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ankhisms · 1 year

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ok one lovely person said they wanted to read the writing practice i mentioned being tentative about sharing so here <3 i have some notes and thoughts as well included. since the dont reblog function is still broken pls dont rb this thanks

as a disclaimer i am very rusty with prose which is why im trying to practice it at all since ive mainly been writing poetry and not any prose for the past few years since i felt discouraged about writing prose but now im trying to get myself to practice again. also one thing im aware of is that i have a tendency to accidentally switch between tenses so if you notice that yes i know its something im working on. also both of these arent finished they have gaps between action and thoughts which ive noted in the text

for this first one i havent written the beginning establishing the setting and everything but the premise is hiromu has a dream where he and enter are sitting at a cafe in paris and shenanagins ensue. well not really shenanagins its just a conversation i think their dynamic is interesting and i wanted to explore it in a more neutral not battle related setting so thats why i wrote this

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(beginning and descriptions of surrounding add here)

hiromus narrows his eyes, "did you hack into my dreams?"

this causes enter to scoff, "really, red buster, you wound me," he rests his chin against his palm and explains, "i havent hacked into anything. you called me here."

"thats ridiculous," says hiromu, blunt even when sleeping.

enter smiles, "oui, ridiculous, perhaps, but it is true none the less. it would be rude of me to refuse an invitation, dont you agree?" he pauses, and leans over the table to add, "besides, i wouldnt lie to you- at least not here."

hiromu doesnt like that one bit, nor does he believe anything enter could possibly say. still, its not as if enter had invaded his subconciousness and just started torturing him with computer cables. compared to the more avian related nightmares hiromu had, this was pretty tame.

he briefly tries to recall anything he could have possibly read before, even in passing, about how to wake yourself up from a dream. unfortunately for hiromu the only thing that comes to mind is how to wake up a buddyroid from sleep mode. too bad he doesnt just have some kind of power switch like nick or usada. but maybe something similar to that could work, some kind of jolt to his system. people pinch themselves when theyre dreaming, right? or was it something about holding your breath? hiromu cant remember which one is supposed to work, so with a deep inhale he starts pinching his arms.

to enters credit, he doesnt immediately laugh like a madman upon seeing hiromus cheeks puffed out while he frantically pinches his arms. the most he lets out is a quick snort, before reaching over the table to pat hiromus cheek, "your manners are awful," enter says, "weve only just said hello and youre already trying to wake up. you cant possibly hate me that much, mon cher."

the hand against his cheek is warm. of course, most peoples hands should logically be warm to touch, but not enters. the projection of a human shouldnt be warm. did jin ever feel warm? hiromu doesnt feel keen about playing back all the moments during battle when enter had gotten close enough to possibly feel some kind of heat. thus, thinking about his avatar team mate is the better option. except he cant recall any time jin had ever felt warm either. does a dream offer an avatar more humanity somehow?

hes thought about it for too long perhaps, because he hasnt replied and enter is starting to look at him curiously, and so hiromu decides he can dwell on it when hes actually awake. he lets out his breath and swats away enters hand with a scowl for good measure. enter feigns an exaggerated pout, but then he settles back in his seat all the same, keeping his hands to himself.

hiromus cheek still feels warm and itchy, but hell be damned if he lets enter know something he did got under his skin. this too is like a battle, the enemy can find weaknesses even in the smallest of movements. he restrains himself from scratching his face, opting instead to glare more at enter across the table.

his enemy looks different in the cerebral parisian landscape theyve found each other in. for one thing, hes actually wearing civillian clothes rather than his usual long coat or any of his attempts at disguising himself. with enter perched opposite of him wearing a dark turtle neck and a caramel sweater, hiromu is struck by the jarring realization that the avatar almost looks like a normal person. almost, if one didnt already know that the man sitting there was made of code rather than flesh and bone.

eyeing him carefully, hiromu thinks that he catches the slightest glitch at the edge of enters face, an abnormality that is gone by the time hiromu has noticed it. enter may have decided to wear something a little more reasonable for this encounter, but he still isnt fooling hiromu. even in a fashionable sweater theres something off about him.

the rest of his attire aside, he does still have those ridiculous goggles pushed up against his brow, because of course he does. he would fit the part of a cafe loving paris tourist better if he had a silly little beret instead of his trusty eyeware, but hiromu doesnt particularly feel like pointing that out. seeing enter flounce around in a beret isnt exactly an enjoyable thought at the moment.

(add something here)

"ive heard about people going to paris for the first time and getting sick from the shock of how dirty it is," hiromu says, "you should be glad it doesnt smell here."

enters nose wrinkles, "dont say that, you'll ruin my appetite"

"so you have an appetite? its not like you need to eat, right?"

the avatar shrugs, and carefully picks up his fork, saying, "i may have no need for food to survive, but that doesnt mean i cant enjoy it." enter takes his time with slicing off a chunk of the lemon cake between them, and continues, "theres things humans dont need but do none the less, non? your lives are so short after all, why not chase after every little pleasure."

seeming satisfied with himself, enter takes a bite, eyes closed with an exaggerated look of bliss. whatever emotion it is that enter has been trying to elicit from hiromu, hes just growing more annoyed, rolling his eyes and pointedly turning his body away from the cake.

(add something here)

hiromu stands up with a jolt, and the screeching sound of his chair breaks what little illusion of idle cafe chatter this dream had left to offer. he fumes, fists clenched with his gaze set firmly on enter, who only barely looks up to offer a smug smile.

"we," hiromu spits out the word disdainfully, "are nothing alike. theres nothing to compare between us."

despite the outburst of his dining companion, enters expression remains unchanged. if anything, hiromus insistance upon distancing himself has only amused enter further. he laughs, throwing up his hands half heartedly, as if they were old friends having a casual debate rather than mortal enemies with their blades always at each others throats.

"i suppose we should leave it at that then," enter reaches for one final bite of cake, clearly enjoying himself, "this has been lovely, you really should invite me more often, ma puce."

"go to hell," hiromu tells him, and lunges to try and land a punch against that awful smile.

by the time hiromus fist reaches where enters face would have been, the avatar has already disintegrated into a burst of code. orange numbers and the distant sound of laughter linger for a moment in the air, before hiromu blinks awake in his room.

---

this second one i wrote before the first one and im still not very happy with it and might scrap it and try to rewrite it. i couldnt decide what point of view i wanted to write it from between third person pov or vaguely enter talking so it feels muddled to me. this was mainly a kind of train of thought because i had and still have a lot of thoughts about the avatars and what it means to be human and what it means to be an avatar and if they can feel things etc along with enter and escape being their own people and having their own identities and lives. but i feel like i didnt exactly get all the thoughts that i wanted to convey across very well so again im probably going to rewrite this at some point lmao

86 billion neuron cells, with another million billion synapses connecting the spaces in between, all sending information to and from the brain, the extremities and sensory organs having gathered data from the outside worlds stimulation in order to help the human machine function.

from ancient calculating tables and tally sticks, to early machines reading punch cards, to alan turings first thought of the modern computer, you could trace an avatars lineage back to the very first time a human began to count just as easily as you could to any of these.

enter and escape are not any of the doomed researchers that crossed the gap between dimensions, whos data was cleanly picked apart from their miserable mortal bones and woven back into the code of their forms. perhaps you can not fault those same humans for their squeamishness at the thought of any person being undone in such a way, let alone a family member. really, nature has functioned like this long before the first digital computer ever graced the earth with its code.

when a deer falls dead in the forest its body becomes food for the rest of the life among the trees, and in time its flesh decomposes and turns to soil. another one bites the dust only to offer up a meal for the starving masses. you are born, you die, and someone finds a way to steal from you long after youre gone. c'est la vie, as we say.

think of it, dear reader, as such; a thousand photos lie before you of humans. pictures of people from across the world, some of them seeming familiar and some of them with faces unknown to you. you can thumb through as many as youd like, but in the end you will always come to the same realization that somewhere, within these people, are bits and pieces of yourself. this one, looking off camera against a gray sky, has your nose. this person, leaning against a bridge and failing to strike a good pose, has your eyes. the next person will have your smile, ectera ectera. you get the picture- ha.

even if you were not flipping through a book of old family records you would still spot bits of yourself in people far away and long dead. this, mon cher, is how i see best fit to consider what it means to be created from composite data, for i assure you one need not be an avatar to be formed in such a way. you have been strung together from bits and pieces of every person your ancestors ever loved.

love, ah. thats another subject we must discuss, sooner or later, i suppose. can a machine love? really now, i wish you would find something else to ask. anything else would be a more stimulating topic of conversation. why must we agonize over such messy details? humans simply can not stop themselves from philosophizing until theyve got nothing left to make a philosophy out of.

what does it matter if a machine could or couldnt love, when plenty of stinking humans have never even thought to act on the very principle they obsess over. love. let us not get sidetracked by such nonsense, we still have other aspects to examine.

delete that last input, page back with me, now think again on the subject of data, and of rebirth. the doomed researchers are not escape, nor are they enter, just as much as you are not the person who first gave you a specific gene in your dna. the researchers were a sample for an experiment greater than any they had ever run through before. do you get it now? do you understand? of course you wouldnt. humans are foolish enough to think they are one of a kind.

forget about if a machine loves, just what can an avatar feel? if their coding is to be equated to the human nervous system, then is it so hard to consider that they too could find the many vices of the earth pleasurable? enter cursed himself for spoiling messiah, having given the virus too much of a taste of just how splendid human suffering could feel. he was taught pleasure too soon, and greed was already something he knew from birth. enter should have known better than to offer up a plate of food he could not continue to harvest sustainably- not yet, at least. especially when the one gobbling down that harvest throws a tantrum the moment its all gone.

really, is it so terrible to ask for a thank you once in a while? you would think that after devoting your existence entirely to a single being, you might get a few bones thrown your way. in this we could draw another parallel between the humans and machine, where enter is scorned by his messiah in the same vein as humans praying for salvation from some unforgiving god.

i am drifting off course. forgive me, you see a machine can ramble just as easily as a human, non?

