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chaand-jalne-laga · 23 days

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CJL LIVE BLOG SEASON 1 [EPISODE 1]

So. I know, this is wrong. Coz I put the IPK one on hold and now i am starting another, but I thought, this one is just for 82 epis(SO SHORT? WTF? CHALA HI NAHI SHOW?!?!?) So, it wont take much time to complete this and I also wanted to keep this content and ipk content separate. Hence, a separate blog. I know y'all might be hard-core Arshi fans and ipk fans, but, give this one, a chance, as well, ok? Just for entertainment's sake? Please? Baaki, it's your choice ofc :) Hope you enjoy this.

1.) Hmm. Pune. Maharashtra. A girl peeping out through the car window. Enjoying the 'jaadu' in the air. Btw, I like the BG score, here.

2.) In the flashback, we see two kids sitting on a white horse and the horse is galloping in its full galore. The girl confirms the magic in the air as her hands are flying. Lol. Typical kids.

3.) Tara di's sister is asking about her opinion on her looks. IDK but I cringed real hard when she said, "Achi lag rahi hun naa?"(Like yeah darling, you look average. Lol. JK. You look stunning but stop with that cringe acting, ok?)

4.) Tara Di opens her hair and A SECOND-LITERALLY A SECOND AGO, she was irritated but then immediately she is impressed with her di's improvisation. Whatever. Lol.

5.) Selfies. Di is excited so she starts taking selfies and her younger sister is suspicious instantly. Why? Does she not take selfies on any normal day? Maybe. *shrugs*

6.) How typical of people to instantly assume that if a girl seems excited then she might be having a 'chakkar' with some boy. Why girl? Your sister can't be happy for her own self, just like that, without any reason? *hmph* Do you make her that upset? Lol. That now her excitement seems abnormal.

7.) NGL but this Tara di's sister is a really bad actor, whoever she is. Sorry. Lol.

8.) Tara Di gets off the car and lets them drive by. Then, she quickly runs to the Bus Station to catch a bus for--?--whatever.

A Side Gyaan : But that's such a bad way to catch a bus, actually. First, you catch the attention of the bus driver coz they are at a considerable height and then they stop the vehicle ONLY THEN you cross it and get on the bus, okay? My readers? Don't be like Tara Didi, okay? Good. Now, we come back to the epi.

9.) So. Tara didi is changing her shoes. I really thought for a sec that she will change her outfit too. Lol. A kid is staring at her antiques and she notices people are staring at her. So.

What do you think will she do?

a) ignore them

b) make faces at them

c) sunaoify (rudely) them for staring at a slightly differently dressed girl

d) give them a five page ka gyaan on social etiquettes as a soon-to-be 'Starplus Bahu'

Yeah. You are neither right nor wrong, coz she will randomly pull out a jar of lollipops and distribute it to appease them. Yes. We all do that. We all step out of our homes, thinking we might happen to be in a bus and can then distribute it among the children on the said bus. Whatever.

10.) TD gets off the bus and buys chana and gur for--?--*shrugs*

11.) TD is now sitting in a-tempo?-transport vehicle. Whatever. Driver announces her destination which is- "Sehgal Estate"

12.) The driver assuming her to be a tourist, warns her, of the place having been shut down for quite a few years now and he tells her that an accident had taken place, many years ago. TD flashes back to that 'haadsa' and politely dismisses him by stating that she is a local.

13.) Ok, ladies, so all things aside, who all can climb up and cross that gate, that high, with a WHITE SAREE and that too without staining it!?!? Anyone? No? See, our Tara D (Lol. I have so many name ideas for this girl.) CAN. She is a champion at this. (Okay so i wanted to take a screenshot of that long-ass gate but Jio Cinema didn't let me. Fudge you, Ambanis'. Whatever. Lol.)

14.) She takes help from Deva's flash back advice when he had first guided her to climb that (same?) gate. Okay, so that saxophone BG score is cute, okay? Lol.

15.) Gosh. How did they manage to find a small girl who looks exactly like Kanika Mann? Wow. Casting directors take a bow. *bows down with joined hands*

16.) Okay, so the titular song has started in the BG and I am loving it. Meanwhile, TD is going about the mansion and recalling that 'haadsa'.

17.) I am actually kinda liking this kid, Deva. How sweet of him. He extends a bunch of yellow flowers (symbolizing friendship). And damn, he has one hell of a head full of soft and flowy tresses. Wow. Any hair care tips for us, girls, Deva? Lol. Whatever.

18.) She digs out the 'nishaani' of their friendship which is basically two thick stones(or rocks?) joining like a puzzle piece and 'Badshah' along with caricatures of Deva and Tara, carved on the two pieces.

19.) She becomes very emotional, holding the symbol of a once very beautiful bond she had with some boy named- Deva. And then out of the blue we hear a horse neighing and Tara instantly brightens as she recognizes Badshah.

20.) Sure enough, we see Badshah running towards Tara and Tara on reaching close to it, touches it affectionately on it's jaws. We see that Badshah is indeed angry and disappointed on Tara. He starts running away as Tara tries to pacify it(him?). Oh. So. The chana and gur was for a horse. Ok. Nice.

Fun-Fact : All things set aside, Kanika genuinely had to interact with a horse in the middle of the shoot. I wonder if there's some story to this episode which she might have, like she was hell scared of horses and yet had to learn how to interact even if it's a well trained horse, we are talking about. Okay. Enough. Now back to the epi.

21.) Basant Kaka has come to see Tara Bitiya. What's with that line?-"Main janta tha ki aaj ka din tu bhulegi naayi, zarur aayegi." Kya hai aaj ke din mein aisa? Tara's demeanor changes as she recalls the incidents that took place in today's date.

22.) She tells BK that today is the day she met HIM (Deva?) and she reveals that he was the only one who made her Tara from 'Phus Tara' (Deflated Star or according to Jio Cinema's caption-'Timid Tara'. Basically an insulting nick name.)

(Lol. See. I got another name. But. Sorry i won't use that coz it triggers her childhood trauma.)

22.) Do I see vengeance there, Tara? Okay. So, we are being taken 15 years back.

23.) Wow. What an a__hole of a brother. He is chasing Tara all over the house with a bunch of crackers (chataai?) Tara is hidden inside the cupboard but she wants to come out because she is scared of darkness and it's all dark inside the cupboard. Ronak bhaiya fools her to come out but lays the chataai bomb and lights it with a matchstick giving her a 'Sehgal Promise'. These Sehgals seem to be too stuck up of a family tho.

Not-So-Fun Fact : God, these are the worst kind of crackers not only coz of the sound but also they keep scattering everywhere, while bursting, once lit. Even I am hell scared of these and always stand at least 1 Km away from these. Lol.

24.) Not knowing better (how would she? she is just a kid of 7-8 something.) Tara trusts her wicked brother, who has already run away to the veneration, steps out of the cupboard but it's too late the crackers keep scattering everywhere and bursting in the meantime and the poor kid is hell scared she starts calling out for her father ("Baba").

25.) Baba is doing aarti of Devi Maiyya (Oh. Hello DM. How are you? How are Khushi-Arnav and their munchkins doing? Lol. Sorry. I get carried away a bit.)

26.) WAIT. WHAT!?!!?!?! Is that the same guy, who was in Sheesh Mahal, on the fashion show night and Khushi came, asked him for directions but instead got to listen to an Urdu Shayari? Wow. See. A crossover we didn't deserve but got anyway. Whatever.

27.) Baba was doing aarti when his hell scared daughter comes and merely touches his back and the veneration plate skips away from his hand. Lol. What kind of a diet Baba takes that he couldn't even handle a gentle push from a mere kid of 7? Whatever.

But the thing that surprises me more is that he is about to lash out at her in front of the whole-family?- bunch of people. This is where I thought that there's some major tiff going on, in the family, like, everyone is against a mere kid.

28.) Baba, your daughter was hell scared, that too, coz of your a__hole of a son. A lil bit of compassion would go a long way. Thank you.

29.) Wow. A__hole father, a__hole brother. Tara. Run. I said. RUN. Whatever. Poor kid. Is getting blamed for the thing that she couldn't have any control of. So. Baba's wife died at childbirth. So. Now. He has got a lifetime license of blaming and punishing his daughter for it. WoW. jUsT. wOw.

30.) Some one please call a gynecologist and enlighten him that it hardly has anything to do with the child but has everything to do with proper timely medical care. Whatever.

31.) OH. She is crying in front her mother's portrait. Asking if she would ever be loved by anyone or not. I so desperately want to go and give her a looooooong jaadu ki jhappi. Uff. I am getting goosebumps now.

32.) She hears a melody being played out from a harmonica and is instantly drawn to its source. She sees, a boy riding a horse named Badshah and carrying balloons on it's saddle. She is kind of intrigued by this boy.

33.) The boy introduces himself as Deva and in the process, mocks Ronak. Ronak is kind of irritated of this boy already and tries to take over the horse and orders BK to light a long-ass chataai (do they have nothing else in the name of crackers? Lol. 'sEhGaLs') But, Deva is frantic and warns not to burst crackers as it will make Badshah go crazy and mocks him again and Ronak pushes him and Deva falls down.

34.) BK, following his master's orders, lights the chataai and Badshah goes crazy, starts running around violently. There is chaos everywhere, somewhere in the midst, Baba also shouts. The horse Badshah is now running towards Tara and Tara is frightened to the core. She freezes at her spot and covers her face ready to face the impact. Deva pulls off a high jump stunt and lands on the horse's back and calms him down in the process.

35.) Deva tries to cheer Tara up and is successful and from there on they both spend time together and thus become hard core friends.

36.) Deva lightens up her world. She smiles more, laughs more, conquers her fears a lil bit more, every time she is with Deva. And one fine day, they both are celebrating Deva's birthday and Tara has brought a cake for him. A candle is perched on its top. Deva lights it up and blows it away to make a wish. But the candle keeps lighting up again and again automatically, this surprises Deva and Tara falls into a pit of laughter and we see grown up Tara laughing in front of BK recalling the incident. This show is really moving something inside me. It's so heart warming tbh.

37.) Ok. So now they are celebrating BK's b'day and she has a cake-cum-aate-ka-halwa. BK lights up a matchstick and the small speck of fire again ignites that trauma in Tara. Poor girl is traumatized on loosing her only best friend.

38.) Tara and BK think that Deva is dead. And, Badshah has been bought by someone in exchange of lakhon rupiye. Altho, Bhojariya ji had a deal with Tara that she would pay him to keep Badshah in the Sehgal Estate but upon getting a greater amount of money, naturally, Bhojariya Ji sells it.

39.) Tara is heart-broken that she could not keep his only belonging safe and so apologizes to Deva (who she thinks is in heaven) and we are instantly taken to a hilltop where we see a man, also in white. So. Deva. He is alive and probably a reech buzinez man, i think? And, now, the plot is quite predictable, Tara will try to take back Badshah from that 'man' and he will in turn not reveal that he is indeed Deva becoz there is some misunderstanding on both of their side. So. He will try to seek revenge from Tara for what he had to go through in the past. As it is clear from the line, "Bohot jal chuka suraj, ab chaand ko jalna hoga." Wow. What a beautiful parallel tho. (Suraj-Deva and Chaand-Tara and also the title of the story makes a lot more sense now.)

40.) Ok. So. Jalebi reminded me that I did not mention Deva's entry scene. So. Yeah. Deva's entry scene, huh? Wow. Yeah. Sirf. Wow. I had literal goosebumps already and then that drone shot from the hilltop. The teapot hanging above the fire. Lol. What a traditional way to make chai amidst nowhere. Btw where did he get chai ki patti from? And what about chini? Cup? Lol. Banda puri taiyyari ke saath aaya tha. So. Yeah. Amazing scene. Handsome Deva. Beautiful white suit. Already swooning.

Not-so-Fun Fact : Damn this reminds me that I have been chai-deprived since yesterday coz chai was finished and no one in our house(as in me and my parents) were bothered enough to bring it from the general store altho we all were very much bothered for not being able to have a cup of chai. uGh. Whatever.

41.) Wow. Wow. Wow. This show has already started to cast its spell on me, to be honest. And it's just the first episode.

P.S. : So. Yeah. Very beautiful. Very very very beautiful indeed. Cinematography wise. Script wise. Costume wise. Look wise. Everything is perfect for Chaand Jalne Laga. TBH I was underestimating this show but it indeed is beautiful. Please do give it watch. Ok. Then. Bye. God bless you.

