#But I can make more content of her if I want so. Enjoy!

[gojoest]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

━━━ synopsis: fate has a strange way of birthing love. you married gojo satoru to stay close to his father — an arranged union built to conceal a scandalous affair. but somewhere between the lies and the silence, another secret began to stir quietly in your chest. one that did not belong to his father at all. 

━━━ content warning: MDNI, fem! reader (she/her), arranged marriage, affair, infidelity, love triangle, age gap (late 50s vs late 20s/early 30s), reader’s age isn’t necessarily specified but she’s written with late 20s/early30s in mind, unreliable narrator, original characters (satoru’s parents: gojo akihito & gojo saori), falling in love, sexual themes but no explicit content, alcohol consumption in a few scenes, reader is drunk in one scene, flashbacks, character death, murder, twists, there’s a specific fire scene that is heavily inspired by the manhwa “betrayal of dignity”, pregnancy, angst with a happy ending, ask to tag if something triggering is missing 

━━━ pairing: gojo satoru x fem! reader ; gojo akihito (oc) x fem! reader 

━━━ word count: 20k+ (…idk what happened there tbh) 

━━━ author’s note: hello guys! this is the idea i first mentioned back in october and it’s finally coming to life! it’s the longest thing i’ve ever written so please be gentle and kind — to me, to the story, and to reader. i did my best to proofread while editing but apologies in advance for any typos, inconsistencies or mistakes that might’ve slipped through! i hope you enjoy the read ♡

Love can make you do crazy things.  

Sometimes it’s a silly behavior that you exhibit, one that isn’t akin to your usual self, one that makes you a bit of a fool. 

You find yourself taking detours to “accidentally” bump into someone. Your heart races at the sight of them, and you disguise your longing behind an awkward ‘What a coincidence!’, but what you really mean is ‘I really wanted to see you! I couldn’t stay away.’ It’s harmless — charming, even. 

But what happens when love blooms where it shouldn’t? When it takes root in poisoned soil, nurtured by secrecy and betrayal — can it still be called innocent? When the heart wants what it shouldn’t, when desire threatens to unravel lives and twist fates — is it still harmless? Still endearing? 

No. The fool knows better — but doesn’t care. 

Blinded by love, reason is cast aside. Judgment dulls. Morality slips through desperate fingers. The choices no longer belong to conscience; they belong to longing. 

Science says that falling in love mimics a drug high — dopamine rushes, rational thought hijacked, impulse overrides consequence. You become addicted. You crave. And in that craving, you’d do anything to have it. No matter the cost. 

-- 

The air in the room is thick. With the windows shut, the scent of sex lingers — trapped between the four walls of the hotel room, clinging to your skin and his. Your bodies lie tangled, worn out and still close. 

“Nobody saw you come in, right?” the whitehaired man beside you breaks the silence, voice low but tender. His breathing has steadied, back to its usual calm rhythm. 

You tilt your head, cheek still pressed against his damp chest. His hand, which had been trailing lazily along your bare back, moves up to cradle your neck — gentle, almost instinctive. Like he’s trying to spare you any discomfort, even now. It makes you smile, the way he always trembles for you. 

“No, no one saw me”, you murmur. “It’s not like this is the first time.” 

“It’s the first time since you got married”, he replies, his tone quieter, more guarded. 

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you let out a feeble laugh. “Nothing’s changed, really — except now we’re both married...” the smile on your lips slowly fades. Your lips part, more words caught behind them. 

...not to each other though — you want to say, but you don’t. You don’t want to break the moment. It’s been too long since you last had this. 

“Actually”, he trails off, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. 

At times like this, you’re reminded, again, how large he is. He barely shifts beneath you, just stretches one arm to grab the pack, the other still wrapped around your waist. He lights a cigarette with practiced ease, tucks it between his lips, and inhales deeply.  

“There’s one thing that has changed”, he says, smoke curling from his mouth. 

“Oh?” 

“I see you every day now.” 

A faint smile touches his lips, softening his blue eyes. He kisses the top of your head, gaze lingering on you. 

That’s right. You do see each other every day now. It’s the consequence of living under the same roof. 

“But even so, moments like this... they’ve become rare. That bothers me.” 

The warmth leaves his voice. His eyes grow distant, pale and cold. “Seems like he is keeping you too busy. Maybe he’s starting to like you.” he speaks in a dull voice. 

“You think so?” 

“He’s around the house more, with you. He used to be gone all the time. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” His tone hardens. ��He wasn’t supposed to act like this.” 

You let out a dry, uneasy chuckle. “Maybe he’s taking after you. Maybe I bewitched him... just like I bewitched you.” 

You don’t mean it. It’s just a tease, but the words land wrong.  

“Don’t joke about it”, he mutters, exhaling sharply. His brows furrow, tension creeping back into his features. “That’d be... problematic.” 

The man beside you is Gojo Akihito — your lover. The former head of the Gojo Clan. He is also the father of your husband. The current head of the clan — Gojo Satoru. 

...you only meant to lighten the mood. But just like his plan —  

It’s not working. 

-- 

Rumor has it: The clan head, Gojo Satoru, is completely enamored with his wife. 

It has become the talk of the mansion.  

“Did you see”, one maid whispers, nudging her colleague as they set the long dining table. “He brought her flowers, again.” 

“That’s nothing”, another chimes in, lowering her voice. “The other day he asked me how to make omurice. Said he wanted to learn it properly.” 

The first two maids lean in, wide-eyed. “And? What happened?” 

“I went into the kitchen early next morning”, she continues with a conspiratorial grin, “And there he was. Apron and everything. Cooking omurice from scratch. Said it was for his wife. Even served it on a fancy plate — with flowers from the garden. I think he picked them himself.” 

The maids collectively gasp, hands covering mouths, eyes sparkling. 

“He’s completely smitten”, one sighs, nearly swooning. “I heard he turned down every arranged match before her — didn’t even consider them. Then out of nowhere, he agrees to this one without a second thought.” 

“At first, I figured he just caved from the pressure”, another adds. “You know how the elders kept pushing. I thought he married her to shut them up.” 

“But now? Look at him. That’s not obligation. That’s a man in love.” 

A round of dreamy sighs circles the table. 

“Remember how he used to show up maybe once every couple of months? Only if something serious needed his attention?” 

“Now we see him every day”, one nods. “And if he’s not home, it feels... weird.” 

“He always comes back”, says another. “No matter how late. And the first thing he does is go see her.” 

“That’s not all”, the first maid says, lowering her voice even more. “The other day, he came home with a wound.” 

“No way. Him?” one of the others gasps. “He’s untouchable — who even got close enough to land a hit?” 

“Exactly. And do you know what he did? He let her clean him up. She asked for the first aid kit, and he just... smiled. The whole time. Like it didn’t hurt at all.” 

A chorus of quiet squeals follows, full of awe and disbelief. 

“He let himself be struck just so she’d fuss over him?” one whispers, covering her mouth. “God, he’s hopeless.” 

But before the fantasy could grow any richer, a sharp voice cuts through the air. 

“If you’re done gossiping”, Akihito says coolly from the doorway, “Perhaps you could focus on the work you’re actually being paid to do. Call everyone when dinner is ready.” 

The maids freeze, spines straightening, heads bowing in rapid succession. “Y-yes, sir. Our apologies.” 

Akihito didn’t linger. He didn’t need to. 

It wasn’t their chatter that irritated him. It was what they were whispering about. What they were seeing — what he couldn’t ignore. That’s what got under his skin. 

--  

“Good evening, wife.” 

You blink at the mirror just as a bouquet of forget-me-nots is gently laid in front of you on the vanity. Satoru leans in behind you, his reflection appearing over your shoulder, smiling. “You look beautiful, as always.” he murmurs against your ear. 

You shift slightly in your chair, but his hands land softly on your shoulders, holding you in place — not forcefully, but firmly enough to suggest he’s not letting you leave just yet.  

“Want me to brush your hair?” 

You sigh and meet his eyes in the mirror. “I can do it myself.” 

“I know”, he says smoothly. “But I want to.” 

Persistent. That’s one thing you’ve learned about him in the month you’ve been married — Satoru always gets what he wants. If you said no now, you wouldn’t put it past him to slip gum into your hair just so you’d have to ask for help. 

Just like he did with your slippers. 

He wanted to put them on for you one morning — for no reason other than his own mischief, you’re sure — but you refused. Later, fresh out of the shower, they were gone. All of them. Every pair. Oh no, we’re out of slippers! Guess I’ll just carry you — he said with that shameless grin of his. And he did. Said the floor was too cold. Couldn’t let his wife get sick, after all. He carried you around the house all morning. Then, right before leaving to run some errands together, he knelt, slipped your shoes on like some smug prince, and you let him — half amused, half annoyed. 

The bastard always wins. 

“Fine”, you relent now, sitting back. 

“Don’t worry”, he says, picking up the brush. “I’ll be gentle.” 

So far, nothing about this marriage has matched what Akihito told you. It was supposed to be nothing more than a formality. He reassured you countless times that his son would not even glance at you — let alone lay a hand on you; that you would probably just see him just once, on your wedding day, and that would be the end of it. But so far, Akihito was wrong about everything. 

He’s never home, huh? — You see him every day. 

He won’t touch you, huh? — Then why does he look for every excuse to be close? Going as far as to get himself injured on purpose and come back without healing himself so you’ll tend to him... Why does he always find a reason to touch your arm, your hand, your back? Why... Maybe, he wants to get in your pants? That must be it... right? Why else would he try so hard to make things work? It’s not like you two married out of love. You could’ve just quietly existed as his wife on paper; he certainly doesn’t have to bother making you an actual part of his life. 

Sure, he is a huge tease. But it’s not the annoying kind. It’s... disarming. You hate to admit it, but there’s something about him. A pull. A quiet magnetism that makes you want to lean in instead of pull away. And sometimes, you forget — forget why you came to be his wife in the first place, that this was never meant to be more than convenience serving the purposes of a scandalous affair. 

Until you remember. Until you look at him and see shadows of Akihito — the resemblance too striking to ignore. A younger version of the man who changed everything for you. 

You sigh, unable to keep your thoughts from wandering. 

“Did I hurt you?”, Satoru asks, suddenly pausing mid-stroke. 

You glance at his reflection. For just a second, there’s something soft in his expression. Worry. “No”, you say. “Just thinking.” 

“About?” 

He continues brushing, careful not to let the bristles graze your skin. Instead, his hand absorbs the pressure — the motion surprisingly tender. Then his hand drops. Light fingertips brush your neck. Two fingers lift your chin, tilting your head back until your eyes meet. “Thinking about someone else while I’m this close to you?” he asks, brows furrowed. His tone is calm, but the edge in it isn’t playful. It’s sharp. Serious. 

“Jealous?” you smirk, trying to deflect. 

He places the brush down and leans in. His head hovering over yours. There’s barely any distance left. When you both breathe out a veil of warm air falls and fills the tiny gap left between your faces. “Very”, he says quietly, his face deprived of the usual grin. “Makes me want to do terrible things to the man in your thoughts.” He’s not joking. Not even a little. 

“I was thinking about you, actually”, you reply. It’s not technically a lie.  

Not accustomed to such intimate closeness with him, heat starts to spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat acting peculiarly too. The nearness is too much. You share a bed, yes — but neither of you has ever dared cross the middle. Not yet. Why beat so fast suddenly, heart? Must be the fact he’s looming over you like this that is making you uncomfortable. Trying to break the tension, you joke. “If you’re planning on doing terrible things to yourself, make sure you don’t die. I’d hate to be widowed so young.” 

His expression falters. For a second, you see it — genuine surprise. It’s satisfying. He blinks, once, twice, head pulling back slightly, fingers at your jaw trembling with something unspoken. But it doesn’t last. He recovers quickly. 

A breathy laugh escapes him as he leans in again. “You were thinking about me? What, something dirty?” 

You scoff. “You wish.” 

“I do”, he replies instantly. “And don’t worry — you’ll get there soon enough.” 

The audacity. 

“What makes you so sure I’ll get there”, you shoot back. He grins, guiding your face back toward the mirror. “If you can’t see it up close...” He taps the glass. “Just look there. I’m kind of a masterpiece.” 

“The only piece you are is a piece of work”, you mutter, turning your head with a huff, your hair brushing against his face. You expect a quip in return. But he goes still. Sniffs. 

“Hmm... What’s that smell?” He leans closer, nose buried briefly in your hair. “I didn’t know you smoked.” 

You freeze. Akihito’s cigarettes. You didn’t wash your hair after the hotel. Damn it. 

“I don’t”, you reply, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. 

“You smell like cigarettes.” 

“I was with a friend earlier. She smokes. Maybe that’s why.” you lie. 

Satoru watches you carefully through the mirror. “Good. You shouldn’t smoke”, he says at last, straightening up. “My wife has to live a long life. With me.” A smile tugs at his lips. A playful smirk, back to normal. 

You try to summon a sharp retort. Something clever. But all you manage is a tight, fake smile as your heart thunders in your chest. You were almost caught. 

Then— 

Knock-knock. 

“Dinner is ready, sir. Madam.” one of the maids calls from outside. 

“Hai-hai~”, Satoru casually yells out. “We’ll be down in a minute.” 

-- 

The dining room is too quiet. The kind of quiet that isn’t peace, but tension — stretched thin between the four people who sit on the table. It makes the softest sounds feel sharp. Or maybe it’s just in your head, considering the situation. 

It’s tradition, apparently — whenever everyone is home, meals are eaten together. Your least favorite part of the day. Understandably so, given the circumstances: you willingly put yourself here, fully aware you’d be sitting across from the woman whose husband you’re secretly sleeping with, and beside the son you’re technically cheating on — with his father. 

You sit beside your husband, Satoru. Across from you, Akihito — your lover, your secret. Next to him is Saori, your lover’s wife and husband’s mother — regal and silent, her expression unreadable as always, like she’s wearing a careful mask. 

No one speaks when the food is served. Just the mechanical act of eating, a silence that presses against your ribs like guilt. Your appetite has all but vanished since becoming the bride of the Gojo Clan, your stomach perpetually knotted with remorse. Sometimes even water feels repulsive. You often catch yourself wondering why you’re even doing this. Is it really love? You begin to question the choice you made, weighing it with a heaviness that never seems to lift. 

Then, as always, the silence shatters. Satoru reaches over, casual as anything, and plucks a bite of greens from your plate with his chopsticks. “Yours always taste better”, he grins, dropping them in his mouth. “Must be the way you chew”, he says with a mouthful.  

A small, soft laugh escapes you before you can catch it. There he goes with his silly antics again, you think. He somehow always knows how to tug you out of your head, whether you want him to or not. 

Akihito’s chopsticks pause mid-motion. His eyes narrow, barely, but you feel the weight of it. “Interesting”, he says, voice low and smooth, but with a faint edge. “I thought you never touched your greens.” 

Satoru doesn’t look away from you as he chews, slow and deliberate. “Tastes change.” 

The air thins. You take a sip of wine to steady your hands and avoid meeting Akihito’s eyes. You can feel them — heavy, disapproving, and not very kind. 

“They do”, Akihito replies after a moment, setting his chopsticks down with a soft click. “Although not always for the better.”  

You want to look at him, to read what he’s really thinking — but you don’t dare. Sometimes it feels like even a glance might betray you. Especially now, as Satoru shifts slightly in his seat, angling himself subtly closer to you, as if rising to meet some unspoken challenge. 

“I suppose it depends”, Satoru says lightly, the smile still playing on his lips. “Sometimes, watching someone savor something — it can spark a craving in you too.” He smiles at you then — softly — and something flutters in your chest that has no business being there. Then, he adds, with just enough weight to sharpen the air again. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, old man? How tastes change over time.” 

You freeze, just for a moment. Akihito doesn’t blink. His tone stays dry, his face unreadable. “Was there a point to that?” 

Satoru leans back slightly. “Just that, at your age, I’d expect you to be less surprised when people... shift.” 

Across from you, Saori finally lifts her wine glass. She doesn’t drink — not yet — but she swirls the red liquid slowly, her gaze shifting from father to son like she’s watching something she’s already seen before. They clash often, you’ve noticed. Not loudly, not outright — but it’s always there. A push and pull beneath the surface, a cold war of words and glances. 

Sometimes, you wonder if Satoru knows about the affair. He says things — subtle, but cutting — that make you pause, that make you think he might be more aware than he lets on. Maybe that’s why he’s pursuing you so intently — just to prove a point to his father. But then, there are moments when his gaze softens when he looks at you, when his touch lingers just a second too long. He goes out of his way every day just to be near you. And in those moments, it feels too sincere to be a game. You start to think he might actually mean it. That he’s not just chasing you out of spite — but because he truly wants you. 

You reach for your own glass again, taking another sip of wine, as if it might wash away the tension thickening by the second. But it doesn't. Setting the glass back down, your hand lingers at its base. Your fingers brush against Satoru’s hand that rests on the table between you two. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, his pinky curls beneath yours — just enough to be felt, not seen. You don’t pull away. You know Akihito sees it. You feel it. The tick in his jaw is barely visible, but you notice it. 

“I’ve been seeing you around way more frequently, Satoru. I hope marriage hasn’t dulled your focus”, he says, his voice smooth and pointed. “There are more important things than... comfort.” 

The irony, you think. The words sound like a joke to you, coming from the same man who orchestrated your marriage just to keep you closer and see you more freely. You barely manage to swallow a scoff. 

Satoru leans back in his chair, unfazed. “You’d be surprised”, he says lightly. “Sometimes comfort is the only thing keeping people from falling apart.”  

“It’s rare”, Saori speaks at last, “to see affection in this house. Perhaps we shouldn’t discourage it.” Her words are gentle, kind — at least, on the surface. But they carry the weight of something unspoken, a quiet complaint from a woman who has never been loved by her husband — not in the way a lover is. 

The silence that follows is anything but gentle. Her words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy, like the last note of a song no one knows how to follow. No one speaks. Not right away. You watch Akihito, wondering if he’ll respond — if he even knows how. But his expression remains unreadable, carved from habit more than emotion. Then, without looking at anyone in particular, he speaks, as if the comment never touched him at all. “I meant to tell you”, Akihito says, cutting through the quiet like a blade, “The elders requested a meeting with you tomorrow morning.” 

Satoru’s glass of water stills halfway to his lips. “Can’t”, he says casually. “I’m taking my wife out.” 

You blink. That’s the first you’ve heard of it. 

Akihito’s expression doesn’t change, but the muscle in his jaw tightens — just once, sharply — as he exhales through his nose. “You can reschedule”, he says. “The clan elders don’t appreciate being made to wait.” 

Satoru shrugs. “Neither does she.” He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, but the weight of it presses into your ribs like heat. 

The silence that follows is tight, full of things no one says. Saori watches Akihito this time, her gaze sharp as cut glass. Her husband is acting odd. And she notices everything. 

--  

Gojo Akihito was a man carved from discipline. Now in his late fifties, he was a figure both respected and quietly feared. When he entered a room, silence followed. Backs straightened. Conversations halted. People instinctively adjusted their posture — as if simply being in his presence demanded their best. His presence was weighty, not in a menacing way, but with a gravity that commanded reverence. His name alone held power — spoken softly, carefully, like it belonged to someone who mattered more than most. And he did. Shaped by the will of the elders, Akihito had been molded into the ideal head of the Gojo Clan: composed, unwavering, and dutiful. Obedience had been stitched into his bones from childhood. He was taught not to dream, but to serve. To lead with strength and never stray from what was expected. 

His path had been set before he could walk it — become strong, inherit the clan, marry a chosen wife, produce an heir. And he did. His talents bloomed early. Power came easily to him, and with it, authority. He married Saori, a woman selected by the elders, and fulfilled his role without resistance. Love was never part of the arrangement — but respect was. Even in the absence of affection, he treated her with dignity. They never became lovers — much to Saori’s quiet sorrow, for she had loved him from the very beginning. After they conceived Satoru, he never touched her again. As if it had been part of a duty — fulfilled, then forgotten. 

When he stepped down and passed the title of clan head to his son, Akihito did not fade quietly into the background. His voice still carried weight, often more so than of the current leader. To many, he remained the pillar of the clan. The rock. Unmoving. Unshakeable. Dependable. But even stone erodes, given time. Even the strongest man can change. Even a rock, under enough heat — can melt. 

-- 

Akihito wasn’t supposed to be here. The streets were too narrow, too loud, brimming with color and life in a way that felt foreign to him. He was meant to be elsewhere, at a meeting across town — another empty ritual of clan maintenance. But his driver took a wrong turn, and instead of rerouting, Akihito had stepped out, needing a walk. Needing air. Needing space from the weight that always clung to his shoulders. That’s when he saw you. 

At first, it was nothing. You were just a figure in the crowd — young, distracted, smiling faintly at your phone, coffee in hand. But something about you… stopped him. You passed by without noticing him, and the moment stretched too long. Something about you felt familiar, though he couldn’t place why. A detail misplaced in time. A memory from a life he never lived. He turned — just slightly. Just enough to watch you go. You entered a nearby café tucked between cramped buildings. Small. A little worn. Too cozy, too youthful for someone like him. He should have kept walking. But he followed you inside. He told himself it was curiosity. That he needed a moment to sit, make a call, kill time. But deep down, even then, he knew. He picked a seat in the corner. Three tables away from you. 

He returned the next day. And the next. It was irrational. Dangerous. He wasn’t the kind of man who indulged temptations. His life had been a masterclass in restraint — each step measured, each emotion disciplined out of existence. But you… You sat in the same spot each day, sipping a drink, sometimes reading, sometimes just staring out the window with that faraway look that seemed to see something no one else could. He wondered what you saw. He wondered what you wanted. He wondered what it would feel like to be the thing you looked at that way.  And he hated himself for it. 

You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know that the man sitting a few tables away had once been the most powerful figure in one of Japan’s oldest sorcerer clans. That he had blood on his hands and responsibilities that still echoed through every inch of his life. You didn’t know that his marriage was nothing more than a political alignment. That he had followed every rule. Sacrificed every selfish urge. That he had never, in over fifty years, been in love. Not until now. 

On the third day, he stopped resisting and made a decision. He stood up, walked to your table, and asked — “May I sit?” 

-- 

Three tables. He was sitting three tables away from you — again. Just like yesterday. And the day before that. Today made the third. 

You’d noticed him immediately. How could you not? Tall, impeccably dressed, white hair, broad shoulders, and unmistakably refined. You guessed he was in his fifties, but he wore it well — almost too well. Dressed in a designer suit, he looked out of place in this cozy, slightly run-down café filled with students and twenty-somethings. Yet, there he was. 

Each time you stole a glance, he was gazing out the window, never once meeting your eyes. But something about him — his presence, the stillness in the way he sat, the ghost of a smile on his lips — kept drawing your attention. Maybe you were imagining things. But, perhaps, was he there… for you? Just as you started telling yourself it was all in your head, he moved. Ah, he’s leaving— 

No — he wasn’t. He was walking toward you. 

Your breath caught. Your eyes widened as he came to a stop at your table. 

“May I sit?” he asked, voice smooth but low, as if careful not to disturb the air between you. You blinked, pulse rising. “Why here?” you asked, managing a dry smile. “There are plenty of other tables, including the one you’ve been using for the past few days.” You motioned toward his old table. “I like the view better from here,” he replied calmly, and took the seat without waiting for permission. 

The view, of course, was you. He had resisted the pull for two days. But today, Gojo Akihito gave in. In his fifties, for the first time in his life — he fell in love. And for the first time… he broke a rule. 

-- 

He didn’t touch you. Not for weeks. Not inappropriately, not even in passing. His interest was always wrapped in respect, laced with a restraint that was somehow more intoxicating than overt desire. He spoke little, but with purpose. He listened like it was sacred. Asked questions no one else had ever bothered to. You told yourself it was harmless. That you liked the attention he was giving you. That you weren’t doing anything wrong… with a married man. It’s just a connection — nothing more. But the way he looked at you… like you were something precious, something rare, he had no right to touch but desperately wanted to — it stirred something in you. 

When he kissed you for the first time, it wasn’t impulse. It was quiet. Measured. Like a man saying a prayer before stepping into hell. And you let him. After that, the pretense faded. You started meeting behind closed doors…  

You were in love, yes. Or maybe, looking back now, you only thought you were. Not the way he was. You were free, while Akihito was chained to a life he could never escape. The deeper Akihito sank into you, the more you floated above him. Untethered. Capable of leaving. And that was what terrified him the most. He needed something stronger — something permanent — to bind you to him. 

One year into your affair, Akihito proposed something unthinkable. 

“An arranged marriage?” you gasped, your voice cracking in disbelief. “To your son?” You tried to push away from him, stepping out of the bathtub, but he caught your wrist and pulled you back in. 

“I miss you too much when you’re away”, he murmured against your shoulder. His breath was hot. His arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you close, anchoring you to him in the steaming water. “Not knowing when I’ll see you again — it’s unbearable. And knowing it won’t be tomorrow? I hate that.” 

You sat between his legs, your bare back pressed to his chest, steam rising around you like a veil. His head dipped to the curve of your neck. You said nothing. Your lips trembled with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, with a sob that didn’t quite leave your throat. 

You spoke every day. But meetings were rare. Always discreet. Always in motion. Hotels changed with every rendezvous. Different rooms, different names, different times of arrival. You booked separate rooms but only ever used one. Because what you shared was a scandal. And the walls, anywhere, could talk. He was the former head of the Gojo Clan. A public man. A married man. And in the Gojo Clan, divorce was taboo. Unspoken but absolute. Marriage ended only with death. 

“It’s madness”, you whispered. “You’d just… hand me over to another man like that?” 

“I’m not handing you over”, he said, voice low and tired. “It’ll be just on paper. You know what Satoru’s like — he’s obsessed with his work. Sorcery is the only thing he’s ever cared about. He won’t touch you.” He paused. He knew how it sounded. But to him, it made sense. He was convinced this was the best way to keep you close. Satoru, as far as Akihito knew, had no interest in romance, no time for love. If you married his son, your place in the clan would be secured — and so would your bond to him. Even if you tried to leave him one day, you’d still be part of his world. Divorce, after all, was never an option. “Think about it”, he continued. “We’d be able to see each other more freely. People wouldn’t question it if we were spotted together — we’d be family. It would raise fewer suspicions than what we’re doing now.” 

You stared into the steam, into nothing. “...fine.” You caved. 

Neither of you knew then just how flawed the plan truly was. The flaw had a name: Gojo Satoru. 

-- 

Back in your shared bedroom, you close the door behind you and turn to face Satoru. He’s already tugging off his jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair. You squint at him, arms crossed. “What was that earlier?” He pauses, one sock halfway off. “Hm?” He looks up at you, eyebrow arched in that maddeningly innocent way. 

“‘I’m taking my wife out’”, you echo flatly. “We made no such plans.” 

He chuckles — a low, amused sound. “Ah. That.” Straightening up, he begins rolling his sleeves to the elbows, wandering toward the bed. “I was too distracted by your beauty when I got home, I must’ve forgotten to tell you.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me what exactly?” 

“That everyone wants to meet you”, he says, as if it’s obvious. 

“Everyone?” you eye him. 

“My students. My colleagues. Most of them think I made up this whole marriage thing just for attention.” He grins like it’s the most absurd idea in the world. “So tomorrow, you’re coming with me. I need to show them that my wife is, in fact, a very real, very stunning person~” 

You blink. “So you didn’t just blurt it out to get out of meeting the elders?” 

He scoffs and flops onto the bed, arms behind his head. “Please. I don’t need an excuse to avoid them. I’ll meet them when I feel like it — not when they demand it.” Of course he would say that. “Besides”, he adds lazily, “I figured we could hang out a little after. Grab a bite or go somewhere. A proper date.” 

You stare at him. “A date?” — “Yeah”, he shoots. “You know, two people spending time together on purpose because they want to?” 

“Satoru”, you sigh, “you don’t have to bother with this kind of thing. This is an arranged marriage, let me remind you. We’re not... required to play house.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting with mock curiosity. “Who said couples in arranged marriages can’t go on dates? That’s a rule now? If it is, I must’ve missed the fine print.” 

He’s relentless — in a strangely charming way. Always pushing, always poking. And the worst part is... he knows you don’t exactly hate it. You glance away, shaking your head. “Alright”, you say finally, “fine” — and he immediately beams like he’s just won something. And maybe he has — in his own strange way. Satoru doesn’t need much to feel victorious. But there’s something you have noticed — how a yes from you is usually worth a trophy in his world, even if you offer it begrudgingly. 

You watch him for a moment, unsure what to make of the warmth blooming quietly in your chest. It's not love. It can’t be. Right? But it’s something. A softening, maybe. A flicker of possibility. Your fingers absently toy with the edge of your sleeve. That strange flutter you’ve been ignoring — the one he keeps coaxing out of you — is getting harder to deny. What exactly are you doing? — you ask yourself. 

And then your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out quickly and glance down at the screen. 

Akihito: Come to the guest house. 

Just like that, reality presses its weight back onto your shoulders. It doesn’t look like Satoru noticed anything, but your hands are already closing the message, hiding the screen like a child caught with stolen sweets. “I’m going to the kitchen”, you say, too quickly. “I want something sweet.” 

Satoru sits up a little. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll get—” 

“No.” You cut him off, maybe too fast. “I’m not sure what I want yet, so I’ll just look around.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment. Something unreadable flickers there — brief, sharp, gone too fast. Then he leans back on his hands, still smiling. “Alright, my picky little bride. Don’t be long.” 

You force a light laugh and slip out the door. 

-- 

Akihito hears your knock — light, familiar — before the door opens. You’re still in your dinner clothes, but your hair is looser now, lipstick faded. You look comfortable, relaxed — and he does not exactly like that. You step quietly, and he lets you come to him without saying a word. For a moment, neither of you speak. 

He looks somewhat tense, but the air between you is still warm with memory — earlier today, your skin beneath his hands, your lips murmuring his name into a hotel pillow. And yet. “I’m sorry for calling you over like this”, he says finally, his voice low. “I just needed to see you.” 

You smile faintly. “You saw me at dinner.” 

“Not like this.” His eyes search yours. “Not alone. Not without... him.” 

You stiffen slightly — not defensively. Just aware. Akihito gestures to the seat beside him. You sit.

“He’s not the same”, he murmurs after a pause. “Satoru. He’s changing.” 

You don’t respond at first. You fold your hands in your lap. 

“You know what he used to be like? Detached. Cold. Always disappearing on missions. He never gave a damn about what anyone thought of him — never entertained sentiment. And now?” He scoffs softly. “Flowers. Cooking. Holding your hand under the table like some infatuated schoolboy...” 

Your mouth opens — then closes. You can’t find the right words. 

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” he asks quietly. “At dinner. The way he looks at you.” 

Your gaze falters. Not guilty — not quite — but cautious. “He’s just playing the part, Aki”, you say eventually. “He’s always been theatrical.” 

Akihito shakes his head. “No. That wasn’t an act.” There’s no bitterness in his voice. No anger. Just... disbelief. Like he’s watching something slip through his fingers that he didn’t expect to lose. “Before you came into his life, he never stayed home. Never cared about meals or traditions or people. He never had time for anything... personal.” 

You look down. 

Akihito studies your profile, as if memorizing it. The curve of your brow, the slope of your cheek. “I know I’m the one who suggested this arrangement”, he says, and his voice is more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I told myself it was the best way to keep you close. Safe. But now...” He trails off. 

You reach out, take his hand in yours. “I’m still yours, Aki”, you say gently. “You know that.” 

“I want to believe that”, he murmurs. You squeeze his hand. “You can.” 

But your voice falters, just slightly. Just enough for him to notice. His eyes flick up to your face. There’s no accusation in them. Only fear. The quiet, creeping kind that lives under the surface of a man who’s spent a lifetime being in control. 

“I know he’s not you”, you add softly. “I know why I said yes to this. You don’t have to worry.” 

Akihito nods slowly. But his silence stretches too long. You lean your head against his shoulder, and he kisses the top of your hair. Grateful. Reassured — or trying to be. But the weight in his chest doesn’t lift. Because for the first time, he isn’t sure if the threat is outside of what you have... or is growing inside it. 

-- 

“Don’t worry, they don’t bite”, Satoru chuckles, watching you fidget with your sleeves like you’re about to walk into a job interview. You shoot him a dry look. “You say that like you’re not the worst of them.” 

“Me? I’m the warm-up act. They are the terrifying ones”, he teases, nodding toward the lounge room door. You roll your eyes but don’t stop playing with your cuffs. 

“You’ll be fine”, he adds, nudging your elbow gently. “Just flash that charming smile and pretend I’m not hovering behind you like a lovesick fool.” 

“You are hovering.” 

“I’m setting the scene”, he grins. “For dramatic effect.” 

You scoff. “I’m not scared, you know.” 

“Of course not”, he nods solemnly. “You’re just fidgeting because you’re excited to meet my fan club.” You shoot him a sideways glare. He leans over, voice lowering just a touch. “They’re going to love you”, he says, softer now. “They’ve never seen me with someone like you.” 

“Someone like me?” 

“Someone who makes me behave.” 

You don’t get the chance to press him on that. He throws the door open before you can respond — and the room instantly freezes. Chairs creak to a halt. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. All heads turn. A spoon hovers midair. A can of soda stops halfway to someone’s lips. Even the air feels like it’s holding its breath. And all of it — every flicker of curiosity, disbelief, and blatant awe — is aimed squarely at you. 

“Guys”, Satoru announces, all flair and no shame, “This is my wife. Try not to scare her off.” You manage a composed smile, offering a polite nod. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The reactions come in like dominos. 

Yuuji blinks so fast he looks like a malfunctioning cartoon. “She’s real. She’s actually real.”

Nobara lets out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. How is he married to her?” 

“There’s definitely something wrong with her”, Megumi mutters, arms crossed.

“Blink twice if you’re being held hostage”, Maki deadpans without missing a beat.

Even stoic Shoko lifts her eyebrows, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. “I genuinely thought he made you up.”

Ijichi bows at the waist, glasses fogged slightly from the tea steam. “Gojo-san speaks of you often. I assumed it was... metaphorical.” Nanami says absolutely nothing. Just closes his eyes and exhales, a slow, pained breath that says this is beneath me, but also of course this is happening. 

Meanwhile, Geto is the picture of calm. Reclined on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, he simply smirks and raises his hand in greeting. “About time you dragged her here, Satoru.” 

“Don’t encourage him”, Nanami mutters without opening his eyes. 

You can’t help it — you laugh. A light, genuine thing that breaks the awkward spell in the room like shattering glass. The tension in your chest uncoils slightly, and Satoru beams beside you. 

“Oh god”, Nobara groans. “Even her laugh is gorgeous. This is unbelievable.” 