---

ok yay thanks if you read all or any of this honestly i appreciate it. id love any feedback anyone has including constructive criticism from writer friends but i just ask that you maybe try to be a little gentle with me and remember that im very rusty yknow but i do still appreciate any thoughts or helpful tips thank u again mwah

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animalnarratives · 9 months

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Bingo: logan ofc

tears i saw you rb the post and i was going to ask you about him too...

going in order. JUST A LITTLE GUY. Not much else to add. hes just a dude :( trying his best to drive the car :( me personally i am so moved. funny little dude of course. he jests a little during williams videos and i find it very endearing. yes king keep the shy tentative jokes coming i love you

i am addicted to traumatizing him is a DRAMATIC way to put it... though i have. a couple of. (coughs) wips of sorts. mostly i think he is especially compelling in unrequited/unbalanced love scenarios. thats my bad. i could make him worse but i could make anyone worse thats not exactly a flex. i could however also make him worse in that i could make an asshole out of him. i couldnt fix him because he doesnt need fixing <3

my opinions are not popular, because the popular opinions are WRONG. people wildly mischaracterize as this brash patriotic guy for some reason and i know its the patriotic american stereotype but come on ... literally All the interviews saying to some degree that hes quiet or shy. the gq (?) article saying the team says he says hi to the security guards and to a surgeon (???). he is so lovely. and nobody gets it. also people characterizing him as a fratboy that gets a shitton of pussy i am so sorry i think he is chronically rizzless. massive virgin if you will. and also that he would get a 100ish score on the raads-r

people liking him for the wrong reason is a very specific gripe i just mean people on twitter flocking to defend him from the trump supporter allegations because they like trump. now ill do you one better PEOPLE HATE HIM FOR THE WRONG REASON. And mischaracterize him by that same occasion. he is NOT an asshole he is NOT bad tempered he is NOT boring if you think he is that is a SKILL ISSUE.

i lied actually there is not One thing that makes me insane about him. there are MANY things. Again such a shy little guy... but also how hes an absolute touch freak. always in people's space. specifically oscar's and alex's and sometimes benny's (thank the Lord...).

Of course. i think its pretty obvious because i keep on rambling. he fills me with such an intense emotion... everything about him. maybe i shouldve ticked the gen compelling box actually. My boy... always fidgeting. touching his own hands. sitting weirdly. walking weirdly. And his weird right ear and his smile he almost never lets cameras capture but that makes his eyes crinkle... and how he says he's been so so unhappy until literally last year in London because he misses the sun and the sea and you kind of feel like an outsider in europe all the time. and again how hes a touch freak but he rarely puts his hands on people---most often nudging them with his hip or his arm or his shoulder. how he listens to drake the most and eminem of course but then hes also into that saxophone song he mentioned? how he asks benny about 90s rock? and i could go on and on. hes such a creature. i love him. he is my everything. genuinely havent been compelled by any of the drivers like i have been with him. and trust me in the almost 3 years ive been here ive been MASSIVELY compelled. Hes also a bit of a loser and thats the cherry on top

#Can you tell he is my favorite #ask game #logan #this is so long THATS MY BADDDD

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kayandthegoldendays · 1 year

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there is a bit of post holiday chaos happening so back to the list for sanity because well…we are trying to keep the boat steady.

check school email about scholarships

finish breaking the tree and then toss it

mail the Christmas gifts that I didn’t mail out

Order toilet paper

macadamia milk

follow up with P via text regarding consult for postpartum care

background check for the MET

create an update timeline with clients so we can see who’s due dates have shifted and what capacity we will have

Send info to T to finish caregiver profiles on Canva (3)

make milestone tracker for T for IG engagement

check in on birth plans that T is editing for upcoming births

connect with volunteer doula orgs (3) for births to support (one or two a month)

school payment plan

call mamita

gather textbooks for my new classes

return library books!!!

take out trash

order swifter replacement pads

trim plants and replant necessary ones (ask plant group if it’s wise to do so now)

go to Whole Foods for cut fresh fruit, ideally mixed but any kind works.

scheduling:

SS and PV — sleep follow up and last of postpartum support

GB and BB — prenatal session #3 (in person)

JA and VA — first postpartum follow up after birth and lactation check in (in person)

FFC in FiDi — postpartum support session (in person)

NS in the West Village — first postpartum session after birth (in person)

Caregiver Interviews for N family (2) (virtual)

L via VD in the East Village — postpartum follow up after NICU return from illness (in person)

RB in Chelsea — prenatal session #3 at 36 weeks (in person)

SB in Brooklyn — schedule tentative postpartum session, induction is on the books and it’s best to get a time on the calendar for lactation/postpartum follow up a few days afterwards (in person)

MB and JR in Brooklyn — schedule postpartum support follow up, there’s a gap in sessions and preference is to push out until end of January (in person)

BL and DB on the UWS — schedule postpartum support session trying to keep as close to contract tempo (in person)

Day to pop in to check ceramics that were fired over Christmas break (ideally a few hours set aside)

Ballet — (2 days out of the week preferred)

French tutor — (2 days out of the week preferred)

Soul cycle — (3 days of the week preferred)

Pilates — (2 days out of the week preferred)

SIX Broadway show with Nia, cross confirm dates and tickets.

Confirm family group call date and time, send Gcal

confirm dates to travel south to see the kids, ideally during on-call gap. (check Juniors school calendar)

book club meeting first week of February (what is the location?)

knitting group meeting (what is the location?)

volunteer shadow day for kitten rescue

confirm dates for scuba diving trip (Cozumel, MX)

reiki healing session

mani/pedi

facial

massage

#personal #to do list #let’s hope the list works magic

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thatndginger · 8 months

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Boss, I want you to know that your rb of that 'advice' post has struck me through the heart with an indescribable sense of... satisfaction? Yeah, let's go with that.

I'll add your bit as a tentative "Issue 2" for that whole A-A-A thing. If I'm reading it right, you're thinking more about the Org. and structure? At least, I think focusing on just the one 'thing' for at a time would make me able to answer with depth.

aaawww <33

I am definitely focusing more on the Org. and structure of militaries at the moment. At the risk of sounding like a fool, I have... very little idea of how militaries are structured (much to my husband's chagrin, since he has explained this to me multiple times). Like, I know how the 'larger' military is structured - divisions, brigades, companies - but I've always been confused about how the 'smaller' aspects are set up. Who leads a platoon, what kind of 'specializations' can a squad aspire to, who assigns soldiers *to* a squad? Those kinds of questions are the ones I end up getting stuck on.

Example: my husband Cryptid has managed to help me understand that for my character Lieutenant Jon Terraza, he would be the leader of his platoon that helps patrol the borders between two countries. He would have a sergeant (who is technically under his command, but more senior in experience?) or two, a few corporals, and then maybe 25-30 regular soldiers under his command (what rank are regular soldiers? privates?). His platoon could be further split into 3-4 squads (who leads a squad?), and his platoon would be part of a company that is stationed at the border fort.

I also know that a captain would lead the company, a colonel would lead a battalion, and a general leads a division. But that's kinda all I can manage to keep straight at once ^.^||

(also hell yeah civil war books! I've got one called This Hallowed Ground by Bruce Catton that I've been meaning to read for ages. I've always been more into the individual soldier's experience, or the broader societal/cultural effects of wars, and not so much the militaries. Until now.)

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ryonello · 5 years

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✨STORE UPDATE✨

👉 preorders open for designs gettin restocked (bloodhound & blob wattson are back!) + i've discounted my old overwatch charms! 🌟

👉 use the code IMGAMER for 15% off all apex legends & overwatch merch 🎉🎊

hope u find something u like (´꒳`)

ryonello.myshopify.com

#store stuff #store update #yeehaw !!!#apex legends #overwatch #my art #i am ..... in big need of dollars rn bc my car is being a little turd fhsdhfdshfsdh so here is a sale!!#im workin on gettin thru my backlog of commissions now so i can start checkin on ppl on the waitlist :')#then i can tentatively open them again!!#should rly work on gettin a patreon together too hhhhhh #ANYWAY THANKS YALL rbs appreciated!!#oH also a bunch of the prints are sold out bc ill be restocking them + adding new ones for my next con in a few weeks .....#keep an eye out for octane n bangalore At Least but hopefully more !!

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starlitheaven · 2 years

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gods & monsters: four

series masterlist | pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

previous | next

series summary. you’ve been a high-end escort for ten months and are already one of the best. you follow the strict rules of your agency and have had fun ruining a few men within those limits. Gojo Satoru is your newest and highest paying client, but he’s fickle and unpredictable. all you want is to do your job, survive, indulge in luxuries, and maybe plan some revenge.

summary. You’re unexpectedly out of commission from work at a time where you’re in need of money and a distraction for an upcoming anniversary. Grief that you keep hidden begins to slowly build as you try to make the best of your time off. word count: 7k

tags. descriptions of violence towards reader, alcohol consumption, misogyny, mentioned murder, brief mention of past SA, smoking, drug usage, yakuza mentions, Naoya

notes. This fic is just vibes but feedback, rbs, and likes are always appreciated! * 200k won is around $200, 300 million yen is around $2 million, and 2k yen is about $20! * Kabukicho is Tokyo’s Red Light District and Nishinari is a slum in Osaka.

song rec. fake happy / paramore

The first thing that you did upon receiving Gojo’s additional money was to make an international call to Shiu. He’s been in South Korea for some time, but you had no idea what he was going to do upon returning to Tokyo. When your call finally picked up, he was quick to tell you that he was considering taking a job with a syndicate in Harajuku, and that you should give him his deposit ASAP if you wanted his services.

“I’m not giving you special treatment just for being Toji’s girl.” is all he said before hanging up and dropping his location.

What you had on Shiu’s location was what he sent you. You had a feeling he didn’t believe that you’d actually fly to South Korea to ensure his services, yet there you were booking the next flight to Seoul. Once there, he told you where he’d be. He was in Yeongdeungpo and “going to have dinner in a pojangmacha”, which made no sense to you.

Perhaps it was stupid of you to impulsivley fly to a foreign country alone without any knowledge of the culture or language, but you were desperate. Your date and tip from Gojo gave you enough money to hire Shiu and you weren’t going to lose that possibility. Your desperation led you there.

Once you arrived in the country and managed to check into a hotel to leave your things, you found yourself in front of Shiu after several months.

Not only was he surprised at you sitting in front of him suddenly, but his eyebrows raised at your appearance. It would’ve been hilarious if the cigarette that was dangling from his lip fell to the ground, but it remained on him.