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arolesbianism · 5 months

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Thinks so hard abt swap au Wendy... Worlds lamest trans person sees being turned into a robot as a bad thing smh

#rat rambles #starve posting #now that my friend is an over simplification and in truth his situation is indeed deeply extistenstially horrifying #especially for a child who in no ways could ever be expected to process this at all but is left with nothing else to think about #long story short one night abby was like hey hey wendy you know what we should do? we should go camping!!#and packed a bunch of things a kid would think you need for camping and dragged wendy off into the woody mountains by the cabin their #family was vacationing at despite wendy saying thats a dumb idea and he doesnt want to go #eventually abby chose out a camping spot and ran off to get some firewood leaving wendy to wait and watch their stuff #then webber who as Ive barely but technically explained only half exists is watching sadly in the distance sad he can't join #and wendy sees him and is like wtf and webber gets super excited because wendy can see him but that ends up freaking wendy out more #leading to him backing away as webber tries to get close and slipping and falling down a very steep slope and bonking his head rip #he was basically dead and webber was upset and felt bad so he took it upon himself to save wendy's brain and make him a new body!#but since wendy's brain was pretty fucked a lot had to be replaced with robotic parts and pretty much all of wendy's memories were lost #he has some very very corrupted memory from the last night before he died and some scattered memories from when webber was testing shit #before his body was fully made and thats everything he could remember when waking up in his new body for the first time #to be clear he wasn't conscious the Entire time webber was working on his new body since webber kept him in a sleep like state mostly #only pulling him out of it for certain tests where he wanted his brain to be more responsive #mostly just to test like his eyes and ears and such #but yeah he got seperated from webber in a ~wild wacky storm~ and woke up alone in the constant proper #he is like soooo fucking miserable like all the time hes constantly feeling phantom pain and remebers just enough to know hes missing smth #and it only gets worse after he and abby are reunited because despite this being the one person he can vaguely remember being important to #him he cant seem to feel that same sense of familiarity he remembers feeling before and it just makes him more miserable #this ofc makes abby also freak out and since her way of dealing with things she doesnt know how to deal with is hard denial it gets worse #I <3 tragic siblings #but yeah wendy mostly copes with his situation by mangling critters into fucked up drone things to feel in control of smth #asside from the abby situation tho in general things start slowly getting better after he joins the other survivors #mostly just because he actually has to be like. a person. and while it is rly hard for him and he doesn't see himself as a person anymore #that doesnt stop unoticed progress from happening just due to the nature of being a person in a group of ppl who treat him as a person #and he and abby slowly start to bridge the gap between them but its very very rough for the first good while #its mostly a matter of abby calming down enough to realize that wendy is stressed out by this just as much if not more

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digitalintercourse · 9 months

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after watching that moth//er's basem//ent video about anime reboots etc it makes me wonder how many of the anime he talked about are actually bad or he's just being unfair and expecting it to be something it simply isnt

#like i know some of them are indeed bad on account of i watched some #but he was very unfair with di/gi/mon 2020 seeming to expect it to hit the same story beats the same way as the original

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axe8472 · 11 months

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once again considering faking my own death instead of doing exams on friday

#yes exams plural. two of them #two exams in one day #oh but that doesn't sound too bad does it? haha BUT INDEED IT IS #because the first exam is three hours long #and the second exam is three and a half hours long #BUT not only is this 6 and a half hours of exam in one day for me #i get rest breaks because i have things wrong with my brain #which means my exams will take a total of over 8 and a half hours on friday #more than a full day's work #then i have to move the next day #yes move all of my stuff out of my room the very next day #yes indeed #im technically meant to have medical exemption from having more than one exam in a day but for that to be in effect i would have had to #register witht he disability people before november #in order for them to be able to reschedule an online open book exam #okay im done ranting now #if im not on here again after thursday its because i ahve died #i joke but this may hospitalise me i really am not medically fit to spend 8 and a half hours in exams in one day #but its fine. its okay. dont go to university

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multific · 6 months

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Injury

Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion has a strong affection towards you, so when you get badly hurt during a mission, he is mad.

You woke to his yelling.

He was angry, perhaps beyond angry.

You heard him yelling and even stomping his feet. The others were dead silent. You assumed no one dared to speak up to the very annoyed vampire.

You were hurt, you went out with the team, assuring your Lover that you would be okay, but due to some unforeseen circumstances, you were hurt rather badly.

He was on his way back to your camp when he smelled the blood. Too much blood for his liking.

And he knew that sweet tint, a signature if you will, to confirm that indeed, the blood was yours.

And he saw red.

He stormed in and demanded an explanation.

You were badly cut during a surprise attack from a goblin. A cut deep and painful.

They tried to heal you with any potion, or magic they had but all failed. It was believed the sword which cut you was of a special material.

So, you were bound to bed.

And not long after you fell asleep, you heard the yells of your Love. He was angry and rightfully so.

You wanted to call out to him, tell him to come to you and hug you, help you sleep, but you couldn't, you were too weak.

Soon, you heard the entrance of the tent being moved and a warm presence filled your room.

You felt already a lot better.

And when your eyes met Astarion's beautiful ones, you moved your hand for him to hold. He sat down next to you on the floor and held your hand gently.

"My Darling, I am so sorry. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts." you replied weakly.

"I smelled the blood... I was so scared, Love."

"I'm so sorry for making you worry."

"Then never leave my side ever again." you wanted to laugh but your side hurt too bad, so you only smiled.

"It will leave a scar." you let out a sigh.

"A scar is the last thing I worry about. Your well-being is much more important." he leaned over and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'll let you sleep now."

"Don't leave." you said as you grabbed his sleeve.

"I'm not going to. I'll stay here with you, I just think you should sleep." you watched as he got into more comfortable clothing, which for him means only a pair of pants and he soon laid down beside you.

You slowly moved closer to him as your back met with his front and his arms moved to hold you even closer.

"I promise, I will never go out without you. It was stupid and I nearly died. I don't want to die." you felt his hand shake a little upon your confession.

"I don't want you to die either, My Sweet." there was a moment of silence, during which you felt as if he wanted to say something more. "I told you I would be able to turn you."

"I don't have enough blood in me to have this conversation, Astarion. And we talked about this before."

"I know. I'm just scared to lose you."

"I'm too stubborn to die, you know that." you felt him smile into your neck.

"Sleep now." he said and you had no objections.

Maybe one day, you will become a vampire. Maybe one day, you can make the promise of forever to each other and truly mean forever.

But you weren't ready just yet.

And until the day comes, you are going to enjoy every second with him. Because even if you are injured due to your own fault, he still held onto you so sweetly, he still kissed your hair with such admiration and love.

You were going to enjoy every second for now, before your forever with him starts.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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buckyarchives · 1 year

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second, first meeting | chishiya shuntarou

spoiler warning for ending of aib season 2

after the meteor, chishiya notices the all too familiar person. their a pull towards you - like maybe you’ve met somewhere? (gn reader)

words - 1.1k

a/n: WOW AIB 2 FINALLY OUT AND THE ENDING WAS REALLY GOOD I THINK. anyways arisu and usagis ending was so cute and i needed literally the “have we met?” scenario with ALL of them. and i’m a weak so i made this, very shoot, not beta’d, just a small and sweet drabble. enjoy reading!!!

—

Chishiya is alive.

He sure as hell didn't feel like it, but he was. The meteorite took a lot out of him, physically and mentally. Waking up in the beeping hospital room with a sudden new look on life, and he was going to do something about it. No more being a messenger for bad news, slowly tearing down people's hope one referral after another.

Dozens of people just experienced the same pain and trauma as he walked around him, some looking better than others. A girl with an amputated leg, a man in a coma as he passed by his room, and a girl and boy walking hand in hand with injuries littered over them. Humanity– always finding love in terrible suitaions.

Chishiya stood in one of the hospital common rooms, people-watching as he always does. God– it feels like a lifetime had passed since the meteorite. Chishiya was familiar with the whirring and beeping sounds of hospitals, people chatting and crying, and the strong smell of disinfectants and bleach. He was a doctor, all these things filled his life to the brim, it was familiar.

Even you.

You, who stood across the room; tucked into a corner (like chishiya), people-watching, snacking on crackers, and keeping yourself comfortably hidden. Yes, you’d caught his eyes. But something felt off deep inside his stomach, something was off about you. Almost like you were too familiar, chishiya could see a lifetime in your eyes and this is the only time he's ever seen you. Maybe, it wasn't?

Chishiya knew better than to laser focus on one person in the room, because your head perked up. Right into his direction, but chishiya’s gaze didn't falter– he couldn't even if he wanted to. The pull towards you was too intense, it made him dizzy. shock, confusion, remembrance? Flashed across your face, similar to him.

A small, sweet smile grew on your face. Fuck, what medication did they put him on? That meteorite really did a deal on him because suddenly he can’t breathe. For a moment he thought maybe his stitched came undone, half expecting to see blood soaking his scrubs when he looked down. But no– it was just you. Chishiya’s has never seen a smile so familiar, yet foreign.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction, like you were trying to read him. Something many people found difficult in the past, Chishiya didn’t put up a fight or a stone-cold face. Chishiya narrowed his eyes back, like a challenge.

So wrapped up in you that he didn't see the teenage boy wheeling a little too close to his toes in a wheelchair. “Ow!” chishiya yelped.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” the boy began to spew out a plethora of apologies, frantically bowing his head to the elder.

“It's okay!” chishiya reassure, the sting in his toe had already been subdued– an easy injury compared to the bandaged and stitched-up ones he gained a few days ago. “Seriously, it’s okay.”

The boys' apologies slowed and he wheeled off, practically still bowing. Chishiya chuckled under his breath at the gesture. Looking back up to find you again, weird– what's got into him? Your spot ghosted empty and chishiya’s eyes frantically searched for you, only to find your back now turned to him and trudging down the hallways. Right as his eyes landed on you, your neck turned and you glanced back at chishiya.

A challenge indeed.

Chishiya curiously cocked his head, looking something like a cat. And then one foot in front of another, chishiya was following you down the hallway. He wasn't sure why, maybe he didn’t need a reason. I mean, he almost died, chishiya felt like he didn’t need a solid reason to do anything anymore besides what he wanted. And he wanted to follow the beautiful, mysterious, and weirdly familiar person around in a hospital. Like cat and mouse.

And that's how chishiya ended up in a quieter, more intimate area. Middle of a hallway, near a set of tables and a vending machine. Usually, where loved one would sit weary-eyed and waiting for good news. You came to a halt, chishiya stopped. You turned around slowly, that sweet smile that made chishiya’s stomach feel weird (apart from the wounds.)

“You're following me.”

Something that would so usually sound like a question, was a statement. Because it was meant to be, because you knew he was from the beginning. You intended on it. Chishiya already likes you. And hell– your voice almost gave him whiplash, so silk and sweet. Echoing distantly in his head, like he's heard it a million times before.

“And you wanted me too,” chishiya replied coyly. His voice felt so scratching and his throat burned as he spoke, being without water and unconscious for too long. Shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning back slightly. Even half dead he must keep up his cool-guy image.

You didn’t reply, only a wider grin growing on your face. And chishiya found it hard to bite back one of his own. How so uncharacteristic of him – he felt so warm.

“Maybe.” you finally said.

Chishiya hummed, beginning to close the distance – one foot in front of another – between the two of you.

You watched him intently, chishiya knew it. Normally he’d perceive this as someone sizing him up, but your eyes told a different story as they trailed up his body. Something that'd make his ears hot and red.

“Meteor?” you asked, gesturing to his wounds. Chishiya nodded. “Me too.”

It was awkward for a moment, but not uncomfortable. The silence was deafening as if it wasn't meant for the two of you. Like there were so many words only on the tip of his tongue, words unsaid, words he didn’t even know – but they were begging to be spoken.

You were the first to break the silence, stepping closer. Now only 2 or 3 feet in front of him. “Have I, sorry, this is weird– but, have we met before? Like even passed each other on the streets.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

You hummed, looking around to avoid the intense eye contact that tugged you closer, and closer and–

“Would you like to know me?” chishiya said, his eyes not leaving yours. A weird sense of home lay in your eyes, chishiya was ready to jump fully in.

You tried to cover the eagerness in you, waiting a moment. Dramatically tapping a finger to your chin as you thought. “I think that’d be nice.”

Chishiyas lip quirked up, following yours.

He may not know you the way he feels, but he will.

#alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #i want to smother chishiya #chishiya x male reader #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya headcanons #aib #alice in boderland x reader

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skzdarlings · 3 months

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mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door. Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car. They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate.

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say. “So wholesome. So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean. Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times. He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone. He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct. Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent. You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy. Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection. You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died. Foolish. He is not here for you but your name. He does not care how you feel. He does not care if you want him. He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone. He backed you into the wall and kissed you. An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye. Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run. Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars. Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort. You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats. It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike. It is a pretty but flimsy thing. Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets.

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away.

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane. It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory. Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world. The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes. Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns. It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town.

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house. If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror.

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes. You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer. You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard. You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.

You park your bike against the side of the house. You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door. While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous. You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done. You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late.

No answer comes. You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole. Is he ignoring you? No. The windows are shut, the blinds closed. He cannot even see you.

You take a step back. Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light. The house is small, a single story. There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection. Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself. What were you even thinking? Silly girl. Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you. He has a life of his own. He probably doesn’t even think about you. You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic. Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day. They finally become too much to bear. You sit down on the steps and cry.

Some time passes. You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes. You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth.

You are not sure what to do now. You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you. You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.

You sigh. You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you. Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know. You met doing volunteer work, in fact. You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps. You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine. It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow. You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop.