“Do you need help?” Megumi asks again, completely serious.

“She’s under some kind of spell, huh?” Yuuji whispers. “Do we do something? Help her?” 

“No need to rescue her”, Satoru says smugly. “She married me willingly” 

“That’s even worse”, Nanami mutters. 

“You guys are insufferable”, you finally say, smiling despite yourself. 

“You’re perfect for him then”, Shoko hums. 

“Alright, alright, don’t scare her off on her first visit”, Geto says, rising from the couch. He strolls over, offering his hand. “I’m Suguru. Satoru’s better half.” 

“Hey!” Satoru protests. 

You shake Geto’s hand. “Pleasure.” 

“It really is”, he replies smoothly. “Though we may have to talk about your taste in men.” 

“I’ve made peace with it”, you reply with a smirk. The room erupts into scattered chuckles. Even Megumi snorts. Satoru clutches his chest. “I feel so betrayed.” 

“Get in line”, Nanami mutters again. 

“Come on”, Geto waves you over. “Sit. Eat something. Let us dissect your personality in peace.” As you move to join them, Satoru’s hand brushes your lower back — a barely-there touch. Protective. Familiar. You glance at him. He’s still smiling like the sun — blinding and hard to read beneath the surface.  

You ease yourself into a spot between Suguru and Satoru on the long couch. Plates and cups shift around. The lounge settles into casual chaos again, but it’s warmer now — less like scrutiny, more like curious acceptance. As conversations spark up around you, you feel it — a brush at your side. Subtle, deliberate. Satoru’s hand slides across the space between you on the couch. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even look your way. But under the table, his fingers quietly reach for yours. At first, you don’t respond. The chatter of the room covers the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. It feels like everyone might notice, even though no one’s looking. And still — slowly — your fingers curl around his. 

You glance sideways at him. He’s still grinning and bickering with Geto about who’s ageing better — but there’s a flicker in his eyes when they meet yours. Something warm. Something that longs. And Satoru doesn’t look like he’s letting go of your hand anytime soon. 

-- 

Even after leaving the school and walking toward the car, Satoru hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. And, truthfully, you haven’t tried to pull away either. His hand is warm and steady, fingers loosely laced with yours like it’s always been this natural. “They’re very chaotic”, you say as you walk side by side, the late afternoon sun painting golden highlights into his white hair. “But adorably so.” 

Satoru gasps. “How come you never say that about me?” 

“I do say you’re chaotic.” 

“Not that part”, he pouts, dragging your hand slightly as he walks. “Say I’m adorable too.”

You glance up at him with a smirk. “Why make me lie now?” 

He clutches his chest like you just wounded him. “Unbelievable. And here I was, thinking we were having a romantic moment.” 

“You pouted like a toddler five seconds ago. That was the opposite of romantic.” 

“That was endearing, thank you very much.” He sighs dramatically, unlocking the car with a flick of his keys. “One day you’ll realize just how lucky you are to have married me.”

You chuckle. “I’m still trying to figure that out.” 

As the engine hums to life and the radio kicks in with something mellow, he steals a glance at you. “You liked them, though?”

You nod. “They’re all... a lot. But in a good way. I liked them. They like you, too — though it’s hilarious how some of them thought I was a figment of your imagination at first.” 

“That’s fair”, he shrugs. “Even I sometimes think you’re too good to be real.” You don’t reply to that — partly because it’s sweet, partly because it makes your stomach twist in ways you’re not ready to admit. 

-- 

Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant, Satoru pulls the car up near a quiet park tucked into a tree-lined stretch of the city. It’s not crowded, the evening air is crisp, and the swings creak gently in the breeze. 

“A date doesn’t have to be complicated”, he says, hands behind his head, strolling beside you. “This used to be my favorite spot when I ditched meetings.”

You laugh. “What a responsible clan head.” 

“Oh, terribly irresponsible”, he agrees proudly. “Now — race you to the swings!”

You both make a break for it, laughing as your shoes hit gravel. You get there first, narrowly beating him (because he let you), and triumphantly claim the left swing. Satoru sits on the other — except, the chains creak loudly as he settles in, clearly too tall and too big for the tiny seat. 

“God, you look ridiculous”, you say between laughs.

“Hey”, he grins. “Let me have my moment.” He tries to swing but his feet keep dragging on the ground. You get off and try to push him but fail spectacularly. “You’re too heavy!” you exclaim. He snorts. “I’m muscle and grace, I’ll have you know.” 

“Lift your legs then! That’s the only way this will work.” 

“If I lift my legs, the swing will snap and we’ll both die.”  

You dissolve into laughter, arms over your chest as you watch him try — and fail — to get any lift. “Hop off now”, you say. “It’s your turn to push me.”

He gets off, and you take over. He starts pushing you gently, and you find yourself relaxing, head tilted back toward the sky as you glide back and forth. You don’t notice how quiet he’s gone until the swing slows and you look back to find him watching you — softly, openly, with none of his usual teasing in sight. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. He shrugs. “You look happy. I like seeing you like this.” 

Your heart stumbles. And just like that, the real world catches up — Akihito, the marriage, the plan... Guilt prickles under your skin. You’re not supposed to feel this warm around Satoru. Not this content. He notices the shift in your eyes, tension in your smile. “Hey.” He walks in front of the swing, kneeling slightly to meet your gaze. “Where did you go just now?” 

You open your mouth — but you don’t know what to say. There’s too much. You’re not even sure what you’re feeling anymore. Satoru doesn’t push. He simply lifts a hand to brush your cheek with his knuckles, gentler than anyone would expect from a man like him. “If you’re scared”, he says, “I’ll wait. But I’m not stopping.” 

You should say something — anything — but you don’t. Instead, you lean forward without thinking. Just a little. Just enough. And he meets you halfway. You kiss. It’s soft. Uncomplicated. Barely a breath long — but enough to make your stomach flip and your thoughts scramble. You pull back just as fast, cheeks feeling hot, and suddenly shoot up to your feet. 

“I—uh—I’m going to head to the car”, you stammer, already backing away. “Give me fifteen minutes. Just... wait, okay? Don’t come right now.” Satoru blinks after you as you run off, flustered. A slow smile spreads across his lips. He lifts a hand, touching his fingers to where your lips met his. “Why shy away like this now?” he murmurs to himself, chuckling. “It’s not like this is our first kiss...” 

His smile lingers, a little softer now. Almost nostalgic. He watches the direction you went, lost in thought. Because only he remembers. You’ve kissed before. But back then, you didn’t know who he was. And you still don’t remember. 

-- 

Satoru remembers it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. The memory came rushing back the moment he saw your picture — the proposed match for the arranged marriage. The others in the room kept talking, formalities piling up like a tide of obligations, but he barely heard a word.  

It was you — the girl who stole his first kiss. The girl he never managed to find again. 

It happened years ago, sometime past midnight. He had just wrapped up a mission — a dull one, barely worth remembering — and was wandering the streets of Tokyo, eating red bean mochi with one hand and scrolling his phone with the other. Still in uniform, still buzzing from leftover cursed energy, still too wired to sleep. As he strolled past a row of late-night bars and clubs, the music leaked into the street like fog. Somewhere between neon signs and cigarette smoke, he spotted you — a girl slumped on the curb outside a nightclub, arms wrapped around your knees, head lolling sleepily to one side. You looked like you were dozing off. Alone. Vulnerable.  

He kept walking. At first. But something didn’t sit right. There were a few guys loitering nearby — drunk, leering, the kind of men that don’t need a reason to ruin someone’s night. One of them peeled away from the group and started approaching you, calling out something Satoru didn’t care to hear. He stopped at a vending machine, fingers patting his pockets as if he were looking for coins — but really, he was watching. Calculating. When the guy crouched beside you and reached out to brush your hair behind your ear, Satoru moved. Fast. “Sorry I took so long”, he said loudly, slinging his jacket over your shoulders in one smooth motion as he stepped between you and the stranger. 

The man froze. 

Satoru didn’t raise his voice, didn’t flare cursed energy — just looked at him. Cold. Unblinking. Dangerous. The guy got the message. “I was just making sure she was okay”, the creep stammered. 

“Yeah”, Satoru said flatly. “She is. Now leave.” He didn’t have to say it twice. Once the guys scurried off, Satoru crouched beside you, tilting his head. “Hey. Not a great place for a nap, you know?” You stirred, muttering something incoherent. “I’m serious”, he said, nudging your shoulder lightly. “It’s not safe out here.” 

“Can’t walk”, you mumbled. “Not sure if I’m spinning, or everything else is.” 

He blinked. “That bad, huh?”

You squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“A kidnapper?”

“Definitely not.”

“Hmm”, you leaned your cheek against your knee. “Guess you’ll do.” 

Satoru stared. “What does that mean?” You reached and tugged his sleeve, and with surprising strength, pulled him to sit beside you. Then, without warning, you laid your head in his lap. “What are you—?” 

“You’re warm”, you sighed, nestling closer. “And you smell nice. But I kind of feel like throwing up.” 

“Please don’t”, he said instantly, trying not to panic. “This is my favorite outfit.” 

You giggled. “You’re funny.”

He looked down at you, at the way your hair fanned across his thighs, at the curve of your sleepy smile. “What are you even doing out here alone?” he asked. 

“I lost my friends”, you mumbled. “Or maybe they lost me. Who’s to say...” 

“You got a phone?” 

You held it up proudly. It was dead. “Perfect”, he sighed. 

Eventually, when it became clear you weren’t going to get up willingly, he gathered you into his arms and stood. “Alright, mystery girl. I’m getting you somewhere safe — where’s your place?” 

“Wait, wait”, you slurred, squinting suspiciously at him. “I don’t know you. I can’t just tell you where I live!” 

“You’re literally unconscious on the sidewalk and I’m carrying you like a bridal bouquet. I think we’re past that point.” 

You didn’t answer. Your head lolled onto his shoulder. He sighed, glanced around. He didn’t know your name, didn’t know where you lived — but you looked about college-aged, and the university campus wasn’t far. It was the best guess he had. So he started walking.  

Halfway there, a group of girls came jogging down the sidewalk, calling some name (yours). They looked frantic — until they saw you in his arms.  “Oh god”, one of them exhaled. “We’ve been looking for her everywhere!” 

They reached out to take you, but you lifted your head groggily, blinking at him like you’d just remembered he existed. You took off his sunglasses and placed him on his head, then cupped his face in both hands, surprisingly gentle. 

“You’re pretty”, you said. 

He blinked. 

Then you leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and quick. “Thank you”, you whispered. “For keeping me warm.” 

And just like that, your friends pulled you away — you still wearing his jacket, him still too stunned to speak. He stood there long after you were gone, fingers pressed to his lips, dazed. “What a weird girl”, he muttered. 

But he’d already fallen for you. 

He tried to find you after that, of course — visited the area again, lingered by the campus, even asked around in his own way. But your name, your face... all of it had vanished like a dream after waking. Until years later — when he saw your photo again. And this time? He said yes without hesitation. 

-- 

The days begin to blend. Soft, warm mornings. Laughter over late breakfast. The rustle of flower petals against your cheek as you wake — a new habit Satoru’s picked up. You open your eyes to a fresh bouquet on your pillow, tied together with a silk ribbon and a folded note tucked inside. 

Roses are red, violets are blue, don’t open the curtains, I'm watching you ;)  S. 

You roll your eyes but smile. By now, your phone is full of messages from him — some voice notes, some texts. Some completely random, like: 

Voice message — 9:07 AM 

Hey, I found this stray cat that reminds me of you. They ignored me when I tried to pet them and just walked off. Thought that was kinda romantic~  

Text — 10:12 AM 

Do you miss me or are you pretending I don’t exist again? Be honest. I can take it. (Don’t be honest) 

Sometimes he’s halfway through a mission and still finds the time to send you a photo of some stupid little charm at a shrine that “looks cursed like you” — and by the time he returns home, you’ve forgotten how silence used to fill the rooms before he came. 

You start leaving notes back. Hiding snacks in his coat. One time, you sent him flowers — as a joke. A massive, bright pink bouquet delivered right to the faculty lounge at Jujutsu Tech. 

Yuuji nearly dropped his drink when he saw it. “Sensei, I thought you were the man in this relationship... but I guess you really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” 

Satoru beamed as he held the bouquet. “Listen, Yuuji, I think she’s got me on a leash. And honestly? I don’t mind it.” 

Geto didn’t even blink. “You’ve always liked being domesticated.” 

Nanami groaned in the distance. “Please take your romance outside school grounds.” 

Your life with him feels like a sitcom at times. Like you’ve somehow fallen into a slice-of-life version of your own story. And strangely, you don’t hate it.

But not all lives move at the same pace. 

Akihito watches it unfold from the shadows of his own silence. This was not part of the plan. You’re playing your role way too well to his liking. Are you humoring Satoru’s peculiar behavior for the sake of keeping the peace... or is there something more to it?

He feels the distance stretching. You reply to his messages slower now. When he calls, you sound distracted — not cold, just... somewhere else. Sometimes when he walks by your and Satoru’s room, he hears his son’s voice talking to you and it cuts deeper than he expects. Laughing. Teasing. Talking to you in a tone Akihito used to think was only his to use. 

He remembers your last few moments together, how they’ve been growing shorter. More careful. Your touches — once confident, rooted in secret familiarity — now come with hesitation. Like you’re aware of something new. Something blooming in the cracks you didn’t plan for. You were slipping. And for the first time in a very long time, Akihito doesn’t know what to do. 

He doesn’t confront you. He won’t. Because even now, he trusts you. Even now, he tells himself you would never betray him like that... But still — he’s left staring at the space beside him that used to be filled by you, fingers curled into fists he won’t raise, breathing through a storm he never thought he’d have to weather. 

--  

Evening settles softly across the room like a warm blanket. The lights are dim, casting a gentle golden hue over the shared bedroom you’ve both slowly grown used to — not just as a space, but as a kind of quiet haven. You sit on the bed with your knees tucked close to your chest, absently flipping through some old magazine you already checked out twice. Satoru is nearby, sprawled across the foot of the bed, fiddling with his phone but mostly stealing glances at you. The silence between you is easy now. Not empty, not awkward — just comfortable. 

Still, something hangs between you, unspoken but undeniably there. It’s been lingering ever since that kiss in the park. You haven’t kissed again since, but your touches linger longer now — a brush of fingers as you pass something to him, the slow curl of his hand around yours when you walk beside each other. Close, but careful. 

Tonight feels different. 

“Do you ever miss the chaos?” you ask, not looking up from the page. “Before we... whatever this is.” 

“Before we became a domestic power couple?” Satoru teases, stretching out with a dramatic sigh. “Tragic. I used to be wild. Now I fold your laundry.” You laugh. “You don’t fold my laundry.” 

“I would. For the record. If it meant you’d smile like that.”  

You glance at him now, and his expression softens when your eyes meet. The air changes. It’s in the way he shifts, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. There’s something different in his gaze — not just affection, but hunger veiled by hesitance. You feel it too. That same flutter deep in your belly. The nervous kind. The kind that tastes like anticipation. He moves closer, slowly, watching you for any flicker of hesitation. When he reaches out, his fingers brush lightly along your jaw, his thumb barely skimming your cheek. You don’t move away.

“You’ve been looking at me like that for a while now”, you whisper.

He smiles, a little crooked, a little shy — rare, for him. “Yeah. I’ve been... trying to behave.” 

Your lips part, but you don’t speak. Satoru leans in, and this time, when he kisses you, it’s slower than last time. Less impulsive. More reverent. His hand cups the back of your head gently as he pulls you closer, tasting your breath as if he’s been craving it every day since the last time. And then he pulls back. Breath shaky. Eyes shut. You blink, still dazed from the kiss. “Satoru? What are you doing?” 

He exhales a slow, uneven breath. “Waiting for you to slap me.”

You stare at him. That rare vulnerability in his voice knocks the breath right out of your lungs. “Why would I slap you?” 

“I didn’t ask. I didn’t warn you. I just... kissed you. Again. I told myself I’d wait until you wanted me.” 

You hesitate only for a heartbeat. Then, you lean forward and take his face in your hands, gently pulling him back into you. Your lips find his, and this time there’s no pause. No retreat. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize you. Every angle. Every sound you make. Your hands find their way under the hem of is shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin, and he shivers beneath your touch. You break the kiss long enough to whisper, “Come closer.”

His forehead rests against yours. “Only if you want me to.” 

“I do”, you breathe, voice trembling but sure. “I want this. I want you.” His arms tighten around you, and it’s slow, almost reverent, the way he lays you down — like you’re something sacred. Clothes are shed without urgency, and his hands trace the lines of your body like he’s reading scripture. The rest unfolds in quiet gasps and whispered names. It's not just desire — it’s need. Familiar, frightening, warm... 

...when it’s over, the silence that follows is different from all the ones that came before. You lie beside him, heart still racing, his fingers lazily tracing circles along your arm. He doesn’t speak. He just watches you, memorizing the curve of your lips, the way your chest raises and falls. And for a moment, you forget every plan. Every lie. Every secret. For a moment, it feels like love. The kind that sneaks up on you — quiet, uninvited, and impossible to ignore. You lie tangled together, your head tucked against his shoulder, his hand tenderly caressing your bare skin. Hearts still thudding. 

Satoru is the one to break the silence, his voice light, teasing (as usual). “So... You really don’t remember me, huh?” 

You blink, lifting your head just enough to glance at him. “What?” 

“Brutal...”, he laughs. “And here I was, thinking I made a lasting impression that night.” 

You narrow your eyes, unsure if he’s joking. “What are you talking about?” 

“Nahh, I get it — you were pretty drunk”, he says, dragging the words out like a cat playing with mouse. 

“Oh god—” You sit up suddenly, sheet gathering around your chest. “Don’t tell me we’ve hooked up in the past and I don’t remember it?” Satoru bursts out laughing. “No, not like that.”

You squint at him. “Then stop being so cryptic and tell me!” 

He stretches, hands behind his head, smug and insufferable. “Let’s just say… you were outside a bar. Alone. Slumped on the curb. And I saved your life.”

You blink again. He continues, barely hiding his amusement. “Some creep tried to hit on you. I intervened, obviously. You asked if I was a kidnapper, told me I smelled nice, then fell asleep in my lap.”

Your jaw drops. “No way.” 

“Oh, there’s more,” he says with a mock-serious nod. “You called me pretty. And you kissed me.”

You gape. “You’re lying.” 

“I’m not,” he says, lips twitching. “And you stole my jacket, by the way.”

Your eyes widen. Something flickers at the edge of your memory. “Wait— that was your jacket?”

Satoru raises his brows, clearly enjoying himself. “Yep.” 

“I always wondered where it came from”, you mumble, stunned. “I kept it for years. I thought maybe someone just… gave it to me out of pity.” 

“Well, I did give it to you”, he says, softer now. “But it wasn’t pity.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, absorbing it all. “I can’t believe it. That was you.” 

He shrugs one shoulder, like it’s no big deal — but his voice betrays him when he says, “Yeah. I looked for you, you know? Went back to that street, hung around your supposed campus. Thought about that stupid night more times than I’d ever admit.” 

You gasp. 

“When your photo showed up in the marriage proposal packet?” He looks over at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “I said yes before they even finished reading your name.” 

You stare at him, stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

He smiles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you didn’t look at me like this before.” You lean in, heart heavy with something warm and aching. “How do I look at you now?” 

“Like you might not disappear this time.” 

-- 

You slip into your nightgown, your skin still tingling with traces of warmth and tenderness. The sound of water runs in the background — Satoru in the shower, humming something off-key. A lazy smile plays on your lips as you step out of the bedroom, quietly padding down the hallway. You tell yourself it’s just to grab snacks. Maybe a drink. Something to soothe the afterglow that’s left your heart both full and aching. 

But as you reach the kitchen and flick on the soft underlight, your body seizes.

Akihito is there. Standing in the low light like a phantom, glass in one hand, his other curled into a loose fist at his side. The bottle of whiskey beside him is nearly half-empty. He doesn’t speak right away — just stares at you, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Not like this. There’s pain, yes. But buried under that is something sharper. Something raw. 

“Akihito...” you breathe, barely more than a whisper. He doesn’t answer. Just brings the glass to his lips again, slowly, as if buying time — or trying to keep himself from saying what’s already clawing its way up his throat. Akihito, huh? You used to call him Aki... 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing slightly as he steps forward. You don’t move — not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t quite dare. He stops in front of you, closer than comfort allows. The scent of whiskey and something tired hangs on him — disappointment. His eyes flicker over your face, and you know he sees it. The softness in your cheeks. The haze still lingering in your gaze. The warmth that isn’t his. He knows. Of course he does. But he wants to confirm, one last time. 

His hand reaches toward you, swiftly lifting your nightgown to brush his fingers against your cunt, bare, still wet and sore. You flinch, instinctively stepping back — but his free hand snaps around your wrist. He withdraws his fingers, bringing them close to your face, then slowly rubs them together. Smearing the slick, laced with remnants that don’t belong to him. “You slept with him”, he says, low, flat. No question. Just a quiet accusation. 

Your breath catches. 

He leans in, close enough for his words to brush against your skin. “Do you love him?”

Before your lips can part, before your heart even finds a beat, a new voice breaks the silence. 

“Hey, I was looking for y—” Satoru enters the room, still damp from the shower, water clinging to his chest, a towel slung low around his waist, another in his hands as he rubs it through his hair. The moment he sees his father, he stops mid-step. His eyes lock at his hand around your wrist. His tone drops, his jaw clenches. He immediately yanks his hand away from you, then his eyes dart to the whiskey on the counter. “Old man, did you get drunk enough to mistake my wife for yours?” 

Akihito doesn’t answer right away, but he tenses. For a moment, he seems to fold in on himself — trying, perhaps, to remember who he is, and who he’s supposed to be. “I lost my balance for a second”, he mutters. Then without another glance at either of you, he brushes past and disappears down the hall. 

The silence he leaves behind is deafening. You’re frozen. Like glass on the verge of shattering. Guilt crawls under your skin like a fever. You want to scream. You want to run. You feel like you’ve betrayed them both. 

Satoru looks at you. His expression softens the moment he sees your face. “Hey...” voice gentle now. “You okay? You look a bit... pale.” He tries to joke, but there’s a note of worry breeding into his words. “Did I... maybe go a little too hard on you back there?” A faint smirk, halfhearted. His eyes, though, are searching.  

You force yourself to nod, to smile like you’re fine. “No. I’m okay. I just—” you glance toward the hallway, “I got startled. I didn’t expect to see anyone else awake.”

Satoru doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push either. He just reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch almost reverent. “Next time, tell me”, he says softly. “I’ll walk you around the house like a proper husband.” 

You laugh — weakly, but you manage it. Neither of you says what you’re thinking. Neither of you asks the questions hanging thick in the air. But both of you feel it. Something has shifted. And in the stillness that follows, all you can do is hold your breath and pretend it’s not already slipping out of your control. 

-- 

The soft creak of Akihito’s footsteps disappears into the silence of the hallway as if he is retreating from more than just a room. By the time he reaches the bedroom he shares with Saori, the burn in his chest has settled into something heavier, duller. She is already asleep, curled into herself beneath the silk sheets. He doesn’t even look at her. Akihito pours himself another drink from the decanter near the dresser, the sound of the liquid filling the glass louder than it should. His hand shakes as he brings it to his lips. He has lost count of how many glasses he had tonight. 

He believed he was in control, never imagining, even for a moment, that you might be the one to falter. He sits on the edge of the bed for a while, nursing the bitterness on his tongue, trying to down what feels like the unraveling of everything. His grip tightens around the glass until his knuckles turn white. And eventually, the weight of it — the whiskey, the pain, the loss — pulls him down. He settles in bed, fully clothed, eyes open to the dark. Only when the alcohol dulls the sharpest edges of his thoughts does sleep finally claim him. 

Saori wakes sometime later — hours, maybe. She doesn’t know what stirred her at first. The clock ticks quietly. The room is still. But then she hears it. A soft sound. A broken voice. Akihito. At first, she thinks he is awake, whispering. But when she turns to face him, she sees the tight lines on his brow, his face twisted in restless dreaming. 

...a name falls from his lips like a prayer. Your name.

“Don’t leave me...” He shifts, face turned toward her, eyes shut tight. His voice cracks in a way she has never heard before. “I love you... please... don’t go...” 

Saori doesn’t move. She doesn’t breathe. For a long moment, all she can do is stare at the man she spent more than half her life beside. The man who kept so much from her. Until now.

Everything made sense to her now. All of it. The proposal of a random girl — a nobody, by traditional standards — as a bride for the clan head. His obsessive oversight of your marriage. His silence. His sudden, inexplicable shifts in mood. All the times he came home reeking of another woman. And now this. 

She sits up slowly, placing her hand on her lap as the cold realization settles deep into her bones. Her husband has never said her name like that, even in dreams. A sharp, unfamiliar ache blooms in her chest. It isn’t jealousy — though that is part of it. It is grief. For a marriage that never really belonged to her. For a love that was never hers to begin with. She turns to look at Akihito once more. His lips move soundlessly now, breath uneven. Vulnerable in a way he has never let himself be when conscious. Saori whispers, her voice nearly a breath, “You poor, stupid man...” 

And she doesn’t know whether to feel pity, rage, or heartbreak. So she sits there — in the dim quiet, beside the man who is dreaming of someone else — and tries to remember what it feels like to be chosen. 

-- 

The morning sun spills through sheer drapes. Saori sits before her vanity, back perfectly straight, hands folded in her lap as the house attendant brushes through her hair. She stares at her reflection — still, expressionless. But her eyes, always sharp, betray thought in motion. There’s no puffiness in them, no redness, no sign of the long night she endured beside her sleeping husband and the dreams he whispered into the dark. Not a trace of it reached the surface. Because Gojo Saori does not falter. 

She was raised for this life. Trained from the moment she could walk and speak — in manners, in posture, in etiquette. In silence. In sacrifice. She was chosen for the Gojo Clan as if born for it, bred for it. A perfect match to elevate status and maintain lineage. An ideal bride, by design. Not merely beautiful, but refined. Not merely obedient, but poised. Regal in her restraint. And still, he never loved her. Gojo Akihito, the man she married at twenty-one, gave her everything a wife could ask for — wealth, status, a name that carried power. But not his heart. Never his heart. She spent years trying to earn it anyway. With devotion. With loyalty so fierce it could have moved mountains if he had only looked her way and seen her properly. 

But last night... Last night, in the hush of the sleeping room they shared for so many years, he spoke someone else’s name. Not once. Not carelessly. Lovingly. 

Saori meets her own gaze in the mirror — unwavering, unflinching. She should’ve wept, perhaps. Cried the way lesser women might. Collapsed into trembling disbelief or broken rage. But she had no time for that. No space, in the skin she wears, for such indulgence. Her family name was teetered on scandal, and she bled too much grace into this place to see it torn down now — not by a girl’s foolishness, not by a man’s longing. Gojo Saori was, above else, a guardian of the image. But the image was beginning to crack. And she was ready to protect what needed protecting.  

--  

You sit at the table, eyes tracing the rim of your teacup, steam curling softly into the morning air. You haven’t taken a sip. You haven’t touched your plate. Your stomach is tight, twisted with guilt... especially after last night. 

Satoru is full of light and ease, as he always is — grinning, teasing, tossing playful remarks into the stillness like stones skipping across a glassy lake. His hand brushes yours casually, fingertips lingering just long enough to warm your skin. It's comforting in a way, how unchanged he is. But his energy doesn’t reach you this morning. You smile when you’re supposed to. You answer when he prompts you. But your mind is far away — caught between the memory of last night’s warmth and the echo of Akihito’s voice, flat and cracked with disappointment. 

Akihito sits quietly, as he always does, but today his silence feels heavier. His fingers press against the bridge of his nose, slow and methodical, as if trying to will away a migraine. He hasn’t touched his food. His presence across the table burns into you like a brand. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you can feel his restraint like a tremor in the room — barely contained, always building. 

Saori is a vision of composure. She lifts her teacup with perfect posture, takes delicate sips, and sets it down with the precision of someone who has performed this same ritual every morning of her life. Her face is unreadable — not blank, but too measured. There's something behind her stillness, something coiled. But you can’t tell what. She gives nothing away. 

Satoru leans in toward you with a lopsided grin, voice dipped in mischief. His hand brushes your arm again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he senses how fragile you feel. “You’re awfully quiet today”, he points out. You blink, startled — his voice snapping you out of your spiral — and you force a breath, a small smile. He’s trying to bring you back. The way he always does. “I didn’t get much sleep last night”, you manage, voice low and tight. 

“Tired, huh?” he echoes with a soft laugh, leaning in closer. His voice drops to a whisper, just for you. “Guess that’s what happens after a long, productive night... right?” 

Your heart stumbles. The words land like a thunderclap, disguised as a joke, but sharp enough to cut through your skin. His wink is lighthearted — harmless in his mind — but you freeze. You don’t laugh. You can’t. The knot in your stomach coils tighter, shame rising in your chest. You drop your gaze and press your lips together, every nerve on fire. 

Then comes the sound. A sharp, sudden crack. 

Akihito’s hand clenches around his teacup — or what’s left of it. Porcelain shards glint, splintered across the table and floor. His palm is cut, a slow trickle of blood winding through the lines of his hand, but he doesn’t seem to feel it. He stares at the broken cup like it’s something far away. His shoulders tense, jaw clenched. A man unraveling slowly — but silently. 

Satoru turns toward him, his gaze casual, almost detached. He says nothing. 

Saori moves immediately, her composure untouched as she rises and then immediately kneels beside him without ceremony, inspecting the wound with clinical care. Her voice is even, steady. “Are you alright?” Akihito doesn’t respond. His eyes are still fixed on the broken shards. His breath is shallow. Hollow. You wonder if he even knows where he is. Saori retrieves the first aid kit from the cabinet, her movements smooth, practiced. She tends to the cut with quiet precision, wrapping the bandage around his hand in silence. She doesn’t look at you, not directly — but her awareness is piercing. You can feel her watching, even when her eyes aren’t on you. 

You try not to flinch under the weight of it. 

Satoru watches you now. Truly watches you, and only you. There’s concern in his eyes, but beneath it, something darker — a flicker of something unreadable, as if he’s seeing straight through you. 

--  

You walk Satoru to the front of the estate, the morning sun slowly warming the stone path. He lingers, reluctant to go. “Are you sure you want me to leave?” he asks, searching your face. “You’ve been... kind of out of it all morning.”

You manage a smile, reaching up to smooth a hand through his hair. “I told you, I’m just tired.”  

He’s clearly unconvinced. “Then let me stay. I’ll take the day off, we’ll snuggle in bed, watch trashy movies, eat junk food — whatever you want.” 

“No”, you cut him off gently. “They’ll chew you out for skipping another day because of me. I’m fine, I promise. I just... need a little time to myself.” 

He watches you for a moment longer, visibly debating. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You better call me if you change your mind. Or even if you don’t. I just want to hear your voice.” 

“I will”, you say, trying to mean it. 

“You won’t”, he mutters. “But I’ll pretend to believe you.” 

You watch him walk away until he’s out of sight. And then the weight returns, heavy and unforgiving. You turn and head back toward your room, your steps slow. You were planning to reach out to Akihito — to talk, to finally be honest. At least with him. You need to say the words out loud. 

Halfway to your door, one of the maids appears at the end of the corridor, bowing her head respectfully as she approaches. “Lady Saori has asked if you would join her for tea in the garden”, she says. 

You blink. “Tea?” 

“She’s waiting for you now”, the maid adds.  

Your stomach twists. This is a first. Saori has never invited you anywhere, never initiated anything outside of polite formality. And now — tea? You murmur your thanks and change direction, heading toward the garden with careful steps. When you arrive, Saori is already seated beneath the wide shade of the cherry blossom tree. Everything is picturesque — the porcelain tea set arranged perfectly, delicate sweets on a lacquer tray. Not a single detail out of place. She looks up as you approach, her posture composed, her expression mild. 

“Hello again”, she says, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Please, sit.”

You lower yourself slowly. “Thank you.” 

She pours the tea herself. No attendants. No distractions. Just you and her. “We’ve never had the chance to talk”, she says, tone pleasant. “Just the two of us.” 

You nod faintly. “I guess not.” 

She picks up her cup, takes a small sip, and sets it down again. “Satoru seems happy.”

You glance at her, cautious. “He is.” 

“I can tell. He’s always been bright, but lately there’s something different. Something new. He’s softer. His laugh is more genuine.” She offers a smile. “He clearly cares for you — deeply.” 

Your mouth goes dry. “Thank you.” 

She hums softly, and then — without a change in tone — asks, “And how are things between you and my husband?”

The question hits you like a stone dropped into still water. No warning. No shift in expression.  

You stiffen, staring at her.

She doesn’t look away, “Not well, I imagine?” voice still calm. 

“I—” 

“I don’t want to hear it”, she cuts in, quiet but firm. 

Silence settles like a weight. Her voice remains calm, but the steel beneath it is undeniable. “I am not blind.” 

You lower your gaze. 

“I see the way Akihito looks at you. I see what it’s done to him.” Her fingers rest gently on the rim of her teacup. “And I know the kind of woman it takes to twist a man like him into something unrecognizable.” 

You flinch. 

“I won’t let this continue. I won’t let you unravel this family from the inside out. If you stay on this path, you won’t just break Akihito — you’ll destroy Satoru too. He’s already too attached. Too invested. And when this blows apart — because it will, like all secrets do — do you really think he won’t be the one to bleed for it?” 

You look up at her, heart pounding. Her words feel like nails driven into your spine. There’s no venom in her voce. No raised pitch. Just control. Cold and deliberate. “I’m giving you a choice”, she says. “You leave. On your own terms. Or I will make sure you have no terms at all.” 

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. What can you even say? What are you supposed to do? Argue? 

“Think it over”, she says, lifting her teacup again. “Before it becomes something you can’t come back from.” Then her eyes meet yours one last time — still poised, but with a new edge. “And don’t even think about telling Akihito we had this conversation.” she adds softly. “Unless you want Satoru to know about it too.” 

-- 

You barely make it back to your room before your legs give out. The door shuts behind you and you crash onto the bed, your breath caught somewhere between a sob and a scream. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s useless now. The dam is breaking. Your shoulders shake, and the sob that leaves you is hoarse, pulled from a place so deep it feels like you’re splitting open. 

Everything was falling apart — like a chain of dominoes tipping one after another. One thing went wrong, and the rest followed, collapsing in swift, inevitable sequence. The worst part? The love blooming quietly in your chest. There’s no use pretending anymore. You can try to lie to everyone else — maybe even try to lie to yourself. But the truth is carved into your every glance, every touch, every breath, every unspoken word between you and Satoru. You love him. But you’re not allowed to have him. Not after this. Not when the damage has already begun to spill over the edges.  