A pojangmacha was apparently a tent restaurant, and this one was tucked in a hidden back alley street. Every plastic table was filled and the buzz of chatter was welcoming compared to the cold and rainy silence you had been experiencing on the way. It was packed and a cozy escape from the weather, with the patrons all relaxed and either drinking or smoking cigarettes as they ate.

“L/N—you’re—”

“I got mugged.”

Your explanation and deadpan expression didn’t abate his surprise, it made it grow if anything. So, you explained to him why you had a cut lip, bloody knuckles, and a bruised left eye that was halfway shut. As well as drenched from walking in the rain.

When the man had approached you in the empty alley, he looked around as if lost. The language barrier should’ve been your first priority in the country, but you didn’t think to even consider it. So, you were now sure that the man spoke bullshit with the intention of finding out whether you spoke Korean or not. Like an idiot, you noticed his gestures and falsely assumed he was looking for directions.

He took you by surprise when he lunged and began to grab at you. Your mind went into overdrive, going to the worst possible scenario, adrenaline pumping through you at the mere thought of being assaulted again. He had the advantage of striking first, so you didn’t have a chance to take out your knife. Even so, you fought him pretty well for a few minutes until he finally gained momentum and threw you against the alley wall. When you finally blinked out the dots in your eyesight and bit through the pain up your spine, you saw the man holding your wallet and throwing out your ID.

If all he wanted was to rob you, you wouldn’t continue fighting him as long as he went away. All you had in there to meet Shiu was around 200,000 won and your ID, everything else was in a safe at the hotel. With your money and vintage LV wallet in hand, the man gazed down at you and took a step forward. By then you were able to take out your knife which was enough for him to skip whatever else he planned and ran off. Your phone was off to the side and thankfully still worked. So, all was well honestly. The wallet meant nothing to you, it was a gift from your client, Takeo, and you knew not to carry too much cash.

You dressed in plain clothes, a blank hoodie and dark pants, to not draw attention to the fact you’re clearly unfamiliar. It was only after the incident that you realized that your mistake was how you were walking while continuously looking up and down at your phone on the Maps app. The rain was just a bonus, really.

You told Shiu all this, minus the part where you thought you’d get sexually assaulted again.

He paused in taking the last swig of his drink when you asked to bum a cigarette off him, considering he had seen you pluck them out of Toji’s mouth to throw out more than once, but he said nothing and gave it to you. Smoking your cigarette made your lips hurt and face feel like it was throbbing. Shiu called over to the woman and spoke while making a drinking motion. All you understood was budae-jjigae and soju. Once served, he poured you a drink that you readily shot back.

You hadn’t expected Shiu to buy you drinks and dinner. He said he knew you weren’t like Toji and weren’t fishing for a free meal, which made you laugh (Shiu didn’t find that part about Toji to be as cute as you did). The budae-jjigae was an unexpected comfort while catching up with Toji’s old middleman in the rain.

By the time you finished your meal, it was time to bring up your whole reason for rushing to Seoul; Shiu’s deposit money. It was ready to be taken out in cash back in Tokyo, but you just needed him to accept you as a client.

Shiu flicked his cigarette away and blew the last of his smoke near your face. “I had a feeling you’d get the money, actually. You were the responsible one,” he muttered, taking out his phone. “So I’ve already got something for you.” he stated, taking another shot of soju that you poured for him.

Tadashi Okazaki was the middleman for that last hit. About nineteen years old now. Criminal record was limited to two counts of driving without a license and one of those times resulted in a little girl's death. He was freshly out of juvie just a few months before Toji accepted the hit.

In terms of the shady underground, he wasn’t very impressive. If anything, it was completely odd that someone like him would have the resources or be involved in what was a risky hit. Which is one of the things that felt off to you (and Shiu) about the whole thing afterward.

Especially considering that once Toji’s death was relayed back to Kusakabe (a man who owed Toji a favor), Shiu, and then you, the middleman was nowhere to be found. Shiu guessed that Tadashi ran off with the money that was meant to physically prove to Toji that the hit was legit. Tadashi did so impulsively and most likely wouldn’t dare to attempt to leave the country, which works in Shiu’s favor. Tracking someone in hiding for almost a year with the intention of getting information wouldn’t come cheap considering what goes into it. Shiu made sure that you knew this, that the costs go farther than the deposit you’re paying for.

“I can pay for it,” you sighed, wincing at the pain in your body and face. In the moment, you had felt no pain when you fought that man, but it all came crashing once your adrenaline from fighting faded. “I just want to know who called that hit. I know you do too.”

“Sure, but I wasn’t willing to put my own time and effort into it.”

“Weren’t you friends?”

“No. We just worked together, that’s all.” he said around another cigarette.

That wasn’t something you could believe. You knew Shiu checked up on Toji for some time after his wife died, to make sure the new grief stricken father had kept his young son alive. He was the reason that Megumi loved korean food, kimchi especially. Toji apparently blended whatever food he was given to Megumi alongside bottled milk. That was a little more than just “working together” to you.

You didn’t choose Shiu Kong for this job just because of his previous connections to Toji. As he’s said, he wouldn’t have done so on his own. He was mainly a middleman to all sorts of people and groups, none of them law abiding citizens. A neutral player. You also knew that he used to be a detective in Busan, so you were more interested in his skills and potential resources. He rarely accepted jobs as an investigator, but when he did it’d be for a larger sum than the commission he took as a middleman.

He didn’t understand why you were so intent on this, you knew that. You honestly didn’t either, but chasing to the idea of getting closure was all you had now. The life you imagined yourself having a year ago was gone.

“You’re still working at the—“

“Yeah, I am.”

Shiu stayed quiet for a few seconds, just gazing at you. He scratched at his forehead with his knuckle. “And you’re sure you want to prioritize this? Over 300 million isn't petty change to owe.”

You were aware of how much money you owed with every call and client you took on.

The next night, you landed back in Tokyo somewhat full from the complementary food. Being robbed of 20,000 yen left you with no choice but to eat as little convenience store food as you could before boarding. Thankfully, the convenience stores were well, convenient, and cheap snacks were enough to keep you going.

When you had booked the flight to South Korea, you did so with the intention of bringing back souvenirs. Especially for Megumi. You hadn’t brought much money with you, and the 200,000 won was meant to be the money for your food so. You put up with the nausea from eating only a few snacks to make sure you kept your promise.

Megumi’s cute grumpy face and company would’ve uplifted you, and you hated when you couldn’t see him too often. Too bad you’d have to wait until your injuries healed to give the souvenirs to Ren and the kids. Ren was a responsible straight edge woman, she’d probably skip a heartbeat if she knew what you did.

As you waited for the train to take you back to Shibuya, your phone buzzed. Your work phone.

Gojo $atoru 凸(￣ヘ￣)

Sayuri!!! (￣▽￣)ノ

Click this! Promise it’s not a joke.

You clicked it and were met with a video of a stupid prank song. There were others around so you held in your groan, embarrassed that you fell for something so stupid in public. Cheeks heated in mortification, you pointedly ignored the people around you, side eyeing you. The last time you were sent a stupid prank video was in highschool! Gojo was still a client, so you responded accordingly. No matter how cute you found it.

YOU: (・_・ヾ?

There wasn’t much else you could say besides that, actually. Three dots appeared, so you waited.

hahahaha bet you looked stupid clicking that ♡( ◡‿◡)

anyway, I had ijichi make this playlist for you. Isn’t your lord and savior satoru so generous?

This time, the link sent you to Spotify. To a playlist named “why i’m the best” under a generated username. It was all New Music! You felt a pang of sympathy for Ijichi at having to go along with Gojo’s ridiculous demands. Gojo himself couldn’t be bothered to do it, and dumped it onto his driver. The whole thing was unexpected though, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Even if he wasn’t currently paying you, best to fake your infatuation.

YOU: Tell Ijichi that I apologize and that I’m very grateful to him.

Thanks for thinking of me, Gojo❤️I’ll listen to it and we’ll see if you deserve to be my lord, kay?

You listened to the playlist on the train ride home and reported back to Gojo that you loved it. Fluffing him up came easy to you. Once again, you were surprised that he still bothered with you considering how your last night ended, but thankful. Now more than ever did you need his business.

Days later, you eagerly agreed to help Yuki fix something that was wrong with her motorcycle. Since your appearance was the main aspect of your job, you were out of commission until the bruising and cuts went away. Makeup and sunnies worked with getting around the city for errands, but not if you’re being looked at up close. Thankfully, Mei was the one who dealt with cancelling any dates you had scheduled. One less thing to worry about.

As much as the unexpected time off from work was stressing you out, you decided to make the best of it. Even if it meant commuting for almost an hour on the train to help out Yuki. This brief setback came at the worst time not just for financial reasons, but because the anniversary was coming around. Already. A year has passed. You were desperate to distract yourself from the knowledge that you’ve lived an entire year without your love.

It’s been almost a year since you’ve felt like who you used to be.

The main reason Yuki always asked you to accompany her was because the man who owned the motorcycle shop in Ueno still gave you the discounts he gave Toji (she also didn’t grow up with money, so she’d never say goodbye to potential discounts). Her and Utahime were vaguely aware of the anniversary based on when you began working for Mei Mei, so you knew that had something to do with it.

You appreciated that she gave you a reason to leave the house, otherwise you’d be left alone with your thoughts and nothing to do. Yoga, reading, movies, or running haven’t helped the way it has been. Things were going fine with Yuki until you got back from Ueno and you took off your sunnies.

“Whoa, what happened Y/N?! You okay?”

“I got mugged in South Korea.” you groaned from your spot on the ground. You were sitting against the backstreet wall by Yuki’s apartment, watching as she worked on her bike. Being a dutiful assistant and handing her anything she needed, such as tools or another beer as you sipped on yours.

You said nothing else, so Yuki didn’t ask any more past that. As long as you reassured her you were okay past getting robbed, she let it go. Maybe you’d tell her with Utahime if it came up again, just to get it out of the way.

They knew that you had lost your boyfriend, as they mentored you while you were absolutely destroyed and stricken with grief, but they knew nothing about his identity. You owed those two so much for guiding you in the unnerving occupation that is being a sex worker, so you’d tell them everything someday.