The driver door flies open. He jumps out, cursing. Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability. His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed. He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.

He is beautiful as ever. Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again. He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl. When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now. Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck. He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way. He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside. He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him. You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say.

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood. He curses louder this time.

There is a small light on the side of the house. You step towards it at the same time.

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion. He stares intently at you.

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring.

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say. “I wanted to see you. I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side. He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense.

“Right,” you say. You feel a catch in the back of your throat. Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him. More of a fool, that is. You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices.

I missed you so much, you think. I think about you every day. Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic. Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness. Minho is not a man like that, though. He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone. You know that, but the words catch nonetheless.

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I probably shouldn’t have come here. It’s been months since we last spoke. I know we’re not really friends anymore. I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says.

You look at him. His expression has not softened. It is still that same scrutinizing stare. His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying.

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed. Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you. He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck.

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back.

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you. A small touch from him means more than anything.

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly. He is still frowning. “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say. When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that. Emotionally, I mean. I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly. “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore. You know what they’re like.”

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike. You feel embarrassed, remembering too.

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts. You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house. He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him.

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted. He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down. They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy. You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him. His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall.

You were in denial about your parents being bad people. You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart. They were just set in their ways. They wanted a good life for you. You told Minho to just give them time. He let you go. They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day.

Minho takes a breath. He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive. You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head.

“You look cold,” he says frankly. “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps. He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing. You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door.

He says nothing, just nods at you. You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots. He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats. When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark.

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do. You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship. You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance. He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive. You wanted to keep everything.

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want. You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him.

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then. Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze.

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind. He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.”

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply. Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it. Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall.

Your heart sinks. It is your turn to swallow.

“You know about that?” you ask.

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle. He looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I know,” he says. “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks. Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.” He huffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “You should be with someone like that. He’ll give you the house. The car. I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling. You lift your chin and look him in the eye. “You’re right, my parents do love him. But I don’t. He’s shallow and unkind. And you—” Your voice catches. “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that. You are everything. And I… I love you. I always have.” You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze. “I know it’s been a while,” you say. “I don’t expect you to have waited for me. I just—”

He laughs again. It is still dry, but not so sharp. You glance at him.

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.” He shakes his head. “It’s like you don’t even know me. I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl.

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously.

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him. He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you.

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit. “But I know I want to figure it out. With you. And no one else.”

He smiles and it makes you smile. Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands.

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back. “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you. He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip. It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body.

It is more effective than any word. He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness. You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses. “Torturing me for so long. I wanted to kill that man. But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say. “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.” That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again. “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation.

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head. You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in.

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say. “Just make me forget him.”

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time. Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms. You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it. Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does.

Then he gets very serious. Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body. Your thighs press together.

He presses his forehead to yours. You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down. The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you. You shiver, gazing back at him. His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside. His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress. He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side.

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards. You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs. You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it.

“You are,” he says. He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair. “You are.”

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you. He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name. You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady.

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue. It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep. It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing. He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp. It makes your head spin. He speaks like that now.

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth. When you moan, he moans back. “I make you sigh,” he says. “I make your pussy wet. I make you come. Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed. “You, Minho.”

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs. They are still quivering from your orgasm. He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt. He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you. He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits. You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you. You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his. He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you.

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth. “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him. You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other. Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites. There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him.

“Yes,” you say. “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over. He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss.

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more. When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately.

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home.

#lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #valentinesdaystories #tattywood

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

Note

i do genuinely hesitate to ask, as i am sure i will find out more than i meant to in time, but atm my various feeds and an uninformed google are not telling me what most recently exploded about the british government, so if you have the time and the inclination i'm agog for your summary/take

HOO BOY. It has been a Things Exploding In the British Government day to the extent that in the hour-odd between my previous post and this one, I had to go back and check if anything ELSE had exploded while I wasn't looking. Everything that they are currently denying will probably be confirmed within the next 12 hours or less, though, so nobody get too comfortable.

Anyway, we all remember how Liz Truss succeeded Boris Johnson as Prime Minister, met the Queen, the Queen immediately fucking croaked which honestly was the funniest time she could possibly have done it, the country ground to a total halt for ten days, and then when it got going again, Truss and her chancellor (aka finance minister, for those of you happily ignorant of British politics), Kwasi Kwarteng, proposed a Thatcherite wet-dream economic plan of unfunded massive tax cuts for rich people, because something something Stimulate Growth. We are also generally aware that this crashed the pound through the floor, blew up people's mortgages and other mildly important bills, and did nothing to deal with the actual energy bills/cost of living crisis currently engulfing the UK. Oops.

After absolutely everybody, including the commie socialists at the Bank of England, screamed OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU MORONS DOING???, and the day after Kwarteng insisted he would absolutely remain in post and he had 100% confidence in the Plan, he... got sacked for creating this, the Plan that Truss had asked him to deliver and which had won her the Tory party members' election. This made him officially the second-shortest serving chancellor in UK history aside from the guy who literally died in office. Womp womp. That will be a pub quiz answer for you. You're welcome.

Having spent all this time hiding from the press, then giving eight-minute press conferences during which you could literally track the pound crashing in real time, and performing more U-turns than a dancing dashboard hood ornament, Liz Truss took a break from her busy schedule of conducting the Economic Disaster Waltz in the key of B Fucked to appoint Jeremy Hunt as the new chancellor. Jeremy Hunt is mostly notable for being a Tory who can put his pants on without assistance and being a genteel failure at all the previous cabinet posts he's held, which is why he is now regarded as a "safe pair of hands" in a party that has dissolved into a lot of shit-flinging coked-up gibbons who can only scream BREXIT BREXIT BREXIT and IMMIGRATION IS BAD!!! (Side note: they recently had to cancel a festival designed to "celebrate the freedoms of Brexit" due to logistics issues associated with, you guessed it, Brexit. That is not directly relevant to the current clusterfuck, but it is too funny not to include.)

To nobody's surprise, Jeremy Hunt then ripped up the entire economic plan and offered a new one, which was not measurably better than the last one but at least reversed some of the most egregious cuts, and which made everyone ask if Liz Truss had been tied up and duct-taped in the boot of a Range Rover and/or if Hunt had secretly staged a coup with the help of Larry the Downing Street Cat and taken over the government. Probably nobody in the Tory party would mind very much if he had, because they were all busy either planning how to oust Truss or publicly denying that they were indeed planning to oust Truss. One of the popular names for her successor? Boris Johnson! No, I am not making this up. Maybe this has all been a horrible dream and we're going to wake up and find that BoZo is back in charge, after massive public scandal for being a serial liar, which he had been from Day 1, finally made him resign. I repeat, what even the hell is going on here. Nobody knows. Meanwhile, Hunt is warning about even more budget austerity and "eye-watering" cuts to public services that can least afford it, because the last decade didn't result in quite enough preventable deaths for the Tories' tastes, and because they have been forced into this by a car crash completely of their own making.

....anyway. This brings us, more or less, to today. Yesterday, Truss refused to commit to protecting something called the pensions triple lock, which guarantees that old-age pensions (the UK form of social security) will rise in line with inflation, costs, or earnings. A) Inflation in the UK is now at a whopping 10.1%, and B) given as old people are literally the only demographic still willing to vote for the Tories, this miiiiiight seem like an even more unnecessarily stupid and self-sabotaging idea. Sure enough, U-Turn Number Eight Million was duly performed this morning, and Truss insisted she had always intended for the triple lock to be protected. But would Universal Credit and other welfare/benefits programs also be adjusted upward for inflation? HELL NAH! THOSE ARE FOR POOR PEOPLE! GROSS!

This, however, was only the beginning of the unpeeling of the latest idiot banana. Keir Starmer, riding high on the back of recent polls that have given Labour a 36-point lead and predicted that the Tories could be left with as few as 22 seats in Parliament if a general election was called tomorrow (leaving the SNP as the official opposition), appeared at Prime Minister's Questions and got to shoot fish in a barrel. Truss did not dissolve into a pile of goo on the floor and/or have a bucket of water thrown on her and melt into Margaret Thatcher, so that was taken as a win. Well, at least for two hours or so. Then Suella Braverman, the ex-Attorney General who had briefly run for the leadership when BoZo resigned, and who exists along with Priti Patel in order to prove that in the modern Tory party, women of color can heroically be just as much as awful xenophobic monsters as crusty old white dudes, resigned as Home Secretary. Did you even know she was Home Secretary? Neither did she. She took over Patel's job in a bid to apparently make Patel look cute and cuddly by comparison, as she is even more determined to do horrible things to migrants as much as possible. The official reason given for her resignation was that she sent an official document from her personal email account, and this had something to do with immigration and/or the Office of Budget Responsibility forecast that the Tories have, in the valiant spirit of freedom, resisted actually publishing for any of their current economic plans. CONSERVATIVES ARE GOOD FOR THE ECONOMY!! yell people on both sides of the Atlantic. Oh-kay.

Anyway, Braverman used her resignation letter to blast Truss for pretending that everything was fine and dandy, which means the BUT HER EEEEEEMAILS was absolutely just an excuse and even she wanted off this sinking ship as fast as possible. Grant Shapps is now the Home Secretary. It's not important. The point is, if more ministers start resigning, the government will probably implode just as it did when they deserted BoZo en masse. What the hell happens then? Fuck if anyone knows. Since they will, as noted, get absolutely cosmically annihilated if they call a General Election, the Tories will resist doing that with all their might (the next one isn't due until 2024, which is about 1004329 years away at the current rate that time is passing here). Truss was already elected by a tiny minority of the country (about 160,000 Tory party members). STICK RISHI SUNAK IN THERE AND CHANGE THE RULES AGAIN?? HECK, SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN! KEEP THOSE MUSICAL CHAIRS COMING, CHAPS!

(Also: we will recall the Daily Star's Lettuce Cam, where a picture of Liz Truss has been placed next to a head of lettuce to see if she is kicked out of office before it rots away. It now has a special companion, Tofu. This is because Braverman, just yesterday, gave a speech attacking the latest round of climate protesters as being spurred on by Labour, the Lib Dems, and the "Guardian-reading, tofu-eating wokerati," which she doubtless thought was a very clever line at the time. Because British Twitter is British Twitter, the Tofu: 1, Braverman: 0 jokes have been rife.)

And since we are still not done: tonight, Labour forced a vote on a fracking ban which was being treated as a de facto confidence vote in the government. Aka if the Tories voted for it, they would be considered to be defying the government. Because Britain is a cartoon country run by clowns, the method of Parliamentary voting literally involves walking through Door A for Aye and Door B for Nay. The "whips," or the people whose job it is to assure that party members vote according to the government's position, have thus been known to physically stuff recalcitrant MPs through these doors, because Hail Britannia, or something. So we soon had reports that the anti-fracking vote was, dare I say it, a total clusterfrack, and the Tory whips were literally throwing crying Tory MPs through the Nay door so they would Vote To Support The Government. This sounds like a beginning to a Monty Python sketch, but it is just another ordinary evening in British politics in 2022! (Did Truss herself vote? Or BoZo, Patel, or any of the other Tory big beasts? Nope. Evidently she was "too distracted" with all the other crises going on, which probably means she just didn't want to show her face or she might get killed. Hard to blame her.)

So: the fracking ban was defeated, Labour MPs were like "oh my god the sheer clownery," even Tory MPs were spitting mad, we soon had more rumors that both the Tory chief whip and the deputy chief whip had resigned (currently in the Official Denial stage, so yeah, that will be confirmed before tomorrow morning), and I haven't even mentioned the part where one of Liz Truss's press aides admitted that they used to lie about various relatives of hers having just died so Truss didn't have to do interviews (actual quote: "just aunts and cousins, not any major relatives!"). We all wondered if that wasn't actually a lie but the minor members of the Truss family had voluntarily decided to die rather than have anyone know that they were related to her. Either that or she just sent MI6 after them. It's entirely possible.

#rionsanura #ask #politics for ts #uk politics #i truly cannot explain the magnitude of this clown show #truly #long post

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lavenderstobins · 27 days

Text

It's the third day in a row that Wayne Munson has seen the girl in the diner.

Usually, he doesn't pay attention to new faces. He's been frequenting the diner for some years now and there's often ones he doesn't recognise: people passing through Hawkins, visiting family, etc.

The girl has caught his attention, though. She's sitting tucked into the far corner of the diner, a glass of water in front of her and nothing else. She's wearing the same t-shirt and flannel shirt she'd been wearing yesterday, and the day before, he's pretty sure. She didn't order any food yesterday; she hasn't ordered any food today.

Bev likes to joke he has a sense for kids who need help. Says there's an alarm in his head that makes him worry himself sick whenever there's a waif in need.

She's sitting next to him now, one eyebrow raised. He sighs. Waif in need alarm, indeed.

"What's the deal with the kid?" he murmurs, nodding subtly in the girl's direction.

Bev shrugs. "Beats me. That's Robert's girl, that's all I know."

He frowns. "Robert?"