You sit in the stillness for a while, until your tears run dry and resolve begins to settle in their place. There’s one thing left to do — the thing you intended before everything spiraled. You need to speak with Akihito. You pick up your phone and type out the message. 

Meet me in an hour. I’ll send you the location of the hotel. 

Then you get up, dress in silence, and leave. 

-- 

The room is quiet when he arrives. Akihito steps inside and finds you standing by the window, framed in soft, diffused light. There’s something different in your posture — something heavier. He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at you, then takes a step forward. 

He dropped everything and came to you. Still hoping. That small, foolish hope still flickers in him — that maybe, despite everything, you’ve called him here because you’ve come back. He reaches for you, arms out as if to hold you again. But you step back. 

“No”, you say, voice tight. “We can’t do this anymore.” 

His hands drop to his sides. “What?” his voice barely comes out. You swallow the lump rising in your throat. “Aki... we can’t.” He stares at you. Then — a bitter, hollow laugh escapes him. “So that’s it?” His voice cracks. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you? And all this was for nothing?” 

You close your eyes. The silence answers for you. He paces away, running a hand through his hair, then back again. “God”, he mutters. “I thought this was the perfect plan. I thought — if I couldn’t have you publicly, I could at least have you close. Through him. Knowing he wouldn’t want you, wouldn’t touch you. Knowing that you loved me...” He looks at you now, eyes sharp with grief. “But I was wrong about both.” 

You wrap your arms around yourself. “This was a terrible idea from the start, and you know it”, you whisper. “I should’ve never agreed. I should’ve never let it get this far. I wish I’d never—” 

“Don’t”, he snaps, suddenly raw. “Don’t say you wish you never met me. Don’t.” 

Your breath hitches, but you don’t take it back. His voice lowers, thick with disbelief. “You don’t really mean it... right?”

Your silence cuts deeper than any answer.

He lets out a sharp breath, like it hurts, and moves to step toward you again, in utter denial of what’s unfolding before his eyes. 

“No”, you say, firmer this time. “Please. Just let this be the end.” 

You reach for the door. He follows. For the first time, you leave the hotel room together — not like all the other times, not hidden, not careful. You’re walking away, and he’s chasing you, hand reaching desperately for yours. 

“Wait—!” 

Akihito’s hand closes around your wrist just as you step onto the sidewalk, his grip tight, desperate — like holding on could somehow undo everything unraveling between you.

And then you hear it — a familiar voice calls your name. 

“...is that you?” 

You freeze. Shoko stands a few feet away, dressed in her uniform. Her gaze flicks from your face to where Akihito’s hand still clings to yours, and her expression changes in an instant. 

And just like that — in the space of a single day — everything you’ve tried to keep buried begins to rise. Crashing, all at once, to the surface. 

-- 

The sun is long gone by the time Satoru returns, the estate cloaked in stillness. He steps inside, calling your name softly. When you appear at the end of the hall, barefoot in the dim light, something in him settles — and then, just as quickly, something else begins to stir. You look like yourself, and yet... not. Your smile is soft but distant, your eyes shimmering in a way he can’t place. “I’m home”, he says, shrugging off his jacket. “Missed me?” 

You nod, walking up to him. You press a hand to his chest. “Little bit.” He smiles and leans down to kiss you, and when your lips meet, he feels it — the way you cling just a little tighter, hold just a little longer. It’s like you’re trying to memorize the way he tastes.  

Later, in your shared room, the lights are low and the silence is velvet. You’re already in bed when he returns from the shower, his white hair damp and tousled, towel slung loosely around his neck. He slips in beside you, cold fingers brushing your arm. You shiver, not from the chill — from the weight of what’s to come.

“You said you needed some time for yourself this morning, but you’re still like this”, he murmurs, pulling you close. “I don’t like it.”

You nestle against his chest, pressing your cheek to his skin. “I’m okay now.” 

There’s something in your voice that makes him pause. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter, grounding himself in the curve of your spine, the warmth of your breath against him. 

“You smell like cotton candy”, you whisper.

He chuckles, nose brushing the crown of your head. “It’s that new shampoo. Smells fancy, huh?”

You don’t answer. You just reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his like it’s the last time... “Will you stay with me?” you ask softly.

“I’m not going anywhere.” he breathes.

“Good”, you murmur, voice barely above a breath. “Then, come closer.”

Satoru tilts his head down to look at you, a flicker of unease moving behind his gaze. “Of course”, he says. “Where else would I go?” 

You pull him down to kiss you again. Deep. Slow. There’s no teasing. No games. Just something desperate threaded through every movement. Like a goodbye wrapped in silk. When you make love, there’s no rush. No fire. Just the quiet rhythm of two people trying to suspend time — to stretch a moment into forever. You whisper his name like a prayer. He kisses your temple like he’s stealing a promise he doesn’t know he’s about to break. 

Afterward, you lie tangled together, your head on his chest, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on your bare shoulder. Your breathing evens. Sleep comes to you quickly — a peace you haven’t known in a while.  

But Satoru doesn’t sleep. He watches you in the darkness, his blue eyes searching your face, as if trying to decode something written there. Something unsaid. You’ve never look so peaceful. And, honestly, that’s what scares him. His chest tightens. Something in his gut whispers that he’s missing something. That he’s not seeing the full picture. That maybe... you’re slipping through his fingers.

“Why do I feel like I’m losing you?” he murmurs, barely audible, brushing a thumb along your cheek. You stir, but don’t wake. He leans down and kisses your forehead — gentle, reverent. “I love you”, he whispers into your hair. And for a moment, he lets himself believe it’s enough to keep you. 

-- 

A week passes. The Gojo estate buzzes with preparations for the annual celebration — Saori and Akihito’s wedding anniversary. As always, Saori is at the heart of it all, composed and efficient, orchestrating every detail with practiced grace. Akihito, on the other hand, remains distant. Detached. You barely see him around the mansion. Not a word has passed between you since that day at the hotel. It feels like he’s quietly disappearing — withdrawing, piece by piece — and yet, an uneasy weight sits in your chest. Something feels off. Unfinished. 

One afternoon, as you help Saori sort through invitations, she brings it up — casually. “Have you made up your mind?” she asks, her eyes never lifting from the stack of envelopes. You pause, fingers brushing the edge of an envelope, and answer softly — almost absently. “Who knows.” 

-- 

Morning light filters through the sheer curtains. You’re already awake, lying still in Satoru’s arms. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, one arm draped lazily around your waist, holding you in place like an anchor. Carefully, you ease out from under his arm. He shifts but doesn’t wake. Bare feet touch the cold floor as you rise and stand in the light, allowing yourself one last look. He’s lying on his back now, hair a tousled against the pillow. Peaceful. Vulnerable in a way only sleep allows. Your chest aches. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and lift your gaze to the mirror. Your eyes are red. Hollow. The skin beneath them bruised with fatigue. But beneath the weariness, there’s something else — resolve. When you return to the room, Satoru is stirring. He squints at you with a sleepy grin. “Come back”, he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “I sleep better when you’re here.”  

You smile softly. “Can't. You know today’s the big day.” 

He stretches like a cat, arms reaching above his head, the sheet slipping down to his hips. “Ugh. Right. Completely forgot about that”, he groans and then rolls onto his side. You manage a quiet laugh. As he nestles back into the pillow, you linger in the doorway. “I love you.” you whisper — quietly, so quietly he won’t hear. Then you close the door behind you. And with that, the countdown begins. 

--  

The Gojo estate is nothing short of magnificent tonight. The garden glows beneath a canopy of paper lanterns, warm amber light spilling across the sea of guests. Tables are dressed in fresh flowers. Soft music hums in the background, blending into murmured conversations and the gentle clinking of glasses. Tonight is a celebration of image — Akihito and Saori’s wedding anniversary. Saori is elegance incarnate, her smile as polished as the pearls at her neck. Akihito stands beside her, composed, offering polite nods and minimal words. Together, they are the picture of grace. But the image is just that — a facade. There’s nothing worth celebrating. Nothing real about the harmony they pretend to share. 

Across the garden, Satoru floats through the evening like a disruption in the symmetry. Dressed in a loose gray suit, tie nowhere in sight, he laughs too loud, drowns juice from a champagne glass, and teases the elders with casual disrespect. No one bats an eye — it’s just Satoru being Satoru. But those who know him — really know him — can see it. He’s restless. His eyes keep scanning the crowd. At first subtly. Then, with growing urgency. You’re not out here. You slipped away earlier, saying something about fixing your dress. But that was over thirty minutes ago. Long enough for the knot in his stomach to tighten. Long enough for his laugh to start sounding forced. 

He leans toward Shoko, who’s sipping wine with a bored expression. “Have you seen her?” 

“Nope”, Shoko replies, unbothered. “Didn’t she say she was heading to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah”, Satoru’s fingers drum against the table. “But how long does fixing a dress take?” 

Across the garden, Akihito and Saori stand side by side as guests gather for the toast. She leans in, whispers something. He nods — but his gaze flickers, briefly, toward the house. 

An elder raises a glass. “To love. To strength. To bonds that stand the test of time.” 

Glasses rise.

Clink.

Applause follows. The illusion holds.

Until— 

BOOM. 

A thunderous crack splits the air. The ground shakes. Heat pulses across the garden like a wave. Screams erupt. From the left wing of the estate, fire bursts through the windows — a wall of flame swallowing the air. Smoke billows thick and choking. Music cuts out. Plates crash. Glass shatters. 

Satoru’s glass falls from his hand and explodes against the ground. Something sharp drives into his chest. He knows — you’re still inside. But before the thought is fully formed, he’s already running.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” His voice cuts through the chaos as he barrels through the guests. 

Akihito starts to follow, face pale, but Saori grabs his arm. Her gaze then snaps to her son. “Satoru, STOP!” she cries — but he doesn’t hear.

To Satoru, the world is silent now. There is only the roar of the fire and the pounding of his heart. He bursts through the estate doors, sprinting toward the source of the flames. He forgets his technique. Forgets his own safety. Forgets everything — except you.

“Please, baby— please, my love— I’m coming, please— Don’t do this to me, please—”, he keeps chanting.

The deeper he goes, the more warped the hall becomes — blackened, unrecognizable. He reaches the kitchen — but it’s empty. Panic claws up his throat. He turns, runs to the nearby bathroom. Kicks the door open. Heat smacks him like a wall. Smoke clogs his lungs. He pulls his sleeve over his mouth and steps inside.  

Then he sees it — someone collapsed near the sink, limbs sprawled. Still. His heart stops. He nearly slips as he rushes forward, dropping to his knees beside the figure. Burnt and unrecognizable. But the dress — what’s left of it — is familiar. The color. The delicate trim. There’s a necklace around the neck, half-melted, but unmistakably yours. “No”, he whispers. “No, no, no—” 

His hand hovers over your body. His throat tightens. Everything around him is heat, noise, pressure, but in his ears, there’s only silence. Like the world just folded in on itself. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears hit his lips — salt and ash. “I was just with you...” he whispers, almost childlike, broken. “You were laughing with me a moment ago...” He leans in, presses his forehead to your shoulder, and breathes raggedly. Body shaking.  

Behind him, voices start to echo. Footsteps. Shouting. Geto is coming to pull him out. But Satoru doesn’t hear any of it. He doesn’t move. He can’t. For the first time in his life, it feels like he’s lost. 

-- 

The fire was quickly contained. The Gojo mansion still stands, its structure untouched. Only the left wing of the first floor bears the marks of the fire. The investigation concluded that the fire was caused by an overheating motor in the bathroom’s ventilation system, a tragic accident. Only one life was lost: yours. 

Your funeral was two days ago. A private ceremony. Satoru didn’t speak during it. He barely moved. Just stood there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes hidden behind the blindfold. Quiet. In a way he’s never been. 

Now, days later, the world still spins — people still laugh, they breathe, they live. But he’s still here. In the room that was once your shared bedroom. Alone. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the chaos of your things scattered around the room. Your belongings — still as you left them — seem to scream your absence. He can’t bring himself to touch them. Not yet. Not ever. The book you were reading, the bottle of perfume on the nightstand, your lotion, your earrings, the brush on the vanity, and your nightgown — neatly folded on your side of the bed. It all kills him. The maids are prohibited from entering the room. He’s made sure of it. The silence of the space, with all its untouched remnants of you, is his alone to bear. 

He buries his face in your pillow, hoping to catch even the faintest trace of your scent. But it’s long gone. A strangled breath leaves him. Then another. And then... he breaks. His hands shake as he scrolls through his phone, endlessly flipping through old texts. Rereading them. The messages that still feel so alive — your voice echoing in his mind. One voicemail stands out. The one you left days before the accident. He presses play. 

“Satoru, stop leaving the toilet seat up! I’m too sleepy in the mornings to notice, but my butt definitely doesn't appreciate an unexpected ice bath.” 

He laughs. Just once. And then, he breaks again. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, curls into himself, his body crumpling into fetal position. He cries. Not quietly. No. He cries like he’s been holding it in his entire life, like the ground beneath him finally gave way and left him with nothing to stand on. No air. No reason. 

They say he’s doing fine. Around others, he smiles. He jokes. He walks with that same easy confidence, says the right things, acts like nothing’s changed. But Geto and Shoko know better. They see it in the way he visits your grave every day. The way his shoulders stiffen when someone dares mention your name. The way his hands tremble when they’re not stuffed in his pockets. He’s unraveling. Slowly. Quietly. And still, no one knows the truth. Not yet. Not even him. 

Only Shoko does. 

-- 

You follow Shoko into the morgue at Jujutsu Tech, each step slow and soundless. She doesn’t speak. Just moves steadily toward a counter, where she sets a folder down. Her back remains to you. The silence stretches long and taut. Then— 

“I wasn’t sure what to make of what I saw earlier”, she finally says. “But the fact that you followed me here... it confirms my suspicions.” 

You try to speak, but no words come out. Only a shaky breath escapes, heavy with guilt, regret, and everything you’ve been holding in for far too long. Shoko turns to face you. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes are sharp.

“You look like you want to say something”, she says. “So say it.” 

The words stumble out at first, fractured and raw. But then they come faster, pouring from you. You tell her everything — the affair, the reason behind the arranged marriage, the lies... everything. And the worst of it — that somehow, in the wreckage of it all, you fell in love with Satoru. You nearly choke saying it aloud, the weight of the truth crushing in your chest.

Shoko listens in silence. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t interrupt. When you finally stop, she speaks with her usual stillness. “Why are you telling me this?” Then, sharper, “Why not tell Gojo?” 

“No”, you say quickly. “I can’t... I won’t do this to him.”

She tilts her head, gaze narrowing. “You already did”, she replies flatly. “Whether you tell him or not doesn’t change that.” 

Your throat tightens. “I know... and I need you to help me.” 

“Help you?” she repeats. “Why would I?” 

“Because I don’t want him to hurt, not like this.” 

There’s a long pause. Shoko just watches you — assessing, weighing. Then she steps closer, her voice low. “But he will hurt. In a way I’m not sure he’ll ever come back from.”

You meet her gaze, desperation burning in yours. “Please.”

She says nothing, but something seems to be shifting in her. 

“There’s something that will hurt him less than the truth”, you say. “I need you to find a body. Someone who resembles me. Imbue it with my residuals — only you can do that. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her arms cross slowly. “You want me to find a corpse?” she asks. “You want me to help you fake your death? Is that it?” 

You nod, eyes dropping. “He’ll be better off thinking I’m dead than knowing what I’ve done.” 

“You’re underestimating him”, Shoko says, shaking her head. “You don’t know what you mean to him. This isn’t mercy — it’ll destroy him.”

Her words cut like glass, but you close your eyes. “Please”, you whisper. 

“When?”, Shoko asks, and you blink. “When do you need the body?” she repeats, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

-- 

(One month later) 

You moved away. Far away. To a small village tucked in the mountains, hidden in a forgotten corner of the country. It’s quiet here — the kind of quiet that doesn’t demand anything from you. No one knows your name here. Not your real one, anyway. You rent a modest cottage, barely furnished, but clean. You wake with the sun, tend to your tiny garden, then walk to the local pub where you started working just enough to get by. It’s simple. Monotonous. A life carved from necessity, not desire. And yet, every night before bed, you check your phone. One conversation always sits at the top of your inbox: Shoko. 

Your last message was three days ago. 

You: How is he? 

Her reply came the next morning. 

Shoko: Still breathing. Don’t ask for more. 

You didn’t. You never do. 

-- 

(Back at Jujutsu Tech) 

Satoru has just returned from a mission, and it’s clear he’s not himself. He’s sharp, but off. The usual cocky confidence has slipped into irritation, and he drifts through the halls with his mind elsewhere. Distracted. A clipboard hangs loosely in his hand, and he’s on the hunt for Shoko — she’s supposed to fill out a report. 

These days, he only drops the act around her. Or Geto. Or, of course, when alone. When he’s not pretending, he’s quiet. Drained. Nothing like the Gojo Satoru everyone knows. 

As he nears the morgue, he slows. A muffled voice cuts through the silence behind the door. It’s Shoko, on the phone. He’s about to knock when he hears it. 

Your name. 

Satoru freezes. Is he finally losing his mind? But then, there’s more— 

“...you need to stop asking.” 

A pause. Then, softer— 

“He... He doesn’t talk about you still. He’s not okay. But you knew he wouldn’t be.” 

The world stills. He doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. It’s like his mind is short-circuiting. Did he hear that right? His grip tightens on the clipboard until it creaks beneath his fingers. But then, it comes again. 

Your name. 

He stands there, stunned for a moment, before his body moves of its own accord. The door opens with a slow creak.

Shoko looks up, and she sighs. “...I have work to do”, she says quietly, and ends the call.

Satoru steps inside and shuts the door behind him. He throws the clipboard aside. He is not smiling, and he’s no longer wearing his blindfold. And for the first time in a month, his eyes are fully visible — different, bottomless, rimmed in red — and they are fixed on her. “Care to explain?”, he says, voice low, flat. 

Shoko doesn’t play dumb. She doesn’t lie. She leans back against the wall, her posture shifting to something almost resigned. She exhales, a soft sound, like she’s been waiting for this moment. She knew it would come. And for the first time in weeks, Satoru’s eyes — his grief-clouded eyes — are lit by something else. Hope. 

“She’s alive.”, Shoko says. The words hang in the air between them, and Satoru’s world shifts. He doesn’t react at first. Just stands there, trying to process her words. 

Finally, his voice cracks — barely audible, barely more than a whisper, like something fragile. “You let me bury her.” 

Shoko’s gaze softens for a moment, but then she sighs, a sound that’s more exhausted than regretful. “She said it’d hurt you less.” 

“Less?” He laughs once, a shar, disbelieving sound. “Less than what?” 

“The truth.” The words come from Shoko with unflinching clarity. “She had an affair with your father.”

Shoko waits. For a reaction. For anger. For questions. For anything.  

But Satoru doesn’t blink. He only asks one question. “Where is she?” 

-- 

The Gojo estate still stands. The first floor — once scorched by fire — has long since been renovated. But beneath the surface, the scars of the past remain. For those who know, it’s impossible to forget what was lost. Akihito sits in the living room, staring down at the floor, his expression hollow. The once commanding patriarch is now a broken shell. His hands tremble as he takes a sip of his drink, his gaze unfocused, consumed by grief. He hasn’t spoken much in weeks. Every time he tries, his voice cracks. The loss of you has shattered him. Sometimes he tells himself it was better this way — better to lose you to death than to watch you belong to someone else. Even if that someone else was his son. For a moment, that thought would make it easier to breathe. But then again, what did it matter? You were gone. And something in him knew — the fire wasn’t an accident. He suspected Saori. Maybe she found out. Maybe she did this to you. Should he kill her? But that wouldn’t bring you back. And besides... the clan. He still had a duty to do. 

Saori sits nearby, her gaze fixed out the window, her lips curling into a faint, satisfied smile. Her eyes flicker to Akihito for a brief moment, but there’s no sympathy in them — only contentment. After everything, she believes fate has finally righted itself. She watches him fall apart with quiet detachment, a sense of calm in her stillness. At least now, he is more hers than he is yours. “Perhaps it was fate”, she murmurs softly, her words for no one but the walls. Akihito’s eyes remain distant, his thoughts far removed from her voice. He’s too lost to hear anything she says — too far gone to care. 

Then, the door opens. Satoru enters, no grand gesture, no announcement. His presence fills the room immediately, thick and heavy, like an impending storm. Akihito doesn’t look up. He doesn’t need to. He knows why his son is here — he can feel it in the air before he even steps further in. Saori glances at Satoru, her eyes narrowing slightly, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. She rises without a word, understanding that this conversation isn’t for her. She leaves quietly, walking past her son with only a brief, knowing look.

The door clicks shut behind her. 

Akihito slumps lower in his seat, but he doesn’t look at his son. He doesn’t need to. The way Satoru stands there, rigid, fists clenched, eyes dark and filled with fury. Akihito feels the weight of it, heavy in the room, before he even lifts his head to look at him.

“You know”, Akihito says quietly, his voice hoarse, a statement rather than a question. Satoru stands still, his jaw clenched tight, eyes burning. He doesn’t answer. The air between them crackles with the unsaid. Akihito presses on, his voice low, laced with a tremor. “How did you find out?” 

Still, Satoru remains silent. His fists tremble at his sides, his breathing shallow, ragged. The words catch in his throat, a clash of fury and hurt. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and strained, as though forcing each word past the tightness in his chest.

“You broke her.” he spits, finally. “You broke the one thing most precious to me.” 

Akihito flinches, the weight of the accusation landing heavily on him. His gaze hardens, but he can’t meet Satoru’s eyes. There’s nothing to say. His son is right — he did break her. And by doing so, he broke his son as well. 

Satoru steps forward suddenly, his movements swift and calculated. The space between them closes in an instant, and Satoru’s eyes, wide with intensity, burn through the silence as he towers over his own father. There’s something primal in the air now — a rawness, an energy that could consume the entire room, the entire estate, if left unchecked. Akihito doesn’t react, he just sits there, knowing what’s coming. He accepts it. The man he once was, gone. And this son — this powerful, broken son — is the reckoning he’s been waiting for. 

“Do you have anything to say?” Satoru’s voice is barely containing the storm inside him. His hands shake, still clenched tightly into fists, but there’s a note of something darker in his gaze — an edge that suggests the breaking point is near. Akihito looks at him, pained, defeated, but remains silent. The words don’t come. 

The sound that follows — sharp and violent — could be a fist crashing into flesh or a bone snapping under pressure. It’s unclear, too quick to pinpoint. The air itself seems to shatter with it.

Satoru turns without another word, leaving the mansion. His hands are covered in blood.

Behind him, a scream shatters the silence. Saori’s scream, high and frantic, echoes through the halls. Saori doesn’t know it yet, but her time is coming too. Soon enough. 

-- 

Satoru knew. He had known for a while. It wasn’t a dramatic discovery. It was quiet and accidental, in fact. It happened early into your marriage, when you were still distant with him — polite but clipped. Somehow always guarded. He thought it was the nerves at first. Shyness. The weight of tradition. But then a month passed, and you still wouldn’t meet his eyes unless it was absolutely necessary. Still flinched when he reached for you. He could handle awkward beginnings, of course — especially for you. He wasn’t expecting a fairytale, you didn’t even remember him. But what he couldn’t handle was not knowing you, the way that you never let him in. 

So he did what a curious man with too little patience like himself might do. He followed you. Not out of suspicion of course. He thought if he observed you from a distance, he might’ve learned things you weren’t ready to tell or show him. Your habits. Anything. And then, one afternoon, he watched you enter a hotel. Alone. Odd. 

Ten minutes later, his father arrived. Very odd. 

Satoru waited. Two hours later, you walked out. Head down, hair slightly mussed. You didn’t see him. Shortly after, Akihito exited the building, adjusting his coat, wearing an expression Satoru had rarely seen on him — satisfied, secretive. And that was it. He didn’t even use his Six Eyes at first. Part of him didn’t want confirmation. Part of him hoped it was just a coincidence. But shortly after, he let his technique drift over your form. And there it was. Residuals. His father’s cursed energy. All over you. 

...and everything began to click. Your stiffness. The arranged marriage. His father’s sudden interest in choosing his bride. How Akihito had spoken of you before the engagement with just a touch too much fondness.  It wasn’t an arranged marriage; it was a cover. You weren’t his. You were his father’s. 

Satoru never confronted you, never let on that he knew. He just watched. Watched the way you disappeared for hours and returned with a soft look in your eyes that was never for him. Watched the way Akihito seemed lighter after seeing you. Watched the lie of a marriage unfold, thread by thread, every day. He never blamed you, though. He thought, maybe this was fate’s twisted way of bringing you back together. Yes, he could’ve easily destroyed it, could’ve exposed the affair and made the clan turn against Akihito. But that would’ve meant the clan turning against you as well. And Satoru never wanted to ruin you, he wanted to keep you.  

So he waited. Watched. Loved you in silence. And when he caught glimpses — that maybe you were beginning to see him, not just the son of the man you loved, that you were starting to change — that was all it took. He clung to that.

Because the thing about Gojo Satoru is that, when he wants something — really, truly wants it — he doesn’t stop. Not rules. Not family. Nothing can stop him.

You had been stolen from him once — the night on the curb, when fate gave you to him and then ripped you away before he could even ask your name. Then it happened again. His father got to you first.

Now, he wasn’t going to let you be taken away from him for the third time. No matter what. Even if it meant choosing heart over blood.

If you had faked your death and disappeared because you believed you couldn’t exist in a world with both of them, then all he had to do was remove the one standing in the way. To keep you. 

-- 

You’re wiping down the tables at the pub, preparing for the new day. Half-focused. Letting the repetitive motion ground you, steady your nerves. Trying not to think about the ghost of him that’s never really left you.  

The door creaks open behind you.

“We’re not open yet”, you immediately call out. Politely, without turning around. “Please come back in an hour.” 

Silence. Neither a response, nor footsteps indicating that the person is leaving. You glance over your shoulder, ready to repeat yourself, but the words catch in your throat. 

Satoru is standing there, leaning against the doorframe. “Won’t you make an exception for me?” he says softly. It’s meant to sound like him — teasing, light — but his voice gives him away. It’s quiet, fragile. Like it might crack if he tries any harder to keep it steady. 

The rag slips from your hands. You freeze. Then slowly, you turn. But you don’t meet his eyes. You don’t dare. “Why would you come here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s not a question of how he found you. The answer was simple. Shoko. 

He steps forward, slowly. “For you.” 

“For me”, you echo under your breath, more to yourself than to him, a bitter laugh escaping you. “For me, huh?” you repeat.

“For you.” — he says again, with no hesitation. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shrink, as if you could fold into nothing. As if it might protect you from the weight of what he’s carrying in his voice. “Did you ever consider that maybe I didn’t want to be found?” 

“I did”, he says. “I considered a lot of things, actually.” He pauses before he takes another step, and then adds, “But the fact you did something so reckless... made me consider that you cared more than I imagined.”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You don’t understand—” 

“I do.” He cuts in gently. “You thought if you stayed, you’d destroy us both.” 

You finally look up, meeting his eyes for the first time, and something inside you threatens to cave, the devastation in him nearly buckling your knees. “I did something unforgivable.” 

He exhales, like what he’s about to say is so obvious it needn’t be said out loud. But he does it anyway — “I was ready to do anything for you.” 

“Even if what I did was truly terrible?” 

“Even then.” 

He takes another step, and then another, until the distance between is gone. Until he’s close enough to touch. You want to move. To put space between you, but your feet don’t listen. And his presence — it roots you in place like gravity.

“You could’ve told me everything”, he murmurs. “You should’ve told me.” A pause. “I already knew.” 

“What?”, your breath stutters. 

His eyes darken, and a faint, bitter smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I’ve known for a while.” 

“But... Shoko... didn’t Shoko—” 

“It wasn’t her.” He shakes his head. “I found out myself.” He falls silent for a moment, like the memory stings to recall. 

“And you never said anything?” 

“I had my reasons”, he says softly. “Just like you had yours.” He lifts his hand — the lightest touch — and tilts your chin up. The gentleness nearly undoes you. You try to speak, but the words tangle with the sob building in your chest. It slips out instead — small, broken. His fingers brush beneath your eye, catching the tear before it falls. Even as his own hand trembles. “One word from you would’ve changed everything”, he whispers. “I would’ve burned everything down to keep you safe. Happy.” 

You slowly break under the weight of his words, forehead falling to his chest. You feel the tension in him — not anger, not judgment. Just ache. His arms wrap around you. 

“You were always my girl”, he breathes into your hair. “Even when you didn’t know it. Even when you were his. From the moment you fell asleep on my lap outside that club, you were mine.” 

You tilt your head up, lips trembling. “I’m... I’m really s—” 

“Shh.” 

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin. “I know.”

And then, his lips charge closer — you meet him halfway into a soft, slow kiss. One that is both an ache and a release all at once.

It hurts to want him this much. It hurts to know what you did. It hurts to know that he still looks at you with so much love, even when he knows it all. It hurts, that despite everything, it’s still you.  

-- 

You never thought you’d find peace again. Not truly. But now, the mornings are calm. The nights are quiet. The days pass without dread — light, easy, almost gentle. You and Satoru settled into this small life together, tucked away from the rest of the world. 

He left it all behind — the clan, the title, the crushing weight of being the strongest. Here, he isn’t Gojo Satoru, head of the Gojo Clan or the face of sorcerer society. Here, he’s just Satoru. Your Satoru. The one who wakes up beside you each morning, arm draped around your waist, murmuring sleepy nonsense into your ear. The one who insists on cooking breakfast and makes an unspeakable mess in the kitchen. The one who still leaves the toilet seat up just to hear you scold him — and grins when you do. 

Your belly is growing now — small, round, and full of promise. Sometimes he speaks to it like he already knows who your child will be. Sometimes he rests his head there and falls asleep. Other times, he lies awake with his hand on your baby bump, eyes full of wonder and fear, whispering that he hopes he’ll be good enough — for both of you. 

There are things left unspoken between you. You’ve never asked what happened after he left the clan — or more accurately, what happened before he left. You suspect the truth, of course. There’s no way not to. But you don’t press. And he doesn’t offer. 

Still, you think of Akihito sometimes. It’s impossible not to — he was a turning point, a fire you walked through to become who you are now. And sometimes, in the right light, Satoru looks so much like him. The same build, the same jawline, the same eyes.

But you know better. He’s nothing like him. Akihito, for all his love, always chose the clan in the end. His desires may have been selfish, but they were always entwined with duty. He loved you, yes. But he never chose you. Not truly. 

But Satoru did. He always chose you — even when it broke him. Even when it meant walking away from everything he was. Even when it meant taking a life — his own blood — to protect yours.

When he said, “I was ready to do anything for you”,

...he really meant it. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the basement

a/n: it's finally here, the highly anticipated instalment where you hoes finally get to discover the basement. you're welcome in advance hehe. enjoy ♡

(also, I just gotta point out once again that a lot of you guys who enjoy this au have been incredibly impatient, demanding and rude in my inbox. i don't think it's a big ask to treat me like an actual human being, but evidently some of you need to hear something that basic so that you can stop doing it every single day. in case you didn't know, that kind of behaviour has the opposite effect that you intend for it it have. i am not a printer that you can just smack to get to spew out papers again, if you smack me then it'll just hurt and make me not want to give you the gifts that you're demanding me for. if you enjoy this au and want more of it, then support it, be kind, reblog, add reactions and comments, don't fucking bully me)

summary: “yeah,” you heard Curtis chuckle briefly, “I think she might need a bit of a punishment in order to learn her lesson, so that she won’t repeat the same mistake again…”

warnings: innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, college au, drama with the gamma sigma zeta frat, party, alcohol consumption, polyamory, gangbang, corruption kink, kissing, sex dungeon, fem gloryhole, mask kink, bondage, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talk, size kink, gaping, manhandling, orgasm denial, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, impact play, pain kink, spit kink, masturbation, oral, fingering, anal, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, just all of the creampies ever

word count: 9262

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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“Alright,” Dr. Richards boomed over the rustle as all of the students around you began to pack up their things, “remember to read chapters eight to eleven for next week’s class if you haven’t already.”

And though everyone around began to filter out of the room, you stayed glued to your seat a moment longer, although it didn’t derive from an academic reason as you hoped your lowered gaze on your haphazard notes helped translate it into.

In fact, the reason why you stayed in the chair a moment longer, was the little distraction you’d somehow been swindled into this morning, currently still buzzing deep inside your cunt.

It was a hot pink little vibrator in the shape of an egg, controlled from an app you didn’t have on your own phone. Although your naïveté had assumed its size would have been a clue to its strength, those mistakes were swiftly squashed as you soon learned just how deep and rumbling its power was.

And though its vibrations could have made you climax over a dozen times since your stepbrother had slyly slipped it inside and made you wear it as you wobbled off to class, all during the lecture, each time you’d creep higher towards that peak, the pattern of the dizzying tremors would change and dull, rendering you to only edge and ruin your panties as you tried to concentrate on your professor’s words.

And as you stared down at Dr. Richards as he wiped the wide chalkboard behind him clean, the guy sitting adjacent to you cut through your trance as he rose from his seat and shrugged his backpack over his shoulder.

“He’s for sure gonna quiz us on those chapters, isn’t he?”

“Huh?” your stare snapped away from your teacher as you blinked over at Pietro, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Lightly furrowing his brows, his eyes briefly flickered down to your heaving chest, “uh, you good?”

“Y-yeah, why?” you sucked in a sharp breath before you carefully got up from your seat, “I’m totally cool,” you tried not to react as the movement caused your pussy to clench even tighter around the toy as its angle shifted as well.  

Pietro’s gaze then shifted as two of his friends popped up in the doorway, prompting you to glance back over your shoulder to spot them as well as he then offered them a short wave.

“Me and my friends were just about to go grab something from the coffee cart, have my sister hook us up,” he shared as he began to ascend the stairs that split apart the rows of seats, “you wanna tag along? If Wanda doesn’t wanna break barista policy for the hot girl in my advanced neurobiology class, then I’ll happily pay for yours.”

“Wait, Wanda’s your sister? Wanda Maximoff?” you began to follow his stride.

“Twin, actually,” he tilted his head before looking up from the steps to glance back at you, “so, you wanna join? I mean, it looks like you could use the pick me up.”

Sucking in a breath, you then uttered timidly, “oh, I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone,” you said as the buzzing remained so low that it was only a flutter against your throbbing walls.