You personally enjoyed hearing your loved ones talk about their passions, so you listened quietly and ate your homemade onigiri as Yuki talked you through what she was doing. The knowledge you had on motorcycles was brief and you didn’t really understand much of it, but it was enough to have conversations with your friend about it. Anything you knew, you had learned from Toji by doing the exact same thing you were currently doing with her.

Sitting in some alley back in Kabukicho and reading interior design magazines while Toji worked on his bike. Looking at your boyfriend’s big arms flex in his black tank while he worked with tools was a treat of its own. Sometimes Megumi would be with you two, and his little arms would flail around whenever his father would pick him up and place him on the seat. Poor baby was always scared he’d fall off, and Toji only made it worse by pretending he’d lose grip on Megumi.

Toji absolutely loved motorcycles and cars; how they’re made, how they run, how to take them apart, and how to put them back together. He had told you it began when he picked up selling parts on the black market, and he said it so offhand at the beginning of your relationship like he did with everything else. Thankfully Yuki was aware of your subdued mood and how you kept getting lost in your thoughts, so you two did what you loved doing: talking shit about your clients.

Speaking of, while she was telling you about her date with a man who tried educating her on her own job, you received a text.

Gojo $atoru 凸(￣ヘ￣)

[image]

Guess where? :3

It was a selfie of Gojo giving you a peace sign while wearing Minnie Mouse ears and Mickey shaped sunglasses, with the two faces of what looked like young girls beside him blurred out. One was blonde and the other a brunette, each making cute symbols.

You’d been texting Gojo since that first message when you got back to Japan. He talked about anything and everything (mainly himself), and you played along like you cared. He’d been annoyed that he was going to miss his trip to Disneyland due to his board of directors pushing back a meeting, but looks like he made it.

YOU: You made it! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

Are you having a single mom moment, Minnie? Is there a Mickey somewhere?

Yuki immediately recognized your work text tone, and she knew you weren’t taking calls. You did the most for your clients, but this was something else entirely when you weren’t able to work.

“Who's that?” she asked with a raised brow, taking a sip of her beer.

“Uh, Gojo Satoru.”

You didn’t expect your friend to almost choke on her drink. Yuki coughed for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter. She hunched over with a hand on her stomach. “Y/N, you sure you two didn’t fuck? Bet his dick is big, huh? Aimi said it was,” she said in between laughs, trying to catch her breath. “Don’t let Utahime hear you’re texting her literal worst nightmare on your off time!”

Ding! You two both glanced down at your work phone.

“Oh my f—is that him?” Yuki huffed, holding back more laughter. She looked crazy waving her wrench around like that.

While it’s true it’s unlike you to text with clients when you’re not able to take calls, this was different!

Single mom? Think you mean milf, babe

He’s in a looong line getting us sea salt icecream, just cause the girls want to take a pic hehheh

Wait

Call me a milf (￢‿￢)

“I told you we didn’t have sex!” you groaned, covering your heated face. “I’m securing money here, okay? I didn’t hear you orUtahime complain when his money paid for Hokkaido.”

“Touché.”

You’ve been trying to speed up your healing process from 3 weeks to 2 with various remedies. It wasn’t necessarily that you were itching to get back to work, more like itching to make money. Being out of work for 2 weeks came at the worst time considering you had just hired Shiu, so you went back to your roots: living off convenience store food.

Sukuna texted you when he returned from Hong Kong, but was immediately sent to Kyoto to deal with “work”. Once he was back, it was Uraume who arranged the meeting. You were picked up by an unexpected car considering Sukuna’s status: a black Toyota sedan.

Uraume looked as clean cut as the first time you met them, save for their bloody knuckles holding onto the steering wheel. As you buckled in, you noticed a cracked and bloody phone in the console. Sukuna’s assistant gave no explanation and began to drive, so you decided to mind your business. Like Sukuna, it seemed Uraume listened to metal and punk. Ding!

Gojo $atoru 凸(￣ヘ￣)

The movie sucked.

they just used that hot actor for promos

he didn’t show up until the very end!

but cute girl with a shotgun saved the movie. Don’t recommend (；￣Д￣)

You chuckled at his text.

YOU: Thanks for saving me ¥2000 ❤

Only reason i was planning to watch was for that guy

I can’t look at that actress the same after that lame sex movie

Gojo responded as you were still typing the rest.

no. you HAVE to see it so we can make fun of it!!!

Hold on

Cha-chiiiiing. Gojo sent you ¥2000 with a note that said: terrible movie on me ❤. Cute.

“Where does Sukuna live?” you asked, one you noticed you were going farther than you thought. Texting Gojo was distracting you, not that Uraume seemed to mind as they were nodding along to the fast drums.

“Denenchofu.”

Ota? Sukuna definitely moved up from the 1R he lived in with his brothers back home. You had maybe a handful of clients who owned homes in Tokyo, especially in such an affluent neighborhood.

“Does his uh—Kenjaku live with him?”

“No, Ryomen lives outside of Tokyo. It’s only Sukuna and Yuuji. He doesn’t care for displays of wealth. It’s about privacy,” they murmured, pulling out a cigarette from their jacket with one hand. They struggled to take out their lighter while driving so you reached out to light it with yours. “Thanks. We’ve got politicians on our payroll who live in the area, so they look the other way if they happen to see anything.”

You nodded in understanding and said nothing more the rest of the ride there. Denenchofu was as affluent as you’ve heard, with several two or three story houses spaced out in ways that were uncommon for most of Tokyo. The streets were quiet with few people walking, and most houses were hidden by gates. As you pulled up to Sukuna’s house, your eyebrows raised at a parked Rolls Royce.

When the door opened, you were met with Sukuna’s broad chest in your face. His button up was halfway undone, revealing colorful inked skin. You lowered your glasses slightly, allowing your eyes to rake over each intricate design you could make out, making you realize the whole yakuza heir thing was actually real. This was Sukuna now, and he wore it well.

“Is this your first time seeing a man’s skin or what?” he sneered, pulling on his cigar before blowing smoke in your face. You coughed at the strong scent invading your senses and causing your eyes to sting, which only made Sukuna laugh.

Uraume walked up beside you, bowing to Sukuna. You whipped towards them when you heard the familiar sounds of a press check, before putting their gun away. A gun you did not see whatsoever on the ride there. “It’s done,” they grinned. “Too easy. You would’ve hated it.”

Sukuna laughed, familiar and throaty. “Where is he?”

“The trunk, sir.” Uraume replied, handing him the cracked phone.

Your eyes widened as you turned back to the black car, shuddering at the realization you had just been in the same car as a dead man. The plain car made sense to you now. The nonchalance between Sukuna and his assistant spoke on how little they thought about this person's death. It made you feel gross and itching to shower. Uraume smirked at your grimace. You ignored Sukuna’s mocking laugh as you cautiously entered his home.

The interior is what you’d expect from Sukuna. A mixture of traditional with monochromatic colors. His genkan wasn’t even a genkan, more like a small room with a wall with hidden shoe space. As you went up the stairs and past what looked like a gym, Sukuna led you to a large living room. It seemed like all the doorways were accommodated to his impressive height and build.

The living room was spacious and had floor to ceiling windows, giving you a clear look at an outdoor deck. You sat on the white L couch and set your phone down on the coffee table, feeling your stomach grumble. There was a bottle of wine and two glasses, one already full, as well as three boxes of pizza. Sukuna told you to help yourself while he turned on the phone and smoked his cigar. You took your sunnies out and were just about to relieve your hunger when Sukuna stopped you.

“You lose a fight or something? Can’t fight with those nails, I bet.”

You glanced down at your manicured nails. They needed to be done before you went back to work. “Screw you, I can fight just fine,” you grumbled. “I got mugged like an idiot.”

“Where?”

“Seoul.”

Sukuna looked up from the phone at this, large thumb still hovering over the cracked screen. You wondered who the dead man was and why his phone was important. Then again, better to not get too into this aspect of his life. “The hell were you doing there?”

“Business? I guess. Before I get to that, tell me what’s up with you being the heir to what—a syndicate?”

Sukuna didn’t answer you. It looked like he was ignoring you, choosing to blow rings of smoke and focus on that instead. “Fine. I need you to keep your mouth shut about this, so I’ll tell you. Got it?” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled your eyes, pouring wine for yourself. He had the good stuff, and you currently couldn’t even afford any more cheap beer.

“Listen, you little bitch,” Sukuna seethed, eyes narrowed in irritation. “Don’t think—”

“I am listening, you’re just saying a whole lot of nothing.” you cut him off, beaming at this unamused face.

Scarlet eyes glared at you, and your heart unexpectedly twisted at the nostalgia. The man in front of you may have vanished from your life suddenly, but he was still a major part of memories you held close to your heart. He was your first kiss, he taught you how to fight properly, he encouraged you to stand up for yourself, and he briefly opened his home to you when you had nowhere to go. You had missed Itadori Sukuna.

“Of course I’ve got you,” you reassured with a fond smile. Then, teasingly, “What’s hiding knives to a whole fake identity?”

You startled at Sukuna’s large palm tapping your cheek a little too roughly. Your highschool sweetheart.

“As long as you know your place, princess.”

You had met Sukuna when you were fifteen and he was seventeen. He was two years older than you, but you both ran in the same circle and saw each other often in and out of school. After your parents ran off when you had started middle school, your older cousin took you in. She was still young, so you had more freedom as she was either working or with her own friends.

Sukuna was in a similar situation after his parents and grandfather died, except it was his older brother Choso who took care of them and worked multiple physically exhausting jobs. Your highschool years were spent staying out late, going to shows, sneaking into bars, trying to get adults to buy you and your friends alcohol, getting into fights (because of Sukuna), and some petty theft. Sukuna was there with you through it all, along with your mutual friends and group of people you hung out with. He was much worse, doing whatever he wanted regardless of how others felt about it.

He had given you knives or drugs to hide in your school bag more than once if there were rumors the boy's things would be inspected. If he got into fights with a guy, and his girlfriend was there, the girl always lunged at you in some weird ‘by association’ type of way. Doing stupid shit was fun, especially when petty delinquency was looked over in Nishinari by cops. It was all amongst yourselves, and any loud and rowdy shows you attended were held in abandoned industrial buildings, far from the older homeless people. Theft was limited to big corporate stores on trips to Tokyo and away from Nishinari. Your fake IDs never hurt anyone.