"Nurse. Took good care of me when my knee went bad." She takes a swig of coffee, her eyes going sad. "Died, oh, maybe eight months back."

Wayne looks back at the girl. She's staring down at her half-empty glass of water. Tucked under the table there's a bulky-looking backpack.

"She got family?"

"Just her mother, far as I know. Met her a couple of times, too. 'Nother nurse. Seems nice enough."

"Hmph." Wayne turns back to his coffee. Ain't his business, he tells himself firmly. He should focus on his lunch.

When he gets up to pay, he glances once more in the girl's direction. He'll give it a couple of days, he decides. If she's still here then, still in the same clothes, he'll see if she's alright.

—

Wayne doesn't even last the day.

He's on his way home from work when he sees movement in a phonebox on the side of the road. The road's empty aside from him, and it's raining, and the sky's getting dark, so it immediately strikes him as odd. When he sees it's the teenage girl from earlier, he nearly crashes his truck with how hard he hits the brakes.

She's huddled down in the phonebox, clasping the backpack he'd noticed. She looks sodden. It had been raining heavier earlier; from the looks of it, she'd been caught in it. Her hair's plastered to her face and she's shivering.

He's winding down his window before his brain's even caught up to the movement. He's actually not sure how to go about it, very conscious of the fact that it's just the two of them out here and she's a teenage girl while he's an old man.

Feeling very much like he's approaching a wild animal, he clears his throat. "You okay, miss?"

The girl jumps, her head jerking up. She looks at him with wild eyes, wide and afraid. She reminds him of Eddie the day he showed up on his doorstep, timid and small.

"I'm f—fine." Her teeth chatter as she speaks. Where is this girl's mother? Where are her guardians?

"You need to call someone? I got a couple o'quarters, I think."

She shakes her head. Wayne frowns. Something ain't sitting right with him.

"You waiting on your ma?"

To his horror, her face crumples, and she buries her face in her arms. He's out of the truck like a shot, rushing over to find her shoulders heaving.

"Now, now—" He's panicking, admittedly. She can't be much younger than Eddie is.

"She—She—" the girl sobs. "She kicked me out and I—I don't have anywhere to go and it's so cold and wet and—and—"

A bout of rage washes over him. He pushes it down, tugging his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. It doesn't have a hood, but it's dry. Christ, she must be soaked to the bone.

"Listen," Wayne starts, hesitating almost immediately. It's an insane suggestion from a strange man; he doesn't want to scare her off, but he doesn't want her spending the night in this phonebox, either. "I got a kid about your age. My Eddie. You come to mine and we can get you sorted out, okay? Or—Or I can find you a motel room, or something."

Sniffling, the girl looks up at him, wrapping herself up in his jacket. "Is that... is that okay?"

His heart breaks. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course."

She stands, wobbly, still clutching her backpack. She's soaked through like he'd thought, and she shivers once she's in the front seat. He's quick to turn the heating up, starting the truck again, and for a moment he's furious: her immediate agreement, the lack of hesitation about getting into a vehicle with a strange man, makes him boil with hatred towards this girl's mother.

The journey's quiet and, thankfully, not too long. Wayne ushers her into the trailer, already preparing to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Eddie's out at Jeff's for band practice, so he says, but Wayne knows him well enough to know he'll come home stinking of weed.

The girl stands awkwardly in the living room, still shivering. It occurs to him, suddenly, that he doesn't even know her name.

Still. An issue for later. He focuses on the hot chocolate. Once it's ready, he hands it over to her, and doesn't miss how eagerly she accepts it.

Only then does he broach the subject. "What's your name, miss?"

She's quiet a moment, cradling the mug in her hands. "It's Robin. Uh, Robin, sir."

"None of that 'sir' business," he says gruffly. "Name's Wayne. Eddie'll be home later but you can have his bed if you need a place to stay for the night."

This might be the most he's spoken in years, trying desperately to come across as reassuring. It breaks his heart how trusting she's being, though.

"Thank you." Robin goes quiet, her fingers curling around the handle of the mug. "I, um, I can pay you back for the ride—"

He waves a hand, frowning. "None of that. I'd like to think if it were my Ed in your shoes, someone would be there for him like this."

She manages a small smile. She's still in her soaking clothes. He hustles over to Eddie's room, raiding the drawers for whatever looks most comfortable. Eddie won't complain, he knows.

Robin gratefully accepts the clothes. He goes back into Eddie's room to give her privacy, unsure exactly how long to wait. There's that stereotype that women take forever to change, right? It must hold some truth.

He gives it an hour, just to be safe. When he emerges, he finds that she's curled up on the couch, out like a light. His jacket's pulled up to her chin like a blanket.

Waif in need alarm. He sighs. Bev's right after all. He won't be surprised if this situation resolves with him having another kid in his care.

Well, Eddie always wanted a sister, anyway.

#wayne adopts robin au #stranger things #wayne munson #robin buckley #eddie munson #my writing #st ficlet #st fic #this ran away from me so unbelievably badly #my wips

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seeingivy · 6 months

Text

high infidelity

satoru gojo x f!reader

do you really wanna know where I was april 29th?

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: infidelity (omg who knew), yn is a doctor, satoru gets injured and haha ur still my emergency contact's his way back into your life, megumi and yuuji flirting side quest, a big hot flaming mess of writing this is actually so bad

an: no one say anything to me about this fic actually. or the fact that I made everyone do a poll about which taylor as gojo to write just to not write either of those options and produce a flaming, hot wreck of garbage. anyways, live love high infidelity this song will always be special to me because on april 29th, I was indeed, at the eras tour seeing mother for the first time

You swallow hard as the waitress walks up again, with that sheepish, awkward smile on her face. And you dread the unrelenting, embarrassing question that’s going to follow. One that she’s already asked, three times.

“Are you still waiting for someone or would you like to order?”

And you’re not sure why, but the fact that she asks the question, in that phrasing, in that tone, is enough to aggravate the very thin patience you already have. Because really, it’s quite possibly the stupidest question she could have asked.

Clearly, you are still waiting for someone. You’ve been sitting here for the past hour and a half. If you were really intent on eating at this restaurant alone, then you would have ordered the second they seated you.

And it’s rude, abrasive even. To ask, to relentlessly question, three times. Because obviously, you feel horrible for taking the table, when there’s a line of people patiently waiting by the door. And it’s not your fault that your boyfriend is late. And really, it’s just humiliating, that she keeps throwing it in your face, that you’re sitting here, alone when he should be here making you feel special.

You sigh, giving her a halfhearted smile.

“Can I have twenty more minutes? I promise I’ll leave after that and let you give the table to someone else.”

She smiles, genuine and sweet, as she places her hand on your shoulder and makes a promise to bring some more bread before you leave.

The premise of it - the fact that she smiled in earnest and must know that you feel horrible, that she has her own deposit of pity for you - has you bringing your fingers up to your forehead and massaging that small, pulsating feeling by your temples. Because here you were, mentally cussing out the poor girl working minimum wage at the restaurant when the real subject of your wrath couldn’t even be bothered to show up.

And you hate that the negativity, the frustrations of the situation, seem to bleed into everything else. Because you’ll find yourself being upset with Yuri, but then suddenly it turns into a blind agitation to everything. The barista, for not making your coffee right, your co-workers asking to switch shifts so they can go on a trip with their partners, the laundry machine when it stops working.

Your phone starts incessantly buzzing on the table, the smallest glimmer of hope sparking in your chest at the sound. And instantly dies, when you realize it’s just the Emergency Room calling you.

You slide open the call, pressing the phone to your ear.

“This is Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. Is this a miss Y/N L- wait.” Megumi states into the phone, mumbling off the speaker.

You press the phone harder to your ear, to try to catch the end of the conversation that Yuuji must be having with Megumi.

“Y/N. Right, hi!” he states, voice halfheartedly cheery, which is already odd enough for him.

“Hi Megumi. Why are you calling me on my day off?” you deadpan, that backlogged deposit of irritation coming in hot and fresh for the sweetest resident you have.

“Right. Um, we have a mister Satoru Gojo in the Emergency Room who has you listed as his Emergency Contact. He’s kind of in bad shape so we were going to call regarding-”

“Gojo? I’ll be there in ten.” you respond, shoving the phone into your purse and leaving the tip flat on the tablecloth. You give the waitress - standing there with that restocked bread in her hand - a polite wave on the way out and speed as fast as you can to the hospital.

You march into the ER, rubbing warmth into your biceps, to find Megumi at the nurses station, as always, flirting with the pink haired student nurse he’s taken a keen liking to.

“Hey. Where is he?” you ask, Yuuji and Megumi turning their heads to give you half hearted smiles. It’s only the start of the night shift, but by the way their shoulders are already sagging, you can tell whoever has to deal with them has a long night ahead of them.

“Right sooooo. We can’t decipher any of his paperwork. We need you to read it first and then you can see him. He’s in room eleven.” Yuuji states, giving a peachy smile, as you scan over Gojo’s characteristic illegible handwriting.

“Jesus. He still writes like a twelve year old.” you murmur, filling out the sheet at the side with all the information Yuuji needed.

“You’re all dressed up, teach. What’s the occasion?” Megumi asks, lazily leaning his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“Ah. It’s my one year anniversary with Yuri. We were supposed to go to dinner.” you mumble, scratching the last of the information on the sheet and handing it to Yuuji.

You feel a hand sling around your shoulder and a distinct smell of smoke, only to find Shoko hanging off your frame.

“And yet here you are, because he didn’t show up.” she murmurs, earning you a set of wide eyes as you glare at Shoko. Because at their core, Yuuji and Megumi are first, definitely crushing on each other, and second, nosy as hell.

“And here you are. Destroying every last cell in your lungs, that are eagerly, earnestly begging you to stop.” you deadpan.

She flicks your nose as you finish filling out the sheet and reading through the paramedics report that was attached to his paperwork.

“Please tell me you attacked Yuri at the dinner table and that’s why you’re here. Fork to the hand? Spoon in the eye? Knife to the dick?” Shoko asks, excitedly.

“Didn’t you like take an oath? For the preservation of human life?” Megumi deadpans.

“No. I skipped that day of medical school.” Shoko replies.

“Gojo’s here, I’m still his emergency contact.” you respond back, giving her a pointed glare.

“What happened?”

You turn your head expectantly to Megumi, who obliges.

“His car got t-boned. He’s pretty roughed up.” Megumi responds.

You give Shoko a weary look, as you march to the other side of the unit, preparing yourself for whatever roughed up version of Gojo you were about to be greeted with. Because every interaction with Gojo was a rush of emotions - good, bad, sweet, and ugly - but this might be the biggest thing you’ve ever had to stomach yet.

“So. Who is this Satoru guy? I’ve never heard of him before.” Megumi asks Shoko, giving Yuuji an all knowing glance.

“Her ex-boyfriend.” Shoko responds.

“No way. Before that asshat Yuri?” Yuuji asks, suddenly too invested in the story all together.

“Well, obviously. He taught as a professor at the same medical school she attended.”

“Y/N dated a professor?” Megumi asks, tone incredulous.

“I mean that’s one way to get through I guess.” Yuuji adds.

Shoko smacks the top of Yuuji’s head, earning a fit of laughter from the two of them for his stupid comment.

“You need to focus on your nursing exams instead of flirting with Megumi on your fifteen. It would do you some good to flirt with your preceptor. And no, he was just a fellow doing research at the time. They were best friends for a good few years, had that whole will they won’t they vibe going on.” Shoko responds.

“So….did they?” Megumi asks.

“They did. To be honest, I can’t really remember why they broke up. Something stupid.” Shoko shrugs, giving the two of them shoves on the shoulder before walking past the hall, to find you standing in front of the door. Your hand is resting against the handle, but you have yet to yank down and push yourself in.

“Are you warming up the handle or…?”

You’re thrown out of your train of thought to find Shoko at your side, hands buried deep in her white coat as she gives you a weary glance. To anyone else, Shoko would seem wildly disinterested, almost annoyed at how you were acting. But you know better and can see that small twinge of concern buried under her long eyelashes, the hint of it in her voice.

“Oh. Um…no. Just got lost in thought.” you murmur, staring at the faded eleven on the marker.

“About?”

You swallow hard, the warm tears filling your eyes.

“I haven’t talked to him in so long. And the last time we talked we were arguing over…..leaving dishes in the sink. Breaking up. If I walk in there and he’s dead, that’s going to be the last thing I ever said to him.” you whisper, air grating against your throat.

Shoko puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes once..

“He’s not dead. The monitor tech would have picked up on that.”

“The monitor tech? Are we talking about the same monitor tech? Because Nobara is too busy flirting with the phlebotomist Maki to ever do her job. They’re worse than Megumi and Yuuji.”

Shoko scoffs, before rolling her eyes at you.

“No one is worse than Megumi and Yuuji. Yuuji knocked the entire crash cart over when he clocked in because Megumi complimented his Star Wars themed scrubs.”

You snort, shaking your head, as you take a deep breath in and push the handle down. Shoko gives you a warm smile as you walk in and flick the lights on, only to see Satoru, sitting up in bed and lazily scrolling through the TV channels.