“Oh, okay, that’s cool,” Pietro swallowed the gentle rejection. And as the pair of you neared the bottom of the stairs, his friends abandoned their waiting spot, “well, uh… are you planning on going to that Delta Phi party this weekend since you already know my sister?”

“I don’t know, I actually hadn’t thought about it,” you shrugged, recalling how your roommate had gushed about the theme at breakfast the other morning.

As his friends met you both halfway, one of them couldn’t resist but to cut in, “oh, you should totally go, their themed parties are always epic.”

Glancing between everyone, Pietro then gestured to the other guys and said, “Y/n, this is Eddie and Wade. We’re in the same frat together.”

“Hi,” you offered them both a slight wave.  

Rounding back to the subject at hand, Eddie piggybacked off of what Wade had said and then suggested, “you should come with us.”

“What?”

“To the party,” he clarified, “what do you say?”

“Oh, well…” you thought about it a moment, although the way that your poor pussy throbbed made it incredibly difficult to get the right sense, so instead you heard yourself utter, “alright.”

“Alright?” Pietro’s brows floated up as he echoed your answer.

“Sure,” you breathed, shifting your weight gently as you stayed on the last of the steps, “it’s an eighties theme, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think like costumes or anything are mandatory,” Wade cocked his head, “we’ll just have old bangers stuck in our heads for the rest of the month.”

“Sounds like fun,” you offered them a small smile before Pietro once again piped up.

“Where do you live? We’ll come pick you up.”

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked for a second before answering, “in Manning Hall.”

“Okay, cool,” he smirked as they all began to back up and slip out of the classroom, “Saturday night, nine o’clock.”

“It’s a date–,” you exhaled, before a wince scrunched up your features, “or well, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant like, you know, it’s a date, not that it’s a date, date…”

But instead of furthering your mortified spiralling, they all just chuckled as your classmate murmured, “see you Saturday, Y/n,” before they disappeared down the hall.

A long sigh then flowed from your lungs before you finally ascended from the very last step, although, when your feet settled on the floor, the little vibrator inside of you suddenly hit you with a wave, increasing its intensity for only a second before it then settled back down. A gasp swiftly parted your lips as you passed the teacher’s desk, and your hand shot out to clutch the edge of it as a stutter shook your frame.

Still packing up his own things before he too could journey forth, Reed glanced up at you and asked, “you okay?” although the knowing smirk that twitched at the corners of his lips went unnoticed by your dizzy vision.

“Oh, mhm,” you tried to control your heaving chest, “I’m fine, sir,” you briefly glanced up at him, although immediately glanced away as it didn’t help matters, your tunnel vision only fixating on the details of him that made it impossible for you to overcome the overwhelming teasing, “that was a–, uhm, fun class today.”

“Thanks,” he bit down on his slight smile. However, before you could part your lips and utter anything further, a different voice suddenly emanated off to the side.

“Oh no, what was it about this week? Please, I don’t have the energy to try and listen to you babble about it for the rest of the week.”

Twisting your neck, you spotted the figure that then appeared, leaning garishly against the doorway, “Ransom? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your dear stepbrother was busy, so he sent me instead,” he began to waltz into the classroom, “he sends his regards though,” and held up his phone, wiggling it playfully and letting you spot the app that was open on the small screen. Apparently, Steve wasn’t the only one who had access to the controls of the device ever maddening inside of your cunt, prompting your frame to freeze up at the mortifying discovery. Redirecting his glance to Dr. Richards as he neared, Ransom then murmured, “what’s up, teach?”

“Ransom,” the older man greeted the frat guy with a surprising air of informality, “hey, do you boys need me to be there for the next meeting?”

“Uhm, nah, I don’t think we’ll discuss anything major this week. We’ll just send you the highlights in the group chat or something,” he murmured before spotting the furrow to your brow and then clarifying further, “oh, did you not know? Reed is Kappa Alpha Nu’s faculty advisor.”

“No,” you faintly shook your head before the silent stares that the both of them cast upon you caused your cheeks to heat up. The pause that hung in the air almost made it seem as if there was more to that story, although your foggy brain couldn’t pick up on any of it at the moment, as you were merely focussing on not letting the tormenting toy make a complete fool out of you in front of your professor.

“Well, I should get going,” Reed then broke the heated silence, “see you next week, Y/n,” he caught your eye as he picked up his bag and slinked it over his broad shoulder, “remember to do the reading.”

“Will do, professor!” you squeaked as he turned to exit the classroom.

Though as you and Ransom slipped out of the lecture hall as well, your feet didn’t manage to carry you far down the hallway before the frat guy yanked you into the nearest bathroom that you passed.

He didn’t even glance around to see if the lavatory indeed was vacant before he shoved you into one of the stalls, his fingers not finding the lock before he pushed you up against the thin wall.

“So,” he purred as your wide eyes blinked back at him, reeling to catch up to the sudden shift in locations, “have you cum?”

“N-no,” your head swiftly shook, “I haven’t been able to,” you revealed, as each time you’d gotten close, the vibrating pulses the toy offered your poor cunt would switch up or slow down, ruining the high for you and keeping you on the mind-breaking edge.

“Well, good,” he smirked, “that was the point,” his words drew out, holding your gaze captive, before he then uttered casually, “so, I’ll just be taking this back then,” and boldly shoved his hand up under your skirt. He wasted no time before stuffing his hand into your panties, a chuckle slipping from him at just how ridiculously drenched they were.  

“Ransom!” you gasped loudly as he ignored the hot pink tail of the toy that poked out of your pussy and instead sank two thick fingers right in beside it, an obscene squelch echoing from your creamy cunt as he plugged your drooling hole up even further.

“What? Just trying to get it out,” he teased, knowing fully well what his true intentions were, purposefully keeping the little vibrator inside and making it so much more unbearable for you to endure, “quit squirming,” he grinned as your whole body quivered at his greedy touch, “oh, your little pussy's really holding on tight to that thing. Just doesn’t wanna let go,” he swirled his long fingers around the little toy, before they settled just behind it, swiftly scooping up against it to force the vibrator repeatedly against your g-spot, “oh, I know,” he then abruptly fished his phone out of his pocket, “maybe this will help,” he smirked as he opened up an app before you felt the humming pick up again.

The vibrations were strong and deep as he swept his touch against the toy, rocking it against that little spot inside of you that caused your pussy to sing for him in sloppy sloshing sounds at each of his merciless motions.

“A-ahh!” you cried out as you finally came undone. Squirting all over the place as if his touch had switched on some lewd fountain inside of you, your sensitive cunt clenched down around the toy so fiercely that it popped right out and landed in Ransom’s palm, wiggling and buzzing in his hold as his fingers too were forced out. Shakily, your frame slid down the wall of the stall till you were sitting in the puddle of your juices on the cold tile floor, your dazed frame still quivering violently from the intense high as it continued to rock you, your leaky hole still weakly gushing as the frat boy’s laughter floated above you.

“…Adler, Fowler, Jensen, Barton and then Wilson and Brock, you’ve already met,” Pietro introduced his fellow members of the Gamma Sigma Zeta fraternity, before a burly blonde appeared behind the group and interjected.

“What, are you just gonna skip the best one?” he grinned as he sauntered up towards you, splitting the small crowd that surrounded you in half.

“Y/n, this is Johnny Storm,” Pietro uttered beside you as the man neared.

“President of Gamma Sigma Zeta,” Johnny added as he caught your hand in a brief shake.

“Nice to meet you,” a smile flashed upon your features in an attempt at squashing the nerves that churned your stomach, the loud throwback music that shook the entire out house certainly didn’t help matters either, “all of you,” raising your hand, you offered the group a tiny wave as your gaze drifted over all of them.

“Likewise,” Johnny smirked before his eyes drifted down to your empty hands, “hey, how long have you been here? How come she doesn’t have a drink yet?”

“Oh, I’m okay, really–” you tried to insist, before a beer was suddenly cracked open and shoved in your hand, “oh, thanks…”

As you timidly enveloped your fingers around the can, Nick chimed in as the frat’s president settled in at his side, “so, you’re pre-med like Maximoff?”

“Yeah,” your head tilted in a tiny nod, “we have Dr. Richards’ class together.”

“Oh, my condolences,” Johnny suddenly winced.

“What?”

“He’s married to my sister,” he explained his pre-set grudge against the charming professor.

“Oh,” you breathed, your gaze promptly averting, “I didn’t know he was married.”

“Really? Most of the women he sleeps with usually does,” he uttered casually, brashly indicating that you were the older man’s type, even if he wasn’t outright accusing you of actually having an affair with him yet, “anyhow, we were about to go gather a few folks in the other room for a game of something. You wanna join?”

Glancing around the group, you then squeaked, “uh, sure.”

It ended up being a twist on truth or dare, although if you weren’t brave enough to complete the challenge, you’d have to drink.

Sitting in a haphazard circle, a few of the Delta Phi girls had also joined in, as well as the sorority’s resident cat, Gigi, who had wandered around from person to person, though when the fluffy creature had stopped and settled by your feet and you bent forward in your seat on the couch to pet her, your attention faded away from the game and rendered you to nearly miss what Carol murmured after she’d completed her dare.

“Okay…” the blonde cast her glance around the players till her eyes landed on the next victim, “Y/n, truth or dare.”

“Oh no…” your head shot back up at the sound of your own name for the first time so far in the game being picked, “truth, but please don’t be mean…” you blinked up at her as a frown twitched at your lips, “please?”  

“Alright, fine,” Carol gave in to your puppy eyes, “let’s see… what's the worst thing you've ever said to someone?”

Your eyes promptly grew wide, “oh god…” an exhale seeped from your lungs, “that’s you being gentle?”

“Or you can drink, your choice,” she shrugged as she settled further back in her seat.

“She’s like a Disney princess,” Jake grinned off to the side of you, “she’s probably never even sworn before.”

“Okay, ha-ha, hilarious,” you let out a dry laugh as everyone in the circle snickered a moment, “for the record, yes, I have, I say bad words all of time if you must know,” you noted a bit too defensively before averting your gaze to the cat at your feet to ponder the question, “alright… oh… it’s hard to remember…” you screwed your eyes shut a moment before you shared, “I mean, I did say some pretty awful things to my mom back when she first told me she was getting married again,” the rest of them then bathed you in stares that nudged you to swiftly elaborate, “it was back when I started high school, which was already not fun. It was a private school, I was a scholarship student, so let’s just say that the preppy rich kids who already went there didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms…” you sighed heavily at the memory, “and then when she told me that she’d gotten engaged to the dad of one of the seniors, I kinda flipped at the thought of suddenly living in the same house as the most popular guy in school… but, I luckily she forgave me, and I learned to deal with the change. I mean, at least it happened towards the end of the school year, so I really only lived with him for a couple of months before he then went off to college.”

For the rest of the game, you couldn’t help but absentmindedly sip at your drink, especially each time someone would be challenged with a dare or a question so raunchy that your only shield to hide your obvious innocence was the beer can in your grasp.

So, towards the end, when it eventually became your turn again and your drink was nearly empty, you only giggled when they dared you to kiss each and every other player, the alcohol in your system letting them sway you with ease.

Although, when you were halfway through the nerve-wrecking challenge, timidly pressing your lips to each and everyone’s cheeks, when you reached Johnny, he cockily twisted his head just in time for your mouth instead to crash against his own.

But as swiftly as the unexpected kiss occurred, that’s how quickly you were suddenly ripped off of the frat president’s lap, as little did you know, your stepbrother had appeared in the doorway behind you only moments before.

“Rogers, what the hell?” Johnny promptly hissed as you slipped out of his grasp.

But instead, Steve ignored him and directed his glare down at you, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his bruising grip dented your upper arm.

“Hey, let go of her,” Johnny shot up from his seat and reached out for you.

“Don’t! Get back!” Steve roared in a tone you’d never even imagined him capable of, “if you ever so much as look at my stepsister again, I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”

Stumbling back just a tad, Johnny echoed, “step–…” before his glare shifted to lock with your wide eyes, “you seriously weren’t gonna tell us that this was the golden boy you were talking about? Seriously? Rogers is your stepbrother?”

“I–…” your gaze darted between everyone around you as you ceased to connect the dots and figure out why everyone had suddenly exploded in poisonous rage, “what is going on?”

“You’re going home, that’s what’s going on,” Steve grumbled firmly. His glare didn’t waver as he then raised his voice and called upon one of his friends who shadowed behind him, “Thor?”

“Got it,” Thor murmured before he then stepped up and obeyed Steve’s unspoken command, abruptly picking you up and tossing you over his broad shoulder.

And though you tried to fight it, tried to argue that they were being ridiculous, both he and your stepbrother still managed to carry you out of the sorority party without as much as breaking a sweat. And as they hauled you past the rest of the frat, the remainder of Kappa Alpha Nu stood their ground, glaring down their rivals and making you fear that a fight was on the horizon the very moment that the front door slammed shut behind you.

You were still riddled with questions by the time that you arrived back at your dorm room, though the alcohol that still buzzed in your system also pushed you to become mildly pissed off at their mysterious interjection.

Though you wanted to argue, they instead helped you get ready for bed, shoving a toothbrush into your hand before you had the chance to complain. And as you slowly scrubbed your teeth and you watched as a few whispers slipped between the pair, one of them even fishing out his phone to send off a few texts, the flicker of anger that had bubbled up inside of you, instead fizzled down and morphed into a tsunami of bewildering fear.  

So, when you’d finished brushing your teeth, your voice then came out wobbly with the threat of tears, “…are you guys mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

But to your horror, neither of them answered you as a simple sigh only slipped from Steve as he picked out a nightgown from your dresser and crossed the room towards where your tipsy form stood, “arms up,” he uttered, and without even thinking about it, your intoxicated limbs floated up into the air. The both of their hands then slipped off your clothing before tugging the negligée over your head, “there, much better,” your stepbrother smoothed down the pastel blue fabric, having of course chosen the shortest you owned, rendering it to barely cover the curve of your bottom.

As Thor momentarily slipped into the bathroom to grab you a glass of water, Steve pulled back the covers of your twin-sized bed for you to crawl under.

“Sleep tight, sweetie,” their weight dented the edge of your mattress for but a moment before they once again rose up, although Steve briefly reached out to pinch the long ear of the white stuffed animal that you had swiftly clutched to your chest, his fingertips sweeping up to tug at one of the light pink ribbons that were tied around each of the soft bunny’s ears.  

“Wait!” you gasped as they dissipated from your side, your arms tightening in the hug around Bun Bun’s little teddy bear form, “I–… I can’t fall asleep after all of that…”

Pausing a moment right before they reached the door, “…alright,” Steve then let out a sigh, “what do you usually do when you can’t fall asleep?”

“Well, sometimes I read, or maybe watch something on my phone, but not anything too exciting, you know? Just something that I can kinda half follow along with till I get sleepy enough to close my eyes.”

A devilish idea then popped into your stepbrother’s lewd mind and thawed some of the tension in his broad shoulders, the thought conveniently also coinciding with the sinister plans that were already brewing among his fellow frat boys, and perhaps, his idea could even warm you up for the punishment they’d already begun planning.

“Okay…” he uttered slowly as the corners of his lips twitched, “I think I know something you could watch…”

“Really?” you gratefully gasped, “because that’s always the most difficult part, landing on the right video.”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he then grabbed your phone and pulled up a film, though paused it right at the beginning, while the little screen was still completely black, rendering the content a complete mystery to you before you pressed play, “alright, there you go,” he handed it back to you before he then bent down over your horizontal frame and planted a brief kiss to your forehead, “goodnight.”

“Night, night,” you flashed the both of them a smile.

“Night,” Thor reached down to offer your ankle beneath the duvet a squeeze, before they finally exited your room.

And when you then were all alone, you wiggled into a more comfortable position on your pillow, repositioned the stuffed animal in your grasp, before you tilted the phone screen towards you and started the video.

Though, as soon as you pressed play, your jaw promptly hit the floor at the lewd images that instantly flashed across the tiny screen.

You had never in your entire life dared to watch pornography. But even so, the genre that then played out before your own innocent eyes did not embody any of the stereotypical plots that even pure little you had heard inappropriate jokes about.

It started out by shoving a scandal-clad young woman, pretending to be a teen at home all alone in some ridiculously huge house. But then, as she skipped around, flashing the camera teasing angles of her body beneath the excuse she wore as a dress, a hulking man, disguised by the black fabric of a mask, suddenly appeared behind her, clearly on a mission to rob the house, though paused in the doorway when he spotted her.

Though as the masked man tossed the teen around and grunted that he’d much rather steal her virginity than any of her parents’ money, the urge to shut off the video prickled at your every nerve, but you just couldn’t seem to stop staring.

Hugging your teddy bear tight, you soon grew so frustratingly fuzzy that you tried desperately to rid yourself of the sensation, though still couldn’t push yourself over the edge that remained such a mystery whenever you were on your own. The only thing you managed to accomplish as you rubbed yourself raw, was a completely soaked pair of panties before you eventually passed out.

When you suddenly stirred from your slumber, it took you a moment to notice the fact that you weren’t in your warm and safe bed anymore. But in a stark contrast, you now found yourself in the arms of an individual that made you fear you’d been transported into the porn that still buzzed on your phone when you drifted off to sleep.

A gust of the night air rustled in the nightgown you still wore, as well as the cotton scarf that was tied over your mouth. Digging your fingers into Bun Bun that thankfully still remained in your embrace, you cast your wide eyes around to not only the masked man who carried you, but also the small crowd marching all around you, each of their identities obscured by matching black ski masks.

But as panic swiftly arose within you, it suddenly began to fade once again as the man who held you murmured, “well, look who’s finally awake. You were really passed out cold,” you gasped through the gag as you recognised Bucky’s voice, your glace too flickering down to catch sight of some of the many tattoos that decorated his skin, curling out from under the tight black t-shirt he wore, and wrapping down each of his burly arms.

And as you began to recognise the rest of the masked members of Kappa Alpha Nu, it still felt obscene enough to proficiently befuddle you and make you reach so far as to ponder if it actually was just a dream.

You realised what street you were on right before the fraternity came into view, though as they brought you inside the familiar house, you only sank further into your hazy puzzlement as they took you back into the kitchen, towards the pantry, and popped open the door to the basement.

Their past warnings echoed in your mind, cautioning you not to ever wander down there. And one step at a time, as they carried you down the dim and creaking stairway, your stomach began to do flips and ache at the reality that you were now breaking one of their few rules.

At the bottom of the stairs, there was a little hallway with a door at the end of it. The back of it had a little whiteboard strung up, with a schedule scribbled upon it, and at the bottom, a little sign dangled from a string. The side that initially faced you read ‘private session, fuck off’. However, as the frat guy who led the troupe opened the door, the sign got jostled enough for you to catch sight of the other side and the big bold letters that read ‘welcome voyeurs’.

Entering the basement, it was almost as dim as the staircase outside, with the exception of a few dim red bulbs that flickered about the room.

The space was dark and dingy, with decades of graffiti littering the brick walls over the various fliers and posters that wallpapered patches of the periphery. Some mismatched chairs surrounded the beat-up leather couch that stood in the centre of the room. Off to the side, you spotted a long bar, splintery enough to fall apart at any moment. Your naïve eyes flickered from the pool table in the corner, to the chains and ropes that ominously dangled from the pipes on the ceiling, to even the shelves along many of the walls, littered with all sorts of phallic-looking items that made you suck in a breath. And lastly, your stare landed upon the load-bearing wall that stood in the middle of the room, though it didn’t meet the perimeter of the basement as it only stretched out about two meters, and with a strange-looking hole adorning the centre of it.

Little did you know about the nefarious activities and traditions that played out down in this very room, from the playground it was on a day-to-day basis, to the ceremony they held each time a new president of the frat had to earn his crown.

When Bucky finally set you down on your feet, the rest of them crowded around you before one of them reached out to tear the silencing scarf from your mouth.

Hugging the plush lump of Bun Bun’s body tight, you swiftly parted your lips, “what the–”

“Nuh-uh,” you then heard Ari cut you off, your eyes promptly flickering to find his masked visage, “you don’t get to ask the questions here, baby.”

Cocking his head, your stepbrother then spoke in a stern tone, “what the hell did you think you were doing tonight?”

“W-what?” you cast a glance around the lot of them, “nothing, I–, guys,” a small whimper tumbled from your lips as you shifted your weight, “can’t you take the masks off? Please?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Billy chuckled from behind you, making you whip your head around.

“But,” you sucked in a breath, “you’re kind of scaring me…”

“Good,” Steve uttered, “then it’s working,” before he sank down upon the couch behind him and caught your waist, “come here,” he yanked you with him and pulled you over his knee. And as your stomach pressed down against the tops of his thick thighs, and your nightgown rid up, exposing your underwear to every frat guy that surrounded you, Steve let his touch coast up the back of your leg, making you shiver in his lap as he then murmured, “so, we’re gonna try this one more time,” his hand slowly travelled further and further north, “what the fuck were you thinking tonight?”

“What?” your neck twisted for your glare to find the glint of your stepbrother’s eyes behind his mask, missing entirely as one of the others handed something to him, “I just went to a party–, ah!” sharp pain then suddenly sparked on your bottom, though it took you a moment, panting after your yelp, to realise that it hadn’t been Steve’s palm that he’d sent down upon your ass, but instead it was a paddle that one of the others had fetched for him.

“Oh, but that’s not all you did,” Bucky muttered as he then buried his fingers in your hair, clutching your locks tight just as you began to squirm, keeping you trapped in your stepbrother’s lap, even if you’d attempt an escape.

“Why would you go with them?” Steve hissed, “why?”

Flesh still stinging, you blinked up at him and breathed, “what are you talking about, I thought that was exactly what you told me to do, to finally relax and be social?”

“Not with them,” Lloyd’s voice found your ears, “you could have picked literally anyone but them,” he stated before your stepbrother swatted you with the paddle. Spanking you a few times in swift succession, one of the blows landed directly over the heat of your covered core.

“Okay, okay!” you yelped as the smacks caused tears to sting the corners of your eyes, “I’m sorry that I talked to some guys that you aren’t fans of, I’ll try to stay clear of them in the future!”

“Oh, you did way more than talk, babe,” Ari kneeled down before you to get on your level, “and they aren’t just some guys that we aren’t fans of,” he corrected you, “they’re from Gamma Sigma Zeta. The fucking scum of this campus,” he spat, making you recoil atop Steve’s lap, “do you really not know–, does she not know her Highridge history?”

“Apparently fucking not,” Frank crossed his arms before your whole body jumped as Steve once again spanked you.

“Our frats don’t mix,” Ari began to explain, “it’s from way back,” his hand drifted up to gesture alongside his words, “back in the sixties, they budded heads, god knows about what,” he briefly sighed, “but let’s just say, the rivalry has only grown over the decades.”

“So, unless you wanna be on our bad side, you stay away from them. Don’t fucking go near them, any of them, ever again,” you heard Steve bark, “you got it?”

Tightening his grip in your hair and making you wince at the sting, Bucky then tugged your head further back for your eyes to find his, “say that you fucking understand!”

“Y-yes!” you cried out, “I understand!”

And though you obeyed their every word to get back into their good graces, you once again felt Steve swat your ass before he hissed, “did you fuck any of them?”

“What?” you gasped, “no! I didn’t–”

“Oh, so you think we should believe that you only let them stick their filthy tongues down your throat like the little fucking slut you are?” Thor nearly scoffed from the sidelines.

“It was just a game,” you desperately explained, “I mean, it was only one of them that I didn’t kiss on the cheek, but that wasn’t my fault, he was the one that turned his head just at the right time to–”

“Oh, but it is your fault,” Bucky uttered as his stare held your own captive, “it’s all your fault, honey,” a gentle shake found his head, “this is the bed you made, so you better fucking lie in it.”

“I won’t do it again, I swear!” you swiftly tried, a tear rolling down your cheek as they all continued to bruise your bottom, a few of them reaching out to torment you in between the swats of the paddle, “I’ll stay away from them!”

“Hm,” Steve’s voice rumbled in your ear as a slight smirk stretched across his lips, “that doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“Yeah,” you heard Curtis chuckle briefly, “I think she might need a bit of a punishment in order to learn her lesson, so that she won’t repeat the same mistake again…”

“P-punishment?” you frantically attempted to glance around the lot of them, “b-but, then what was this?”

Your cunt clenched around nothing as Steve then sat down the paddle and let his hand ghost over your aching skin, “oh, this was just a bit of foreplay, sweetie,” he smirked at the way your already soaked panties had gotten a fresh wave of arousal to drench them further.

“Yeah, we’re gonna play a little game,” Scott informed you, “you like games, right?”

“S-sure,” you shivered as your stepbrother let his fingertip trace the hem of your underwear, scarcely touching you at all, only tickling the edges of your embarrassment.

“It’s a guessing game,” Miguel uttered, “wouldn’t that be fun?”

“L-like twenty questions or something?” you stammered as you felt Bucky let go of your hair.

“No, baby,” Steve chuckled in your ear, “it’s a little different than that…” he muttered before he then seized your waist and plucked you up, snatching you with him as he suddenly rose.

And as the rest of them manhandled your wiggling frame across the length of the basement, you squeaked, “w-what are you doing?” as they hauled you around the loadbearing wall and plopped you down on a slap that stood up against the back of it, level to the hole that had been manufactured in it. The opening’s edges were almost padded with a pliable plastic to soften up the rough texture of the brick wall. Slipping your bottom half through the hole, like they were threading a needle, you then felt someone on the other side tie up your legs, spreading them wide and strapping them into a pair of waiting leather restraints. Belt-like straps were swiftly fastened around your torso, before your wrists were then bound together as well, although one of them did readjust your little bunny to be snug against your body, beneath your bound hands, “what is going on?” you whined as they then all vanished from your side of the partition, leaving you shivering in the dark as the crisp air caressed your bottom as it poked out the other side, nearly hanging off of the edge and granting them all a perfect view of your ruined panties.

“Now,” you heard Steve’s voice from on the other side of the wall, “the rules are pretty simple,” he uttered as his footsteps dragged him closer to your exposed parts, “we’re gonna fuck you, one by one, and then you’ll have to identify us all. Try and guess who it is that’s pounding that sweet little pussy of yours,” you sucked in a breath as his touch then ghosted along your covered core, tickling the soaked cotton, “and if you get it right, well then woopie, you get to cum,” his fingers then caught the fabric in a pinch before he went on, “but if you don’t, if you get it wrong, well then you won’t be allowed to cum,” he stated just before he ripped a huge hole in your sodden underwear, revealing your pussy completely as tattered cotton framed it.

“Oh, and if you even so much as try to sneak an orgasm past any of us, we’ll know,” Bucky promptly added, “you’re awful at keeping them lowkey, you just can’t control that yet,” he murmured as you felt your stepbrother’s touch fade as he took a step back, “but if you try, then you’ll wish you hadn’t, you understand?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed, though still only took the warning with a grain of salt out of pure hope that this was only a twisted game and nothing more.

“Good,” he exhaled, making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

Miguel was the first one to step up, not wasting any time at all to tease you before he slammed his thick cock inside of you, instantly balls deep.  

Though you could hear everyone’s different voices and groans through the partition, you still had no way of knowing who was stretching out your pussy that was on display like a toy. Knowing them all, you assumed right when you pondered if their stray moans, all of them melting into one big storm, were a result of their desperation getting the better of them as they all began to stroke themselves, impatiently waiting their turn.

“So,” you eventually heard Andy utter, “any guesses?”

“U-uh…” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut as you struggled to recall any of their names with the way that Miguel filled you up, “S-Scott?”

A loud laugh then promptly billowed out of Scott, “you wish, baby!”

“Guess you’ll just have to hold out a little longer, eh?” Thor snickered as you felt your buzzing clit get pinched, making the battle they urged you to fight that much tougher.

And as you neared the edge, your lack of faith in the threats they’d loomed over you then triumphed as you chalked them up to be nothing more than oddly dark jests and let yourself tumble over the edge.

But as you didn’t attempt to diminish any of your moans in the slightest, Marc then scoffed, “oh, did you seriously just cum?” as you still trembled before them all, “you think this is a joke?”

“Holy fuck, no yeah, she definitely did,” Miguel groaned loudly, “feels like her pussy’s trying to choke me,” he only pumped his length inside of you a couple of times more before he promptly pumped your cunt full as you simply squeezed down too good around his dick for him to resist.

“Bad fucking girl,” Frank chuckled as you felt Miguel take a step back, his twitching cock slipping from your haven.

“Greedy little whore,” Ari smacked your inner thigh lightly, making some of Miguel’s load dribble out of you as your cunt clenched at the blow, “just have to make it all about yourself, don’t you?”

“Well, gentlemen, I think a little consequence is in order,” you then heard your stepbrother utter, “any ideas?”

“I’ve got one,” Ransom smirked, “we get to pick out what she wears for the rest of the month.”

“The whole month?” you gasped as their severity finally began to sink in.

“Oh, quit your whining,” Bucky bellowed, “you think that’s bad? Try us again if you really wanna suffer that badly,” his warning sent a shiver trickling down your spine.

It was then Billy’s turn, tapping the weight of himself against your puffy petals before he used his friend’s load as lube.

And try as you might, even after you guessed wrong, you just couldn’t help but give in to ecstasy once again. You tried to fight it, you truly did, but as Billy’s rhythm rocked you and caused your eyes to roll in your skull, you ended up biting down on your teddy bear’s ear to muffle your moans in a feeble hope at the chance that they might not notice.

But unfortunately, your pussy wasn’t on board with keeping your secret.

“What part of ‘you are not allowed to cum unless you guess correctly’ do you not understand?” Billy chuckled as your cunt fluttered fiercely around him, driving him closer to the edge as well.

Next thing you knew, Steve then curved around the partition and appeared at your side. Though as your hazy gaze tried to focus on him, you ceased to notice the little clamps in his grasp before he then pinched your nipples with them, the small pebbles already half poking out of the low neckline of your nightgown, granting him easy access as he promptly fastened the pair to them both.

“Ouch,” you winced at the unfamiliar sensation, pouting up at your stepbrother’s masked features.

“Oh, suck it up,” he playfully tapped your cheek, “you big baby,” before he vanished from your side once again.

And as Billy swiftly finished as well, you heard him grunt through the wall as he snapped his hips one last time against the plush of your ass, “so, you want something worse on top of what you just got? Not a problem.”

“How about, at the next party, we’ll pretend we don’t know you,” Andy suggested, “seeing as you always use us as a safety net, clinging onto us like a lost puppy, next time, you won’t get that luxury.”

The next few that went, replacing each other like ravenous wildfires, weren’t any you could guess correctly either. First, there was the president of the frat whose broad palm spanked your sore ass even further as he fucked you. Next came Marc, who was quickly traded out with Scott, though each of those two paid close attention, pulling their cocks out whenever your pussy began to flutter around them, trading your sweet cunt out with their own fists and granting you just enough time to back away from the edge before they buried themselves once again.

When it was Ransom’s turn, the long and deep strokes he offered you were almost painfully slow, making your legs tremble in their restraints on either side of his frame.

“Fuck, look at how that little cunnie…” he groaned after you’d once again guessed incorrectly, your fuzzy and edged mind barely letting you mumble coherently any longer, “how is she still so tight after everything?” drawing back his hips to pull his cock out completely, “the fuck do we gotta do to train this hole properly?” he watched how your hole winked up at him, snapping back into place just before he plunge back in and split you back open for his fat girth, “because she’s still acting like a fucking virgin even though that cherry was popped long ago…”

Though when Ransom soon faded back into the crowd and the next man stepped up, a shrill gasp instantly flowed from your lungs as there was only one frat bro such an impossibly thick girth could belong to.

“B-Bucky!” you breathlessly cried out as he utilised the copious loads already dripping out of you as lube to make his efforts easier, though his comrades’ seed swiftly leaked out of you completely as he buried himself inside of you, his monstrous size being the one and only thing your poor pussy could possibly accommodating for, “that’s–, that’s Bucky!”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Bucky chuckled as he rolled his hips, stretching your wrecked hole impossibly wide for him, “good girl!” his hefty balls smacked against your slick skin as he found a greedy rhythm, “you finally guessed right!”

“Well, he is the easiest one to guess, so this kinda feels like cheating,” Marc playfully argued as his dick twitched, once again growing hard.

“Yeah, she would have had to be fucking passed out not to do it,” Curtis laughed cruelly.

“Should it not get to count then?” Thor asked.

“Nah, let her have this,” you heard Steve decide, “go ahead, throw her a bone, Buck,” he uttered as he handed his friend a vibrating wand.

Lowering the buzzing and bulbous head to your puffy pearl, only a moment passed before shockwaves jolted throughout your body, as you were already so close to that agonising edge.

“Oh my god!” you thrashed against your binds as your pussy gushed around Bucky’s girth, his efforts never wavering as you squirting for him. Roaring cheers and wolf whistles filled up the room as you came so hard that the comforting bunny in your arms tumbled to the cold concrete floor.

Your frame then pathetically attempted to squirm away as Bucky chases his own high, his selfish pace overstimulating you so fiercely that you would have almost rather he’d brought the paddle back out instead.

But when he’d pumped you full, his load already overspilled around his girth as it twitched inside of you, though when he withdrew completely, your little pussy gaped for a second, his cum leaking out and dripping down onto the floor, before your opening then clenched around nothing and snapped back into place, quivering around nothing as someone else then stepped closer.

Lloyd first knelt down on the ground before you, getting on eye level with the mess that had been left for him. You shivered as he slid his wide hands up to either side of your ass, before spreading you wide, and watching how you leaked before him.

One of his palms then shifted closer before his touch traced your puffy petals, sweeping through your folds before his fingers drifted down to tickle your untouched little rosebud. Your whole body squirmed as he then tilted closer and let himself have a taste of your mess, lapping greedily at your little virgin asshole, even though you were still so hypersensitive that he only overstimulated you even further, making you wiggle and whimper as he kissed a place that utterly baffled your innocent body with the unexpected pleasure it bloomed.  

“Hey! Come on dude!” the sound of your stepbrother’s rumbling timbre then cut through your haze and halted his friend’s lavish tongue, “we all know you’re an ass man, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be the one to get the honour to feel hers for the first time,” he warned him, “especially not today.”

“What, do you want it to be yourself that pops that cherry as well?” Lloyd cocked a brow as he straightened back up, wiped his moustache of your slickness, and began instead to fuck your pussy, “seriously?”

“If you keep that attitude up, yes,” Steve shot back at him, “but I was thinking maybe we pop all of our names into a hat at some point, draw at random for it,” he suggested, “whoever wins gets to claim their prize exactly how they want.”

Their words then began to fade away as you instead focused all of your might on not letting yourself unravel once again without their blessing. By the time they asked you to identify Lloyd, you could barely make out their voices through your dazed fog.