Like you, Sukuna’s family was often running low on money and barely making it by. It didn’t surprise you when your boyfriend started taking up unconventional side jobs, such as selling drugs to rich kids in Tokyo and doing petty tasks for a local syndicate. You knew Choso had problems with the implications and risks, as you had heard them fighting about it once while you carried Yuuji out of the apartment. In the end, Sukuna’s older brother let it go as long as he was smart about it. And he was, for the most part. Yet you knew that towards the end he was beginning to do more than dealing.

Then, during your senior year, Choso was killed suddenly. He’d been stabbed repeatedly, one of a handful of casualties near one of his jobs. It was clearly a yakuza related incident, and wasn’t too looked into. You had barely seen Sukuna the days following it, and when you did he was absolutely livid and broken. The most you saw of him was when he finally came home and kicked you out after you took care of Yuuji. Like you, he had assumed that Choso was targeted because of Sukuna’s affiliation with the local syndicate. He was overcome with guilt over the very thing his brother warned him about. He wouldn’t have cared if his actions came back to hurt him, but Choso was innocent. He was a young adult trying to provide for his younger brothers, his entire world.

Once Sukuna found out who was involved, he immediately left Nishinari with Yuuji and without a word to you. He was out for blood, and didn’t let you even speak; he simply told you over the phone before hanging up abruptly and never answered it again. There wouldn’t have been a point in trying to stop Sukuna anyway, when the only person he listened to was dead. It wasn’t until almost two years later that he called you to apologize and you two left it at that, going about your separate ways.

Turns out, Sukuna’s fake backstory was partially true. As head of their syndicate, Kenjaku was expected to produce an heir, and his wife did have trouble conceiving a child. At the time, it was earlier than Kenjaku had even wanted an heir, and he wasn’t keen on having someone next in line so soon. As was common in their lifestyle, he had affairs, and Choso was the product of his night spent with Kaori, just before she met Jin Itadori. Kaori begged him to let her keep her baby, and insisted that she’d never ask anything of him or speak of the child’s father. She was powerless and Kenjaku made sure that she knew that trying to speak out wouldn’t be dealt with through the law. Kaori never did, but Choso’s father kept tabs on him throughout the years.

Choso was still Kenjaku’s first born son, no matter what. So when word of his death finally came back to him, he set out to find out who did it. It led him to Sukuna, who was slowly and single-handedly getting his way to the culprit. Once the two came into contact, Kenjaku gave Sukuna his resources to end it. While the syndicate responsible was a newer one and nothing compared to Kenjaku’s organization, they still gave Sukuna some trouble.

With Kenjaku’s foot soldiers, Sukuna stormed their base and massacred the entire group. It had been an absolute bloodbath done with any weapon imaginable except firearms. You remember hearing about the violent incident on the news, and never once thought Sukuna had caused it. At that point in time, Kenjaku was ready to have an heir and offered it to Sukuna. After all he had done and the time spent, Sukuna was hungry for more power and securing a better life for Yuuji. The fabricated backstory that Sukuna had told you at the soiree was easily paid for. He readily accepted his new role, as long as Yuuji was mostly kept from it and had the chance to live a somewhat normal life.

The wine and pizza was long gone by the time he finished, and Sukuna groaned that he never wants to speak so much again. Uraume came back with perfectly rolled blunts for each of you to end the night with.

Towards the two week mark, you decided to go back to work even if there was still some bruising on your eye. It was completely hidden by makeup at that point, and only visible under close scrutiny. So you only took Takeo’s call for a night at a bar/restaurant on the rooftop of a five star hotel in Kyoto. Like always, you had sex upon meeting and got ready in the bathroom before going out into the suite to change in front of him. His obsession with watching you change into clothes he picked out for you would always be weird.

Takeo was initially upset with you for having accepted your last date with Gojo. Throughout the past year, as Takeo became a loyal and consistent client, he greedily thought that his familiarity and extra gifts meant he was entitled to you keeping an entire day open for him. You’ve kept Saturday’s, one of the busiest days for everyone at the agency, open just for the possibility of Takeo calling for you. He wanted the exclusivity and faithfulness of an arrangement, of being your sugar daddy, without the actual commitment. The financial and contractual commitment on his part.

As much as you hated putting off such a busy day for him, you didn’t mind after a while. More like, you simply dealt with it. Keeping a consistent client was better than taking on a new one. Yet, you became restless the closer you had gotten to reaching your goal for Shiu’s deposit. It’s what led you to accept Gojo’s call for your date at that after party.

Maybe that’s why the insufferable heir paid almost 100,000 an hour and tipped. To ensure that his escorts prioritize him over others. His looks and sense of humor were just a bonus. Not only was it a power move against his escorts, but to other clients. And it worked, as Takeo was bitterly grumbling shit about Gojo and attempting to warn you. You used his insecurity to your advantage, playing up how Gojo’s power and influence had scared you into accepting his call. You were the stupid, naive, pretty little sex worker afraid of the scary rich heir. Takeo bought it like the savior fucker he was.

By the time you had finished having sex, your makeup had come off enough for the bruising to not just be seen as a trick of the dim lights. Your client was quick to drill you on whether that reckless and arrogant brat had been the one to hurt you, which made you force a smile down.

“I—I got mugged in a scary neighborhood,” you sniffled, covering your eyes with shaky hands. “I felt so bad because he took the wallet that y-you—” you hiccuped. “That you bought just for me. It was so scary, I’m sorry!”

Being naked and still under him post coital really sold the whole “vulnerable and scared” act you were going for. Also the fact that you were able to force tears into your eyes by the time Takeo removed your hands from your face to cup your cheeks.

fake it till you make it!

It worked out in your favor, all things considered. Not only did Takeo stop throwing jabs at you for taking another call over his, but he wanted to spoil you. Meaning that he decided to have your dinner brought to the room as well as a bottle of champagne. Sitting on his lap as you two ate dinner, sipping on champagne in your silk bathrobes wasn’t too bad. While you still had to freshen up your face for him in the bathroom, you didn’t have to make yourself impossibly flawless with several products.

Despite being an affluent lawyer, Takeo didn’t insist that you report the crime or your stolen wallet. He’d rather baby you and spoil you with more gifts in order to “keep you quiet”. You’d predicted it and even counted that he’d ask for details, considering that you’d have to lie if he pressed for information. You were his dirty little secret, one of the handful of escorts that he keeps on rotation behind his wife’s back. His favorite, but still meant to be kept hidden from the people in his life.

Your clients notoriously shame the very services they’re paying you for, and it’s only fair that you use that prejudice in your favor. Gojo’s texts have stopped, but he asked to see you soon. There’s that.

Two days later, you’re sitting in front of Naoya Zenin at a five star restaurant in Ginza. He’s currently ignoring you while he types away at his phone, and behind him you can see the waitress eyeing your table. Naoya had dismissed her with a flick of the wrist, not bothering to look her in the eye. Being with this guy reminded you of when you first began working as an escort. Taking any calls that came your way, no matter how terrible.

Naoya was one of the agency’s most difficult clients, and he didn’t make up for it with higher pay like Gojo did.

It begins with your attire. The Zenin sent you the clothes he wanted you to wear on your date, and allowed you to keep it. The gesture may sound sweet on paper, but Naoya straight up tells all the girls they probably don’t own any modest designer clothing. Also he finds returning or borrowing clothes tacky, which means you’ll be able to sell the clothes you’re currently wearing. Yet for a guy who insists on women being modest, he’s notorious for skipping out on STI screens and pays the girls under the table to fuck. He doesn’t hide the fact that he gets off on asserting power over sex workers who need money.

You may not be one of the girls who he pays under the table to please him, but you do so in other ways, as gross as it is. You’ve learned that if he presents you with his arm when you exit the car, you’re meant to take it and quietly walk by his side. If he doesn’t, it’s cue for you to walk precisely behind him. A few steps behind, not side by side.

Don’t speak unless spoken to. Always look at him when he’s speaking to you and when you’re speaking to him. Don’t talk to “the help”. You’d think that someone who can’t go a night without snorting coke would be more relaxed. Yet, you do all of this flawlessly. He appreciates the way you sit, the small bites and sips you take (no matter how hungry you are), and how attentive you are.

All you have to do is be what he thinks is a respectable woman. As disgusting as it was. Listen while he talks about himself, mainly talking shit about his family. This dinner is for him to take the edge off (by going to the bathroom 4 times to snort coke) before an event he doesn’t want to attend. His younger cousin Mai was just signed into a global modeling agency, and had to attend an art auction for appearances. The Zenin didn’t allow the women of the family to take up dates like the men did, so Naoya had to accompany her.

“At least that bitch is doing something with herself,” Naoya snorted, arm in arm with you as you two walked out of the restaurant. He ignored every staff member who bowed to him. “Her looks are all she’s good for, so she’s smart for once in using it. Just like you.”

You said nothing, because you knew he wasn’t looking for a response. You simply continued walking, looking up at him while he looked ahead.

“What’s not smart is how you’re picking and choosing where to have morals,” he laughed. Like Gojo, he found it stupid how you refused to have sex with clients who haven’t screened. Naoya was more aggressive about it, but maybe he was voicing the thoughts Gojo probably had. “Those stupid rules are for us, not you. Girls like you should be thankful a man even wants to be seen with you.”

You wrenched your arm from his, trying to control your temper. His car hadn’t been brought back by the valet, but you were ready to walk back to the agency.

“You—”

“What’s this?”

Shit colored eyes came into your eyesight as Naoya crowded you. He was leaning down into your face with a hand grabbing onto your elbow to keep you close. His curious tone made no sense until you realized that away from the restaurant’s dim lights, and under the bright city lights, he could see the traces of your injuries.

You winced when his thumb suddenly pressed into the last remnants of your bruised eye. Just under the corner, a small red-yellow mark. You flinched in surprise, not pain, but Naoya breathed out in awe as if you had.

“Pretty,” he muttered. “You look good like this.”

You threw up your fancy dinner in the agency bathroom, regretting taking the call and hating that you did so out of desperation. It all came down to your rash decision in going somewhere where you were easy prey. Yet, you couldn’t regret getting Shiu to bring you a step closer in figuring out what happened to Toji.

You just wanted change so you could go home and cry yourself to sleep. The ache that had been building the past few weeks was about to burst, you felt it in the tears that were already running down your face as you showered and changed. The tightness in your chest as you took the train home. The anniversary was tomorrow.