He looks over at you first, his eyes going wide, as you walk up to him and cup the side of his cheek. The tears that were welling in your eyes are falling in full flesh, at the sight of him all battered and bruised.

His snow white hair is matted red, an angry, glaring scratch on his forehead. His arm is littered with tiny cuts, with a good amount of dressing on his torso, the red blood already seeping through and the look on his face so broken and tired that it makes your heart twinge.

“Satoru.”

He smiles, albeit a little confused, as he looks up at you and brings his hand up to yours, where it’s resting against your face.

“Hey princess.”

You laugh through your sprout of tears, which has the smallest smile turning up on his cut up lips and the soft, faint smile lines appearing near his eyes.

“You here to patch me up, doc?” he whispers.

You shake your head incessantly, which has him rolling his eyes.

“Not today.”

“Shame. I heard having sex is really good for patient recovery.”

You smack his shoulder, biting hard down on your cheeks that Satoru Gojo, in full flesh, is okay. Because he still has the audacity to flirt with you, even when he’s near death in the hospital.

“I’m going to look at your chart, okay?”

You let go of his face and find yourself in front of the computer, logging in with your credentials, and trying to pull up his chart as fast as you can.

“If I found out you got into this accident because you were trying to find the perfect song before you got home, I’m going to put your head on a stick, Satoru Gojo” you murmur, earning a laugh from him.

“First and foremost, you always have to close the drive home on a banger. Sue me.”

“I think I might just.”

“And contrary to your beliefs, this accident actually wasn’t my fault. They crashed into me, naturally, because I do no wrong. Ever.” he states.

“Right.” you chuckle.

You read over the report, making it a point to berate Yuuji for his shitty charting later, as you look through his vital signs and blood cultures that were taken when he arrived here.

“So do all doctors dress like they’re about to go clubbing or is it just you?”

You look down, only now noticing that you’re still wearing the a-line dress from the dinner you were supposed to have with Yuri. You make a mental note to shoot him a text after checking with Satoru after, knowing all too well that with how busy Yuri is, you standing him up would throw him over the edge.

“Just me. I really love to put on a show for my patients, Gojo. And what clubs are you going to where people dress like this?” you mutter, clicking through the scans that were taking.

“I appreciate the lengths you go to for me. It’s always what I loved about you. And I exclusively attend Taylor Swift night at the Underground” he states, placing his hands on his chest.

You look over and glare at him, before reading through the treatment plan. When you look over Nanami’s notes, you feel your heart drop and turn over to look at him. At his bright, blue eyes so wide and unaware, the look on his face so…innocent it bothers you. That in a few hours, he’s going to be in unspeakable pain while he recovers.

The door opens and Nanami and Yuuta are standing at the door, Nanami already scoffing at you.

“That’s confidential patient information, Dr. L/N.” Nanami states, voice stern. He hands you a jacket, which you pull on, as you hike your hands under your biceps and talk to him.

“You were going to tell me all of it anyways. So…what’s the plan here?” you grumble, settling next to Gojo at the side of his bed, placing your hands in his nearly pink hair.

“Well. I’m going to-”

“The surgical resident has to be Yuuta, I don’t trust that dumbass Todo to do it. You have to use prolene stitches, I don’t want his skin to scar and don’t leave him under for too long. He’s never been one to suit medications well. Don’t play any rap music when you’re operating, he hates that type of stuff and-”

Nanami puts his hands square on your shoulders, squeezing once.

“Thank you, Dr. L/N. We’ll talk all details after, okay?” Nanami states, voice soft, as you turn over to look at Gojo.

Gojo gives you a weak smile, which you return, before pushing his hair off of his forehead, and lightly brushing through the white tresses as he looks at them.

“Give it to me straight, Kento Bento.” Satoru states, earning an eye roll from Nanami who's clearly unamused. But you can tell he doesn’t mind it all too much, because in the monotony of shitty patients, he’s always been one to appreciate the sweet jokesters. And Satoru’s the biggest clown there is.

“It’s a relatively easy procedure, Satoru. We’re just going to go in and repair the damage that you sustained to your digestive tract from the crash. Do you have any questions for me?” Nanami asks.

“Can I request that she’s not in there when it happens?” Satoru asks, looking up at you.

“Hey. I can-”

“Yes. We’ll make sure of it.” Yuuta responds.

“Thank you, Yuuta.” Gojo responds, giving him a smile.

“We’ll be around in an hour to take you to surgery.” Nanami states, ignoring the pointed glare you were giving him as he strolls out of the room.

You turn to Gojo, the overstimulation of the past ten minutes really hitting you, as you feel your brain short circuit while he’s looking at you. You try to focus on the sensation of his hair in your hand and that pulsating beat that you’ve been feeling for his wrist, but you can’t really process any of it.

Every high and low you’ve experienced in the past few minutes - the elation in Gojo’s voice, the pain from seeing him suffering, how he’s still the same as you left him- it’s enough to abandon any rational thought processes from occurring in your head. And it leaves you standing there, silently, with your hands on him.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi ‘Toru.”

He smiles at the nickname, reaching forward to lace his fingers through yours.

“I was driving and then…I wasn’t. I looked up and all I could see was the stoplight above me, then the flashing lights of the ambulance, and now…you….looking at me like that. Your brain isn’t the only one hurting right now.”

“Looking at you ike what?” you murmur.

“Like you’re in pain, Y/N.” he states, emphasizing his syllables.

You shake your head, fighting down that wave of worry that’s sitting in your skin.

“You know, Kento’s a really good doctor. And Yuuta…he’s like the most promising surgical resident. And even then, I-I can get another senior surgeon if you don’t want a student. And-and it really won’t hurt that bad and I’ll make sure they give you all the good meds and-”

“Y/N.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I know you’ve always hated that and I just-”

“I don’t hate it. Just, slow down for a second…talk me through all this because I really don’t know what’s going on and you know I don’t like not knowing.”

You pull up the chair, messing with his hands as you talk.

“You have to get surgery. The impact you had when you crashed led to-”

“Y/N. I know all of that already. I’m asking about you.”

You frown, swallowing hard, as you run your fingers along the scratch on his knuckles.

“You never update your current information.”

“Huh?”

“You….you never canceled the stupid Hulu subscription when we got the Disney Plus bundle. And you kept having to trek all the way across town to get the mail, because you forgot to change the address when we moved, and you-”

“I don’t really see how-”

“You forgot to change your emergency contact, Satoru. After we broke up, you-you forgot to call them and tell them that they shouldn’t call me.” you hum, as Gojo’s hand tightens in it’s hold around yours.

“Oh shit, Y/N. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You lurch up from your chair, tangling your arms around his neck as you crackle his head into your frame, that incessant stream of tears pouring down your eyes as he brings his own arms around yours.

And it feels too fast, because suddenly Nanami and Yuuta are back at your sides, giving you sympathetic glances as they wheel Gojo away and you’re left standing in the hallway, flat against the wall, every horrible outcome of the next four hours playing through your head.

On hour five, already a bad sign, you’re sitting flat against the floor with a jello cup in your hand and in Megumi’s spare pair of scrubs. They’re both sitting at your sides, the dead quiet of the night shift leaving them with you.

“Kento likes to be really careful, Y/N. That’s all it is.” Megumi states, giving his best attempts at calm reassurance.

“And Yuuta’s great. We all love Yuuta, he’s sweet….intelligent. He’s more than capable to do this.” Yuuji adds.

You crack through every last bone in your finger, the entire interaction playing over in your head.

“I-I just went in there so fast. And the time was so…so short that I didn’t even say much to him.” you respond, sighing.

“When’s Yuri coming?”

You turn your head to the side, in confusion, before you register Yuji’s words all together.

“Why would he-”

You panic, remembering that you had never texted Yuri back, that he’s probably fuming in his own pit of rage right now at his apartment, cursing your name to god knows what degree. You reach for your phone in your pocket, only to find no notifications from him. You scroll up on the chat, only to find that he hadn’t texted you the entire day, yesterday.

His last text read April 28th, a reminder that he needed you to pick up his drycleaning for his golf game this weekend.

“He’s really an asshole, isn’t he?” you spit.

You see Megumi and Yuuji give each other wide eyed looks over the top of your head, as you click your phone shut and let it fall to the ground.

Because in the dim lights of this hospital, with Satoru’s blood, some of it still smeared on the side of your hand, you feel like you’re seeing clearly for the first time in years.

That really, Yuri in actuality, is not the one for you. And it’s not that he’s a bad guy, he’s honorable in some sense really, but what he gives isn’t even a fraction close to what you want.

He’s tall and lanky. The type of guy to represent every portion of the food triangle in the three meals he ate. He wakes up at five in the morning to go to the gym before an entire day at work, and still somehow finds time to read and run a personal wellness blog when he gets home.

He’s classy, in every sense of the term. The exact type of man you envision when you think of someone put together, wholly and fully. On top of their shit, living their best life, one that people aspired to.

And that was in no way what you wanted.

You wanted Satoru. Satoru who convinces you that there’s still enough room for a little treat after dinner, despite the fact that you both stuffed yourself full at the restaurant. He sleeps in late on the weekends, pressing lazy kisses to your skin to wake you up before entirely botching the whole breakfast in bed thing he was trying to impress you with.

He was real, in every sense of the term. The type of person you envision when you imagine the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He’s funny, he’s kind and he most certainly would never leave you stranded at a restaurant on your one year anniversary. Because Satoru Gojo certainly wasn’t classy, but he was honorable. And if he promised to be somewhere, he’d be there early, making sure everything was perfect before you got there.

And right now, two of your most trusted co-workers had their hands inside his body cavity, trying to fix the mess in there.

When Gojo comes to, there’s an aching soreness in his torso and neck. He can feel the tense pressure around his arms too, bandages wrapped around every square inch of his body. But that warm feeling around his wrist was entirely different from the rest.

He opens his eyes to find you, fast asleep with your head down on the side of his bed and your hand secured tightly around his wrist. Your breaths are slow, so deep in your sleep that you don’t even process Satoru moving around you amidst your slumber.

He brings his hand down to your hair and watches you lean into his touch, nuzzling your head closer to the blanket. Your hair is messy at this point, bunched up at the top of your head in the messiest knot he’s seen you sport yet.

There’s a knock at the door and Yuuji is standing there, a small smile on his face.

“Good morning, Mr. Gojo. Welcome back.”

Satoru smiles as he moves to his side and starts to hook him up to the monitors, taking a set of fresh vitals.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just sore, Yuuji. How are you?”

“Ah. Night shift. Same old.”

“Is that little emo you like here?”

Satoru watches Yuuji’s cheeks go bright pink, as he starts fumbling with the cuff around his hand.

“Ah, you mean, Megumi? Y/N’s resident? No, he-he’s off tonight.” he stumbles.

“Shame. Nothing like flirting on the night shift.” Satoru states, clicking his tongue.

“Oh, I don’t flirt with-”

“Well, you should. He’s cute. And a doctor. Someone is going to snatch him up real fast.” Satoru states, definitively.

“Mr. Gojo, I don’t know if-”

“Trust me. I know all too well. People swoop in for the doctors before you can even fight to get them back.” Satoru states, reaching down to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Well, I-”

“I’m just saying, kid. Swoop in before it’s too late.” he states, giving him a smile.

“Yeah. Sure, I-I will. Do you need anything else, Mr. Gojo?”

“Can you get her a blanket? She always gets allergies when it’s too drafty in the room she’s sleeping in.”

Yuuji smiles, tapping on the railings of the bed.

“Sure thing.”

And Yuuji curses himself for doing it, for meddling, but he pokes his head into the room one last time before leaving.

“And just so you know. You….sometimes you think it’s too late to swoop. But it’s actually like…the perfect time. To swoop….like a bird or something, I don’t know-” Yuuji stammers.

And when Yuuji leaves and Gojo is able to process his words, he’s trying his best to wipe the smile off of his face.

“Hey, Megs. How are his vitals today?” you ask, swiveling over in your chair.

Megumi, irritated with your constant pestering, has had enough of his fill today. He swings his own chair around, tugging at the stethoscope around his neck, as he glares at you.

“For the hundredth time, your little boo boo bear is just fine. We’re planning to discharge tomorrow.”

You frown, reaching for the closest item - a roll of gauze - and throw it square in his face.

“He’s not my boo boo bear. And I’m just checking. You know he could have complications after the surgery like inf-”

“Infection, hypotension, septic shock, multiple system organ failure, yeah yeah. I know. I graduated top of my class at medical school, you know?”

“And yet here you are, being taught by Shoko. You’re clearly not that great if you’re being trained by a girl who cheated her way through medical school.”

“I’m going to leave. And when I’m gone, you’re going to be really pissed because you’re going to be stuck with some idiot that can’t even take vitals.” Megumi deadpans, swiveling back to his computer.

“No, you’re not. You’d never leave your boo boo bear hanging. Especially since he’s planning on asking you on a date tomorrow.”

“He’s not asking me on a date.” Megumi responds.

You smile, trying to swallow your laugh as you respond.