But when Thor then replaced the moustachioed frat bro and you struggled to keep your sluggish eyes open, they drifted off to the side just in time to spot as Bucky then appeared, curving around the wall, his black mask now tugged up over his gaze so that it instead looked like just an innocent beanie atop of his head.

“Oh no,” he murmured as his vision drifted to Bun Bun discarded on the floor, “when did you drop her, huh? Can’t have that,” his tongue briefly flickered out to wet his mocking grin before he bent down, “here you go, baby,” he picked the plushie up and settled it back into your constricted arms.

And just as you feared that he would disappear from your side, he instead sank down onto his knees to be at your height.

His hand curved up around the crown of your head to pet your hair as he gazed down at you, your entire frame jostling on the slab each time Thor thrust into you. Muffling your whimpers with a sloppy kiss, when he tilted back, he caught onto your chin and pried your mouth back open, just long enough for him to let a dollop of his spit drop down onto your breathless tongue.

And as his touch scooped down to cup the peaks of your tits that spilt out of your neckline, he only chuckled at the eternal pout on your lips, “aw, you wanna cum again, don’t you?” he flicked one of the clamps that still held your sensitive nipple captive.

“P-please,” you trembled beneath his teasing touch.

“Then just guess right for us,” he uttered as if the task was simple. But when the wrong name once again tumbled from your lips, his fingers caught onto both of the nipple clamps before he then harshly yanked them off. The sting made you yelp, though the sensation also caught you off guard with the shock of pleasure that trickled down your spine, akin to the rough spanks earlier, “don’t fucking cum,” he swiftly warned, “don’t do it.”

“B-but, B-Bucky! I-it–, it’s too much, please let me cum,” your eyes fluttered as your pussy began to milk Thor’s cock, “I can’t–”

“Oh, yes you can,” he uttered, hovering over you as you felt Curtis impatiently commenced his go with you, “hold it, don’t fucking slip,” he smiled as each of Curtis’ deep thrusts rhythmically forced all of the air to slip form your lungs, leaving you gasping on the slab as he fucked you so hard that you jerked against the restraints, “be a good girl. This is your punishment, you’re not supposed to be enjoying it.”

But as you stared up into the sea of Bucky’s blue eyes, the visage of him becoming your entire reality, the added visual element they’d previously deprived you of caused you to accidentally tumble over the edge once again as you simply couldn’t help it.

This time, the penalty the pleasure earned you was an entire week of not only you not being allowed to touch yourself, but also the added torture of none of them laying as much as a finger on you.

By the time that Frank had begun his turn, Bucky pinched both of your cheeks, imprisoning your puckered lips, and kissed you one last time before he vanished from your side.

Still dizzy from your unsanctioned high, Frank’s efforts ended up overwhelming you so fiercely that you began to fear that you might pass out from exhaustion before you had the chance to possibly cum again.

But when it became Andy’s go, the eleven loads that had been pumped into your poor pussy looked down right obscene, some splashed in the puddle of your own squirt directly below you, while others still leaked out of your trembling hole, though as he first swatted his palm down over your swollen clit, more cum trickled out of you as your cunt clenched at the impact, before he shifted to plug you back up.

Pinching your clit rudely as he bucked into you, someone soon handed him a black marker as murmurs filled the air of phrases they thought your body would benefit to be decorated with. Though as he dragged the pen over each of your inner thighs, the words he ended up scribbling on your skin with dark ink were ‘Kappa Alpha Nu’s fuckdoll’ and ‘cumdump’ on the other leg, which then had a little arrow pointing towards the poor mess where his dick repeatedly sank into.

And lastly, when you were barely conscious any longer, it finally became your stepbrother’s turn to swap his own fist out with the sweetness of your pussy.

However, as Steve buried his fat length inside of you and fucked you even more raw, when he did you the solid of revealing his identity to you after you’d ultimately guessed incorrectly one last time, something else also attempted to slip inside of your cunt as he soon tried to stuff a finger in alongside his cock.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you gasped in a shrill tone, your drool smearing against your teddy bear.

“Just testing the waters,” he murmured as his digit continued to trace your wrecked hole as it gripped his girth tightly, searching intently for a way inside, “damn… I really thought this would have done the trick.”

“Huh?”

“To stuff this pretty pussy with more than just one cock, you silly,” he pointed out cruelly as if such extremes were a goal of yours as well, “guess we gotta be a lot meaner to her than this if we wanna fill her up more…” he uttered, though his words barely registered in your foggy brain.

You were so edged and yearned to unravel again so badly that it physically ached, though as your sensitive walls fluttered around Steve’s thick girth, you incoherently whined, “c-can I cum again? P-please? I swear, I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t go near any of them again. Please, Steve,” you pouted as tears welled up in your eyes, “I’ll be good. Let me cum. P-please, I can’t hold it anymore, it hurts–”

But instead, your stepbrother’s wide palm came soaring down upon your trembling inner thigh as he grumbled, “too fucking bad,” squeals escaped you as he smacked you a few more times, making your cunt clamper down around him as his hand caught the puff of your pussy, “you should have just been better at guessing if you wanted to cum that badly,” his grip came down to settle around your hips, digging into them as he let his thrusts derail and become rougher, “so, suck it up. After all, it’s your fault you’re in this mess to begin with.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[kikidoul]

── THE MEMORY THAT BLEEDS.

𓍯 synopsis: "He was the love she couldn't kill. Now, he's the monster who doesn't remember her." Years ago, you let Sunghoon live—despite knowing he had become the very thing you were trained to destroy. When he resurfaced as a powerful vampire with no memory of your past, you're forced to face him again... but this time, as strangers on opposite sides of the battlefield. As old feelings stir and dangerous secrets unravel, you must decide: will you protect the man you once loved or end the vampire he's become?

ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ vampire! 박성훈 x vampire hunter! reader ᥫ᭡ content ex-lovers to strangers hurt no comfort inaccurate vampire lore explicit smut content blood (duh) pussy eating fingering unprotected sex (don't do this) there's way more plot than porn here i'm sorry angst sad ending major character death . . . wc: 8746...!? masterlist.

note. I FINALLY FINISHED... this was a wild rollercoaster for me to write as no words can describe how many times i have to rewrite certain scenes until i was fully satisfied with it... i hope you guys enjoy reading the first fic for desire unleashed!

Everytime you close your eyes, you are greeted with the same, horrifying scene. You prayed to whatever God out there, who was listening to your prayers that it was nothing but just a nightmare. A dream and not reality. But it seems like luck wasn’t on your side. Even if five months had passed, you still remembered the scene like it recently happened. It was like it had been forcefully imprinted into your mind, refusing to let you forget, no matter how hard you tried. 

He’s late. 

You sighed for the unknown time after glancing at the clock, noting how thirty minutes had passed. Today was supposed to be a day of celebration for you and Sunghoon’s third month anniversary. Initially, Sunghoon had planned on having dinner at a fancy restaurant but there was a change of plans when your boyfriend had to meet his client for a sudden appointment. He was tempted to change the date of the appointment but you were nothing but persistent, telling him he shouldn’t keep his client waiting any longer. 

In the end, he agreed and had to cancel your dinner. But you weren’t mad or disappointed, shooing him out of your home and wished him luck. While he was away, you spent the past two to three hours preparing a wide range of dishes. It was a lot of hard work but you didn’t mind, for your love for Sunghoon easily served as motivation to push through.

No words can describe how pleased you were when you finished and wanting to set the mood, you even went to take a much-needed shower before dressing up—a simple dress and light make-up. 

When you were done, you checked your phone to see if Sunghoon had texted you but he didn’t. You brushed it off, assuming he was too busy or his phone had died. That was your first mistake. You decide to pass time by scrolling through your phone while eagerly waiting for your boyfriend to return.

However, as seconds turned to minutes, you were getting anxious. You have heard news about how there was a sudden rise of vampire attacks in the neighbourhood you live in. 

Being a vampire hunter, you were constantly sent on missions to kill vampires. The reason why you chose to be one is so you could protect your loved ones and innocent people from getting killed or worse, turned into a vampire.

You paused when you stumbled upon a news article about how yet another incident happened. Your entire world turned upside down when you recognized the victim’s name reflected on the screen, your surroundings going numb. 

‘The unfortunate victim, who goes by the name of Park Sunghoon, was killed by a vampire. He was about to leave his client’s house, only to get ambushed by a vampire who was roaming around the area. Due to this, Park Sunghoon had risked his life to save the client, resulting in him getting bitten instead.’ 

Your phone slipped from your hands, landing on the carpet as you sat there, dazed. Only for you to snap out of your state when your ears registered the sounds of footsteps approaching your door. Immediately on high alert, you rose to your feet, reaching underneath the couch for your weapon—a dagger to protect yourself.

You slowly but cautiously moved to the closed door, left hand hovering over the doorknob while you looked through the peephole to see who it was. Your body went as still as a statue when you saw it was none other than Sunghoon. 

Your limbs moved before your brain could process, flinging the door open and that was when you saw it. Blood. Dark crimson, thick liquid on his neck. His previously cleaned clothes were stained with blood and dirt. Although, you were certain that the blood belonged to him. You scanned him from head to toe, pure shock written all over your face. 

“Sunghoon, you…” Your voice trailed off, unable to find it in yourself to finish your sentence. But the both of you knew what you meant. 

Your boyfriend nodded, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I know, but I’m still me. So, please, let me in and we can talk about this, alright?” 

He tried to enter but you stopped him, ignoring how hurt flickered in his eyes at your action. “Baby—” 

You firmly shook your head, able to hear how loud your heart was banging against your chest. “I can’t, Sunghoon. You and I know if I let you in, who knows what you might do. You’re no longer human.” 

The way he looked at you made you teared up, tightening your grip on the hilt of your dagger. “You know I won’t hurt you.” 

You shakily exhaled, feeling your warm tears rolling down your face. “I…I’m sorry, Sunghoon. I love you. I really do but you have to go. Please, it’ll be easier for both of us.” 

He barked out a humorless laugh, the light in his eyes gradually dying. “How are you sure about that? What if this makes us worse?” 

You couldn’t hold yourself back and the words slipped from your mouth without hesitation. “I’m sure because you’re not yourself anymore, Sunghoon. You’re my enemy now.”

Silence. 

And just like that, the remaining light in his eyes was extinguished. He was speechless for a moment, feeling hurt by your crude words but a small part of him knew you were right. His words don’t mean a thing now that he had turned into a vampire. And should the headquarters catch wind of you living with a vampire, you will be given a death sentence without question.

Sunghoon remained where he was, eyes fixated on your face as he imprinted your features in his mind, never wanting to forget how you looked. 

“...Fine, I’ll go. But, I hope you know I still love you, forever and always,” he said, sparing you one final glance before turning and walking off. 

Despite how you had fought countless battles, this was one of the hardest battles. You resist the urge to run towards Sunghoon, planting your feet firmly to the ground as you observe his figure getting smaller and smaller, until he is out of sight. On that day, what was supposed to be a joyous occasion turned into a heartbreaking moment for the two of you. 

And that was the last you had seen him. 

~ 

“...ock! Hello, earth to (Name)? Anyone home?” A voice snapped you out of your trance, followed by a light force hitting your head. 

“Ow!” You yelped, protecting the very same spot, rubbing it while glaring at your co-worker, who was grinning like no tomorrow. “Yang Jungwon, you’re dead meat when I get my hands on you.” 

The blonde hummed, unfazed with your threat as he unceremoniously dumped another pile of papers on your already messy desk. “Sure you will. But I think these papers are more important than you trying to kill me. I’d get to work immediately if I were you.” 

You groaned, leaning back in your seat as you ran a hand through your hair. “I didn’t expect paperwork to come with the job of being a vampire hunter. Why do we even have to do this in the first place?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Jungwon returned to his desk, which was just as messy as yours. “Don’t ask me, I’m just here to make a living.” 

You have known Jungwon on your first day of joining the company when you were at the mere age of sixteen, blinded by the hunger for vengeance after witnessing a vampire murdering your parents in front of you. Under the management’s instructions, you were placed under Jungwon’s supervision.

Your relationship kicked off with a rocky start and to the others, it was amusing to see him being all smiley and cheerful while you, on the other hand, have never once smiled in your entire life. Your eyes were dull and showed no signs of life.

At first, you disliked his personality. To you, there wasn’t anything to be happy about after watching your parents die in front of you. You tried to push Jungwon away but he was persistent, constantly sticking to you and following you everywhere you go.

The sight reminds people of a young duckling following its mother, much to their unspoken amusement. As time went on, he managed to break down the walls you built around yourself and thanks to him, you were able to see life from a more positive angle. 

Jungwon was always there for you, lending you both a shoulder to lean on and listening ear when you were feeling under the weather. The two of you continued your respective work, silence surrounding your shared office room until it was interrupted with a sound made from the intercoms. 

“To Ms (Name), please come to the main office immediately. I repeat: to Ms (Name), please come to the main office immediately. Thank you.” 

Your shoulders dropped as you let out a long, exhausted sigh when you heard your name. Dropping your pen, you rose to your feet as you grabbed your coat, slipping it on while heading towards the door. 

“Looks like duty calls,” you dryly retorted, patting Jungwon’s shoulders as you walked past him. 

“Good luck and don’t die,” he bid you farewell. You merely flipped him off without looking behind and stepped out of the office, closing the door behind you. 

The walk to the main office was quiet with you gradually getting drowned in your own thoughts. It didn’t take you long to reach your destination, entering only after being granted permission. Stepping into the room, you involuntarily shivered when you felt the temperature in the room dropped a notch. That was the first sign something was wrong. The second sign was the room was eerily dark and quiet. Too quiet for your liking. 

The third sign was you felt a presence behind you. 

You instantly spin around, whipping out your weapon hidden in your pants, only for your wrist to be grabbed in mid-action. Due to the lack of light, you couldn’t see your opponent and had no choice but to rely on your senses. With your wrist still grabbed on, you raised your knee, aiming it at their stomach. Only for them to dodge. You freed yourself the moment you felt their grip loosened, kicking out your feet, forcing them to move back. 

“Who are you and how did you get in here?” You asked but they remained silent.

Then you felt it—the shift in the air. The shuffle of a boot on the carpeted floor. 

Clank! 

You turned just in time to block the incoming strike, able to feel the vibrations running through your entire body. Whoever they were, they were fast. Way faster than you for what a regular human being is capable of. You knew you’re fighting a vampire and the thought of these sickly creatures being able to slip past the defenses made your blood boil. You ducked, twisted, and countered, your blade slicing through empty air as your attacker disappeared into the shadows again. 

Another strike—this time from behind. You stumbled, hitting the ground hard, your weapon skidding across the floor. The next thing you knew, you were being pinned down. They moved in with deadly precision, one hand at your throat while the other raised for the kill. 

And that was when the moonlight caught their face. His face, to be exact.

Your world shattered, heart dropping to the depths of your stomach and bile rising in your throat. You couldn’t focus on anything else but him. For a moment, you thought you were dreaming. Or maybe this was some sick, twisted joke the Gods had planned for you. 

“...Sunghoon?” You choked out, disbelief evident in your voice. You stared at him with wide eyes, mouth wide open and jaw slacked. 

He froze in place, shoulders stiffen at the mention of his name. You watched as Sunghoon locked eyes with you, an unreadable expression on his cold, stoic face. He was different from before. You weren’t sure why but something about him feels…wrong.

The way he looked at you was like he never met you before. Like you were nothing but a complete stranger to him. Like this was your very first encounter. He lowered his blade and moved back, unaware of how such a simple action caused your heart to ache. 

“...You’re not the one I came for,” he said in a flat tone, void of any emotion. “Be grateful.” 

And then he turned, wordlessly vanishing into thin air. You sat there in the silence, chest heaving, the sting of his touch still burning on your skin—not from the fight, but from the realization that you were nothing to him.

But, he was still everything you couldn’t let go of. 

~

You were left in a daze after that fateful encounter with Sunghoon. You don’t really remember what happened once he left, only able to vaguely recall the concerned shouts of your name followed by someone carrying you out of the room, bringing you to get your injuries checked. You were shell-shocked, unable to wrap your mind around the mere fact that Sunghoon didn't recognize you. You snap out of your thoughts when something hard and cold nudges your cheek. 

“You alright? You’re unusually quiet,” Jungwon asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Accepting the cold canned soda, you unhooked it, gulping it down without hesitation. Jungwon watched the scene, mildly impressed after you finished it in one go, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Slow down, the drink isn’t going anywhere,” he teased, causing you to chuckle as he playfully bumped his shoulder against yours. 

“I…I met him,” you started, voice soft and timid as you stared at the ground. 

Silence. 

You could feel his gaze on you and you continued, tightening your grip on the empty can of soda, dryly swallowing. “When I was called to the main office, there was no one. It was dark and Sunghoon was there.” 

You went silent, as if unable to continue but Jungwon rested his hand on your shoulder, the mere contact enough to bring you comfort. 

“And then what? What happened back there?” He murmured, eyes fixated on your face. 

“We fought but I didn’t know who he was at that time. And when I found out it was him, God, it felt like something in me broke,” your voice was borderline trembling. Warm, salty tears trickled down your cheeks, leaving a wet trail behind. 

“(Name)...”

You turned to your friend with misty eyes, hurt written all over your face. “He doesn’t remember me, Jungwon. Those past few years we spent together, it’s all gone. Like I have vanished from his mind and life. But, you know what's even worse?” You barked out a bitter, humorless laugh. 

“I was the one who pushed him away. It’s my fault that he ended up like this. Which is why I’m going to kill him,” you continued, tightening your grip on your empty can of soda further until it was crushed into half. 

Jungwon sighed, rubbing circles with his thumb. “(Name), are you sure about that? Can you really kill him the next time you see him? What if he does remember you? What then? What will you do?.” 

You sniffled, raising your left hand to wipe the tears away. “I don’t know, Jungwon. But, I’ve made up my mind.” 

“(Name)—”

You stood up, tossing the can into the nearest rubbish bin with terrifying accuracy, watching as it landed bullseye. “Jungwon, whatever you’re planning to say won’t make me change my mind. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Jungwon pursed his lips. “Are you sure that’s what he wants? To die under your hands?”

You looked ahead of you, unable to find it in yourself to face him. “It doesn’t matter. It’s my fault he turned into a vampire. I have to kill him, even if it’s the last thing I do.” 

After spending the next two hours talking to Jungwon, you decided to finally head home, considering how close it was to midnight. You bid him farewell and went your separate ways. Goosebumps formed on your skin when a gust of wind blew past you, making you curl into yourself as you hugged your coat tighter to your body. You quickened your pace, not wanting to spend another second longer outside in the cold weather. 

Rustle, rustle. 

Stopping, you looked to your right where the sound came from. It leads to a dimly lit alleyway situated between two apartments. The only source of light was the moon hanging high above your head in the abyssal-like sky. Hovering your hand over your sheathed dagger that hung by your hips, you entered the alleyway. You scrunch your nose at the overwhelming stench of rubbish. You visibly jumped out of your skin, startled when you saw a movement in the corner of your eyes, only to sigh when it was just a mouse. 

You continued moving forward and that was when you saw him. 

Sunghoon leans against the wall, cradling his sides with one hand. Unlike his previously emotionless facade, he was gritting his teeth, thick eyebrows furrowed with his canines digging into his lip. 

Snap! 

His head snapped to your direction the moment you accidentally stepped on a twig, alerting him of your presence. He paused, regaining his composure and scowled, pressing himself against the wall but didn’t move away. Although, you weren’t sure if he could even move in the first place. 

“What are you doing here? Are you stupid enough to show up in front of a vampire?” He sneers.

“Shut up, I came here because I thought I needed to save someone,” you retorted, stopping while maintaining a safe distance from him, ignoring how your heart was screaming at you to be closer. “I didn’t expect that it’s you, out of all people.” 

He snorts, shuffling his feet on the spot. “Sorry to disappoint. Now you know it’s me, are you going to leave me alone now?” 

You shot him an incredulous look. “What? You really expect me to just turn around and walk away? And leave you here to bleed to death?” 

“Vampires can’t die,” he hissed, offended at the mere thought of him dying. 

You rolled your eyes, closing the distance with five large strides. Sunghoon went as still as a statue the moment you placed your hands on his shoulders, like he was allergic to the touch of you. The thought of it shattered your heart. His reaction was a huge contrast to how he was previously—clinging onto you like a koala bear, refusing to let you go and always whining about how he wants your attention. You dryly swallowed, rapidly blinking back the pre-formed tears and clearing your throat. 

“Getting help from someone doesn’t mean you’re weak,” you said in a soft tone.

He barks out a humorless laugh, eyeing you with something unreadable. “And what do you know about being weak, human?”

“I know more than you think,” you replied, able to hear how loud your heart was pounding against your chest.

His eyes narrow, a flicker of something, curiosity, maybe, flashed across his face before he schooled it into indifference. “Let me guess. A tragic past? Lost family? Betrayal?” He sneers, words dripping with disdain. “You wear your grief like a badge and call it strength.”

“I know what it’s like to lose someone,” you say quietly. “To look them in the eyes and not recognize who they’ve become.”

Silence. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” he said, defensive and laced with a certain sharpness that could easily sliced a rope into half. 

But I do. I knew you before all of this happened. 

You swallowed the words and instead, replied with something else. “No, I don’t. I’m just a stranger who managed to see you. Now, are you going to let me help you or not? I hope you know that if you don’t get any blood soon, you’re really going to die.” 

“I know that,” he bit back, sending you a sharp glare. If looks could kill, you’d be dead on the spot. “And how are you going to help me? By letting me drink your blood?” 

“Well, yeah. That’s kinda the point,” you answered, blinking. 

Sunghoon recoiled, acting like a disgusted cat that was sprayed with water. “Are you insane? You don’t even know me and you’re already offering me your blood? Are all humans as crazy as you are?” 

You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair. “I’m just trying to help you. Why are you being difficult?” 

The vampire muttered something inaudible under his breath before relenting. “Fine, I’ll accept your…generous offer, but on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not drinking your blood while we’re in an alleyway,” he continued.

“...You cannot be serious,” you deadpanned. 

Sunghoon scrunched his nose, in the same exact way he used to do when he faked his disgust. “I am serious. Do you know how unhygienic it is here? And mind you, drinking blood from someone is a rather intimate act. I’d rather not do that in public.”

Your cheeks flushed red at his words, despite knowing about it. “Fine, let’s go to my place then.” 

~ 

The walk to your apartment was filled with nothing but tense, awkward silence. Thankfully, it was late at night which means there weren’t anyone around to be the unfortunate ones witnessing a pale-looking man bleeding until his clothes were soaked in blood. You tried your best to ignore his eyes boring holes into the back of your head as you unlocked your front door. The silence thickens once both of you are in your apartment. A startled gasp left your lips when you were pinned against your door the moment it closed. 

Your keys dropped to the floor with a loud series of noises but it was muffled with a desperate growl from the vampire. Shivers ran down your spine and heat stirred in your lower stomach at the sight of Sunghoon’s eyes glowing slightly, making him look rather intimidating. His fangs had peaked out from his lips, gleaming underneath the dim lights. 

“Sunghoon, you—!?” Your voice dies in your throat when he leans in, his nose brushing against the expanse of your neck. 

An involuntary whimper slipped from your lips when you felt his soft lips graze your skin. You swore he smirked against your skin. Reaching out, you blindly tried to push him away but Sunghoon was one step ahead of you.

He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand while the other tilted your head back, forcing you to expose your neck. You felt unusually warm at how vulnerable you were in your current position. You could sense the vampire’s grip on you was loose—giving you a chance to back out. 

But you didn’t. Or maybe, you couldn’t back out even if you wanted to? 

You held your breath in anticipation at the fleeting sensation of Sunghoon planting kisses along your neck, trying to find the perfect spot where your blood smells the strongest. When he finds it, his eyes flickered to your face for a brief moment—searching for any signs of hesitance. Only for him to find none. He took that as a sign to proceed, more of his fangs poking out as he aimed at a certain spot on your neck. 

You've heard from other people on how it's like to get bitten, able to feel their blood being drawn out by a vampire. You've also read reports and articles about people describing it. Some described it as a pleasant feeling. Some said it feels like a quick vaccine and you won't be able to feel anything. But they were wrong. The moment you felt Sunghoon sink his sharp fangs into your skin, something in you exploded.

A white-hot shock lanced through your veins. It wasn’t from pain, that you were certain. Heat surged from your spine, your pulse roaring loudly in your ears and your knees buckled as you felt light-headed. Sunghoon had long released your wrists, now holding you by your waist as he firmly pressed you against the door behind you.

You weren’t sure when Sunghoon had released your wrists but you were grateful. For it allows you to clutch at the sleeves of his shirt—to push him away or to hold him close, you weren’t sure. 

Your heartbeat pounded against his lips, and for a split second, you felt his grip on your waist falter. His once firm and deliberate hold on you trembled. A low sound rumbled from the depths of his throat, halfway between a growl and something softer. Almost as if he was…startled with how sweet you taste. Like he wasn’t expecting you to taste like this. 

Opening your eyes, breathing shallow and ragged, you caught the moment his expression shifts. His perfectly thick eyebrows knitted, bloodstained lips hovering over your neck, but what took your breath away was his eyes. They were clouded with pure desire. 

“Sunghoon, stop. You’re not in your right mind,” you weakly protested, only for your voice to be borderline trembling as he slid his chilling hands underneath your shirt, tracing along your spine. 

“You tell me to stop but I can smell how much you want me,” he murmured, hands trailing down but never moving past the hems of your pants. But it was enough to remind you of how easily he can reduce you to a pliant and flustered mess. 

You whimpered, head tilting back with whatever remaining space there is left as the vampire pulls you closer. You nervously gulped when you felt something hard poking your thighs, lighting your senses. The final push comes in the form of Sunghoon cupping your face, thumb tracing the skin underneath your left eye, forcing you to face him. 

“Tell me to stop and I will. Because I don’t think I can control myself anymore,” he murmured, lips grazing against yours with every word uttered. 

“Then don’t, take me.”

The moment you finished speaking, Sunghoon crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was intense, messy and fiery. It was nothing compared to the sweet, loving and languid kisses you shared previously. You felt like you were being devoured whole, like a prey being caught by a predator, who has no intentions of letting you go. A startled hiss left your lips when he bit down on your bottom lip, allowing you to feel a metallic taste. The vampire apologetically licks the new wound with his tongue, like a cat demanding for affection from its owner. 

Sunghoon tapped twice on your thighs and you jumped without hesitation. No words were needed. He easily carries you, moving you to the living room and unceremoniously tossed you onto the couch. He was quick to hover over you, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from you for another second.

Once again, he kissed you but with the addition of tongues. He swallows your angelic sounds, briefly wondering if this was how Heaven feels like for a cursed species like him.  

His hands had a mind of its own; tracing your body and touching you wherever he could. Sunghoon made a move to remove your denim jacket, followed by your inner black shirt and bra, leaving you in your pants. You squirmed about on the couch, head laying on the armrest at his unwavering gaze. You attempted to cover your chest, only to be stopped by him. 

“Don’t hide from me, I want to see all of you,” he murmured, sincerity evident in his voice, something you were taken aback by. 

In another life, your heart will skip a beat at your sweet, loving boyfriend’s words. But right now, you weren’t sure what to think. Not wanting to let your mind run wild, you tugged  him closer and kissed him squarely on the mouth, feeling him reciprocate immediately. Unlike you, Sunghoon doesn’t need to breathe and if possible, he’d prefer to keep kissing you but you had to break it, leaving a string of saliva that snapped into half when you leaned away.

He didn’t give you time to breathe, ducking his head to trail butterfly kisses down your neck, lips lingering longer than usual over the slightly faded bite mark. 

“Sunghoon, please…” You whined, arching your chest into his when he wrapped his lips around your left hardened nipple, eliciting a high-pitched cry. 

You gripped onto the armrest with one hand while the other desperately grabbed a fistful of his pitch-black hair. Sunghoon moved the sensitive bud with his tongue in circular movements, his free hand trying to pull your pants and panties down. You lifted your hips off the couch, granting him an easier time and just like that, you were completely naked.

Tugging on his shirt, the vampire gets the hint. He pressed a gentle kiss on your now swollen red nipple before moving back, making quick work of his shirt. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the faint muscles on his stomach, only for your chin to be tilted up, making eye contact with him. 

“Eyes up here, princess,” he coos. 

“Shut up and do something,” you snapped. 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at your tone, grabbing your legs and spreading them apart, revealing your glistening, throbbing pussy. You cried out when he lowered his head, his tongue darting out to give quick, kitten licks at your puffy folds. You instinctively kicked out your legs but he held you down with a firm grip but it wasn’t tight enough to leave marks behind. 

“Oh god,” you moaned at the feeling of him spreading your pussy lips apart, followed by his tongue sliding in. You twitched when he pushed one long, thick and slender finger in, easily going in until he was knuckles deep. 

A cacophony of sounds spilled endlessly from your lips, along with the loud squelching sounds of Sunghoon fucking you with his finger. He felt light-headed at how tight you felt, making him wonder how it’d feel once his cock was inside you. Unable to wait any longer, he pulled out, ignoring the sound of protest you made.

You raised your head, clenching down on thin air at the sight of his lips glistening with your slick. Some were dripping down his chin, staining the couch, making the sight even more obscene than it already is. 

He didn’t bother in completely removing his pants and boxers, only pulling them down just so he could free his cock. The sight of it standing upright, already in an angry shade of red due to lack of attention made you clenched your fists. Sure, you’ve taken him before but you weren’t certain if it could fit, considering how he had turned into a vampire. 

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He arched an eyebrow, shifting to a more comfortable position as he aligns himself against your entrance, rubbing the head against your folds to collect the slick. 

“N-Nothing, just hurry up and put it in,” you stuttered, head tilting back when he finally pushed in. 

Inch by inch, you felt a stinging pain that eventually melted into pure pleasure at the insatiable feeling of you being stuffed full with his cock. Sunghoon’s eyes landed on your neck, his fangs itching to sink into your skin, wanting to get another taste of your blood. Normally, he would’ve asked for permission but with how tight your walls are hugging him, he was beginning to lose himself.

After what felt like years, he bottomed out. He readjusted his position, hands on your waist and he leaned forward until your hardened nipples brushed against his firm chest. 

“Lemme have a taste again, please?” He pleads and you already knew what he was referring to, nodding your head in agreement. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to start thrusting into you at the same time as him digging his fangs into your neck. The combined feeling of the vampire drinking your blood and his cock sliding in and out made your eyes roll up. The living room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, along with your whimpers and pants. The couch had shifted slightly from its original position, nearly knocking into the coffee table placed in front of it. 

“F-Fuck, taste ‘o good,” Sunghoon groans, licking at the new bitemark he left behind and he moved upwards to kiss you, giving you another taste of your own blood. The kiss was filthy and bloody but none of you cared, getting drunk on your bodies being connected. 

“G-Gonna cum, fuck,” you whimpered against his lips, tightening around him when he gave a harsh suck to your tongue. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” 

You frantically nodded your head, wrapping your legs around his waist to lock him in place, not wanting him to pull out. Your stomach tightened, thighs trembling as he moved your legs over his shoulders instead. The slight change allows him to hit deeper, his cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust. 

“P-Please,” you begged and who was he to say no? 

All it took was one final, hard thrust and you came with a loud, hitch-pitched cry. Sunghoon was quick to follow suit, releasing his hot, thick cum inside you, pumping you full of it. Your bodies were sticky and sweaty. Silence engulfed the two of you as you caught your breath.

You hissed when the vampire slowly pulled out, not used to the sudden feeling of emptiness. You closed your legs, able to feel his cum slowly dripping from your stretched-out cunt. You remained laying on the couch while Sunghoon moved about in your home, like he owns the place. 

He vanished from your sight, only to reappear a few seconds later with a damp cloth. He used it to wipe you down and when that was done, he aided you in wearing your clothes again, before doing the same for himself. At this rate, you were beyond exhausted, causing you to fall asleep once you were fully clothed. 

Seeing this, Sunghoon quietly carried you in his arms. For some reason, he knows where your bedroom is. He gently placed you down on the bed, pulling the sheets up and stared at your peaceful, sleeping state. He didn’t really care about the fact that he just had sex with you. What was more astounding was the fact that he feels like he knew you before. 

Which is impossible. How could he, a vampire, have known a human before? 

“Just who are you and what have you done to me?” He muttered, leaning down to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind your left ear. He spares you one final glance before leaving, gently closing the door behind him. 

~

The next morning, you woke up to find yourself in your bed. You weren’t sure why your heart sank at the sight of emptiness on your side. Sighing, you rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling of your bedroom. Brief memories of what happened last night flashes in your mind, making your chest tightened. You didn’t know how to feel after that.

Closing your eyes, you could visualize Sunghoon over you, faint bloodstains on his swollen, bruised lips and the lust in his eyes. You remembered the way he held you, like how a pair of lovers are during their most intimate moments. You remembered the way he kissed you, like how he did before he turned. 

You told yourself that you were supposed to kill him. That was a promise, an oath. But now, you weren’t sure anymore. You felt lost because when you remembered the way he looked at you yesterday—lust, desire and yearning, your resolve was shaken. You pulled the sheets up, covering you from head to toe, as if doing that will block out the world—something you wish could happen and drifted back to sleep.

~

“Sunghoon, have you ever wondered what you’d do if you turned into a vampire?” 

You asked, breaking the silence that had engulfed the two of you. At this rate, you weren’t paying attention to the movie playing on the television right now, tilting your head up to look at your boyfriend. Sunghoon glanced down, the frames of his glasses reflecting the movie as he rubs circles on your clothed shoulder. You welcomed his touch, pressing yourself further into him with your cheek resting against his shoulder. 

“Why the sudden question?” He questioned, curious.

You sighed and straightened yourself, hands resting on his thigh and fully turned to face him. Sunghoon pushed himself up when he saw you change your position, his entire attention now on you. 

“I saw another body today. It was a kid this time and her body was drained completely, like the others. I couldn’t even identify her face. I know I chose this job. I know what I was signing up for when I became a hunter. But lately, I…”

You paused, hesitant to continue your sentence. Frowning, Sunghoon rested his hands above yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. You knew what he meant behind that small action.

“I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if I ever found you like that. If you ever— I don’t want to lose you,” you confessed, tears brimming in your eyes and the sight of it made your boyfriend’s heart shattered. 

He pulls you in, embracing you with his arms that never fails to make you feel safe. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, arms hanging loosely on his shoulders. He chuckled at your clinginess, leaning his head back so he could kiss your forehead and brushed his hand through your hair. 