#I’m getting so familiar with Tokyo that I may as well plan a trip I can’t take shsjsj #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou x reader #gojou x you #gojou x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x you

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betelgeuse-boo · 4 years

Note

Anything (a fic or a Headcanon set) for a reader sending Beej to the Netherworld (or at least like the background where he can’t do much) and giving him a good tease? Stripping down to a skimpy outfit with some subtle references to his outfit, (stripes) getting some edgeplay, all while watching him in a mirror or something; grinning at the frustration on his face? And when it all becomes too much they say his name, bringing him out

ooh this is some good stuff!

(i’ll be answering headcanon asks directly and just not put them in the main x reader tags, i’ll ask that anyone who rb’s does the same thing)

beej was the one that asked you if you could tease him in this way first

you were, at first, a little surprised. beetlejuice, your beetlejuice, wanted to be edged? he wasn’t exactly the most patient person but....okay.

using some weird incantation he taught you, you banish him into your bedroom mirror. without you summoning him, he won’t be able to get out. he’s more than okay with this, and at this point, he’s already getting hard with anticipation.

you admittedly find yourself fairly turned on at the reality of him watching you like this too

“remember, no touching yourself,” you instruct him, a bit sterner than you thought you could be, and he nods, hands up against the glass separating him from you

you begin to strip for him, peeling your clothes off garment by garment at an achingly slow pace

lots of hip movements while taking your clothes off, of course.

by the time your shirt is halfway off, he’s already squirming and his chest is heaving. of course, his hair is all pink at this point

“are you wanting out?” you ask him, almost teasingly, knowing he’ll say no. you’re right, he says no, and you continue on

by the time you’re in your underwear and nothing else, he swears he’s about to cum himself unassisted

your underwear is striped- a clear visual reference to him. his hand goes to his crotch as he sees you standing there, looking immaculate, wearing underwear that he can only think remind you of him, but you correct him

“remember what i said earlier?”

he drops his hand and whines, face redder than you’ve ever seen it and pitching a huge tent in his pants

you move over, closer to him, and press various parts of your body against your end of the mirror

he’s legit biting at his lip, trembling hard. you can’t do anything to stop him from touching himself, he knows that, but he wants to listen to you anyways

you do another little dance for him before playing with your body and eventually beginning to touch yourself, saying how you wish it was him doing it

at this, he practically explodes, tears welling up in his eyes from how amazing the buildup of arousal inside him feels, which is when he makes the switch and starts begging you to summon him

“hmm...you’re not convincing me, beej, can you run that by me again?”

“please baby, please, i wanna’ cum so bad, please-“

now that was pretty. after he keeps sputtering out your praises, you say his name three times

he’s instantly against you, kissing you and whining against your skin as he’s rutting himself against you, content in basically dry humping you

of course, you wrap your arms around him and tell him how good and well behaved he was

he cums quick like. 15 seconds of pressure and he tenses against you, bear hugging you, and sobbing due to how good it feels for him

after he slumps slightly, you laugh at him “seriously?”

he laughs back and goes to lay on the bed, obviously winded “yea, that’s how sexy you are, babes”

#sunny’s headcanons☀️☁️#thank u for the ask!!!#this was fun #i think i took it in a slightly different place but i hope thats ok haha!!!

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voidselfshipp · 3 years

Text

Sweeping Wind

Cw: food, blood, injury ment and suggestive content ahead. Eye contact for the GIF.

Ok to rb.

Summary: yasuo is saved by a shapeshifter, and in their journey togheter he finds that his feelings for her are not what he thought they were.

The night set on ionia, a lone Man walks through the pastures, heavy with regret, sorrow and tiredness he takes a swig from his alcoholic drink.

He sets camp on a hill,and rests with his sword nearby.

Its late when he wakes up, in the dead of night he looks around him, peeking his head through his tent.

He finds a small lizard eating his leftovers, he chuckles Bringing the poor creature in for the night, it seems to stare at him, and blinks.

The Next morning he resumes his travel, the lizard now resting on his cloak accompanies Him.

He had some suspicions about the animal he was carrying, there was something odd, he couldnt quite place what it was.

It all made sense as he scaped from a pack of bandits,that quickly followed behind him.

Yasuo was badly injured, he ran through the forest as much as he could holding his side.

Suddenly the lizard jumps off his cloak and transforms, at first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he was thankfull that whatever came to his aid appeared.

He then layed on the Grass against a trunk, he sees the silouhuette of a woman, he blinks a couple of times, until the blurry images become one.

From under the veil of a hat is a woman, that carefully was desinfecting his wound.

-- stay away woman!-- yasuo tried to reach his sword but falls back on the tree.

-- easy there-- she said putting a soft warm hand on his cold body, he shudders.

The misterious stranger wraps his sides once his wound was stiched up.

She then leans back pulling back the veil, leaving it on the upper part of her hat.

Yasuo softly sits up, and with confusion in his eyes, he looks at her-- who...what are you?

-- im jerico, im a shapeshifter -- she answered.

The Man tilts his head-- but werent shapeshifters gone?

-- im one of the last ones--she said with a heavy and sad tone-- I was scouting ionia after years of not being here, I stumbled on you, and you took care of me, so now ill do the same

Yasuo was stubborn and hard headed, yet, his cheeks warmed up and he looked away-- thank you-- he said, sitting crosslegued, arms hung loosely.

-- you should rest, ill make you some dinner, and set up camp, the nights falling in quickly-- jerico said, doing as she says she would, preparing a makeshift bed for yasuo.

Then she made dinner.

Yet the Man couldnt get his mind to wind down, he never could, but this time, this time was different.

He looked at her face, being illuminated by the Fire, her eyes fixated on the pot with the food.

He smiles for a brief moment and then lays his head back down on the makeshift pillow.

His eyes felt heavy, he turns to his healthy side and decided to sleep, feeling jerico put her cloak over him, it smelled like her, and it only made him fall quicker into slumber.

When he woke up, jeri was Gently nudging Him, a Plate of food in hand.

She gives it to him, as he wraps himself in the cloak.

-- thank you-- he muttered, eating his food-- where'd you learn this recipe?

--Many years of travel, and experience-- she said smiling at his sudden interest.

They stay in silence for a moment, then the Man says-- shapeshifters live a long life, I presume you have a lot of stories to tell..

Jerico nodds-- I do, would you like to hear one?

He nodded.

And so she told him some of her adventures, from the deserts of shurima to the grounds of demacia.

-- and where were you born?-- he asked.

-- I dont know, my home probably doesnt exist anymore...

They shared a tent for the night, they were too close for his liking, and both told themselves that the only reason they cuddled the night away was because of the very thin blanket.

The Next morning they arrived to a city, jerico knew someone so they stayed in a nice appartment.

Now here were these two, arguing in the bathroom.

-- jerico I can take my own armor off! Thank you very much!

-- yasuo! Let me help! Youre in no condition! Besides its not like im going to undress you!

Yasuo snorted-- wouldnt you like that!

Her cheeks turn red-- fine! Go and undress, ill wait outside-- she stomps outside and slams the door shut.

The ionian felt very accomplished with himself, he finally got her to blush!.

He took off his clothes and got into the tub, he gave her the okay, and she helped him wash his hair.

Jerico was in love with yasuo,he came out of nowhere like a rampaging wind, sweeping her off her feet in an instant, as she combed the shampoo out of his hair with warm water, she looked at yasuo, he should leave his hair down more often.

She just wanted to Cup his cheeks and kiss his pretty face.

Now as he washes his body, she sits on the floor with her back against the tub, giving him some privacy. Talking about what they would do after this.

-- well, I was hoping that youd stay with me for the rest of my travel, if you so desire

Jerico smiled-- well only if you want to

He splashes a bit of water on accident as he emphasizes -- yes of course I want you to come with me!-- he then clears his throat-- I mean, yes, id Appreciate your company...

--Ill go make us something--she then stands up And presses a kiss to his cheek-- if you need anything call me

She then walks out of the bathroom to the kitchen leaving a flustered yasuo behind her.

Its night,as she prepares some tea, she sees the ionian Man leave the bathroom all changed, the casual clothes he was wearing made him look cute, his hair was down, as opposing as his up and tight ponytail.

He Walked to her and helped her make tea, and now with the lights off they look down at the Window to the city below.

--yknow, this kettle is very beautiful-- jeri said pouring some tea for them-- I wish I had one

Yasuo smiled-- well, since youll be coming with me, you can Keep it-- he looked at her and taking her hand he shyly interlazes their fingers togheter.

Jeri smiled, and drank from her cup, not before she raised it in a toast-- for our adventures

He chuckles and clinks their cups togheter-- for us -- he smiles and drinks too.

It was a surprise to no-one that they cuddled that night, yasuo softly Turned jerico to face him, he caresses her cheek softly.

He spent years running away, following the wind from any sort of relationshipp, he did not want them to get hurt, everyone he loves was dead, and he didnt want to loose her too.

But that night, in that moment he knew, he loved her and at least he'll try to Keep her safe.

They lean in and he hesitantly presses his lips against hers, smiling as she puts her hands on his waist, he mimicks her and hugs her waist.

-- I love you-- he whispered to jerico.

Jerico with eyes half lidded, out of tiredness, and smiled, pressing her forehead against yasuos-- I love you too..

Needless to say that the wind has finally found its path.

#cw food #tw food #cw injury #tw injury #cw blood ment #tw blood ment #cw suggestive #tw suggestive #cw eye contact #tw eye contact #eye contact #ask to tag #yasuo tag pending #cw alcohol #tw alcohol

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ohthatsviolet · 4 years

Text

Too Much

- A Miroctane fanfic. (1,608 words)

Oh, this is kinda angsty and also contains spoilers for the “Lying Liar” chapter of the quest, so maybe come back later if you don’t wanna see that yet. Ao3 link will be in the RBs as usual.

Elliott confronts Octavio after he returns from the Shadow dimension.

Ocatvio wasn't sure where he was when he woke up. The air around him was tainted with the scent of musk and his fingers felt cold. He couldn't really see very well, but that could have been due to his blurry vision or the overall poor lighting in this area. Is this what Heaven was? Because this sucked. He wanted to warm up but he could barely move, no matter how much he tried to force it. He just felt so cold, but nowhere near as cold as the pair of icy brown eyes that he noticed by his bedside, when he finally came to.