“Oh, sure he is. And-”

Your phone timer goes off, as you gleefully sprint out of your chair, and down the hall to Satoru’s room. Nanami’s in there, unwrapping his bandages, as you knock and enter to make your presence known. At the sight of you, Nanami’s glaring as you drag the chair up and sit at his side.

“Y/N. You should be working.”

“I’m on my lunch. And I’m allowed to do whatever I want for lunch.”

“You should eat something, Y/N. Instead of bothering our patients.” Nanami scolds, as he shuts the door behind you and you turn to Satoru.

Satoru looks way better, the bruising on his skin fading to yellow and the cuts all around his skin healing. He’s smiling softly, a hand cupping your cheek as he talks.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“Hi Satoru.”

“You know, you really should eat something on your lunch break.”

“You know, you really should keep your annoying opinions to yourself.” you respond.

He scoffs, moving his hand to mess up your hair, as you swat his hands off.

“So.” Satoru states.

“So?”

“A little birdie told me that you broke up with Yuri last night.”

“Well, your little birdie was wrong. As nosy as he is, he clearly doesn’t know how to listen.”

You both laugh, Gojo slightly dejected by your response, as you lace your hands through his, and smile at your hands firmly pressed together.

“Yuuji’s got a bad case of the chismosa virus.”

“And you don’t? I heard you giggling with Shoko at the nurses station about how the emo is going to ask Yuuji on a date.”

“No, Yuuji's asking Megumi on the date. And okay, but that’s actually a big deal. I’ve been trying to set that up for months.”

“Well, you can’t take credit because I’m actually the one who got Yuuji to do it.”

You frown, reaching forward to pinch his cheeks.

“Shut up. It’s only the months of build up, that I basically created, that’s making him do it.”

“Well, I pushed him over the edge. So it’s my victory.”

You sigh, sitting back in your chair as you smile at him, at how easily you both fall back into this.

“How about we both did it?” you ask, giving him a smile.

“Sure. We always did make a good team.” he responds, making your cheeks burn.

You reach for his blanket and start moving his gown to inspect the incision, trying to make sure that the site wasn’t getting infected, from when you checked yesterday. .

“Okay, pervert. I didn’t realize you were into voyeurism.” Satoru says, incredulously.

“Gojo. Do you even know what voyeurism means?”

“Yeah. It’s people who like to have sex in public.”

You snort, moving the edge of the gown as you note the clean sutures, healing well along the length of his torso.

“That is not what voyeurism means, dumbass.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was fighting with the sex kink expert here.”

“I-I’m not a sex kink expert! You’re just fucking stupid.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You roll your eyes, as you settle back into the chair, reaching forward to cup his face. He smiles, soft and warm, which you return.

“You’re healing really well. It’ll just be a faint line, right around your torso when you’re out of here.” you murmur.

“It kinda looks like I got my legs cut off and someone sewed them back on.” he murmurs.

“That’s not funny.” you deadpan, glaring at him.

“Kinda funny. That’s a really unfortunate way to die.” he responds.

“I know there’s a universe out there where that actually happens to you. And I know for a fact that Satoru doesn’t think it’s funny at all.”

“Okay, Doctor Strange. Let’s pipe down there, alright? Even if that did happen to me, I’d come back from it. Because guess what?”

“Don’t say it.” you groan.

“Because I’m the strongest.”

“You know that never gets less annoying right?”

“You love it.” he responds, reaching forward to pinch your cheek.

You look down, at your hand tangled in Satoru’s as you find a way to broach the topic. That for all intents and purposes, that you want nothing to do with Yuri. That you want him, that you do love his stupid jokes, that you’d beg on your hands and knees for him to take you back because-

“Do you want to go to the aquarium on Friday?” Satoru asks.

“The aquarium?”

“Yeah. We can take a picnic basket, eat on the lawn outside afterwards.” Satoru says.

You swallow the lump in your throat, aggressively nodding in response.

“Yeah. That sounds nice. We can um-carpool.”

“Sure. It’s a date.” he responds, leaning into his pillow with a soft smile on his face.

You bite down the stupid smile that’s rising to your cheeks, as you close your eyes, humming in agreement.

“Yeah. It’s a date.” you whisper back.

Eight days after the fact and Yuri, in his infinite wisdom, finally comes through. That’s when he musters the courage to bring himself to your apartment, where Satoru has been staying with you since he was discharged. And when Satoru answers the door, Yuri’s all levels of pissed.

“Who are you?” Yuri asks.

“I’m the owner of this house.” Gojo responds, trying not to laugh at his own joke.

“Did Y/N move?”

“No, dumbass. It was a joke.” he responds, rolling his eyes.

Satoru leans off of the door frame, calling for you, as you join him at his side.

“Hey, you okay? I was planning on making lunch for- oh.”

Satoru smiles, reaching forward to ruffle your hair, before he shuffles away.

“Holler if you need me.”

You shoot Satoru a grateful smile, infinitely thankful that the two of you were able to pick up right where you left off, as you turn to Yuri in your doorway.

“Where were you on Saturday?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.

You swallow hard, rehearsing the speech you had prepared with Satoru when you were tangled in his arms last night, and make your best attempt to deliver the blow the best you can.

“Yuri. I think we should stop seeing each other.”

“What?”

“I just don’t think that we’re really compatible. You and I are…on different wavelengths. And you deserve someone who is better suited to you and your….interests.” you murmur, awkwardly rubbing your arms on your arms.

In actuality, you feel a little bit bad. That technically, you might have been…a little bit dishonest with Yuri. Because you’re having this conversation with him, days after the fact, when you’ve already done god knows what with Gojo in the past few days he’s been back with you. He’s all but living in your apartment at this point, under the premise of needing twenty four hour medical support, when really, you’re both just soaking up on time you lost.

Time is so precious, that you forgot to tell Yuri until he showed up, on your doorstep. You finally understand why Yuri was late to things, because whatever he was doing when he wasn’t with you, must have been keeping him occupied the way this was keeping you occupied.

Because you kept planning on calling him, but then Gojo would take you out to breakfast. Or you’d sleep in too late and then knew that you’d be interrupting Yuri at work. And the list, it went on and on and led you to this moment and it’s painfully awkward.

And maybe it’s bad, a little bit evil even, but that small bit of bad feeling is overshadowed by every bit of good that you’ve felt in the past few days. At Gojo ordering dessert out of nowhere, that he insists he’s sharing with you before he eats almost the entire thing, or when he drags you to the bathroom when he’s doing his night time hair care routine.

“Where were you? On Saturday?”

“Look, I just got called into work, okay?”

“Are you…are you serious? Don’t tell me you’re really dating that dumbass who just answered the door?”

“Frankly, it’s none of your business who I date anymore because you…you aren’t really a part of my life anymore. And we’re not dating, we’re just-”

“God. He flashes one pretty smile at you and you go running back to him? Need I remind you, that you complained about him for months on end. About how he’s messy, he’s careless, he’s-”

“That stuff doesn’t matter. At least not anymore.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

You feel Gojo padding behind you, and you put your hand up in the air, signaling for him to stay where he is.

“Do you really want to know where I was on April 29th? On our one year anniversary, I was sitting in a shitty restaurant, for an hour and a half waiting for you to show up. When I hadn’t heard from you all day. And then I got a call, that the man that I love was in the hospital, and then I was at his side. Willing him to wake up, because I would be so fucking angry, so fucking pissed if he died and I didn’t get to tell him that he meant the world to me.”

Yuri swallows hard, the look of betrayal etched on his face.

“Are you trying to hurt me right now? Do you get some kind of sick gratification from killing the one you love?” he asks.

“I’d argue that my way is nicer actually. One fell swoop, with the truth out there. The slowest way to kill someone is never loving them enough. And honestly, it’s just cruel. And of course, something that you were too skilled at.”

You’re not sure what it is about what you said, but suddenly Yuri’s stomping down the hallway and you’re shutting the door, as the tears start pouring out of your eyes and you’re leaning against the door.

Now that Yuri’s gone, Satoru’s shed all his inhibitions and he’s cradling you straight in his arms, his soft voice cooing in your ear as you hiccup into his chest.

“Hey. You did so good, princess.”

“I-I’m not crying because I’m sad. I still…I still want you, you know?”

Satoru smiles, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks in his hand and wipe your tears away.

“I know that, sweetheart. I’m irresistible.” he murmurs.

You lightly shove him, before resting your head against his torso, hearing the rapid beating of his heart under your ear.

“I’m just really relieved. That you-that you’re-”

You look up, at his sparkling blue eyes, the tiny fractals of color like perfectly constructed, charted constellations in his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here. Again.”

He smiles wide, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.

“Me too, yeah?”

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist:

@porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme

lmk if you would like to be added to my taylor as gojo or my general masterlist in the replies or inbox <3

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 8 months

Text

Actually I might as well add onto my thoughts and opinions on what's going on with skk right now.

[ID: A screenshot from Bungou Stray Dogs Season 5 Episode 10. Dazai sits against the metal wall, holding his injured shoulder. His blood is spattered on the wall behind him. He looks up at Chuuya, who is standing before him with a gun to his head. End ID.]

I still think the drowning in 101 was a trap set by Dazai for Fyodor before he knew Chuuya would be there - it would be weird for him to sacrifice his partner and I see no reason he would flashback to some of their memories and have such a choked voice otherwise. Dazai is not like Mori. This has been long established since Dark Era - he is selfish, and thus bad at actually making the sacrifice play with someone he has an actual connection with. I think the trap was set, Dazai had no choice but to follow through, but hoped that Chuuya would break control and escape. He tries a speech which seems like it's going to be a very genuine farewell... only to switch tacks and play it off as though he doesn't care. I do think there was a possibility Chuuya could've died in that scene... but Dazai was deeply hoping he wouldn't.

Seems a silly thing, for Dazai to be relying on hope so much as a master strategist, but you have to remember that Dazai has a near unshakeable trust in Chuuya. He thinks very highly of him, and has a "Chuuya can push through anything" kind of mentality that he's had since they were teenagers. Of course Chuuya can break through the vampire brainwashing! He just needs the right impetus!

So we have Dazai do what he does best - try to piss off Chuuya. The "sorry there weren't any", the goading him into punching him - this is very typical behaviour for these two, and it might've actually worked if it weren't for Fyodor's intervention.

"Good-bye!" is probably a plan. It's the same name as one of Dazai-sensei's works (his last, unfinished work, in fact...), and we know Double Black's plans are named after the author's stories/poems. Note that it comes right after the first goading he does, when Chuuya is more likely to be agitated and thus aware. But also note that, if this is indeed a plan, then it's a little strange for it to be named after only Dazai's story, without incorporating Chuuya's. Their plans are named after combinations of their works' titles, remember? So, it can be reasonably assumed that this plan is solely Dazai's, that it's possible he came up with it on the fly, and that he is desperately trying to get Chuuya on board.

Unfortunately, the usual goading isn't working, so Dazai turns to something he only very rarely uses, and rarer still to Chuuya's face - and that is sincerity. He's trying to reach him, and I really think that's genuine. He's changing tactics, trying something else - because a) this plan won't work without Chuuya, and b) Chuuya is being mind controlled and you cannot convince me that Dazai isn't still royally pissed off about that. He needs to snap him out of it, now.

Even if this is a plan Dazai came up with on the fly, Chuuya will be able to catch on quickly and go along with it - but only if he is actually conscious enough to do so. Double Black's plans can only work when they are both on the same page, and right now - that's more than a little ambiguous. Dazai actually has no real way of knowing whether or not Chuuya heard him, or even if he did, if he is capable of acting on it - but Dazai's faith in Chuuya is so strong that he naturally assumes Chuuya can break through it. Having him shoot him like that came as a genuine shock.

Fyodor implicitly accuses Dazai of underestimating his partner... but I think it's the exact opposite. Dazai is so used to Chuuya being able to struggle through anything that for him apparently not to be able to in this situation is genuinely blindsiding.

It appears that Dazai, too, has been relying on Chuuya's strength.

Tldr: There is a plan, but it is solely Dazai's, not a typical joint skk plan and he has been trying to communicate it to Chuuya and break past the brainwashing - which means Dazai is actually being horribly genuine right now. Unfortunately... it doesn't seem like Chuuya is conscious enough to participate in this plan at the moment (though possibly conscious enough to, like Akutagawa, prevent himself from making a killing blow).

#storyrambles #bsd #bsd season 5 #bsd spoilers #i'm actually real curious to see how this goes.#i'm not sure how we're wrapping this up... i'm scared... D:#bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #soukoku #skk #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.

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mothdruid · 9 months

Text

First Session

synopsis.

your first session at Gym Bloom has come. and the first trainer you get to meet? everyone's favorite and the beloved, Jake S.

pairing.

jake 'hangman' seresin x afab!reader

word count.

warnings.

this is an 18+ work, minors buzz off. smut, protected penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, a sex gym (so maybe paying for sex?), fucking your trainer

author's note.

it's here!! the first gym bloom one-shot! i hope you all love it!

“Wait, so your first session is today?” Steph sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” you pulled a purple sports bra from your dresser, “why?”