“If I did turn into one, then I’d want you to kill me,” he confessed, watching as you jerked your head back, disbelief written all over your face. He shushed you by placing his finger on your lips when you were about to protest. 

“Sunghoon—”

“I mean it. If I lose myself or if I turn, I want you to end it. It has to be you.” 

Tears rolled down your face, your vision turning blurry. “Don’t say that… Please, Sunghoon, don’t do this to me…”

“I need you to promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you won’t hesitate.” 

You shook your head, now a sobbing mess. “You’re asking me to kill the person I love.” 

“I’m asking you to protect the part of me that still remembers who I am.” 

He leaned in then, kissing you softly—a promise, a plea, a final moment sealed in fragile hope. You gripped onto the front of his shirt, unable to stop yourself from crying as you returned the kiss. 

~

You woke up for the second time, realising it was already late noon. Thankfully, you didn’t have to report to work today as it was one of your rare off-days. You pushed yourself up, walking over to the vanity table where a few framed photos were placed on top of it. You stopped, picking a particular photo up to look at it.

The image was captured during your first date with Sunghoon. He had brought you to an open-air park where you had a picnic together. You faintly smiled when you remembered how nervous he was, resulting in you squishing his cheeks out of pure cute aggression. 

Your thumb traced Sunghoon’s face in the picture, who was grinning from eye to eye but he wasn’t looking at the camera. No, he was looking at you. The way he looked at you was like you were his entire world right there. 

“I mean it. If I lose myself or if I turn, I want you to end it. It has to be you.” 

His voice echoed in your head like a curse. You didn’t know why that memory surfaced now. Maybe it was a sign from the Gods watching you from above. A gentle push of guidance, guiding you to the right direction. He had asked you to do this. Not out of fear, but trust. He trusted you more than anyone to put an end to the misery. A long, shaky breath escaped your lips, now filled with certainty. You moved to where your sheathed weapon laid, brushing your hand over the hilt of the blade and dagger. 

The part of you that agreed to that promise, the you who cried over him, was ready now. This was your burden to carry. With that in mind, you changed out of your clothes and stepped out, getting ready to hunt him down. 

~

You spent the next few days and weeks throwing yourself into monitoring Sunghoon’s movements. Your already messy work table was filled with discarded reports, laptop showing surveillance footage and whatever information you were able to get your hands on. Jungwon was concerned but he knew you were too stubborn to listen to him. All he could do was watch from the sidelines, only stepping in when you were on the verge of fainting. After what felt like forever, the pattern clicked. 

Sunghoon was circling back. He was always returning to the same part of the city: Sector Nine, just near the industrial outskirts, where the street lights flickered more often they worked and buildings stood like forgotten skeletons.

You couldn’t figure out the motive for his patterns but you didn’t care. All that matters was you had found him. You get to action the very next night, arriving at one of an abandoned warehouse. According to your research, this warehouse was the one he frequents the most. 

You hide behind a crumbling ware of the warehouse, gripe on your blade tightening as it was hidden beneath your coat. It was quiet, too quiet that you could even hear your own breathing. Then, you heard it. 

Thud, thud. Thud, thud. Thud, thud.

Footsteps that are too silent and smooth for a human. You risked your life by peeking around the wall and you saw him. Sunghoon stepped out from the shadows, his form lit by the faint yellow glow of a rusted streetlamp. His coat billowed with his movement, black as night and his pitch-black hair fell into his eyes. 

He hasn’t noticed you yet. You could ambush him, take him down before he had the time to react. You have the advantage—the element of surprise. 

But, you couldn’t move. 

Instead, you observed him, the way his gaze swept the street, slow and searching. For a moment, he looked…lost. He doesn’t look like the cold vampire you had bumped into during your first encounter or a vampire who has something against the alleyway during your second encounter. Your mind was screaming at you, to do it now but you couldn’t move an inch, like your legs were rooted to the ground. 

Then, his head snapped up and his eyes met yours. 

It was too late. 

In a blink of an eye, Sunghoon appeared before you. You barely had the time to dodge when he struck. Metal clanged against metal as you tumbled, rolling to your feet just in time to block his next attack. Your blades clashed, yours forged of silver and rage, his hands crackling with inhuman speed and precision. Invisible sparks lit between you as the warehouse air thickened with tension. 

“Why did you follow me? Couldn’t get enough?” He sneered, fangs peeking through parted lips as he backed away. 

You didn’t answer, studying him—searching for any signs of weakness you could exploit. 

“I asked you a question,” he growled, voice darker this time. 

You raised your blade, narrowing your eyes. “You’re a threat.” 

He smirked, cocking his head to the side. “Really? Then why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Your hands trembled—just barely but Sunghoon saw it. 

“You know me,” he said softly, testing the words on his tongue. “Don’t you?” 

Again, you remained silent. But unlike before, your silence was the loudest answer of all. For a moment, everything came to a halt. The wind howled through the broken windows. Your heart banged against your chest. And then, slowly, he said it, the words you dreaded up to this day.

“...Have we met before?”

His question struck deeper than they should have. Your grip on the blade tightened and your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t afford to waver now—not when you had come this far. Not when you were close to fulfilling your promise to him. You swallowed hard, swallowing the emotions threatening to spill from the depths of your throat. 

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. “You hesitated.”

“I didn’t,” you lied through your teeth. 

Sunghoon didn’t buy it, stepping forward, slow and cautious. This time, the sharp edge of his usual hostility was dulled by confusion. “You knew my name last time.” 

“That’s public knowledge,” you replied. “You were reported missing a year ago and I saw your name on the news.” 

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly. “But you looked at me like you knew me. Like that night.”

You forced out a bitter laugh. “Don’t worry, I look at every monster that way.”

He flinched. And it tore something in you, the way pain flashed across his face like he didn’t quite understand why that word: monster, hurts so much.

“Is that what I am to you?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

“That’s what you are,” you said. “You don’t get to play innocent. You drink blood. You kill. Don’t act like you’re still human.”

Sunghoon’s lips parted like he wanted to say something else, only to get interrupted when your ears registered a sound. The scuffs of boots against gravel followed by snarling that grew louder and louder. Your hunter instincts flared too late. Multiple figures burst from the shadows: pale, fast and snarling. They were rogue vampires and by the looks of them, they have gone feral, due to the lack of blood for a long period of time.

You barely had time to shout before the first vampire lunged at you, fangs and claws aimed at your throat. Steel met flash as you blocked the strike. You were being pushed back with their strength easily overwhelming yours. Another vampire came from your blind spot, knowing you’re nothing but a sitting duck—

“Look out!” 

You twisted just in time to see him stabbed his blade into one of the rogues, killing them on the spot. Sunghoon’s movements were too fast for the naked eye to follow as he ducked . Your breath hitched. He was fighting for you. You jumped in, blade swinging. Your movements synced with his, despite how you’ve never fought on the battlefield with him before. However, there were too many of them. No matter how many you had cut down, more seemed to spawn from the shadows. 

One vampire managed to move past your defense, gashing your arm, drawing blood at the same time. You cried out as pain surged through your veins. 

And then, it happened. 

A flash of movement. 

A blur of black and red. 

CRACK! 

Sunghoon had stepped in front of you but this time, with claws pierced straight through his back. Your entire world came crashing down. His eyes widened in shock—not from the pain, but from the realization: he had protected you, like he always would.

“NO!” You screamed, slashing the remaining vampires with everything you had. Your weapon sang through the air, silver flashing in pure fury, until the vampires were finally dead. You dropped to your knees, casting your bloodstained blade aside and pulled him into your lap. 

“No, nono, stay with me, Sunghoon, please,” your voice trembled violently, hands shaking as you cradled him against you. His blood soaked into your jacket, sticky and slow, like time itself was trying to drag him away from you, inch by inch. 

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and then settled on your face. “You’re… crying.” 

You let out a broken, teary laugh. Your tear droplets landed on his face but he didn’t wipe them away, no longer having the strength to do so. “Of course I’m crying, you idiot.” you sobbed, brushing blood-matted hair away from his face. “Why did you do that?” 

His lips quirked up but the smile didn’t last. 

“It… felt right,” he whispered. “Like something I couldn’t ignore. Like I had to… keep you safe.”

Your throat closed up. He may not remember you anymore but something in him still chose you. And that itself hurts worse than anything else. 

“But why?” You choked out. “Why did you have to be the one to save me?”

Sunghoon was growing cold in your arms. You clutched onto him tighter, trying to keep him warm. Trying to keep him here, not wanting him to leave. His gaze softened as his fingers, already losing strength, reached out to touch your face. You grabbed his hand, pressing them to your cheek instead, biting down on your lips to stifle the sobs. 

“Your voice…” He croaked out. “I remembered how you used to sing me to sleep when I was having nightmares.” 

You lowered your head, eyes squeezed shut as you tighten your grip on his hand.

“I don’t remember your name,” he continued, voice borderline trembling. “But I remember… how I loved you.” 

A sound cracked from your chest, something between a cry and a gasp. He smiled faintly, though his eyes were starting to lose focus. 

“You were mine.. weren’t you?” 

More tears rolled down your cheeks. Nodding your head, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “Always, and you were mine too.” 

His hand slipped from your cheek, falling to your lap like a leaf on water.

“Will I… remember you… when I wake up again…?”

You shook your head frantically. “Don’t say that—Sunghoon, no—don’t you dare—”

But he was already fading.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I promised I’d never leave you…”

You clutched him like he’d disappear if you let go. “Please don’t—please, Sunghoon, please—just hold on—!”

“But…thank you for loving me.”

There was no miracle. 

No heartbeat. 

No second chance.

Just silence. 

And then, the world collapsed. 

You screamed his name like the sound might bring him back, like the sheer force of love and agony could restart the heart that once beat only for you. But there was only the echo of your voice… and the boy who died in your arms, still trying to remember the name of the girl he loved.

~

The sky was a quiet gray, not stormy but heavy. It was like even the heavens knew silence was more fitting as compared to rain. Jungwon walked slowly through the overgrown path, hands buried in the pockets of his coat. A gentle gust of wind blew past, kissing his cheeks as he stopped before a pair of headstones that were resting side by side. The names had weathered slightly over the years, but he still traced them with a gloved hand, like it was a ritual. 

Park Sunghoon 199X – 20XX "To be remembered is to never truly vanish."

Beside it:

[Your Name] 199X – 20XX "She followed the stars, even when they led her into the dark."

The flowers he bought were fresh: simple white lilies. He laid them down carefully, brushing a fallen leaf from your name with a tenderness that made his throat tighten. 

“You always said you’d handle it yourself,” Jungwon murmured, crouching between the graves. “And you did.”

His gaze shifted to Sunghoon’s.

“And you proved her wrong... You weren’t just a vampire. You were still you.”

The breeze whispered through the stones like a sigh. He let out a quiet breath, sitting back on his heels.

“I think about you two a lot,” he admitted. “The way you looked at each other... even at the end. It was like the world could’ve ended and you still would’ve chosen each other.”

A slight pause. 

“I used to think we’re all just pawns in some cruel cycle,” Jungwon added. “But maybe... just maybe, love really can change something.”

He stood up slowly, dusting the dirt off his knees.

“I hope that wherever you are... you’re together now.”

The wind picked up slightly — a soft gust that brushed past his cheek like a whisper, like laughter carried from a distant memory. And Jungwon, for once, allowed himself to smile. Then, with one last glance at the names carved in stone, he turned and walked away.

taglist: @byshens, @yourislandgirl, @cutehoons02, @nugwon, @blooqz. @elairah, @sofiafromvenus, @mi-nyeo, @m1kkso, @dreamiestay, @baedreamverse, @hoonstqr, @rustymoons, @cripplinghooman, @in-somnias-world, @firstclassjaylee, @starfallia, @kryllea, @chaewonmyheartt, @iamliacamila, @semi-wife, @fancypeacepersona, @ilovhoonie, @woniescheeks, @jungwonswife4life, @ikeugirly, @jakessrealwife

[unabashegirl]

Love Island — part 3

AU. Based on the TV show.

Author's note: I just want to say a huge thank you for all the love and support you’ve shown for the first part of Love Island! Every like, reblog, message, and little comment has genuinely meant the world to me

Also! Please, please don’t hesitate to send in your requests — whether it’s blurbs, one-shots, or even just a fun idea you want to see come to life. If you're feeling a little shy, no worries at all — you can always send them in anonymously through Tumblr! I’d love to hear from you and create more content you’ll enjoy 🌞💌

⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

The couples began to drift off into quiet conversations around the villa, but Tom stayed rooted to his spot, his fists clenched as he watched Harry and Y/N exchange glances. Beside him, his friend Lucas, a tall, lean guy with sandy blond hair, noticed the tension and nudged him.

"Mate, you alright?" Lucas asked, voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear.

Tom exhaled sharply, his gaze still fixed in Harry’s direction. "Not really, no."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t think it’d bother you this much. You two weren’t exactly, you know… Romeo and Juliet."

Tom scoffed, shaking his head. "It’s not like that. It’s just—I thought we were solid enough to stick it out a bit longer, you know? This is barely the second week and she’s already runnin' off with Harry."

Lucas gave him a sympathetic look. “Can’t blame her too much. You said yourself you weren’t feeling that spark with her.”

“Yeah, but…” Tom struggled to find the right words. “It’s just a kick in the teeth, that’s all. Feels like I’m bein’ made a mug of.”

Lucas patted him on the shoulder. "Look, you’ve still got options. The girls are already buzzing about you—Layla’s practically been eyeing you since the first day. And don’t forget Max and Callum, they’ve got your back too.”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he looked around, catching Max and Callum’s sympathetic glances from across the pit, while Jamie joined their little group, clapping Tom on the back. "Forget it, Tom," Jamie said. "This whole thing's a game, right? Y/N's just playing it. Tomorrow, find a way to play back."

Tom forced a smile, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, maybe. Guess we’ll see."

As the boys exchanged a few more quiet words, the rest of the villa settled into their new dynamics, unaware of the brewing tension that would no doubt play out with even more intensity in the days to come.

“Ah, the sweet sting of rejection,” the narrator's voice chimed in with a touch of mischief as the camera panned over Tom’s tense expression. “Looks like not everyone’s feeling quite as ‘coupled up’ as they were this morning. But hey, this is Love Island—where loyalties change as quickly as the cocktails get poured.”

“With Tom stewing by the fire pit and Harry sharing stolen glances with Y/N, it’s safe to say we’ve got ourselves a love triangle in the making. So, who’s playing the game? And who’s about to get played? Only time will tell… and maybe a few sneaky chats by the pool tomorrow.”

As the night settled in and the villa quieted down, Y/N and Chloe slipped away from the others and made their way into the dressing room, heels clicking softly on the tile floor. Chloe nudged her with a cheeky grin as they reached the mirrors, settling in front of them with makeup bags and brushes scattered around.

“Alright, spill it,” Chloe whispered, eyes sparkling. “What’s going on with you and Harry?”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Chloe raised a brow, smirking. “Please, everyone saw the way he was looking at you during the recoupling. You’re both already causing a stir, you know.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, and she bit her lip, trying to play it cool. “Look, Harry’s… well, he’s a bit different, isn’t he? There’s this energy about him—it’s easy to talk to him. He makes you feel like the only person in the room.”

“Mm, dangerous.” Chloe teased, reapplying a bit of lip gloss. “So, does that mean you’re done with Tom?”

Y/N sighed, leaning on the counter. “I think I am. Tom’s sweet, but it just feels too… comfortable, you know? And then there’s Harry. I just don’t know where it’ll go. But it’s Love Island, right? I’ve got to see what happens.”

Chloe nodded thoughtfully, nudging Y/N with her shoulder. “Fair enough. Just don’t let Georgia or Lila get in your head—they’ll be on him like hawks.”

Y/N laughed, brushing it off, but there was a hint of nerves behind her smile. “I know”.

t’s the end of a long day in the villa, and with the recoupling finally done, couples are settling into bed—some with more excitement than others. Y/N and Harry, freshly paired up and very much the center of attention after Harry’s bold choice, head to the bedroom together, laughter and nervous smiles exchanged between them.

They climb into bed, adjusting the duvet and settling in. The tension is thick, a mix of nerves and excitement crackling between them as they lie shoulder to shoulder. Harry glances over at Y/N, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips.

“Quite a day, yeah?” he murmurs, turning to face her a bit more, his hand resting between them on the duvet.

Y/N grins, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear as she looks back at him. “Yeah, wasn’t expecting that.” She pauses, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Didn’t think you’d pick me.”

Harry chuckles, his eyes meeting hers in the low light. “You’re surprised? Really?” he asks, feigning shock. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“I mean…” she shrugs, but her smile widens. “Maybe a little. But you’ve got the whole villa talking now, you know. Even Georgia was making claims.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, rolling his eyes with a grin. “But I’m here, aren’t I?” He leans a little closer, their faces only inches apart. “Thought it was obvious I wanted to get to know you. Really get to know you.”

They share a charged look, each of them feeling the spark in the small space between them. Y/N’s pulse quickens, but she keeps her cool, meeting his gaze with confidence.

“Alright,” she teases. “Let’s see if you’re as smooth as you think you are.”

Harry laughs, playfully nudging her shoulder before leaning back. “Careful, or I’ll start showing off,” he whispers. Then he lets the moment settle, his hand gently resting near hers under the duvet, their fingers almost brushing.

They lie in companionable silence for a moment, each of them acutely aware of the other’s presence, as the lights dim throughout the villa.

The narrator’s voice floats in, a knowing chuckle evident.

“It looks like our newly-minted couple are starting to find their rhythm… but this is Love Island, after all, and things never stay simple for long. With Y/N catching Harry’s attention, will sparks fly, or will rivalries start brewing? Get ready for some sleepless nights and see who’s getting closer... and who’s getting jealous.”

As the morning sun rises over the villa, Y/N is the first to stir, carefully slipping out from under Harry’s arm as he sleeps soundly beside her. She lets a small smile escape as she notices his relaxed expression, feeling a flutter of excitement as she heads to the kitchen to make herself a smoothie. The villa is peaceful, the calm before the inevitable storm of another day.

Taking her smoothie out to the sun deck, Y/N settles in with her book, enjoying the quiet moment alone. She relishes the warmth of the morning sun and the rare stillness in the villa, her mind drifting back to the night before, replaying the feeling of Harry’s arm around her as they fell asleep.

Half an hour later, the villa begins to come alive. She can hear voices and laughter drifting over from the bedrooms, and soon enough, footsteps approach her.

“Y/N,” Tom’s voice cuts through her quiet time. She looks up to see him standing beside her, his expression intense.

“Oh, morning, Tom,” she greets, setting her book down and bracing herself for what she knows is coming. His brows are furrowed, and it’s clear he’s got something on his mind.

“Do you mind if we have a chat?” he asks, hands on his hips as he stares down at her.

She gives a small nod, gesturing for him to sit. “Sure, let’s talk.”

Tom sits beside her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking almost nervously at the floor before meeting her eyes. "Listen, Y/N, I’ve just got to ask… after last night, where’s your head at?” He exhales, clearly unsettled. “I mean, after Harry chose you like that, I just… I need to know where we stand.”

Y/N pauses, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. “Tom…” she starts carefully, gathering her thoughts. “I won’t lie, things are a bit… complicated now.” She sighs. “Last night didn’t exactly go as expected.”

Tom shifts, swallowing, but nodding, his jaw set. “So… are you still interested? Or are you moving on?”

She looks at him, appreciating his honesty but feeling the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m just figuring it out, you know? I think we owe it to ourselves to see how things feel with other people too. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

Tom’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing as he processes her words. His posture straightens, and he crosses his arms, clearly frustrated.

“Wait—so that’s it? You’re just… seeing how things feel with other people now?” he asks, his tone edging into anger. “After everything we’ve been building? Just because Harry waltzes in, you’re ready to throw it all away?”

Y/N lets out a small sigh, trying to keep her voice steady. “Tom, it’s not about throwing anything away. We both came here to meet people, right? I thought we were on the same page.”

Tom scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to just… drift off the second someone else showed interest.” His voice rises slightly, his frustration boiling over. “Feels like I’ve been wasting my time if you’re just going to move on that easily.”

“Tom, I’m not just moving on,” she says, trying to keep her tone calm despite his anger. “We’re meant to be exploring connections here. That doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real. It just means… I have to be open to the process.”

Tom shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “Open to the process? Sounds like an excuse. You know what? I’m not buying it.” He stands up, his face flushed with anger as he glares down at her. “Maybe I should’ve seen this coming. Maybe you’re just like everyone else here, out for yourself.”

Y/N flinches at his words, feeling the sting, but before she can respond, Tom turns on his heel and storms off, leaving her alone on the sun deck, her peaceful morning now shattered.

“Looks like Y/N’s got her work cut out for her, and with Tom on edge, it’s only a matter of time before the villa feels the heat. Will Y/N be able to smooth things over, or has Tom’s fuse finally burnt out?”

Y/N’s gaze follows Tom as he strides toward the kitchen, his jaw tight, shoulders tense. Harry, blissfully unaware, is busy preparing two cups of tea, one for himself and other, for Y/N. He’s humming softly, a faint smile playing on his lips—clearly in a good mood.

Tom approaches him with an air of simmering frustration and barely contained irritation. Without missing a beat, he nods at the extra cup in Harry’s hand.

“That’s for her, isn’t it?” Tom says, his tone sharper than usual.

Harry glances up, his brow lifting in mild surprise at Tom’s confrontational tone. “Yeah, it is,” he replies, unfazed, as he continues stirring the tea. “Why?”

Tom huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just didn’t peg you as the type to swoop in the second someone’s available.”

Harry’s smile falters, and he sets the spoon down, giving Tom his full attention. “I don’t think I’m swooping in, mate,” he says, his tone calm but with a slight edge. “We’re here to see if there’s something there, yeah? Same as everyone else.”

“Right, of course,” Tom says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But she and I were building something. And now, you’re what? Just gonna step in and see if you can do better?”

Harry’s jaw clenches for a second, but he keeps his voice steady. “Look, Tom, I didn’t come here to cause any issues. I’ve got to trust that Y/N knows what she wants. So if she’s interested… well, that’s her choice, isn’t it?”

Tom’s eyes narrow, the frustration boiling over. “Choice? Yeah, well, maybe I think it’s a bit easy to make that choice when you’ve got someone like you throwing yourself at her.”

Harry’s eyes flash, but he remains composed, taking a calming breath. “Listen, mate,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not throwing myself at anyone. I respect Y/N, and if she wants to spend time with me, I’m not going to stop her. Simple as that.”

There’s a tense silence between them, each refusing to look away.

“Ooh, trouble in paradise! It seems Tom’s feeling a bit threatened by our new islander, and let’s just say Harry’s not exactly backing down. With two guys eyeing the same girl, it looks like sparks are set to fly—just not the romantic kind.”

As Tom’s frustration starts to draw even more attention, Lucas steps in, placing a firm hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Mate, c’mon,” he says, guiding him away from the kitchen. “Let’s get some air, yeah? Cool off a bit.”

Tom clenches his jaw, but after a beat, he allows himself to be led away, shooting one last glare in Harry’s direction. As the two disappear toward the sun deck, Harry lets out a quiet sigh and turns his attention back to the tea he was making. Just then, Y/N approaches, having seen most of what transpired from across the villa.

“Hey,” she says softly, offering him a small, apologetic smile as she glances in the direction Tom had gone.

Harry hands her the cup he prepared, his expression softening the moment he looks at her. “Morning,” he says, a little smile creeping back. “Here, thought you could use a good cup of tea after… all that.”

Y/N takes the cup gratefully, blowing on it before taking a sip. “Thanks. And… sorry about that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Tom’s just… well, he’s been feeling a bit blindsided, I think.”

Harry gives a little nod, leaning against the counter and watching her. “No need to apologize,” he says gently. “It’s not your fault if he’s upset. Besides, it’s not like you owe anyone anything here.”

Y/N gives a soft, contemplative nod, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “Yeah, I know. It’s just—Tom’s comfortable, you know? He’s a nice guy… but I’m not sure there’s anything beyond that.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too sure,” Harry says, a hint of a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Just a little comfortable, is he?”

She chuckles, shrugging lightly. “Maybe too comfortable. There’s no spark, no real excitement.” Her gaze lifts to meet his, and for a moment, they both linger in the silence. “With you, though,” she starts, feeling her cheeks warm a little, “I think I do feel something… different.”

Harry’s grin widens, his gaze locked on her with unmistakable interest. “Is that right?” he says, his voice soft and low. “Glad I’m not the only one, then.”

She bites her lip, glancing down for a second before looking back at him. “Guess we’ll have to see where it goes, won’t we?”

Harry takes a small step closer, his voice dropping even lower. “I’d like that.” His hand lingers by hers, almost touching but not quite, as if savoring the tension between them.

“Looks like the tea’s not the only thing heating up this morning! With Tom sidelined and sparks flying between Y/N and Harry, it seems our villa’s newest couple might just be on the verge of something big. Stay tuned, because in here, anything can happen…”

Y/N takes a slow sip of her tea, glancing up at Harry with a slightly nervous smile. "So," she begins, setting her cup down on the counter. "What made you come here? To Love Island, I mean."

Harry leans back, crossing his arms as he thinks about her question. “Guess I just thought it’d be a bit of a laugh, to be honest.” He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “Never done anything like this before. My sister convinced me, actually—said I needed to do something that’d take me out of my comfort zone.”

Y/N smiles, intrigued. “So what is your comfort zone, then?”

He smirks, thinking. “You know, work, mates, a good pint at the local…” He pauses, his gaze softening. “I guess I don’t usually put myself out there, especially with relationships. I’m… guarded, I s’pose. I don’t let people in that easily.”

She nods, understanding. “I get that. It’s hard to open up, especially when you’ve been hurt before.”

Harry’s eyes meet hers, something vulnerable in his gaze. “Yeah, it is. That ever happen to you?”

She hesitates, looking down at her cup. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Had one or two of those, too. I’ve always felt that… if I’m gonna be with someone, I want it to be all-in, you know? Like, I don’t want to waste time on half-hearted feelings.”

“Exactly,” he replies, his voice steady. “That’s it for me, too. People are so casual these days, like everything’s disposable. But I want someone who actually wants to be there, through all of it.”

Y/N looks up at him, feeling the intensity of his words sink in. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“What? Thought I was just here for a holiday fling?” he teases, a grin breaking through the serious moment.

She laughs, shaking her head. “Not exactly. But it’s nice… to see you’re after something real.”

Harry tilts his head, studying her. “What about you? Is there anything you’re hoping to find here?”

She takes a deep breath, then nods slowly. “Yeah, I think there is.” She looks away for a second, gathering her thoughts. “I’ve spent so much time focused on what everyone else wants from me, you know? And I think… maybe it’s time to figure out what I actually want.”

Harry’s hand rests on the edge of the counter, close enough that she can feel his presence. “ It’s like, everyone has expectations. Sometimes, you just want a clean slate, a chance to be yourself.”

They hold each other’s gaze, the air thick with something unspoken. Harry leans in just slightly, his voice a soft murmur. “I reckon we’re both looking for that spark, then. Something that feels real… not just ‘comfortable.’”

Y/N swallows, her cheeks warm. “Seems like we’re on the same page.” Her smile turns playful as she raises her eyebrows. “Guess that means you’ll have to impress me, though.”

Harry laughs, eyes twinkling. “Oh, I’ve got my work cut out for me, have I? No pressure, then.”

They share a laugh, but beneath the humor, there’s a sense of understanding, a spark that neither of them can deny.

The girls gathered on the sun loungers, sipping their drinks and chatting about the day’s events. Georgia, with her sharp gaze fixed on Harry and Y/N across the yard, leaned in closer to Lila and Amber, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Look at them, all cozy and sweet over there,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you believe it? Y/N really thinks she’s won the jackpot, doesn’t she?”

Lila squinted towards the couple, where Harry and Y/N shared a laugh, the sunlight catching Y/N’s hair. “They do look a bit... comfortable, don’t they?”

Georgia scoffed. “Comfortable? More like she’s turned him into her little puppet. I mean, really—what does she even have?’

Amber leaned back on her lounger, a smirk forming on her lips. “You’re just jealous, Georgia. You’ve made it pretty clear you’re interested in Harry too.”

“Jealous? Please,” Georgia shot back, crossing her arms. “I wouldn’t waste my time on someone who’s already taken. It’s pathetic. She’s just playing the sympathy card”.

Lila shook her head, frowning slightly. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? She is nice.”

Georgia raised an eyebrow, her tone dismissive. “Nice doesn’t get you anywhere in here, Lila. Nice girls finish last. Harry deserves someone who’s actually worth his time, not some sad little backstory.”

Amber leaned forward, intrigued. “What’s the real issue here, Georgia? Is it just about Harry, or do you feel threatened by Y/N?”

Georgia’s expression hardened. “I’m not threatened. I just don’t think she belongs here. She’s too soft. This is Love Island, not a charity case. And let’s be real, Tom was way better suited for her. But she just had to run off with Harry, didn’t she?”

Lila shook her head, glancing between Georgia and Amber. “But that’s how this whole thing works, right? If there’s a connection, you go for it. It’s not her fault Tom couldn’t keep her interested.”

Georgia huffed. “Whatever. I just think it’s weak. And I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m happy for her when she’s clearly trying to stake her claim on Harry like it’s some kind of prize.”

Amber raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, what’s your plan? Just sit here and sulk while they flirt?”

Georgia smirked, the corners of her lips curling in mischief. “Oh, don’t worry. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I’m not done just yet. I’ll make sure Harry knows exactly what he’s missing. And if that means shaking things up a bit, so be it.”

Ah, the sweet scent of jealousy in the morning! Someone get Georgia a mirror—she clearly needs a reality check!

let me know if you want to get added to the tag list xx

TAGLIST: @st-ev-ie, @harrystyleshotwife, @valuunit, @familyshow-orisit, @ellaorchard, @loverrryxo, @dashingday

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bittersweet Symphony 5

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Thor

Summary: you meet a god in real life but he’s not the saviour you think.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your run-in with Thor turns out to be fortunate. He has the energy to match Joanie and once again, she's out like a light as soon as you get back to the apartment. Thor helps you put her in your bed and you close the door to let her sleep.

The cramped space makes your guest appear even larger than he already is. The tension burns around your neck and you press your palms to your jeans. He goes to the window and looks out at the city.

"Thanks, again. You must have things to do--"

"Not much," he turns and leans on the window pane. "Like I said, all my obligations are too busy for me. I've not even anyone to fight."

You nod awkwardly. It must be a lot to be him. He doesn't just have to fend off the universe's greatest threats, he has to deal with the fans, like Joanie, and the constant attention of those who can't help but notice someone like him. You couldn't handle it.

"I enjoyed my day. You made it very full," he says. "Might I buy you dinner? Stark put this app on my phone. I can put in a command for food and a loyal servant will bring it by."

You chuckle. The way he describes things is novel. That makes you think of how far he is from home. This is his new home but it must not feel entirely like it.

"You've already done so much--"

"Dinner with a beautiful princess. It is you who would do me the favour," he purrs.

You giggle and shake your head. "You're cheesy."

"Cheese? Pizza?" He asks.

"Not what I meant but I do like pizza," you say.

"I know it isn't glamourous," he mopes as he slides out his phone. "But when the occasion comes, I promise you, you will have the royal treatment."

"Pizza is just fine for me. Just me. Not a princess."

"You protest anon but I know what you are," he grins. "Toppings?"

You approach him and he lets you look at his phone over his shoulder. You scroll through and agree on a few toppings. Stuff that Joanie will like so you can leave some for her. He makes it a combo with boneless wings and drinks. Don't forget cheesy bread. He must be able to pack away a lot.

"And princess," he says as he puts his phone on the side table. "I have that sketch."

He feels around in his pocket. He takes out a paper and unfolds it. You stay close and look it over. He has drawn the vase from different angles. Like a schematic.

"Wow, that's really specific," you say. "I usually just get a pinterest board."

"Pinterest?" he wonders.

"Doesn't matter," you say as you take the paper.

"Do you think it is possible?" He asks.

"Of course," you say. "Again, it will take me a while to get to it."

"And as I said, I am patient."

"Almost too patient," you say as you take the page to your work table and tuck it in the drawer. "Do you want to watch something?"

"Whatever you like, I will do."

He's a lot easier to please than Joanie. You grab the remote and sit on the couch. You turn on the TV, thankful to have a buffer between you and the awkward silence. He lowers himself next to you, close enough that his thigh touches yours. Well, he is a large man.

You flip through and choose a mid-00s classic. You're not sure he'd really understand anything but who knows? He's been here a while.

"I like this one," he says as the intro plays.

"You know it?"

"Oh, yes, I find Midgardian culture wonderful." He declares.

"I suppose it's entertaining," you shrug and lean back, hugging yourself.

"And the people," he subtly leans against you. "Endearing."

"Yeah, uh," you unfold your arms and twiddle your fingers. "Right."

"Shy," he says as his knuckle brushes your thigh. "But humility is a virtue."

You shift awkwardly. He catches your hand in his and you still your fidgeting.

"I make you nervous?"

You clear your throat, "a little."

"I scare you?"

"No, I'm not scared, I'm just... I don't know."

"Well, you scare me," he proclaims. "You are so beautiful and just the thought of you shunning me makes my heart thunder."

You snort.

"You don't believe me?" He challenges.

"It's not that. I just... you're too sweet. You don't know me."

"I am getting to know you and all I do know, I cherish."

"Wow, uh, you move fast in Asgard?"

"Well..." he plays with your hand. "This is our second meeting. In Asgard, that could be our wedding day."

You scoff. "Really?"

"Certainly, so long as a proper blood sacrifice is found and the vows are sealed--"

"Blood--"

"Oh, I am aware. That is not as you do things here," he chortles. "Very well, I will do it your way."

You look at him, amused.

"If you will not marry me today, might I at least hope for a kiss?"

"A kiss?" You echo thinly.

"I must be honest, I've been thinking of it all day."

You stare at him. He's very forward but you don't mind it. You've always hated trying to guess with men. Usually, you were never right.

You smile and your cheeks burn. You push your shoulders up. "Okay?"

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Yes," you breathe. "I mean, if you really want to."

"I could want nothing more."

He angles toward you and brings his large hand to your cheek. His eyes sparkle and yours flit away shyly. He leans in as you tremble. A sheen of disbelief hazes around you.

His lips meet yours and you gasp. He's warm and soft and when his tongue glides along your lips, you can't help but let him in. You grab onto his wrist and kiss him back. Your insides are vibrating.

"Ha! I knew it!" Joanie's shrill voice draws you apart.

You sit straight, eyes wide, and Thor covers his mouth as he pushes his shoulders back.