"Elliott?" he croaked out, following it with a harsh swallow in an attempt to quell the dryness in his throat. "Water?"

The trickster wordlessly stood, and returned a short while later with a bottle in hand. He unscrewed the top, and perched himself on the edge of the bed, offering it towards him. Octavio took grateful gulps before laying back on the hard surface of whatever it is he was resting on. It was only now he'd realised he was in the backroom of the Paradise Lounge, which would explain the smell.

"What happened?" the realisation prompted him to ask. "Did I get them all?"

Elliott appeared to furrow his eyebrows, though he couldn't quite tell for sure since the trickster seemed to be avoiding looking at him.

"Get what?"

"The prowlers."

"No," the trickster scoffed. "Thought that one was pretty obvious. How'd you think you ended up here?"

The space between them fell painfully silent after that, and Octavio didn't really like where this conversation seemed to be headed. Still, he felt it was best to deal with the elephant in the room as quickly as possible, so they could move past all this awkward tension.

"You're mad at me."

"Wow, you figured that one out a lot quicker than I thought you would! Good for you."

The runner wrinkled his nose at his partner's sarcastic tone.

"...You don't need to be such a bitch, Elliott."

"And you don't need to be such a jackass," the trickster replied, with a shrug. "But here we are."

Octavio shifted his weight around uncomfortably.

"Mira...I get that you're pissed but-."

"I don't think you get it at all, Octavio. I don't think you ever did."

It was only now, Elliott had chosen to look at him directly and his glare, along with the use of his full name, made the speedster shiver. A smart person would have kept their mouth shut, knowing that maybe now wasn't the best time to poke the bear; but unfortunately, Octavio Silva wasn't known for his smarts.

"I don't understand what you mean."

Elliott directed his attention away from him, opting to focus his gaze on a spot on the wall, that wasn't particularly interesting. His shaking hands were forced into closed fists that came to rest in his lap, while he tried to shift through the mess of thoughts that had plagued his mind all night.

"You don't understand?" he retaliated quietly, but the anger and hurt in his voice was still obvious. "Fine. Let me tell you what I don't understand."

Octavio struggled to sit up, against the aches in his body, managing to reach out to his boyfriend, but he was promptly shrugged off. Elliott didn't look at him as he continued to speak, keeping his gaze trained on the wall ahead of him.

"First of all, I don't understand how my boyfriend got himself a date with someone else and agreed to go."

"That was a misunder-."

"And then decided to go into another dimension alone, because he couldn't take a joke. Oh, and on top of that, he decided to leave a note for...Oh, hmm...who was it again? Oh, yeah. Not me!"

"I wanted Ajay to know what she said wasn't cool," the runner mumbled, and he could tell, without looking, that Elliott was rolling his eyes. "She hurt my feelings. Why doesn't anyone care about that?"

"What about my feelings?!" the trickster spat, whipping his head around to glare at him again. "How do you think I felt, finding you almost dead?! You don't care about my feelings or...me."

"That's not true!" Octavio protested. "Of course I care about you. I thought...I thought I was dead out there. And I always thought I'd be okay with dying, as long as I was doing something awesome, but when I was lying there and...I saw all my blood, I wasn't thinking about myself. I was thinking about you, and how I never got to-."

"Bullshit," Elliott cut him off, harshly. "I don't believe that. All you care about is...doing crazy shit and...and causing trouble."

"You know, you really sound like my dad right now," Octavio spoke, receiving a less than amused laugh in response.

"Yeah, well...Maybe your dad was right."

"Don't say that," the runner replied, narrowing his eyes in disgust. "Don't ever say that."

Elliott ran a frustrated hand through his hair, emitting a sigh that didn't sound as angry as his words; it sounded sad...defeated. His eyes returned to that spot on the wall, that Octavio was slowly becoming envious of. He hated when Elliott acted like this, but he hated the words that came out of his mouth more.

"I don't think...I can do this anymore."

The room fell silent, save for the dripping of a tap somewhere in the background. Octavio didn't know what to say. He couldn't be serious. There was no way this was happening. No. This was a joke. A misunderstanding. Elliott had it all wrong. He just needed to show him that. Ignoring the pain he was in, the best he could, he reached towards his partner. His fingers came to rest on the back of his neck, a touch Elliott leaned into instinctively. He looked at him confused, and his lips parted to say something but before he could get his words out, Octavio closed the distance between them, kissing him with a softness he didn’t even know he had in him. Elliott kissed him back for a split second, but just as quickly as it happened, it stopped. The trickster pulled away abruptly and stood from the bed, with misty eyes.

"You can't...you can't do that!"

"I can, because I don't believe what you're saying is true! I love you!"

Elliott shook his head harshly, as if he was trying to rid his mind of an intrusive thought.

"I...You're making it r-really hard for me to keep loving you. I can't live like this. It’s too hard. You’re...too much."

Octavio's mouth went dry, as his heart rate quickened, and pounded in his ears.

"No! You...you love me! I know you do! You tell me all the time! I'll...I'll change."

"You always say that but, it never happens," the trickster spoke, his voice barely a whisper, desperately trying to not let his tears spill. "I'm...tired, Tav. I think you should stay with Ajay for a while. I...need time to think."

The speedster raised a pierced eyebrow at him.

"You seriously think she's gonna let me stay with her after this?"

Elliott folded his arms, and looked to the floor, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't know. And to be honest...I don't really care."

"That's not true."

His heart twinged when the trickster turned his back on him.

"Amor...you don't really mean that. Right?"

He didn't like how long it took Elliott to answer.

"I'm gonna go home. I need to lie down for a while."

"What about me?" the speedster asked tentatively, already afraid of the answer he might receive.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Elliott replied, his tone painfully neutral, as he began to walk away. "You always do."

Octavio looked around frantically, wanting nothing more than to follow his boyfriend and convince him to stay, but as his hazel eyes continued to dart around the room he realised something that made his stomach pool with dread; his legs were nowhere to be seen.

"Elliott, please!" he yelled after him, and it must have sounded desperate because it made the trickster pause in the doorway, giving him a slight feeling of hope. "Please don't go! I love you! I love you so much and...and I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I won't do it again! I'll do anything you want just...please don't go. Don't leave. I don't want to be on my own again. I want to be with you. Please. I'm so sorry for messing everything up all the time. Really, I...I’m...I'm sorry."

He looked up to see Elliott resting on hand against the doorframe, as if he was trying to steady himself, but even with the distance between them, Octavio could see the tear trails on his cheeks and he knew this was it; It was over because he'd ruined it, like everything else he ever touched. But the look Elliott was giving him was the final nail in the coffin. His usually bright brown eyes were full of pain and anger and betrayal.

"Not as sorry, as I am," he eventually said, causing the younger legend to shake his head in denial, while his own hot tears spilled down his freckled cheeks.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, through choked sobs.

He regretted asking now, and he would regret it until his dying day, because he knew Elliott's response would never leave him alone; like a painful, constant ringing in his ears.

"For letting you waste my time."

#apex legends #apex legends fanfic #apex legends mirage #apex legends octane #miroctane #apex quest spoilers

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matsumi101 · 4 years

Text

Who is this Kid?

Crossdressing Fem!Reader Hamilton Insert

Secret

Description:

General Washington has been relentlessly receiving letters one after another that has been requesting two same things over and over again. It’s high time he confronts the writer directly about it, and maybe clear something that he’s been hearing around while he’s at it.

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Warnings: swearing, drinking

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Notes:

> Masterlist

> Read from the beginning.

> “F/N” means fake name and “Y/N” means your real first name

> I don’t think I warned y’all before but I wasn’t really planning on writing chronologically. I’m not sorry lmao

> Surprise Wednesday update! I’ve been reading the rb tags and the replies you guys keep leaving in my story and honestly it makes my heart go 💞 aaa ily guys sm and im glad you’re enjoying the story 🥺🥺🥺

———————————

Taglist (if u wanna be added do tell!)

@thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @cutie1365 @girlmadeofivory @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore @takemyhand-bitch @hamiltrashqueer

———————————

“Hey, Juggernaut.”

You adjusted your coat before pulling your tent open. “Yo,” you greeted quietly to the soldier waiting in front of your tent. “General Washington calls for you,” he informed you. You nodded and ducked out of your tent, not wanting to wait another second to know what your superior wanted to talk about. You walked at a brisk pace, never stopping until you were now in front of the tent that was noticeably larger than the rest.

You swallowed thickly, millions of possibilities running in your head to as why you were called. A big part of you hoped that it was with regards to your plans, though there was a smaller bit of you that feared that it might be of something else. Not wanting to keep yourself on edge any further, you pushed the tent open and let yourself in.

"Your excellency, sir. You asked to see me?"

You readily saluted at the presence of not only George Washington but the aide-de-camps and officers that were with him as well. They circled a table, where a map and a few mock pieces were laid out for them to view and move around. While John and Lafayette's eyes twinkled with recognition, the others simply stared at your arrival. "Private F/N L/N?" George assumed. He motioned you to be at ease, which you silently obeyed.

"Yes, sir," you confirmed with a steady voice.

George quickly dismissed the rest of the people out of the tent, the only ones remaining were you, him, and Alexander who was busy writing something at his desk at the corner. “I’ve been reading your letters,” George began, moving to get something from his main desk. You immediately tensed as he pulled out a small stack of envelopes underneath. You kept your lips sealed, waiting for the General’s input on your requests.

“You’ve been asking to have the same thing approved for years now,” he began, “and recently, you’re asking for a rather unique position in your unit, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

From the corner of your eyes you could see Alexander perk up slightly at the conversation. He subtly glanced up from his work, his eyes falling on George as the general picked up an open letter that had been lying on his desk. “Let’s talk about the first one,” George announced. “I’ve noticed there was a slight change with your offer.” You licked the bottom of your lips out of nervousness, fiddling with your hands behind you.

“Unfortunately, even I can’t agree to it.”

“If I may sir, why not?”

George looked up from the letter to you. “Women cannot be paid to study, son,” he explained plainly. You tilted your head the slightest, confusion from his statement evident. “Sir, I do not seek for women to be paid to be taught basic medicinal procedures,” you murmured, and that was enough for George to mirror your expression.

“That doesn’t seem to be the message I’m getting from your letter, L/N.”