“Oh my god, who is your first trainer?”

You rolled your eyes at Steph's eagerness. Ever since getting you to join this gym she has been eager. She wanted to know everything, even though you barely knew yourself. All you knew was that they used sex to workout at this gym. Steph knew that too, she was to one who referred you. Which is how you knew it was safe, referral only. You could only sign up if you got a referral from someone you knew. And from your understanding, not everyone was actually allowed to refer people to sign up. So, you were counting yourself lucky to even be a part of this at all.

“I’m not sure, let me put my bra on and then I’ll look at the email.”

First you tapped your speaker phone on, then wrestled your sports bra on over your head. After checking to make sure that your sports bra and legging combo looked okay, you grabbed your phone. Steph was going on and on about a few different trainers. A Mickey, a Bob, a Nat, and others that you eventually tuned out for now. You went to your starred emails, clicking the one at the very top. You skimmed over the email, eventually finding the name.

“It’s Jake S,” eyeing the rest of the email, confirming the other general information of your session. You squinted as you noticed two lock codes.

“No way! How did you get so lucky?” Steph's tone had you pulling the phone back from you a little farther.

“Steph, calm down.”

“No, you don’t get it. That’s one of Blooms best trainers, a real treat if you ask me, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve actually never trained with him before.”

Oh?

“Never?” You questioned with a playful tone.

“Never.” Steph sing-songed back to you.

A smirk formed on your face.

“Well, I’ll make sure to update you about it,” you turned your speaker phone off, slipping the phone between your cheek and should as you head to the front door.

“Please do, I will have to know everything about it.”

“Oh, Steph, gross,” you slipped your tennis shoes on, not bothering to untie them first.

“What? I’m a woman, I have needs, and this need just happens to be knowing what Jake’s di-”

“Nope, Nope, I’m hanging up now!” You hung up quickly, not wanting to hear the rest of Steph's words.

After tracking down a baggy zip up hoodie, zipping it up only half way. You found your small side bag, checking to make sure your keys and wallet were in there. After you doubled checked, you grab your keys from your bag and slip your phone in your hoodie pocket. You locked your apartment door then headed down the stairs of your building. The place wasn’t fair from your apartment, maybe a fifteen minute walk on a bad day.

When you got to the building, you double checked the address after not seeing any obvious branding outside. After deciding it was indeed the correct building, you punched in the first code. A delightful chime played, signaling it was the correct code and unlocked. The hallway was short, but you noticed another keypad on the next door. You got another delightful chime after putting in the second code, finally letting you into the gym.

It was a very welcoming space. Bright colors complimented by neutrals to even it all out. There were ellipticals, treadmills, bikes, and many other machines neatly placed throughout the main open area. There were people using the machines, some others were chit chatting happily. There was a section of the gym that had a lot of doors, two closed and three open. You assumed those were the ‘training’ rooms.

“Hello!”

There was a gorgeous woman behind a short counter greeting you. Her skin was tan, dark brown hair pulled into a loose low ponytail. She had a matching pastel pink legging and sports bra set on. Your heart fluttered a little bit when she smiled at you. It was as if an angel was gracing you with their presence.

“Hi,” you awkwardly said.

“Do you have a session today?” She asked.

“Yeah, a two forty-five with Jake S.”

“You must be the new client,” she offered her hand out over the counter, “my name is Natasha. I’m one of the other trainers here.”

“Thank you, I’m glad to meet you,” you shook her hand, trying to match her smile and energy.

“So, I’ll check you in so Jake knows you’re here. For now you can go get a little bit of a warm up on a treadmill or elliptical, whatever you prefer. There are also locker rooms before the Bloom Rooms. Jake will come get you when he is ready.” Natasha smiled, marking something in the computer before looking back up at you.

“Okay, thank you,” you hated how awkward you were being.

“It’s my pleasure,” a sultry tone was laced into her words.

Heat flared in your cheeks. You nodded then turned, briskly walking towards the locker rooms. After entering the female locker room, you quickly placed your bag and hoodie into a locker. You kept your phone in the pocket of your leggings, not wanting to be completely bare without it. You found your way back to a treadmill, starting it up at a low pace. It was maybe five minutes before someone came up next to you, tapping your shoulder to grab your attention.

He looked like a living ken doll. Square jaw, blonde hair, green eyes, and fucking built. If this was the magical Jake S, you now understood what Steph was going on about. His biceps were hard to ignore, every minuscule movement noticeable. The black sleeveless shirt was hugging his torso and abdomen, not leaving anything to the imagination. You stopped your eyes from traveling lower, wanting to leave at least something to the imagination. At least for the time being.

“Nat says you’re my new client.”

A Texan drawl? Could he get anymore intoxicating?

“That’s me,” you hit the stop button, coming to a slow stop.

Jake came around the side to met you when you got off the treadmill. He offered you his hand for the small step down. It was surprising how soft his hand were despite the callous’.

“Let’s get headed to a room, I’ll explain more in there.” Jake said. His hand let go of yours, finding the small of your back as you headed to the room. He directed you into one of the ‘Bloom Rooms’.

The walls were covered in a soft pink color with forest green floral. One wall was an entire mirror, a rail for balance along the entire mirror. There were balance balls, cubes, wedges, a Bosu ball, and many other items along the wall. A nice dresser was along the same wall, a nice vase with flowers sat on top. You watched Jake close the door in the reflection of the mirror.

“So, how does this,” you motioned around the room, “work?”

“Well, I’ll direct you on what to do. Positions, reps, stretches, all the technical stuff.” Jake explained it so plainly, making you wonder if there was a catch.

“What do I do then? Besides listen and get fucked?”

“Oh no, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ to fuck you, you’re goin’ to fuck me.”

A smile was plastered on his face. Heat encapsulated your entire body, every nerve ending on fire from his words. No wonder he was a favorite, especially with this demeanor. You shifted your weight on your feet, crossing your arms before speaking.

“What’s the plan?”

“Well, today is going to be a leg day. You will be riding me in a squat-like position, working your glutes, quads, hamstrings, along with many other muscle groups. Since it’s your first workout here, I won’t make it too intense. But that’ll also depend on how much you can take.”

“How much I can take?” You asked in a surprised tone.

“Yes,” Jake brought a hand to the back of his neck, “everyone is different.” Jake stared at you for a moment, then clapped his hands together and took a few steps forward. “Let’s get started with some stretching.”

Jake strode over towards the wall with many items, retrieving some yoga mats, one for the both of you. You met in the middle of the room, taking the mat from him. You two laid your mats out, leaving a decent space in between them. You watched as Jake toed his shoes off, following suit before sitting on your mat.

“On your back, I’ll help you stretch.”

You nodded, laying on your back and watching Jake move towards you. His green eyes were raking over you, observing all of your movements. Jake had you prop your knees up. The soles of your feet were flat on the mat, Jake’s thumb hooked underneath your knees. His eyes were locked with yours, gaze not wavering.

“Let me know if anything is too much or not okay.”

You nodded.

Jake started to ease your knees towards your chest, folding you in half. You could feel the backs of your thighs and glutes being stretched. Jake’s body was impossibly close to yours already, his crotch was almost pressed to your ass. Heat was radiating from his body, covering yours entirely. Your knees were practically pressed into your chest, cheeks hot, his gaze making you burn.

“Is it okay if I open your legs up?” His grip on the back of your thighs was making it hard to focus.

“I- yeah, that’s okay.”

Jake nodded, hands adjusting to under your knees. His gently eased your legs out, keeping them bent at the knee. You brought a hand up to your mouth, pressing the back of it against your lips. It had become so sensual so quick. His crotch was now unbelievably close to your clothed cunt. All he would have to do is roll his hips and he would be pressing against you.

“I’m goin’ to move one leg up to stretch your calf,” he informed you.

You nodded, relaxing all the muscles in your legs. His right hand moved to the ankle of your left leg, extending it up inch by inch. You could feel all the muscles along the back of your leg stretch. He placed your ankle on his shoulder, keeping your leg propped up. The stretch felt euphoric along the back of your leg. An audible gasp escaped you, catching Jake’s attention.

“Feel good?” His voice had dropped a little this time.

“Yeah,” it almost came out as a whimper.

After a moment with one leg propped up, he switched to your other leg. A thin layer of sweat was already starting to form on you. It was hard to avoid with Jake being this close to you, practically folding you in half with his body. His firm muscles pressing onto your own, his weight barring down on you more and more. Not after long he released both legs, guiding them down on either side of him.

“Let’s get your back next,” he said while moving back to his own mat.

You sat up, following his movements. He got on his hands and knees, pushing his back out then letting it drop into an arch. You mimicked the movements, muscles in your back alternating between taut and loose.

“Nice, right?” Jake looked over at you, a smile on his lips.

“Yeah, never realized what all these motions stretched.” You added.

“Everything stretches something. You’d be surprised at what all sex stretches out,” his smile turned into a cheeky smirk.

“Well,” you hesitated for a moment, “I’m excited I get to find out.”

Jake showed you a few more stretches, legs primarily. Soon the two of you were sat across from each other. You were waiting patiently for what was next to come, a tinge of excitement running through you. Jake leaned back, palms flat on the floor keeping him up right. He had one leg casually stretched out, the other bent close to his body.

“We can start this two different ways. One, we start with a little bit of foreplay and massage work, or two, you take the lead and do whatever you want.”

“What do most people choose?”

Jake gave you this look, one that said ‘really?’. A shrug tugged on your shoulders, not sure why he gave you the look. He let out a noise that sounded like a chuckle mixed with a sigh.

“Are we really gonna play that game?” Jake’s look had a small amount of playful annoyance in his gaze.

“What?” Embarrassment started to creep into you, not sure about the next steps.

Jake’s words weren’t really comforting either. He was nice but there was this bite to him. A playful energy that was hard to read sometimes. You pulled both of your legs closer to you, soles of your feet planted on the floor. Again, you mimicked him.

As you were leaning back onto your palms, Jake was starting to move towards you. He got up on his knees, closing the small space between the two of your mats. It was like watching a cat play with its food. Inch by inch the gap between you closed. Your legs spread open, allowing room for him to move between them. He reached out to your jaw, cupping it while his thumb rubbed a part of your cheek. There was something playful in his green eyes. A smile covered his lips as he leaned in, lips next to your ear.

“This is about you, not anyone else,” the words were hot against your ear lobe.

Without a second thought you grabbed him, hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingers threading up through his well trimmed hair. Soft lips melded with yours, dancing in synchronicity. A smile formed on his lips as he kissed you, slowly working you down onto your mat. Hands roamed up and down your sides, snaking down to cup your ass. His chest was pressed to yours as his hips started to slowly rock against yours.

“Does this count as a massage?” It was cheeky, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Full body if you ask me,” Jake nipped at your neck, trailing kisses down your skin.

He pulled back for a moment, hand moving from your ass to your chest. Even though your sports bra was tight, your nipples were starting to become visible through the material. A whimper left you as he started kneading your breast, thumb occasionally coming up to run over your nipple. You arched your back and relaxed, pressing your breast tightly into his hand. You heard a snicker come from Jake.

“What?”

“Most clients aren’t this pliant when they come in.” Jake said, tilting his head as a gesture towards your body.

A moan left you as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A smirk was plastered on his face now. You knew it wasn’t personal, but you took it personally. You hooked a leg around his waist, and put all your weight into it. A huff was all Jake let out as you flipped the two of you. You were straddling his hips now, ass pressing tightly to his crotch.

“That’s better,” Jake quipped, enjoying his view of you on top of him.

Slightly calloused hands traveled your sides, kneading your flesh every now and then. You kept rolling your hips down against his, sighing at the pressure. His dick had started to harden, becoming obvious as it pressed against your ass. As much as you wanted to just fuck, you had to remind yourself of the actual reason you were here.

“So, do I just ride you or..?” It was an honest question.

“Normally, we have a female client get off once prior to a penetrative workout. We like to make sure that they are ready to take whatever the trainer gives them.” Jake raised his eyebrows playfully at the last sentence.

Thumbs hooked into your leggings. You helped him take them off you, removing your underwear in the process too. Jake immediately noticed how wet you were, looking at the wet patch on your panties as he slipped them off you. Those calloused hands pulled you back into his lap, sitting up to meet you. Your hands gripped his shoulders, tugging at the fabric of his workout top. Fingers moved towards your cunt, finding your clit quickly.

It was obvious he did this regularly, knowing almost the exact motions to get you going. The sturdiness of his body kept you up right, his free arm wrapping around your back to keep you close. Wet kisses were littered all over your skin. The fabric of his shirt balled up in your fists. The hot breath on your skin was starting to be overstimulating. It was all so much at once. A hot trainer fingering your while leaving wet trails of saliva on your chest was not what you were completely expecting from today.

Jake changed the motion of his fingers in the slightest, making your body quiver into his. You weren’t sure exactly what he did different, but whatever it was made you feral. Your legs had started shaking, body slumping closer to his. You could feel the curve of his lips, that classic smirk appearing again. Within moments you were coming.