"Ah, Princess Joanie," he growls.

"I knew it," she points. "You're in love!"

You shake your head and get up, "Joanie, it was just a kiss." You snatch up the remote and change the TV to her favourite show. "We're just waiting on dinner, are you hungry?"

[zeropro]

Hey, I was wondering. You've done some StarBee stuff here and there, and although I know you don't do a lot of romance stuff, I'm wondering if you still have any StarBee fanfic recs?

Your recs so far have been pretty good, and I'm wanting kinda wanting more of these two.

Actually, it doesn't even have to be romance or heavily romantic, just anything with the two interacting. I sorta have the same sentiment you have of them where Bee was my favourite character for a long time and I also like Starscream and just having the two interacting together is fun XD.

sure, here’s some ive enjoyed!

I already recomended this one but it’s my favorite so I have to include it: Ghostly Touch by Baird Crevan where Starscream gets attacked in his apartment and Bee can do little more than watch.

I usually dont recommend works with nsfw content in it, but You Remember Her Differently by funeralpigeon was a big inspiration to me for my Starscream: Origins fic. tw: SA, implied CSA

this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore by postapocolyptic cryptic, another one I’ve recced before but it’s so good

Perchance to Dream by galateaGalvanized has Windblade delving into Starscream’s mind in order to rescue him from his own self destructive escapism.

Tried to Wash You Away by ThunderstormandMemories is a short fic covering a conversation between ghost Bee and Scream.

Home is Where the Spark is by Replica of Divinity is a short but cute 300 word drabble

Another short one: Come Back to Me by MeinongsJungleBook

Choose Your Bot by Graceful Storyteller is a short but fun piece where Bee tries to set Starscream up with a partner

You make me feel like a shooting star by MeinongsJungleBook is another short one exploring how Starscream feels about having Bumblebee’s good influence in his life

Embraced by Spruudle has a touch averse Starscream requesting some cuddles from Bee and it’s very soft

I debated recommended this one cuz I feel like it’s a little above my reading level, but Photonic Bodies by FourthFloorWrites is a fascinating read.

Insecurities by EvalynnMesserli, StarWindBee threesome anyone?

Disbelief by ambustested is another one that explores Starscream’s insecurities about being with Bee, this time with more involvement from other bots

Melt Like Ice by tasmc, in which Bumblebee confesses his feelings to Starscream and Starscream has a really hard time accepting this

A little Speck of Color by RoboHippie sees Bumblebee processing his grief after Starscream sacrificed himself to defeat Unicron

In Simulacrum, Starscream’s the ghost this time and they read together. Implied past Megastar

When you’re sad and when you’re lonely and you havent got a friend by MeinongsJungleBook shows the moment Starscream’s ghost appears to Bee after the Unicron thing

Dreamcatcher by MeinongsJungleBook is as far as I can tell an IDW AU where eldrich dream entities are invading Cybertron. its a metaphor

Pick up All the Pins by postapocolyptic cryptid, in which Starscream has a nightmare and Windblade tries to help. also bee is there

A Lesson in Patience by deadlysoupy has Bumblebee making a surprise gift for valentines day but the secrecy makes Starscream paranoid

The Precipice of You and Me by deadlysoup, an Earthspark continuity fic taking place after season 3 believe it or not!

Bleeding Out for You by deadlysoup, in which Starscream and an injured Bumblebee are stuck underground together

A Silent Scream by theunseeliemperoress is a really good one that tackles themes of disability

And lastly I did start reading Too Far by rainoverthemountains, it’s a slow read so far but it does have some cute Trine Bee interactions, so I’d be remiss to not mention it

[thetxtdevil]

Could you bring back Blueberry Boy! Kai? 🫐 I dream about him every day... btw! Congratulations on the 1k, more than deserved!! Your content is amazing <3

1000 Followers Bash - Blueberry Boy Kai Continued Thoughts

nsfw/mdni content

What do you want to know about Blueberry Boy Kai?

Last time he got Strawberry Shortcake pregnant 🤭 No surprise, he's so messy and addicted. It wouldn't be shocking if he kept getting you pregnant, you're not against it because you're also addicted to him. You love the way Kai's long fingers prep you, then his cock stretches you, then his fingers are back to shove his blueberry scone cum back into you. Sometimes he'll lick you clean, coming up to kiss you so that you can enjoy the taste of his salty yet sweet cum.

However, he's all new to the world of sex; a lot of times, he just lets the aphrodisiacs of your strawberry arousal control him, making up new ways to please each other. But he wants to do this right. Blueberry Boy Kai wants to be so skilled at making you cum without instincts but from knowledge 🤓

Picnic with the boys seems innocent from afar, but most people wouldn't want to eat their lunch while overhearing what they talk about. Sweet Blueberry Kai brings a scented pen and colored paper to write down answers to his questions.

Gingerbread Taehyun claims that being rough gets his girl going. Lemon Drop Soobin agrees, saying that squeezing plushy skin is satisfying and pleasurable for them. Peachy Beomgyu believes that reading reactions is key, or letting them read smut also gives them ideas. However, Watermelon Sorbet Yeonjun warns everybody to be careful, as they're significant other might turn on them and tease, ruin you until dry.

A little more information of curling fingers in your cunt and different motions to stimulate your clit. If Kai wasn't blushing a deep shade of blue already, the advice to "edge" you got him rolling into a ball. He doesn't think he can do it, literally, he loves seeing you cum so how is he going to stop that from happening.

Later that day, Blueberry Boy Kai arrives at the big strawberry cottage, he yells out that he's home. Your cute self comes skipping to him and hugging him. Dainty arm wrapped around his broad body, making Kai's blue blush come back. "Hi, Strawberry, I missed you." He says softly.

"I missed you, too." You say into his neck, leaving light kisses on his neck.

Kai wanted to melt right there, wanted to pick you up and have you in bed. Before he could do so, you were already grabbing his arms, dragging him to your destination. Kai's mind fills with what his friends had to say, be rough, dominate her, she'll like that, edge. Kai stands his ground, making you recoil, falling onto the blueberry.

Looking up to see Kai's intimidating glare, you pout and ask, "W-whats wrong?"

You gasp as Kai quickly swoops you up, carrying you to the kitchen, the closest room, and a place where your scent seems to reside. His senses were already clouded by your innocent whines. Plopping you on the countertop, flipping up your skirt, spreading your legs to fit his hip between them. Letting you desperately grind against him, searching for some blissful friction. Whimpers and whines increase as seconds pass. Kai gives in to a simple touch.

His painted blue fingertips rub your wet clothed cunt. Delicious circles excite your clit, every so often his fingertip dips into your hole. You moan, throwing your head back until you sense Kai teasing his touch around the hem of your panties. Once a bratty whine escapes from your throat, Blueberry Kai stops everything.

Your eyes widen on your flushed face. Chest heaving from the lack of getting off. Usually your good boy, Kai, is always determined to make you cum, once or twice or three times before getting himself off. But this was different, Kai wasn't in a rush to have Strawberry Shortcake make her cream, he wanted to keep it from happening until he thought it was best to let it go.

Blueberry Kai kneels in front of you, looking up at you through his dark blue lashes. Slowly stripping you from your panties, your feet kick, trying to take the garment off fast. This action resulted in Kai forcefully holding your legs and biting your inner thigh. The yelp you make and your stiffening position signal Kai that you are ready to listen.

Once you were fully exposed, the blueberry boy leaves kitten licks on your outer lips. You lay your head on the top cabinets, focusing on stopping your whine from coming out. Your patients payed off when you feel Kai deepening himself into your pussy. Making out with your folds, tongue everywhere he can get it, sucking your sensitivity. You sink your hands into the sapphire blue hair of the man devouring you.

Kai has to fight against your hold on his head, he can feel your cunt pulsating close to cumming. Hearing your moans, tasting your sweet arousal, Kai was losing himself fast. Now fighting with himself, needing to stop you from coming undone. He eventually does so once again, causing you to whine. You squirm like a little kid not getting what they want, Kai chuckles at you.

“You’re so mean.” Your pout increases.

Kai’s face full of your strawberry arousal, he smirks at you, “I know.” He lifts his head, kisses you so that you taste yourself. Soon, you feel his touch creep into your inner thighs close to where you want it. His long fingers dive into your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit and fingertips teasing your hole. Kai deeply kisses you to the point you run out of breath, throwing your head back once again to show the blueberry boy your neck to mark up.

His two fingers screw deep into your pussy, curling up hitting your g-spot. Your body ached from immense pleasure mixed with exhaustion. You did not doubt that your neck was covered with love bites by the time the heat pooled in your belly again. "Please, ah- please, Berry." You whimper into Kai's ear. Another mean smirk grazes his lips, but this time, he enhances his actions. Lowering his head to lick your tits as his fingers on your cunt works fast.

Your hands latch onto Kai's buff shoulders tightly, scratching his back through the shirt in the process. Every hit of your g-spot had you seeing stars, and the stimulation of Kai's tongue on your nipples added to the sensation. A load scream screeches out of your dry throat. Kai backs away from your breasts, looking down to witness a gush of juices squirting onto his pants and thighs.

The scent of earthy strawberries filled the room. You roll back, unattractively slouched on the top cabinets, trying to catch your breath, too tired to realize the blueberry boy is losing it. His hands balled into fists, trying to hold himself back, but then again, it's time to try something new.

Kai's lips smash into your again, a big hand encapsulates both of your small ones, holding them over your pretty strawberry head. Blueberry Boy Kai wasn't waiting until you were calmed down; now that you're weak, he can use you all up.

Grateful for my 1000 Demons,

TxT's Devil

[missredherring]

Set Up

Javi Gutiérrez x Harry Castillo

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.1k

Contents: kissing, frottage.

Summary: Matchmaker AU. What are the odds a matchmaker sets you up with a former hook up? Asking for a friend.

A/N: I loved the parallels in the gifs and this idea quickly followed. Thanks to @perotovar for their encouragement.

Not beta read.

Divider by @saradika-graphics.

Javi takes a deep pull of wine and barely tastes it before he swallows. It's not how he was taught one should enjoy wine, but enjoying isn't his goal right now. Maybe he should've gotten something stronger if he really wanted to dull some of the nerves twisting in his stomach.

He's dressed nicely in a fancy restaurant whose waiting list goes out years rather than weeks or months. That he made this reservation a couple of days ago is a testament to the power of an old family name like his, but it makes him feel like even more of a failure.

It'd been a secret wish to find a partner organically. A chance encounter set up by fate where interest sparked with a moment of eye contact, a brush of the hand, an exchange of shy smiles. He knows real life is nothing like the idyllic movies he adores, but the small hope clings to his heartstrings and pulls at the worst times. Besides, when was the last time he's spent enough time in a coffee shop to have a proper meet-cute?

He'd thought Gabriela was the one for a few sweet months of heated kisses and whispered daydreams of a better future out from the thumb of his family. In the end he couldn't bare to trap her in his golden cage just because he was lonely and desperate for companionship. She understood better than he did that his family would never approve of them together.

The pressure to marry and marry well only increased after Lucas' failed coup d'état. The family needed to repair its reputation and present a stable, powerful image to the rest of the world. What better way to do that than with a wedding?

Javi's orders were clear: marry soon or they'd marry him off themselves by the end of the year and he would have no say in the union.

He understands. It's the least he can do to repay the wealth and power that's let him live such a carefree and privileged life, but that hope swings like a pendulum in his chest and he wants one last chance to find love for himself. That's happened before, right? There are a fair few movies that have the protagonists finding true love with the threat of an arranged marriage hanging overhead. Of course they also portray those marriages as a soul-crushing union that's a fate worse than death. He doesn't want to crush anyone or be crushed himself.

Hope swings away and he had to admit that maybe his family isn't wrong about the arrangement idea. So he negotiated one last chance to find a partner for himself and reached out to Nic for advice. His friend (his friend Nic Cage) had offered up the name of a New York-based matchmaker who he swore was one of the best. Some of the successful Hollywood couples? Her doing.

It was a strange experience to trust a total stranger to match him up with another stranger based on a form he filled out, but Javi is the kind of person who wants to trust other people, no matter how many times life delighted in proving him wrong.

Harry C.

He hadn't wanted to see pictures, charmed by the idea of a true blind date, but maybe that had been a mistake. The matchmaker had assured him they matched on the important things and now it was up to them to see if there was any potential in person. He hoped this whole thing wouldn't turn into a disappointment his family would see as another failure.

Javi reaches for his glass again but redirects to the water instead.

His phone vibrates from where he'd placed it next to the table setting. The phone going off during the date would be rude, wouldn't it? He turns the sound off before checking the message. It was from the matchmaker:

"I hope you have a wonderful time with Harry. Of course, if you're not feeling it let me know and I'll get you out of there!"

The emojis depicting a person running away makes him smile. He replies with a thank you and the fingers crossed emoji.

He starts to put the phone back on the table, but should he put it in a pocket instead? Would the phone on the table signal that he wasn't wiling to give his date his full attention? Should he have left his phone at home? No, meeting a stranger in a city he was only passingly familiar with was too naive even for him.

"Javier?" a voice asks as shined leather shoes come into his line of sight just beyond the table.

Javi finishes the movement of slipping his phone into his pocket and stands to greet his date.

"Please, call me 'Javi.'"

"Javi," Harry confirms and doesn't hesitate when Javi takes his outstretched hand and uses it to pull him in for a quick embrace. He lets Javi guide his face to the left and right for two presses of smooth skin against his cheeks. It's over in seconds, leaving Harry with a lingering sense of warmth and a pleasant, familiar cologne.

"Ah, please, have a seat," Javi says, gesturing to the empty seat opposite of him before sitting back down at the table.

It's a nice restaurant with packed tables spaced far enough apart for privacy in low lighting. It would be easy to forget about the city outside when all you can hear is the quiet hum of conversations and the occasional clink of silverware.

With his prize in his sights, Harry's patience feels boundless as he watches Javi finally settle in his seat and look him in the eyes for the first time that night.

Belt buckles rattle and the hiss of zippers are echoed in exhalations as ruddy cocks are freed from pants.

The recognition is slow but steady as Javi studies his face, his eyes darting from feature to feature before landing on his lips when Harry can't hold back his smile.

Harry could spit, but the other man takes his hand and licks along his palm and fingers instead, grunting when Harry uses it to press and hold their dicks together while he kisses him again and again, dizzy with the taste of alcohol and wedding cake.

"I finally get to know your name and of all people a matchmaker is the one to give it to me. What do you think the odds of that are, Javi?"

Seeing Javi's face among the candidates had been a shock. Harry had never expected to see the man he'd hooked up with at his brother's wedding again, but there he was, smiling at the camera wide enough to bring out the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, just as he had when they'd locked eyes across the room at the reception.

"Small," Javi croaks, taking what can only be described as a 'swig' from his wine glass. "but apparently not impossible."

[ilium-ilia]

i need ajcs polycule like i need AIR beloved mother ilia do you want to deprive me of AIR????

since i am an all kind and loving mother, I will allow you to look at this old version of Slow Cook that I wrote ages ago when the idea first popped up into my head.

Slow Cook (First Draft)

content: alternate universe to in limbo, aelin x john x chip x simon polycule, but all i have written so far is really just a sapphic blurb for aelin x chip, this is written in third person because that's what got my brain worms wiggling, so Chip is treated more like an oc than a reader character, abrupt ending because this is just a little blurb, may or may not make it into the actual slow cook cut, we'll see, but i gotta give my children air

It starts like all things do—with an ache. 

For now, it’s dull. Nothing but a quiet throb that rustles in the pit of Aelin’s stomach as her fingers rap against the wooden table she leans against. Familiar faces occupy the seats around the table as shimmering eyes read through the menus held up by manicured fingers. Their features have changed over the years since their time spent in university together. Accomplished women—powerful women—yet, Aelin finds herself bored. 

Sighing, she eyes the beef tagliata. It’s expertly described in a way that makes her mouth water. Balsamic vinegar, rosemary, arugula—Aelin enjoys red meat. Savors the flowing juices. 

But Aelin prefers her meat fresh, and right now there’s nothing better than the waitress scurrying up to the table, pen in hand. 

Though, she doesn’t look much like a waitress. Her uniform is different from the other’s Aelin has eyed throughout the night. Pure black clothes, and no apron, she nearly looks the part. Yet with disheveled hair and sweat lining her brow, the girl seems out of her depth. Still, she musters up a polite smile, though it’s easy to make out the bobbing of her throat as she swallows. 

“Good evening ladies. My name’s Chip, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Uh… can I start you off with something to drink?”

One by one, the ladies prattle off their orders all while Aelin watches their waitress; Chip. Her brows pinch in concentration as she scribbles down each order thrown her way. Rolling lips. Polite nods. Cute thing, this waitress. Even the slight tremor in her fingers is endearing; borderline adorable. 

“And for you miss?”

Chip’s eyes land on Aelin for only a split second before they flicker away, pretending to be occupied with her notepad. Fingers still tapping the table, Aelin has been looking at her for quite some time. Learning. Analyzing. Smiling, Aelin tilts her head just as she wets her lips. Her tongue lingers between her teeth for a beat too long. 

“Chip. What a unique name,” Aelin comments. 

She’s hoping it gets a laugh out of the girl, and it nearly does. Chip exhales sharply before mustering the courage to make eye contact again. “Well it’s… it’s just a nickname, really.” 

Nodding languidly, Aelin hums. “I see.” 

Her fingers cease their tapping. 

“Well, Chip, I’ll have a glass of wine. Red. Amarone, if you have it. If not, I’ll trust your judgment on a replacement.” 

Just as she did with the others, Chip notes Aelins’s words. “Perfect. I’ll, uhm, have that out for you shortly.” 

As she turns around to leave, Aelin eyes the sweet waitress. She devours the sway of her hips with wide pupils, enamored by the way the fabric hugs her rump and the swell of her thighs. Oh, how she enjoys fresh meat. 

That quiet throb lurking in Row’s stomach slowly ripens into a dull purr. A pathetic kitten with a pitiful cry settles into her core like it’s a safe haven. She fantasizes about the ways she likes to enjoy her meals. Warm. Quivering. Pinned. Splayed. Even now she can see it. Taste it. Legs spread wide, shaky fingers covering parted lips. Sizzling gasps escaping from a throat that feels too tight, all while her mouth drips, and drips, and drips. 

Aelin focuses her attention back to the present the moment a generous glass of wine is placed in front of her. Red like blood but not nearly as thick, she swirls it. Lets the aromatics waft around her nose, yet it’s not enough to drown the daydreams. It’s not enough to rip her eyes away from the undone buttons on the top of her waitress’s blouse, or the beads of sweat that peek between the cloth. 

“And for you?”

Once again, Aelin has been staring at Chip for quite awhile, and it flusters the poor girl all the same. Averting eyes, an anxious huff; quite a skittish thing. Some alleyway cat with curious but improper manners. 

“The beef tagliata, please love.” 

Nodding, Chip writes down Aelin’s order where she then taps the tip of her pen against the paper. One by one—little dots against scribbled words. She’s checking the order. Recounting it. Making sure she has it correct. 

“Are you new here, Chip?” Aelin asks. 

This question perplexes not only the waitress, but Aelin’s friends as well. A stillness falls over the table while other patrons buzz and chatter around them. Glasses clink, cutlery scrapes, and still the most interesting thing in the room to Aelin is the anxious woman in front of her. 

“Yes. Well, erm, no. I’m actually a hostess but they needed extra help tonight so I’m doing my best. This is my first time waitressing,” Chip explains. 

“How sweet of you.” Aelin pauses. Using the tip of her middle finger, she traces the rim of her glass. Slowly. Fingers flexing and relaxing. “I’ll have my steak medium rare, sweetheart.” 

Blinking, Chip glances back and forth between Aelin and her notepad before an anxious chuckle expels from her mouth. “Right. Yes, of course. Medium rare. I’ll have these out for you soon.” 

And to think Aelin nearly skipped out on girls night.

[riddle-me-ri]

a/n: so…trying my hand at something a teeny bit different. this isn't a x reader (even though the temptation of putting my self insert there was incredibly strong), shocking I know, but stick with me…I've always wanted to like…write for a fan version of the Rogues…but I was never close enough with anyone to inquire about doing it(or if i did they were too nervous or werent sure which i totally get)…but I finally got to know a beloved mutual @illustratedartist AANNDDD now we're here lol. I know this is a little different–I hope you guys still enjoy it! 

Context/Image for her Mad Hatter Here (please check out the rest of her art, can't recommend her stuff enough!)

Word Count: 816

Content Warning: brief mentions of mind control, spiked tea, hallucinations

Mutual Made Mad Hatter - A Mad Lonesome Man Named Jervis Tetch

“The sun was shining on the sea,

Shining with all his might:

He did his very best to make

The billows smooth and bright —

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.”

A hushed voice muttered the nonsensical poem softly as the owner of the voice tinkered away at some machinations. 

To any passerby the abandoned warehouse on the docks was just that, abandoned.

Rusted, dilapidated, it’s a miracle the walls are still up–or that the warehouse has any functioning lights…perhaps some homeless folks managed to generate some electricity from a nearby generator…

“The moon was shining sulkily,

Because she thought the sun

Had got no business to be there

After the day was done —

“It’s very rude of him,” she said,

“To come and spoil the fun!”

The man chuckled gleefully as he continued the poem. 

He had them all memorized…they were the only words he could say without stuttering or sputtering like a buffoon. Something he was always conscious about–something that always embarrassed him back when he–he wasn’t like this.

“Do you really think it will work?” 

The man scoffed. “Of course, it will! It’s worked before–”

“Ah, yes, before the Bat showed up anyhow…” To the right side of the man’s work station lounged a purple cat with darker purple stripes down his body. His eyes a bright sky blue, his teeth stained yellow much like the man he was speaking to. 

The man groaned. “That flying rodent just got lucky! He-He…” 

The lanky man slumped in his chair. “He drove my Alice away…now she’s hiding some place! I must find her!” 

Somehow remembering the woman he once knew and was utterly enamored by–he was reinvigorated just as quickly as he was discouraged to continue working. 

“Who's to say she isn’t hiding from you?” The cat’s grin got wider–it didn’t budge when the man slammed his fists on the wooden desk, knocking over tools and microchips to pitter patter all over the floor. 

“She wouldn’t–she wouldn’t! I didn’t frighten her! I wouldn’t harm her–”

“Oh, but you have…you have dear Hatter, scared the poor girl out of her wits…” 

The Hatter angrily waved his hands near the cat’s vicinity–its form quickly dissipated into hazy purple smoke. 

Only to take shape on the Hatter’s shoulder. 

The Cheshire Cat snickered. “LIke a weed I always grow back…”

“Will you please just leave me–” 

“Of course I can, but you have to let me leave…you know I only show up because you want me too…or your mind wants me to…however, it’s never because I want to be here…”

The Hatter brought up his gloved hand, his index and middle finger pinching the bridge of his long sharp crooked nose in frustration. 

“Speaking of here…you certain the other villains that plague Gotham would entertain your…rigged cosmetic configurations?” 

“Even if they don’t…” The man’s eyes furrowed in determination. “They will…I will make them…like I made the others…” 

There was another desk on the other end of the room–vials, beakers and tubes all contained a sort of brown liquid…if not for the contraption it was being held in, some would suspect it was merely tea.

“Many become more…agreeable once they have a sip of tea…”

“Well, if they’re willing to drink from a mad man’s teapot I suppose anything is possible...” The cat mused. 

The Mad Hatter attempted to press on with his work. 

He had to make sure these masks were to the proper proportions of his assigned guests or else the chips won’t affect the brain–besides it’s also not proper to wear a misshapen mask, akin to wearing a hat that’s too big or too small. 

Perhaps if he didn’t entertain the vexing feline it would go away.

There was a beat of silence–the Hatter’s shoulders felt lighter–

“You are an awfully mad lonesome wretch Jervis Tetch…” The cat sat haughtily once more on top of the man’s desk. 

Jervis’ motions stilled but he didn’t retort. 

“But I suppose, if these masks work…you won’t be alone…but your madness will remain.” The cat grinned from ear to ear. 

“After all, what’s a mad city like Gotham without its Mad Hatter?” The feline chuckled. 

Jervis lifted his head up–finally to snap back at the cat–but it was gone as quickly as it materialized. 

The man clenched his fists, his palms likely would have bled if not for his gloves. He was real–he was present…tools on his desk…masks near completion…his spiked tea bubbling warmly by the other wall. 

The air wasn’t suffocating for once, the Cat was truly gone and wouldn’t return until Jervis ran himself ragged once more…or he was going through a particularly harsh mental episode. 

The only thing he had close to a companion (for now) and a figment of the lonesome mad man’s hallucinations.

While it wasn’t ideal, Jervis supposed it would do for now–but he won’t be lonely, not for long. 

[goddessofstories4]

Thunderbolts* one shot // Yelena’s Quiet Time

⚠️ SPOILERS ⚠️

A/n: takes place about a few months after the events of Thunderbolts*. I keep getting Boblena content on my fyp but I will stay comfy on my spot on the line between their platonic/romantic potential. Makes things fun for everyone. Enjoy! (P.s. check me out on Wattpad for more consistent updates @_goddess_of_stories !)

⧗ ⧗ ⧗

Rain patters softly against the floor to ceiling tower windows, repetitive and soothing. The building is quiet, the floor seemingly a ghost town.

Yelena slips her phone onto the kitchen counter with a soft clink, the screen lighting up for a moment before fading back to black. She shrugs off her jacket and kicks her boots off one by one, the meeting with Valentina and Bucky fully taking its toll on her.

Valentina hadn't said much (thank the gods)—just enough to dampen her mood, enough to remind her that it was up to her and the team to keep the insufferable woman in check.

Yelena walks over to the fridge—the options for dinner don't look too promising. She sifts through the few containers (one of which is labeled "Alexei" and looks extremely questionable) and settles for cooked pasta. Her movements are on autopilot. Pan, olive oil, garlic.

"What're you ma—"

She spins around, fast as muscle memory kicks in and one hand grabs the butter knife and the other yanking the speaker into a headlock.

"Wait—wait—it's me! I'm sorry—I just—" Bob's voice cracks on the last word. His arms stays loose at his sides, not resisting. Yelena blinks, exhaling slowly, then letting go.

"Bob!" She huffs, heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears as she brushes her hair away from her face, examining his neck and reassuring herself she didn't hurt him. "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?"

"I wasn't exactly sneaking," Bob mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "You just looked so focused, and I didn't want to interrupt."

Yelena sighs, pointing a finger at him. "Next time, announce yourself. Loudly. I could have hurt you." He nods in agreement, offering a small, relieved smile. "Okay. I can do that."

Satisfied, she walks back to the stove, prepping the pasta sauce in a small pan. "Good."

Bob doesn't leave—he just pads quietly over to the island and sits on a barstool. As the ingredients simmer, she hears the soft squeak of him spinning. Once. Twice. Again.

"Bob," she says without turning.

"Yeah?"

"Stop squeaking."

He tilts his head, watching her from the island with faint amusement. "Yes ma'am."

Minutes pass in the low hum of the stove fan and the gentle sizzle of oil. The kitchen fills with the stains scent of garlic and herbs, but Yelena barely notices. It's a strange thing—her making dinner like this. Something so normal, even after everything. After the chaos. After the Void. After... all of it.

The silence should be peaceful, but it sits a little oddly in her chest. It feels unreal. Almost like a dream. She stirs the sauce, then glances over her shoulder. "Bob?"

He looks up from where he's been fidgeting with his hands, thumbs pressing into each other, then apart again. "Yes?"

She hesitates—just a beat—but it's long enough that he tilts his head slightly, waiting.

"I've been meaning to ask you," she begins, keeping her voice light, almost casual, "about when you saw the little girl in the woods. In my head." A beat passes. Then, softer, "Do you remember?"

Bob shifts in his seat, the barstool creaking quietly beneath him. "Not everything. It's like trying to remember a dream. Or your dream. But some of it... yeah."

She nods slowly, turning down the heat. "I never told anyone about that memory before. The test. What I did."

"You didn't really have a choice," he says without hesitation. His voice is gentle but certain, like the thought had never occurred to him to judge her for it. Yelena glances over at him, and for a second, her expression falters—just for a second. "You never brought it up," she says.

"Because it wasn't mine to bring up," he replies. "I didn't want to make you feel... seen in the wrong way."

She doesn't answer at first. Instead, she takes a moment to dish the food—two plates instead of one. After sliding a plate over to Bob and settling in the seat beside him, she continues.

"That night at the vault," she says quietly, her eyes searching his face, softened by the weight of the memory. "When you left the van to distract Valentina's men... you were going to sacrifice yourself. For us. People you'd known less than a day." She pauses, voice dipping lower. "You didn't even hesitate."

Her gaze drops to her plate, fingers absently tracing the edge. "And my heart...my heart dropped. I thought you were gone."

Bob doesn't answer right away. Instead, he reaches over—tentative, but steady—and rests his hand lightly over hers. Yelena glances down to where their hands meet, her fingers curling into his touch just slightly before she looks back up at him.

"When we were in your memory," he says softly, his voice careful, "I didn't see someone who did something bad." He pauses, searching for the right words. "I saw a little girl carrying guilt like the weight of the world. You were just a kid, Yelena."

Her throat tightens, but she doesn't look away. There's something in Bob's expression—understanding and gentle—that makes her feel safe enough to stay in the moment.

Bob's thumb brushes against the back of her hand just once, a ghost of a movement. "Everyone on this team is still here because of you," he says. "I am still here because of you."

Bob squeezes her hand—barely—and lets go. No push. No pressure. Yelena exhales slowly, the weight of his words settling deep in her center. Then she speaks, her voice low but steadt.

"I think... without the team—without you—I'd still be lost."

He studies her, slightly surprised at her admission, but he remains quiet.

"I never knew how hard it was going to be to learn how to trust people until now," she adds, her expression not exactly hopeful but not solemn either. "You make it easier, somehow. Even when you're sneaking up on me and getting yourself into trouble every five minutes."

Yelena glances over at him, her hazel eyes softer now, touched with something like amusement. "You know what would really help me?" she says, nudging her elbow in his direction. "If you helped me with the dishes."

Bob blinks, then smiles, setting his fork on his empty plate and already standing. "Consider it done."

They move in an a quiet rhythm, the clink of dishes and the low rush of water filling the kitchen. Outside, the rain keeps its steady pace against the windows—soft, like it knows better than to disturb the moment.

As Yelena scrapes the last of the pasta into a container, she glances over. "Did you want the rest, or should I let it expire in the fridge?"

Bob smiles softly, already reaching to take the pan from her hands with gentle care. "I'll take care of it. Not that I'm complaining—but I still don't get why I get the nice version of you."

She smirks faintly, drying her hands on a towel. "Don't push it."

They finish the cleanup in companionable silence. Bob stacks the last dish on the drying rack while Yelena wipes down the counter, the faint scent of lemon lingering in the air.

Bob leans lightly against the island, glancing over at her. "Thanks for dinner. Sorry if I interrupted your quiet time, though." She gives him a nod, then tosses the towel over her shoulder. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Bob."

A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, crooked and warm. And for a moment, in the quiet, spacious tower, it doesn't feel so lonely anymore.

[starlighthosh]

I hear you - w.jh

Pairing: dancer!jun x dancer!reader

Warning: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, Jun crying, miscommunication, mention of panic attack, past parent loss, hallucinations

Content: What happens when you accidentally overhear something the other said?

It was a normal Wednesday afternoon like every other. You were on your practice break, sitting in a corner, while your ‘friends’ sat in the middle of the room, laughing loudly at the jokes of the others. You had your headphones on, choreographing a new dance in your head.

For others you might seem like an outsider, which you kind of are, but just because you chose to. You had this skill of making yourself invisible for everyone around, which was also what was going on right now. It’s not like they don’t like you. Completely different, they always want you to sit with them and try to engage you into their conversation. You denied their affection though. You liked the dark corners more, they were just peaceful, without any hatred or fear.

You were in your own world, starring into the void while pictures of dance moves flew across your mind. Suddenly, someone tapped your shoulder. You flinched and snapped your head to the person. A tall guy kneeled beside you, smiling shyly. Your eyes met up with his, a deep brown sinking you into them.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to scare you” he nervously chuckled, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. You were still shocked, carefully scanning him with your eyes. His body could be seen through his loose clothes. He has a great physique you thought to yourself. His hair lay messily on his head, making him seem more authentic. His face had an indescribable beauty to it and his presence took up your whole being, shining like gold around him.

“No, no, it’s fine. You didn’t scared me” you quickly replied. He let out a relieved sigh, smiling again at you. “So, I’m new here. Is there anyone that I have to go to or am I just a part of this group now?” you chuckled slightly at his clumsiness. “She’s kind of the leader here. You should go to her first” you recommended as you pointed with a finger to her.

“But.. they ignored me” he said. It wasn’t unusual for them to be rude to others, but how can you ignore a person like him? His aura is really hard to ignore, putting everyone in awe around him.

“Hey, we have a newcomer” you shouted to the others. It may have seem like they didn’t even acknowledged that you were still in the same room, but suddenly all their attention went to you, responding immediately. The said ‘leader’ gasped as she came up to you. “Well hello there. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?” she exclaimed in her best costumer-service voice.

“I-I’m Jun” he replied, surprised at the sudden shift. What a beautiful name. She smiled gently at him, pulling him with her to introduce him to the others. You were left alone in the corner, feeling the cold breeze he left. The effect he had on you was no joke, leaving you in a trance of admiration. But, somehow he doesn’t seem to have the same effect on others.

The next practice breaks continued normally. Just that now, there are two of you sitting on the sides. Jun and you. You didn’t talked with one another, just quietly enjoying each others presence, knowing you aren’t alone.

You had no problem being alone, even growing to like it over the years, but you enjoyed him around. He didn’t said much, mostly being overheard. Not from you though. You heard every sound of him. Every breath, noise, word. It was like he fixed your whole attention to him. You didn’t complain though. He was an interesting human being.

The gap between you two closed a little more with every practice, even starting to exchange a few words with another. You couldn’t ignore the fact, that your heart pounded in your ears, obviously being nervous. He just had that strong hold on you, his smell and presence taking up all of your senses. You wondered, if he felt the same about you.

He did. From the moment he walked into the practice room for the first time, his eyes always searched for you. It was fascinating for him, how you could just change your presence in milliseconds. He just couldn’t understand why. As someone who has been ignored by everyone his entire life, his dad, classmates, teachers, bosses, he just couldn’t wrap around why you would purposefully make yourself invisible. But he was drawn to you, noticing you the whole time you’re together.