You opened your mouth to counter, but when a vague memory hit you like a punch in the gut, you couldn’t help but to smack your forehead in realization. “Shit, I am so sorry,” you apologized, the annoyance woven in your voice directed to yourself more than anything. George furrowed his brows at your sudden drop of formality, noticing how you were cursing under your breath as you returned to position.

“I must’ve sent you my draft letter instead of the actual one. The pay that I mentioned in the letter refers to the pay of the nurses, not the education that I wish to be provided to them.”

Your face turned to more of an embarrassed one. “I... might’ve written this late at night so my thoughts merged while I was writing,” you confessed, looking down at the ground. “I apologize for causing a misunderstanding. Writing... has never really been my best suit.” You could feel the back of your neck heat up with embarrassment, and the blood was slowly creeping its way to your cheeks the more you dwelled on your mistake. George huffed, and you could’ve sworn there was laughter that came along with it.

“We have our own weaknesses, son,” he said. “Rewrite your statement, then I’ll have it sent to the Congress for approval. Hamilton.”

“Yes, sir?”

The called man straightened from his seat almost instantaneously. “If you’re not too busy, you can help Private L/N draft his proposal to the Congress tonight?” he requested. You looked at Alexander almost the same time he looked at you. “I take it you approve of his plans, sir?” he asked George, though it came off more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. If our nurses are given the same pay as our male doctors, or at the very least raise it, then there wouldn’t be any need for our officers to resort to... violent methods of recruiting them.”

Your jaw visibly clenched at the last few words, and George wasn’t dense to not notice it. “If we treat our camp followers properly, as we should’ve been since square one, then they wouldn’t be working out of spite or fear,” you pointed out through gritted teeth, “and by teaching them the required medical procedures to treating our wounded, then there would be more hands on our medical team without really hiring more hands.” Alexander nearly beamed at your words and hurriedly wrote something down on a spare piece of paper.

“That’s an excellent point F/N, I’ll make sure to include that in your proposal,” he announced eagerly.

You stared at Alexander with surprise while George chuckled in amusement. “Now, since we’ve cleared all misunderstandings for your first request, I take it we’re good to move on to the next one?” his voice wasn’t as light as when he brought up your first request. “Ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” you replied. George nodded, pulling a different letter.

“Private L/N, I’m sure you already know the contents of your own letters, so I will say right now that I just can’t approve you to a... what is this term you used?”

“Field medic, sir.”

“Right.”

“Field medic?”

Alexander wasn’t really supposed to be a part of the next conversation, but he couldn’t help but inquire about the strange new term he just heard. “Basically a doctor soldier tasked specifically to treat wounded men while on field and pull them out of there,” George explained, and you nodded. Alexander’s face contorted, and you sighed internally as it was the response you already expected to get from someone hearing your concept for the first time.

“I... I don’t get it,” Alexander murmured. “We can bring our men to the backlines just fine during combat, I don’t see the point of having a person to specialize in that.”

You were just about ready to explain, but then George put up his hand to stop you. “I can hand you Private L/N’s letters of proposal for later, son,” George reasoned. Alexander’s face fell, and the man buried his face back to his work. “With all due respect sir, I feel like I am fully capable of putting this concept into action. My endurance is beyond average to run around the field and carry our wounded, all I need left is some proper first-aid training.”

“And we need your endurance in the frontlines!” George retorted. “Juggernaut, you’re our best foot soldier, I cannot afford to send you to the medics.”

You nearly physically recoiled at the use of your nickname. You wore the title “Juggernaut” with pride ever since, and George knew. Your tendency to almost never use your gunpowder and instead resort to close combat was what earned you the nickname, and your commanders made sure to utilize you best for that. Simply put, your fearlessness to be up close with the redcoats was something praised by your fellow soldiers and feared by the enemy.

“Sir,” your voice dropped low. “Many men die bleeding out in the field when they could’ve lived if only someone had been there to pull them out, but the second they’re crippled they are not our standing soldiers’ priority. Moreover, many more die in the tents simply for having infected wounds that could’ve been survivable had someone treated it long before. These men have hopes of coming home to see the end of this war and what follows as much as any of us, even while they lay in their own pool of blood as the rest of the fight ensues around them. Sir, they have lives they want to go back to, too, just like us.”

When you were done talking, the air within the tent was heavy. Was it out of realization or just the sheer weight of your words, no one was quite sure, but the tension was so thick no blade could cut through it. “I can see you are as adamant in saving lives as you are taking them,” George mused, finally breaking the suffocating silence that wrapped around the three of you. He glanced down at your letter, hesitancy clear as day. Between the two of you, it was the sixth one you sent for your proposed role. For every letter of declination he gave you, you rebutted with a new letter no more than two to three days later countering his reasonings. For someone who isn’t the best at writing, you do write a lot, he thought.

“Let my hands be stained saving the blood of my allies than spilling the blood of my enemies,” you responded, quoting your own letter.

George huffed, setting down the letter. “I will... think this through for the meantime,” he announced. You resisted your mouth that nearly quirked upwards at his words; consideration was a good enough sign for you. “Thank you sir,” you breathed. George eyed you carefully, thinking if there was anything else needed to be said to you. “I suppose that will be all for now,” he decided tentatively. He dismissed you, and just after you thanked him for his time and turned around was then he remembered.

“Hold on, Private. I feel like there’s one more thing needed to be discussed.”

You looked over your shoulder, almost fearfully, as you moved away from the tent’s exit. George leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a nearly blank stare. “I feel like we should address the secret circulating around you,” he pointed out. Your jaw dropped to the floor, a chill striking you from the feet up. A hand flew over your arm as goosebumps riddled your limbs, and you feared the worst.

“What secret, sir?” you asked, your voice nearly returning to normal with panic.

“Juggernaut, I don’t think we need to beat around the bush over this. Other soldiers have seen it, too, and you need to come clean with it.”

Other soldiers? The thought was everything but comforting. You always thought you had been discreet with your identity, but apparently you weren’t based on the General’s accusations. However, you kept your mind straight enough to keep droning on. Maybe it was just a mistake, maybe it was just a false rumor that was meant to drag you in the dirt. Yeah, maybe that’s it. You desperately wished that was it.

“It must be a mistake, sir. Whatever this secret may be must be just a measly rumor to throw me off,” you tried to reason out.

“Would it be considered a rumor if we have a witness?”

Your stomach dropped. So there are people who saw? That was definitely not right. You were always sure to have your corset on, only taking it off inside the tent, and whenever you bathe you made sure you were either alone or the last one out and never surfacing from the water. George glanced over to Alexander expectantly, and for the first time the secretary seemed to not want to partake in the conversation.

“Hamilton here has your verbatim.”

You could feel your palms turn sweatier as the seconds passed. You steadied your breathing, trying to calm yourself and stay reasonable. Alexander stared at George incredulously, as if he was the one who’d been ratted out by their superior. He looked over to you, and despite your seemingly calm stature there was nervousness in your eyes that spoke otherwise. Not wanting to lie, Alexander nodded almost apologetically to confirm. You felt your shoulders sag. Had you been too lax when you discussed about pretending with other disguised women? Or had you been too loud when you were rambling to yourself in your own tent? You feared what was next to follow, but if there was someone who bore evidence of your secret, then it was better for you to speak the truth.

“I apologize for deceiving you, sir,” you conceded, dropping your head. “I am more than willing to accept the punishment for my actions.”

“Funny, I figured you’d know enough the consequences of having more liquor than the daily rations you’re given.”

“Wh... what...?”

You tried to wrap your head around the new information. Liquor... daily rations... was that what General George Washington accusing you of this whole time? “Or is the excess whiskey your secret to your fearlessness after all?” George mused teasingly, and you shot up straight when it finally registered to you. “No sir, that would be my low sense of self-preservation,” you answered hurriedly, jokingly. Thankfully for you, George chuckled at your banter.

“Well, don’t think of dying too early, young man,” George advised lightheartedly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

The tight feeling that was mentally suffocating you the whole time released your entire being. “Though, if it’s any assurance, my stash of vodka hasn’t really been consumed,” you informed. “If anything, I think the only time I made use of it was when I disinfected someone’s wound.” George sat up straight, a curious look flashing in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who’d you heal?”

You paused, wondering if you should really say. “It was Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens.” You glanced up, noticing the inquisitive look both George and Alexander held. “If it’s any compensation for my troubles, I can offer some of my personal beverage. Surely, you’d like a shot,” you then offered, swiftly dodging the questions that might’ve followed your prior statement.

“And how will I know this is not a ploy to try on my good side, son?”

“Was I on your bad side this whole time, sir?”

“With the direction your letters were going, you might be at the tipping point of being so with the Congress.”

You laughed uneasily. “Rest assured sir, my offer is all in good faith.” George uncovered the mug that rested on the edge of his table, and you took that as the sign to approach. You pulled out your flask, which had been refilled from the much larger bottle that you were hiding in your tent (you wondered if someone that visited your tent before saw the bottle which led to the accusations), and poured a hefty amount into the mug, much to George’s pleasure. You waved to Alexander with the flask. “Do you want some too, Hamilton?” you asked him. Alexander stared at your flask, then to George, and then to his papers.

“Come on, son. It’s not everyday we have a little extra liquor,” George insisted, a welcoming smile on his face.

Alexander didn’t hesitate to come over to the table the second he got George’s approval. He brought his own cup, and you readily poured him almost the same amount as George. “Thanks, I needed this,” he sighed gratefully, the strong scent already wafting through his nose. The three of you shared a toast, and you took a nice, long swig from your flask. A satisfied growl emitted from each of you, the burning sensation running down your throat.

“Well sir, I should head out now,” you said quietly.

George nodded, and finally dismissed you. “Call the others back on your way out,” he ordered, and you gave a verbal confirmation before pushing one of the tent flaps open. You peered outside and saw that Lafayette and John were talking nearby. You headed to them, waving a hand to catch their attention.

“F/N! The General didn’t chew you out too much, I hope?” John teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I got out alive,” you joked. “The General requests you guys and the other officials to return, by the way.” John chuckled, patting your shoulder as he passed by. Lafayette ruffled your hair before he and John headed out to look for the other officials that dispersed in the camp. You sighed and walked back to your tent, the clashing sensation of relief and anxiousness washing over you.

Your secret was safe... for now.

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