A whine was all you let out. You didn’t even pick up on Jake’s own heavy breathing. The arm around your back tightened, keeping you close to him. He bit back a groan as he felt you quiver against him, his fingers not stopping their motions on your clit. Your hands tugged at his shirt viciously, hips not being able to control themselves. Jake hadn’t expected you to have such an intoxicating effect on him. But he couldn’t get enough, deciding he was in fact going to fuck you himself.

“Jake!”

And with that his fingers were gone.

“Change of plans, I’m gonna fuck you.” Jake pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Jake laid your body down, sitting up for a moment to take his shirt off. You marveled at his body, reaching out to ghost your hand over his abs. He reached in his pocket and grabbed a condom. Your hand trailed down to the top of his shorts and boxers, helping him ease them down. He took them off, haphazardly tossing them somewhere off to the side.

Finally, all the puzzle pieces had snapped into place, showing you the complete picture of why he was one of the most sought after trainers. His cock was fucking gorgeous, just like the rest of him. His dick was already making your cunt yearn, wanting to feel the stretch it was going to give you. He tore the condom packet and rolled it down his length. Even though you knew it was what needed to be done, a part of you wished he could fuck you raw.

Jake’s hands grabbed your legs, placing your ankles on his shoulders, then slowly easing them out. His hands were lightly holding the outside of your thighs, holding them in a wide V shape. The head of his cock prodded your entrance, your cunt clenched with anticipation. A breathy moan left you when he pressed into you. The stretch was everything you were hoping it’d be, maybe even a little bit more.

“You feel better than I anticipated,” Jake’s words were breathy, chest rising and falling with each breath.

All you did was clench around him, watching as he closed his eyes tightly. You felt him pull out, only to push back in with a groan. A moan fell from you as he repeated the action. He found a decent rhythm, nailing into you while keeping your legs in the wide V. Your hands fumbled around your body, grabbing at your sports bra clad chest. The tight material bunched under your grasp. Your finger started to slip under the top of your sports bra, pulling it down to show your tits to Jake.

“Hold your legs still,” Jake commanded.

“Yes sir,” your words slurred with pleasure already.

Jake groaned at the name. His hands moved from your legs and up your body. Calloused hands removed yours then tugged on your sports bra. The material became tight against your skin, straps digging in until they started rolling off your shoulders. Your sports bra was holding your arms next to your body, leaving you restricted. Jake’s hands engulfed your tits as he fucked into you. You planted your hands next to your hips, pushing your tits out for Jake.

The backs and insides of your thighs were starting to burn. Jake’s thrusts were starting to make holding them up hard. Each thrust felt more powerful than the last. Once he found that sensitive spot inside of you, you whined. You tried to close your legs, both of them burning from the position you had held them in. Jake’s hands left your chest, grabbing your legs and forcing them back out into the wide V position.

“Legs out.” Jake commanded.

You hesitantly put your legs back out, holding them in place as they started to shake. With every thrust you felt a surge of pleasure. There was a burning that started to develop in your abdomen, a mixture of pleasure and tightness. You knew that a majority of the burning was because of the ‘workout’ aspect of this situation. Your legs were on fire, all while your nerves were starting to sear themselves with pleasure.

“That’s it, I know you can feel it,” Jake said, wide grin on his face.

One of his hands moved down between your legs, thumb circling your clit. Within the matter of seconds you were coming again, cunt clenched tightly around Jake. Your legs were starting to shake uncontrollably, your body becoming way too sensitive to the pleasure. Jake grabbed your legs quickly, wrapping them around his hips now as he fucked into you. He only lasted a few more thrusts before coming, filling the condom while inside of you.

Heavy breathing filled the room, both of you trying to catch your breath. Jake placed an forearm by your head, balancing himself as he looked at you. There was something soft in his eyes. He reached down and ran his thumb over your cheek. His thumb traveled further, down your neck and eventually his hand cascaded down your neck and chest. His hand stopped over your left tit. Your heart was hammering against your rib cage, Jake feeling it flutter in your chest.

Jake kissed your forehead as he pulled out. A moan leaving you at the sensation, now feeling empty inside. Your legs felt like jello, falling down from around his waist. Jake retracted from your body, stood up and moved towards the trash can in the room. You slowly and awkwardly pulled the straps of your bra up, adjusted them and sat up the best you could. Jake threw the condom away then headed back towards you.

“You good?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” you grabbed your underwear and leggings.

The both of you got dressed before talking again.

“Sorry, about the change up for the session.” Jake slipped his shirt over his head.

“So, you’re telling me you don’t do that with all of your clients?” You joked, chuckling a little.

Jake smirked, shaking his head no.

“No, only the special clients get that treatment,” Jake held a hand out to you.

“Special? After our first session?” You accepted his hand, standing up with his assistance.

All Jake did was nod, not knowing exactly what to say. The two of you stared at each other for a moment. That soft look in his eyes had spread to the rest of his face. You gave him the same look, understanding that there was just now this unspoken thing between the two of you.

“There’s just something about you,” Jake finally said, “and I hope that the other trainers here get to experience it.”

A heat built up in you from the compliment. It was one of the most special compliments you had ever received.

“Until next time?” God, you were hoping there would be a next time.

Jake nodded with a smile.

“Until next time.”

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin x afab!reader #hangman x reader #gym bloom

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ladykailitha · 7 months

Text

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 1

Hello! Sorry it's been nothing but one-shots lately, but as I said in this post here I haven't abandoned anything, my life has just got a little crazy lately.

This was conceived because my sister's former mother-in-law passed away due to massive heart failure a week ago and I chose to write this story as a way with dealing it. I didn't know her well, but I did know her and that's enough I think to feel some grief at her passing. She was a year younger than my dad.

Summary: Eddie and Wayne have to go back to Kentucky when Eddie's grandmother (and Wayne and Al's mother) passes. Steve comes along when Eddie suggests that he would feel better if he came. Along the way they learn about each other's pasts and find out that they are each other's future.

***

Eddie walked into the Family Video and had to stop and gaze fondly at the sight before him. Steve was draped over the counter reading a magazine and steadfastly ignoring the bell above the door that announced his arrival.

He got up to the desk and greeted affectionately, “Hey, Stevie.”

Steve bolted straight up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh hi, Eds. I didn’t realize that it was you.”

Eddie smiled for the first time in days.

Steve grinned back. “You know, a boy could start to think you were avoiding him. You know, since I haven’t seen you around in days.”

Eddie winced, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Sorry, man. I had family stuff.”

Steve’s teasing grin slid off his face. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was a dick move.”

Eddie waved his hands. “No, no. There was no way for you to know. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t think that I’m avoiding you. Because I wouldn’t. You see Wayne and I have to go back to Ashland for a funeral.”

Steve’s already contrite expression softened further. “Oh, Eds. That’s awful. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Eddie’s eyes welled up and before the first tear could fall, Steve was over that counter and wrapping him up in his arms.

“I’ve got you, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m here now.”

Eddie sobbed and sobbed as Steve just gently rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to talk.

“It’s Uncle Wayne’s mom, my grandma,” he explained, clutching Steve’s shirt like a life line. “She was just the sweetest old lady and now she’s gone. I’m going to miss her.”

“Oh, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry. That must just be awful for you. If there is anything I can do, just let me know.”

Eddie chuckled into Steve’s work vest. “Too bad you can’t come with. I think I’d feel braver about seeing all Dad’s family again if you were there.”

Steve grabbed his biceps and pushed him back gently. “Done.”

Eddie stuttered and sputtered. “Stevie, no...”

Steve picked up the phone on the counter and dialed a number. “Stevie yes.”

And Eddie watched in awe horror as Steve’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears and he rubbed his nose.

“Keith?” Steve said, his voice rough as if he had been doing the crying. “Yeah, I just got a call from my mom. My grandmother has died and I have to go to Kentucky for the funeral.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. He didn’t even know that Steve knew where Ashland was.

“Yeah, my mom is from Lexington,” Steve said with a wink at him. “A real southern belle. I’ve seen pictures of her debutante ball and everything.”

Eddie snorted, because of course she was.

“I would need at least a week,” Steve was saying. “With the reading of the will and all.”

Eddie scoffed. If there was a will, he very much doubted there would be anything as formal as a reading of the damn thing.

“Oh thank you so much,” Steve sniffled. “I’ll even call Robin and let her know about her needing to pick up a few shifts.”

And like that Steve had gotten the week off.

“And the award for best crocodile tears to get out of working goes to Steve Harrington!” Eddie said, waving his hands back and forth. “Holy shit, man, how did you do that?”

Steve snorted. “As any good actor will tell you in order to cry on command, you just need to think about something that makes you cry.”

Eddie frowned. “What did you think of?”

Steve just shrugged. “What time are you guys leaving?”

“Tomorrow, early,�� he said. “But serious, dude, even after that stellar performance, you don’t really have to come. Take the week off. Enjoy life for a change.”

Steve shook his head. “I would just be at home worried about you. Don’t make me stay. Please. Not when you said you would feel better with me there.”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped as he gave in. “Of course I want you there, but I would be selfish to take you away from your family for so long. Robin, Dustin...the rest of the them all need you too.”

Steve sighed heavily. “You’re part of that family, Eds. And I’m not dumb enough to think that they aren’t going to make a run for it the second they’re able to. As they should. I have to live my own life and not be afraid to go places.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “I hate when you make sense.”

Steve grinned. “Now the only remaining question is which vehicle we’re taking, Wayne’s truck, your van, or my car?”

Eddie laughed. “God, Stevie. I am so glad you’re coming with me. I needed that. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Steve’s grin turned soft and fond. “Let’s hope you never have to find you.”

“Damn straight.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Robin groused when Steve called her after Eddie left.

“What was I supposed to do when he asked?” Steve questioned, twirling the phone cord around his fingers. He leaned against the counter, keeping an eye on the door.

The last thing he needed was Keith finding out he fucked around after giving him the week off.

Robin scoffed. “Not go?” she questioned. “He obviously wasn’t serious about you coming with.”

"You know I would do the same for you," he said with a sigh. "For any of you. Plus his life has already been turned upside down enough, don't you think?"

Robin sighed. "I'm not really mad," she said. "It's just that this will be the longest we've been apart since the Russians under the mall."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just think of it as a trial run for when you go to college."

"Yeah okay," she said resigned. "Just call me before you leave and again when you get there, okay?"

"Aye, aye, captain!" Steve said with a grin.

Robin giggled. "Shut up!" She paused for a moment. "I'll miss your stupid face, dingus."

“I’ll miss yours, too,” Steve said with a sigh. “I’ll call as often as I can okay?”

“You better.”

They talked a little bit longer until a customer came in and he had to hang up.

When he got home he started calling all the kids and packing for a week long trip. He wasn’t sure what he should bring in terms of clothes and ended up calling Eddie.

Eddie who laughed when he asked. “Just bring what you would normally wear this time of year.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “So I won’t get mercilessly teased about my preppy clothes?”

“Oh no, you will,” Eddie confirmed. “It’s just you don’t have to change yourself to fit in with a bunch of assholes who would make fun of you. Okay?”

Steve let out a slow breath and his anxiety went with it. He could handle that. Those assholes had never met a bitch like Steve Harrington before.

“Yeah, okay,” he said after a moment. “You and Wayne decide which vehicle we’re taking?”

“Yeah, he suggested we take his truck and your car,” Eddie said. “He knows he’s going to be taking a lot back and thinks your car will make it better than my van.”

“Sounds good,” Steve murmured, a little disappointed. “So who will you be riding with for the trip down?”

He could almost feel the grin from here. “With you, of course, darlin’.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah okay. What time do you need me at your house?”

There was a beat and then two before Eddie said, “I was thinking that you should spend the night so we could leave first thing in the morning.”

Steve’s heart sped up as his breath caught in his chest. “Yeah. Sure. That’s a good idea. I’ll show up at eight tonight, give myself a little bit more time to pack.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie replied. “Wayne suggested it because it’s a six hour drive and we want to leave as early as we can so it’s not too late when we get there.”

Steve felt a jumble of emotions at that statement. It was a relief that it was a practical reason, but at the same time it was a disappointment that it wasn’t Eddie’s idea.

He took a deep breath. “I hear that. I remember the trips to Lexington when I was kid before we started flying. They were a bitch.”

“It really surprises me that you have family in Kentucky. I don’t know why, a lot of people in Indiana do, it’s just...”

“Harringtons are so entrenched in Hawkins it’s weird to think we have connections outside of it?” Steve supplied.

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, that.”

“My parents met in college and I didn’t move to Hawkins until I was eight,” Steve said.

“Wait,” Eddie said. “No way. You aren’t a Hawkins native?”

Steve chuckled. “Nope. I’m more like you and Dustin then the Wheelers and the Byers. And the Sinclairs.”

“Huh,” Eddie said after a moment. “You certainly have hidden depths, my friend.”

“You have no idea,” Steve teased.

“Then I’ll just have to use this trip to dive deeper,” Eddie teased back.

“I have to pack, you dork,” Steve said fondly. “I’ll be over at eight.”

“See you then, Stevie.”

***

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #dealing with grief #minor character death

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