and it didn't work, so now they treat him like the machine he is to them.

As of now, Pomni understands him as much as everyone else does. She's frustrated, she's livid, and she has every reason to want to punch his teeth in. But after episode 2???? Considering how sympathetic Pomni was with Gummigoo, an NPC/AI himself???? I have a little hope that Pomni can actually get through to Caine in the future.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc spoilers #tadc caine #tadc pomni #showtime #caine x pomni #I mean. kinda. #sorry... they're always on the back of my mind when writing... #platonic showtime would be sick yo #Anonymous #rambles

[belladonazeppole]

Rewrite The Stars

(Here is part 2 @adyophene )

It's been some long days since Lilith arrival at the hotel.

For some reason Alastor become more obsesive with Husk even dropping the fake charm sometimes and treat Husk worst but they finally have a moment just the two of them; not his ex-wife or Alastor near to hear them

Especially for what Lucifer wants to tell Husk.

'You know I want you it's not a secret I try to hide.' It feel so good finally saying it and different from the first time he ever wanted somebody.

He can see how the bartender fur bristle at his words, 'You know you want me so don't keep saying our hands are tied'' They isn't turning around, 'You claim it's not in the cards and fate is pulling you miles away and out of a reach from me but you're hearing my heart so who can stop me if I decide it's on my destiny?'

Fuck destiny!

He doesn't care about fate or what anybody else has to say about them; not Lilith, the high raking demon, even less Alastor.

He make his decision.

He wanted to give love another chance.

It was the choice he make for himself.

With a hand movement he opens the portal showing the golden circus tent, 'What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine nothing could keep us apart." He starts to fly slowly while offering his hand wanting for Husk to take it.

Maybe Husk wasn't made for him but it was something they slowly build.

They weren't made for the other but it felt so right to say it.

It made sense for him.

'You'll be the one I was meant to find it's up to you, and it's up to me, no one could say what we get to be so why don't we rewrite the stars?' And maybe the world could be ours, tonight.'

Husk just stare at his hand, his ring gone long ago, to then look at him.

He look so tired and defeated, 'You think it's easy, you think I don't wanna run to you, yeah but there are chains and there are doors that we can't walk through.' He said trying his best in not freaking out, Husk wasn't blind about what he felt about Lucifer, he was actually happy of hearing that Lucifer felt the same.

But reality had to pop their bubble.

Husk was in chains.

Not only of chains of him.

'I know you're wondering why because we're able to be just you and me within these walls but when we go outside.' The hotel is a safe place where they could mess around but outsisd?, 'You're gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all.' The sinners are brutal, not just Alastor, the moment they see in who the king of hell wants he would become more of a laughing stock.

A loser.

An old gambler.

A fucking pet.

'No one can rewrite the stars, how can you say you'll be mine?'' They weren't meant to be.

Everything and everyone wanted them to be away.

And he isn't worthy of the effort.

'Everything keeps us apart and I'm not the one you were meant to find. It's not up to you, it's not up to me, yeah. When everyone tells us what we can be and how can we rewrite the stars?' Why fight for him? Lucifer could choose anybody.

While Husk a fool that always fall for somebody out of his reach even if this time the person was offering his hand in front of him.

Lucifer was a fool for loved him.

Husk was an even more for loving again.

'Say that the world can be ours, tonight.' And like the fool he was he took the hand of the king.

Because he crave for love.

For happiness.

For freedom.

'All I want is to fly with you.'

'All I want is to fall with you.'

'So just give me all of you, it feels impossible.' Husk wanted to test the sincere love of the king even if he didn't think it was worthy, 'It's not impossible.' The conviction and determination in his eyes making, foolish, believe that they had a chance.

'Is it impossible?' He pleaded for an answer.

'Say that it's possible.' He gave hom something worse.

Hope.

And Husk took it.

The both fly for what it felt like hours but it was just seconds, 'And how do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine and nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find." For those moment they gave what the other wanted.

Be loved again.

Be in the arms of other person.

Believe they're worth of love.

"It's up to you, and it's up to me, no one could say what we get to be and why don't we rewrite the stars?'

"Changing the world to be ours." The king gave a hopefull smile but the sinner couldn't do the same.

They were so close, 'You know I want you it's not a secret I try to hide but I can't have you." Yet so far away.

'We're bound to break and my hands are chained.' A green chain appears around Husk neck and pull him down to the darkness.

#hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #husker #husk #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #royalflush #lucihusk #this end up more tragic than I imagine #like waaay worse