It’s been a couple weeks since Jun joined your dance group. The change in your group atmosphere was noticeable. The others, that were normally in the center, moved closer to the side. Now, Jun and you were filling up the room with laughters. Even in the breaks, you jokingly choreographed songs with weird moves.

The presence of the others vanished with every second you two spent together, creating your own little world. But they noticed it too. You’ve never been so open with them, like you are with Jun. They somehow envied him. It was beautiful to see, how you brought out the best of each other.

“We have a dance competition” the ‘leader’ announced. Everyone looked at her with a question mark above their head. “Actually only two of us” she continued “It’s a duo dance, so only two of us are going to participate in the competition. They will basically represent the whole team”. Complains started to spread. “Why only two of us?” “That’s not what a team is about” “Why are we even participating?”.

“I want Jun and Y/n to represent us” she said, completely ignoring the others. The room went silent, shocked faces being exchanged. Excitement grew up inside of you, but you stayed silent. “Us?” Jun unsurely asked. “Yes. I think your chemistry is great for this”.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes widening with shock. Jun hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned to smile at you. “I guess we can make it work, right?” he asked you. You kept silent for a moment, not knowing if you were actually ready for this. But it’s for the team. “Yes, we can” you assured him.

He looked at you with a relieved smile. “All right, then it’s fixed. Don’t disappoint us” she warned, building up pressure on the both of you. Everyone went back to their doing, except for Jun and you. The silence between you was deafening, none of you knowing what to do next.

You’ve been staying longer for practice since the announcement, practicing for the competition. Even though it was awkward at the beginning, your bodies were in harmony. Every movement was perfectly balanced, moving like water through the room.

The two of you flopped down onto the floor. Your chests rising and falling hardly with every breath, sweat dripping down from your faces. This choreo was really challenging, but it was all for the team.

Both of you didn’t really spoke with one another, like you used to. It was weird to talk about the situation you’re in. You haven’t known each other for that long and now you have to dance together, because your chemistry is great? What does that even mean?

Duo dances have never been your thing. Also because you tend to get an unhealthy obsession with the other person, only breaking your heart in the end. Thats why you were glad that your current dance group never did those duo dances. Well, until now.

Jun though, he looked like he enjoyed every second of it. His presence have already been strong, at least for you, but this dance made him shine even more. He was completely in his element. Plus he’s doing it with you.

Still, there was something weird about him in the last days. It’s like his mind was occupied by something the whole time. You often had to make sure that he was still in the practice room and not wherever his mind was.

You opened the door of your apartment. Street lamps shining through the curtains of the dark room. You threw your shoes in a corner, together with your bag, and flopped yourself on a chair. An exhausted exhale left your mouth as you covered your face with your hands.

Ever since Jun came into your life, you’ve not been able to think straight. Everything reminded you of the little things he does. Like the cat memes on the internet or the weird guys in your favorite tv shows. He was just way too.. cute

He took over your mind once again, not letting you breathe just once. You hated him for that. Everything was fine with you, but now you just malfunctioned every time he gets a little too close to you. You could swear, you sometimes even smell him randomly.

It was like he could read your mind, your phone started to vibrate. You removed your hands to take a look, exclaiming a fake cry, as you read his name. You took a deep breath and answered the call.

“Hello? Jun?”

“Y/n? I need your help”

“What? Did something happened? What’s wrong?”

“Please, just come to the dance studio”

“Okay okay, I’m on my way”

And with that he hung up. You starred at your phone for a second, his helpless voice still ringing in your ear. Then you quickly started to move, taking your shoes and jacket, and rushing to the studio.

As you reached the dance studio, you saw a trash can on the floor, its contents emptied on the floor. A few meters next to it was a car with a broken window and dents. What the hell happened here?

Jun was curled up in a corner with a traumatized look. You ran to him, kneeling down in front of him. “Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” you asked worried, taking one of his hands in yours. They were cold, his whole body must be freezing. It was clear that he must have had a panic attack. “Let’s get inside okay?” you helped him up and guided him to the emergency room in the studio.

You put a blanket over his shoulders and hot packs in his hands. Carefully you sat down beside him. He still wasn’t really aware of his surroundings. You were unsure, if you should ask him now or wait a little longer for him to acclimatize, but your curiosity got the better of you.

“What happened out there Jun?” you asked cautiously. He slightly moved his head to look at you, in his eyes a deep sadness. “My.. my mom” he stuttered out of him. “Your mom? What’s with your mom?” you tried to get more out of him. He didn’t responded, only looking wordlessly at you. You tried to give him the time he needed calm down from his shock.

“I’m sorry, I must have disturbed you. It’s just.. you were the only one I could call” he said after a while. Your heart sank in your chest. “It’s okay. You needed help” you tried to assure him, but the words seemed to coldly fly past him.

You reached out for one of his hands, caressing the back with your thumb. “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it” you offered him. His gaze switched between your hand and your face.

“I need you” he muffled not even above a whisper. “What?” you asked, not understanding what he just said. Instead of repeating it though, his face turned cold. “Forget it” he bluntly said. The sudden shift surprised you, besides that this is the first time he has talked to you like that.

He got up, leaving the blanket on the chair. “Thanks for coming, but I don’t need your help anymore” he stated. His new attitude sending goosebumps all over you. “Jun, I-“ you tried to hold him back, but he already left through the door.

You ran after him, trying to make him listen to you, but he wouldn’t even look at you. “It’s not what you think, I just didn’t-“ you explained, but he cut you off. “I got it, all right? You can leave now” he demanded. “No, I don’t think you-“ “Just go!” he snapped, interrupting you again.

Immediate silence. Tears build up in your eyes, as you processed what just happened. “Fine, if that’s what you want” you mumbled. His eyes widened, hearing the hurt in your voice. “Wait no, that’s not what I meant” he tried to explain, but you already made your way past him, leaving him right there on the spot.

Since then, your practices have been going on very very quiet. All you could hear was a scoff here and a frustrated groan there. The others also noticed the difference and they didn’t liked it.

The ‘leader’ came up to you in one of the breaks. “Hey, everything alright between you?” she asked, pointing to Jun with her eyes. You coldly nodded. She starred at you for a second. “I trust you two with the competition, if you fail this because of a stupid fight, both of you can leave this group” she bursted out, loud enough for him to also hear it, before going back to the others.

After practice, Jun tried to find the right moment with you. “Can we talk?” he quietly asked. You looked at him. The nervousness was written all over his face. You fumbled for a moment, then went back to your reserved behavior. “You tell me” you said, making his eyes open wide. “Or should I just go?” you added, sending shivers down his spine.

Your fight wasn’t good, you knew it too, and it was selfish to spread it out more now. You still had 2 days till the competition. It would be great, if you compromised your miscommunication till then, but right now, it doesn’t look good.

“Why are you being like this?” his voice cracked. You turned to him in disbelief. “Why am I being like this? Didn’t you tell me to leave you alone, after I rushed to help you, because you needed me?” you almost screamed. Juns Face turned red. “Yeah well, how do you want me to react, when you just reply ‘what’, after I basically confessed to you.” he screamed back.

“What confession?” you hissed. “Are you kidding me? Now you don’t even acknowledge it anymore?” he scoffed. The whole conversation becoming a shouting match between you two, to the point where Jun just takes his bag and slams the door from the practice room shut.

You’re left with an empty silence. Your mind still fuming over the recent argument. This is why you like corners, no hatred and fear. No potential fights over the stupidest thing, while both are just talking past each other. It was also sad. Jun was the first person you actually liked around. The only one you willingly shared a corner with. This was just so unfair.

You went through the argument again. “What confession?” you whispered to yourself. The one you didn’t unterstand? The reason why it escalated? Is that why he just pushed you away?

Jun didn’t make it far, before bursting into tears on the stairs of the studio. He just couldn’t understand how you could be like that. First, you rejected him and now you’re playing dumb? Or was he at the wrong? What if you really didn’t unterstand him?

His sight got blurry from tears, the heated argument replaying in his head like a movie. Now that you’re mad at him, he’s got nothing left to hold onto. Nothing that could protect him from going insane.

He did have some problems. Like seeing his dead mother randomly. Or hearing her voice before sleeping. It didn’t happened with you. He was safe with you. The only one he could call, when it happened again, knowing he won’t get judged. No, he would be seen, he would be heard.

Obviously you didn’t hear him though. Was he just overreacting? More tears streamed down his face. He just stood there for a while, letting all his emotions flow.

Until he heard a familiar voice. “Jun?” someone asked from above. He turned to follow the voice. You were standing a few steps over him, looking at him with full of worries. He gasped and wiped his tears away, but he couldn’t help that they were still flowing.

You stepped down the stairs until you were on eye level with him. “Tell me, do you love me?” you bluntly asked. Jun stopped breathing, feeling exposed. “Is that what I overheard, that you love me?” you asked once again. He froze on the spot, not knowing what to do now.

Carefully you cupped his face with one hand, wiping away the tears with your thumb. “Do you? Because I do” you softly stated. That was it for him. He crashed his lips onto yours, his hands holding your hips tight, pulling you close to him.

After you broke free, both of you were out of breath. “I love you, y/n. I need you. You’re the only thing keeping me sane” he mumbled through breaths. This time though, you fully heard him. Your heart clenched at his words, kissing him gently again.

“I should’ve let you talk, I’m sorry” he apologized. You nodded. “Yes, you should’ve. You can be glad I’m smart and figured it out myself.” you teased. He chuckled, his arms pulling you even closer into a tight hug.

“I love you Jun”

“I love you too. Thank you, for hearing me”

Authors note

Omg this was so much longer than I planned, that’s why the ending might seem a bit rushed. I apologize for that. Still had a lot of fun writing it. Hope you guys enjoyed it🤍

[softtoxin]

cold embrace

yandere prince/reader

summary || prince elias, heir to the throne, finds himself enamored with his new wife, especially after she gives him an heir of his own.

warnings || yandere content, unhealthy relationship, arranged marriage, smut, mentioned pregnancy, they have a baby girl, choking (on prince), dubcon, bc reader doesn't really like him lol, piv, a smidge of breeding

he stares at you as though you are a piece of meat.

it's an uncomfortable feeling, especially at night when you're trying to find sleep, your back facing him. elias' blue eyes glued to your figure, as it often was. it always had a physical feel to it. you could almost feel something running over your body as you shivered under the thick canopy of his bed.

after the birth of your daughter, things only got worse for you.

for most future kings, they wanted a firstborn son, or as many sons as possible. elias had never spoken on his feelings about children, but you knew the lords and ladies of court had their own opinions on you ever since your precious girl was born.

little amalthea was the spitting image of her father. her olive skin, facial features, and dark auburn hair made that clear. she had your eyes, but her temperament was similar to elias' as well. she was such a quiet baby, but the sweet little smile she gave you whenever you walk into a room never fails to melt your heart. amalthea was the apple of your eye. you wouldn't choose having a son over your sweet little girl, but this made the whispers burn even worse some days.

"i do not care for boys," elias says one night as he hands over your daughter to the maid. you preferred to keep her cradle next to your bed where you know she's safe, but on nights like these, elias never fails to rip her away from you.

"... pardon, husband?"

"if you feel so insecure about not giving me a son," you freeze, glancing at the door as elias closes it loudly. he doesn't even give you a chance to say goodnight to your daughter, and you always end up feeling like a ball of anxiety every time he does this.

"you can just give me more children."

elias unties his nightclothes, his dark eyes focused on you as he becomes bare enough for you to instinctively look away. you hated him, truly. it would have been easier if your father had married you to a more dominant, cruel man. you were used to cruelty. elias, however, was perhaps a bit... odd.

"i don't care either way," he groans, falling before you, his auburn hair falling over his face as he shoves up the fabric of your gown. he always preferred you to be bare, much to your disdain.

you feel the heat of his cock as he humps against your thigh, his hands moving to reach into the drawer beside the bed. the familiar clink of elias' favorite chain makes your stomach drop as he wraps the course metal around his own neck, forcing open your fingers and making sure you had a steady grip on the leash part. elias breathes heavily, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against your lips before he leans up, his cock bullies itself into you, the oil he applied before making the slide easier.

a sound of pleasure leaves elias as he forcefully humps against you, his hands curled up in the pillows behind your head as he fucked you.

prince elias had such an odd depravity about him. he enjoyed being hurt by you, you realized this on your wedding night. he made no effort in masking his masochism, and you were thrown right into his dirty schemes.

no time to adjust. no time to ponder if this was a normal thing for a man to enjoy.

no time to breathe.

"tighten your grip."

even as his olive skin flushes deeply, he orders you. his smooth voice, usually so cold and barren, becomes raspy and high-pitched as the chain chokes the air out of his lungs. he likes this, you can tell from the short thrusts he makes, his eyes crossing as you slightly pull at the leather of the leash.

elias always becomes more soft, intimate, and kind in these trysts of yours. he enjoys making eye contact with you as his cock throbs in your cunt.

disassociating isn't a possible outcome for you anymore.

it's wet now, you realized as elias arches his back, whimpers being choked out of him.

you try your best to block out his sounds, but it's hard when he's being so loud.

"please... please... please..."

you don't realize you're begging, but your husband hears you, drool falling down his chin as he wildly thrusts his cock inside of you, almost seeming euphoric as he sobbed out, the sound resonates in your room, the banging of the expensive headboard making you feel sick.

elias is a sick man, you think, but you're thankful he wasn't in the mood for a whipping tonight.

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 17 — hs

After his father's death, Harry Styles must take control of the family mafia while dealing with his unpredictable brother, Silas. He meets Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, and learns about their arranged marriage.

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Y/N hated her family home. La villa.

Every time she stepped inside, the familiar scent of leather and old wood crept into her nostrils, and the walls seemed to close in around her, trapping her in the suffocating memories of her childhood. This house wasn’t a home—it was a prison, filled with ghosts of her past and the weight of her father’s oppressive control. Every room held echoes of Federico's voice, his cruel commands, the forced compliance, and the moments she wished she could forget.

Her feet dragged across the marble floors as she made her way down the hallway. The paintings on the wall, relics of wealth and power, stared down at her with cold indifference. She hated how this place always made her feel so small, so powerless. Every step felt heavier as she approached the office—the room where Federico had broken her spirit time and time again.

Y/N wasn’t the same girl who had left this place. She had found strength outside these walls. But being here brought back every ounce of fear, every memory of the things her father had made her do against her will. The weight of it all pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe.

As she reached the door, she paused, taking in a deep breath before entering. Federico sat behind his large mahogany desk, his eyes gleaming as he looked up at her. The same smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, the one he used when he knew he had power over her.

“Ah, Y/N. You’re finally here,” Federico said smoothly, rising from his chair. “Come, sit. We have much to discuss.”

Y/N reluctantly took a seat in front of his desk, her posture stiff. She wasn’t here for a pleasant reunion. She could feel the tension, the unspoken manipulation hanging in the air like a thick fog.

Her hands gripping the armrests of the high-backed chair. The room, with its dark wood paneling and heavy drapes, felt suffocating as Federico began to speak. His voice, steady and authoritative, carried a story she had heard many times before, but this time, it seemed more personal, more direct.

“Yesterday I had my afternoon free, so I had a chance to catch up on my reading. It was lovely. I even got to read over the old families books” Federico began, his eyes locking onto hers. “What I read it resonated with me and I felt the need to tell you about it”.

Y/N's gaze remained fixed on him, her heart already heavy with the weight of what was to come. Federico leaned against his desk, his expression somber yet intense.

“Many generations ago, during the height of our family’s influence, there was a man named Giovanni Alighieri,” Federico continued. “Giovanni was my great-grandfather’s closest friend, a man who was like a brother to him. They built their empire together, side by side, facing challenges and forging alliances. Their bond was unbreakable—or so it seemed.”

Federico’s eyes darkened as he spoke. “Giovanni’s loyalty was tested when an outsider, a wealthy and influential merchant, offered him a tempting deal. This merchant promised Giovanni untold riches and power if he would betray my great-grandfather and sever their partnership. The merchant’s offer was seductive, and for a time, Giovanni wavered.”

He paused, letting the gravity of the story sink in. “Giovanni accepted the merchant’s offer, believing he could have it all—wealth, power, and influence. But the moment he betrayed my great-grandfather, everything changed. The merchant’s promises were empty. The wealth he was promised was nothing more than smoke and mirrors, and the power was fleeting.”

Federico’s voice grew colder. “When the betrayal was discovered, the consequences were swift and severe. My great-grandfather was left to fend for himself, but Giovanni faced a much harsher fate. The merchant, having used Giovanni to further his own ambitions, discarded him once his usefulness had ended. Giovanni was left with nothing—no wealth, no power, no friends. He lived out his days in obscurity, a cautionary tale for those who would betray their own.”

Federico’s gaze bore into Y/N’s. “The lesson here, Y/N, is that family is the cornerstone of everything. Betraying that bond is not just a personal failure; it’s a catastrophic mistake that can unravel everything we’ve ever built. Giovanni’s story is a reminder that loyalty to your own blood is paramount. You must understand that choosing to side with outsiders over your family can lead to your downfall.”

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. The story, though steeped in the past, felt chillingly relevant. Federico’s manipulation was clear, and the weight of the tale was meant to pressure her into reconsidering her loyalty to Harry and his family.

“I understand the importance of family, Father,” Y/N said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But I also believe that loyalty should be earned and not just given because of tradition. I’ve made my choices based on what I believe is right.”

“Family is where your loyalty should lie,” Federico continued, his voice smooth and persuasive. “Your fiancé’s family might offer you comfort and luxury, but they cannot offer you the same bond and protection that your bloodline can. You must understand that.”

A bitter laugh escaped Y/N’s lips. “You’re not talking about loyalty. You’re talking about control.”

Federico’s face remained impassive, though his eyes flashed with irritation. “Control? Perhaps. But it’s also about survival and protecting what’s ours. Harry’s family is an external force—an ally today, but who’s to say they’ll be there when you need them most?”

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard this argument before, and it always seemed to come down to the same point: her father’s need to dominate and manipulate.

“Tell me,” Federico said, his tone shifting to a more insidious gentleness. “What have they promised you that’s worth risking your loyalty to us? Have they given you something more than what we’ve provided? Are they truly your family, or are they just a convenient arrangement?”

Y/N tried to steady her breathing. Federico’s words were like a tightrope she was forced to walk, balancing between her past and her present. “Harry and I have built something real. It’s not just about promises or convenience. It’s about who we are together.” She lied. Things were still rocky between them. However, he didn’t need to know that.

Federico’s gaze hardened. “And what happens when that bond is tested? When your fiancé’s family is no longer there to support you? What will you have left then? Remember, it’s not just about the present—it’s about the future, and what you stand to lose if you don’t choose wisely.”

Y/N felt a pang of anxiety at his insinuations. Federico was always so adept at planting seeds of doubt. She had to remind herself that she had chosen this path, and she needed to stay strong in her decisions.

“You know, Y/N,” Federico said, his voice carrying a tone of dark satisfaction, “Harry is probably already cheating on you. He’s always been unfaithful, if not physically, then certainly emotionally.” Y/N could tell that he. was done being nice and now he was coming directly at her. He wanted to hurt her.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. The accusation was jarring, especially after everything she had learned about her father’s manipulative ways. “Why are you so invested in my relationship with Harry?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “Don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

Federico’s demeanor shifted instantly. His face darkened, and his anger flared. “More important things? You think I’m wasting my time with your personal affairs?” He took a menacing step closer, his eyes narrowing. “I know what you’re really involved in. I know Harry has kidnapped Gina and orchestrated the break-in at Augusto’s house.”

Y/N’s heart raced as Federico’s words hit her like a hammer. She struggled to process the gravity of his claims. “What are you talking about? How do you know all of this?”

Federico’s face was a mask of rage and control. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, Y/N. I’m not blind to the movements of those who threaten my family’s position. Harry’s actions are not just petty crimes—they’re direct attacks against my authority and my interests. His defiance won’t go unpunished.”

Y/N’s mind was spinning. The accusations against Harry were not only devastating but also deeply personal. She felt the weight of Federico’s manipulation more acutely than ever, realizing that his agenda was far more sinister than she had imagined.

“Why are you so determined to destroy him?” Y/N demanded, her voice rising. “What has he ever done to you that justifies all of this?”

Federico’s anger flared again, and he slammed his fist on the desk. “This isn’t just about Harry! This is about maintaining control and power. If Harry can challenge me, it means anyone can. And if anyone can, then my entire empire is at risk. I will not tolerate threats to my family or my position.”

Y/N stared at Federico, seeing him not just as a father but as a tyrant driven by a ruthless desire for dominance. Her heart ached with the realization that her choices were entwined with a web of power struggles and personal vendettas.

“I won’t be a pawn in your game, Federico,” Y/N said, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside. “I have to make my own decisions, and I won’t let you dictate my life or my relationship with Harry.”

Federico’s expression was a mix of frustration and grudging respect. “Do what you must, Y/N. But remember, every choice has consequences. And if you choose to defy me, you must be prepared to face them.”

With that, Federico turned away, his anger simmering but his resolve unshaken. As she left the office, the echo of Federico’s harsh words lingered in her mind. She knew she was caught in a dangerous game, one where personal relationships and family loyalties were tangled in a web of power and betrayal.

Stepping out into the hallway, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. The world seemed darker and more complicated now, filled with shadows cast by Federico’s manipulations and the unsettling truth about Harry’s alleged actions. She had to confront the reality of her situation and make decisions that would impact not just her future but the lives of those around her.

Y/N walked back through the grand hallways of the manor, her thoughts racing. She needed answers, clarity, and a plan. The love she felt for Harry was now overshadowed by suspicion and fear. Her father’s threats had stirred doubts, and the accusation of Harry’s betrayal gnawed at her heart.

Y/N stepped into her home, the weight of the conversation with Federico still heavy on her shoulders. The tension that had built up within her since her father’s accusations now simmered beneath the surface, leaving her feeling uneasy and unsure. As she walked through the entryway, the familiar warmth of the space did little to ease her anxiety.

Giana was seated on the couch, flipping through a book but clearly waiting for her. She glanced up as Y/N entered, instantly picking up on her friend’s troubled expression.

“You okay?” Giana asked, closing the book and setting it aside. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Y/N let out a shaky sigh and dropped her bag onto the nearest chair. She wasn’t sure where to begin, but Giana had always been her sounding board. If there was anyone who could help her navigate the mess in her head, it was her.

“My dad told me something today,” Y/N began, sinking onto the couch beside Giana. “He said Harry’s been sleeping with other people.”

Giana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she didn’t interrupt. She could see that Y/N had more to say, and she waited patiently.

“I don’t even know why it bothers me so much,” Y/N continued, her voice soft and contemplative. “It’s not like we ever talked about exclusivity. I didn’t expect it... because we haven’t really defined what’s happening between us.”

Giana frowned slightly, her gaze focused on Y/N. “Why haven’t you talked about it?”

Y/N paused, running her hand through her hair as she tried to find the words. “I guess... I’m scared. Scared that I’ve been making everything up in my head. That maybe I’m just projecting my own feelings onto him and assuming that he feels the same. And what if he doesn’t? What if I bring it up and it turns out I’m just... imagining this connection?”

Giana leaned forward, her expression softening. “Y/N, do you really like him? Do you have feelings for him?”

Y/N looked away for a moment, feeling vulnerable in a way she hadn’t expected. The answer to Giana’s question was obvious, but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She swallowed hard before finally answering.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I do. I’ve tried to push it down, tried to ignore it, but I can’t. I care about him. A lot. I know I am insane to like someone as ruthless as him, but I can’t help it”

Giana gave her a gentle smile. “Then why are you so afraid of that? What’s the worst that could happen if you tell him how you feel?”

Y/N sighed, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. “What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if this is just some temporary thing for him, and I end up hurt? I’m not sure I can handle that. Especially with everything going on.”

Giana reached over and took Y/N’s hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. “You won’t know until you ask him, Y/N. You can’t keep living in this uncertainty. If you really care about him, you owe it to yourself to find out the truth.”

Y/N nodded slowly, knowing that Giana was right. The fear of rejection and heartbreak had kept her silent for too long, but it was becoming unbearable to stay in this limbo. She needed to confront her feelings and find out where she stood with Harry, even if it meant facing an uncomfortable truth.

“I just don’t know how to bring it up,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Just be honest,” Giana advised. “Don’t overthink it. Harry’s not perfect, but if he cares about you even half as much as you care about him, he’ll listen.”

Y/N bit her lip, her mind swirling with thoughts of her next steps. She wasn’t ready to face Harry just yet, but she knew the conversation was inevitable.

The invitations had been sent, and the wedding was just a week away. Y/N sat in the backyard of the manor, her mind racing with details of the upcoming ceremony. The manor, had been chosen as the venue because it was the safest place. Y/N would be taking the initiation oath the night before the wedding, and Giana had been working tirelessly with Charlie and Lex to ensure everything went smoothly.

Y/N sat at a table, going over a checklist for the day, enjoying the rare peace the sunny afternoon offered. Her thoughts wandered to the oath, the ceremony, and Harry. The anticipation for the wedding filled her with a mix of excitement and dread. Despite the tension with her father and the whispered doubts about Harry’s loyalty, she couldn’t help but wonder what the future would look like after the vows.

She took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the sun relax her, but her mind never quite settled. She was still grappling with the conversation she had with Giana. Her feelings for Harry had grown beyond what she had expected, but the uncertainties, the secrets, and the games people around them played made it hard for her to trust in anything completely.

Just as Y/N’s mind started to drift away from the checklist in front of her, she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. Harry walked out onto the terrace, his expression unreadable, as it often was lately.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was a tension beneath it.

She nodded, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Please"

Harry sat down, looking at her for a long moment before speaking again. "A week away… how are you feeling?"

Y/N smiled slightly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "A little overwhelmed, to be honest. It feels like everything is happening so fast."

"That’s because it is," he replied, a flicker of something dark in his gaze. "But I think we’ll manage”.

"Will we?" she asked, her tone unintentionally sharp, betraying the unease she had been holding in.

Harry raised an eyebrow, sensing the change in her demeanor. "What’s going on, Y/N?"

She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to broach the subject that had been gnawing at her since her conversation with her father. But it had been eating at her long enough. She deserved to know, even if the truth hurt.

"My father said something to me," she began, her voice quieter now. "I think he is just feeding me lies, but I don’t know”.

Harry’s face hardened at her words. He didn’t immediately deny it, and that silence felt like confirmation to her.

Y/N looked down, trying to hide the sting of the moment. "I don’t know why I even brought it up”.

"Stop," Harry interrupted, leaning forward. His voice was softer now, but still intense. "Your father doesn’t know what he’s talking about."

"Then tell me what I don’t know," she replied, finally meeting his gaze again, her eyes searching his for something—anything—that could reassure her.

Harry leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Y/N, his jaw tight and eyes shadowed with unspoken thoughts. He stood up, glancing at the manor behind them before turning back to her.

"Let’s go for a walk," he said suddenly, breaking the tense silence between them. His voice was firm, but there was an underlying vulnerability in his tone. "I’d rather we weren’t here… not for this conversation."

Y/N looked at him for a moment, then nodded. She knew what he meant. The house had too many ears, too many eyes—especially when it came to matters like this. Without a word, she stood, and Harry offered his arm for her to take. It was a simple gesture, one that momentarily reminded her of the boyish charm he used to have, the one she used to admire before everything became so complicated.

“Leave the papers,” Harry said, glancing at the table where her checklist, diary, and half-drunk cup of coffee sat. “Someone will take care of them for you.”

She hesitated, her fingers lingering on the edge of the diary, but then she nodded, letting it go. Together, they stepped off the terrace and onto the freshly cut grass of the manor’s sprawling grounds. It was quiet, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The stillness between them, however, was heavier than the serene afternoon.

They walked in silence for a while, the weight of the conversation they were about to have pressing down on both of them. Harry kept his gaze ahead, his jaw clenched, clearly wrestling with his own thoughts. Y/N finally broke the silence.

“I’m not expecting anything unrealistic from you. I don’t need a fairytale, and I definitely don’t expect love to just happen because it’s not like we’re the typical couple. But I do expect respect.” Her words were steady now, the knot in her chest easing as she let the truth spill out. “I need to know that, despite all of this, you’ll be honest with me. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I do expect respect.”

Harry stopped walking, his brow furrowing slightly. “Respect, yeah?” His tone was low, thoughtful, as if weighing her words. “You think I’ve not been respecting you?”

“It’s not that,” Y/N replied quickly, taking a step closer to him. “It’s just… I don’t know where we stand. There’s been talk… my father said things, things that made me wonder if you—”

“If I what?” Harry asked, his gaze hardening as he locked onto her. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, but his voice remained steady.

Y/N took a breath. “If you’ve been… with someone else.”

His face darkened, not out of anger toward her, but at the mention of Federico. He took her hand in his and started walking again, slower this time.

“Your father’s saying things to turn you against me, Y/N,” Harry said quietly, a heaviness in his voice. “He wants to mess with your head. I told you before—our families have agendas. And that makes this complicated. But what I need you to know is that you’re not just a pawn in this to me. I might not be good at showing it, but…”

Harry hesitated, his grip on Y/N's hand tightening for a brief second. His jaw tensed, and he let out a long breath before finally speaking, his voice softer but laced with tension. "Look, I’m not going to lie to you, Y/N. I have slept with other people." He said it straight, no dodging, no sugarcoating, but the weight of his confession hung in the air between them.

Y/N's stomach twisted, but she stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“It’s not because I don’t care about you,” he added quickly, his tone urgent, as if trying to make her understand before she pulled away. “It’s because I do. And that terrifies me. You’re… you’re already a target just because of me. And every day, every night, it eats me up inside thinking about how easily someone could hurt you just to get to me.”

He stopped walking, turning to face her fully now, his eyes searching hers, desperate for her to understand. “You have no idea how many enemies I’ve made. People who wouldn’t think twice about using you as leverage. I don’t sleep most nights because of it. The thought of you getting caught up in all of this—it’s too much. And I guess… sleeping with other women, it was a way to push you out of my mind, to convince myself that I didn’t care as much as I do.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, the hurt still raw, but something in his voice tugged at her. His eyes were darker than usual, shadowed by something deeper, something real. Fear. Guilt. Shame.

“Harry…” she started, unsure of what to say, her mind spinning with the weight of his words. She had expected to be angry, to feel betrayed, but hearing him like this—seeing the vulnerability in his usually composed exterior—she just felt… lost.

“I know I’m no good at this,” he continued, his voice quieter now, like he was confessing something he’d never let himself admit. “I thought pushing you away would keep you safe, but it hasn’t worked, has it?”

Y/N blinked, trying to process it all, but she could see it. The fear behind his actions. The desperation. He wasn’t just a man playing games or being reckless—he was someone who didn’t know how to deal with his own feelings.

[blackwall-my-tiny-husband]

Thursday bangers 5/8

Lyric prompt game started by @woundedsoul12 thank you for the tag too!!!! I love these! You also said you wanted some lighter maybe fluffier things with these lyrics so I made so much tooth rotting fluff you’ll be gagging by the end

Rules: Free from a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays)

This week's prompt is :: taylor swift’s Lover - I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

🔹 Set after A Murder of Crows and The Heart of the Titan

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The scent of a warm tea wafted over to him as Zalan entered the observatory and headed over to where Harding was sipping from a cup. She hummed and handed him the other full cup and the crow took it, a pensive look on his face.

Taking a sip and watching the crow lean against the wall between the big windows she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Lucanis is the First Talon now which means the crows are going to throw some grand elaborate ball…” He trailed off, taking a drink of the tea with an appreciative hum. Reaching out he tugged her closer to him, which she allowed with a chuckle, the sound light and lovely.

“Is that a problem? Aren’t you used to all the things the crows do by now?” She teased and Zalan just smiled.

Gently, he took the cup from her and set them both down on the shelf behind him. Harding looked confused for a heartbeat but he took her hands, positioning them into what could pass as some sort of dance though it wasn’t any ballroom dance that anyone would know but something more intimate and relaxed.

“Zalan.” She was saying his name like a chide but he only begun swaying with her, and forcing her to move with him or make them both tumble. She was squinting at him but he smiled softly, reverently at her.

“I need to practice, what if they ask me to dance at this party.” He explained, turning them slowly, inching a tiny bit closer. She looked up at him shaking her head but mirth shone in her eyes. She let them sway to the sounds of rustling plants and birdsong for a few quiet moments.

“You call this dancing?” She teased, giving in and leaning her head on his chest, letting him lead them around the room in slow circles. He hummed in answer, very content to keep them swaying slowly.

Zalan could have led them in some official grand sweeping ballroom dance but those were always for show. He’d been forced to learn various dances as part of his crow training. The da Riva’s had a reputation for being charming, good dancers, smooth talkers, and big flirts. Any time there was a ball in Antiva there would be girls and boys haunting the dance halls wanting to be swept away by some dashing crow.

He’d done it himself in the past, he could be charming, he knew how to dance even if he didn’t like it. He could bow and flirt and let pretty girls and handsome boys swoon over him.

But he would much rather be here in Harding’s room filled to the brim with green life dancing like uncoordinated geese to no real music. Tangled in Lace Harding’s arms.

“When the crows throw their celebration will you come with me?” His voice was soft, they were close enough he could whisper and she’d still easily hear him.

The sunbeams cast long stretches of yellow into the green of the room, they were warm when the couple gently swayed through them and Zalan moved them slowly, enjoying the fade sun’s heat.

This time it was Lace’s turn to hum in response and she let them turn a few times, lingering in the sun before she replied.

“I’ve always got your back. Someone has to watch your blind spot when you go all goo goo eyed at me.” It was a quietly amused response but the warmth from it made him smile all the same, rivaling the actual heat from the sun pooling into the room.

“I can’t help it, Lace Harding you melt my heart.”

He knew he was being mushy but he didn’t care, maybe spending a year with Varric was rubbing off on him, the writers flowery words and poetic turn of phrase. She grumbled something, the tips of her ears going pink, making her freckles stand out even more.

“For every crow event? I’ll always need extra eyes. Viago already tells me I’m an easy target so you’ll have your work cut out for you.” He swayed them, watching what he could see of her face against his shirt.

“You’re a boob.” She whispered it but turned her head to look up at him, eyes intense and full of love. She hadn’t said the exact words herself yet, hadn’t said love like Zalan had blurted when she kissed him the first time or like the handful of times since then that the words had fallen from him lips like an oath or a prayer answered.

But he knew by her touches, her teasing, her gaze when it looks like this. That those were tells, they meant love even if her tongue didn’t say it.

Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead he let his feet stop moving them.

“I’ll invite you to every ball. Ask your hand for every dance.”

“And I’ll be with you to the end.” Came her reply and Zalan knew that too was a silent I love you in Harding.

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Im going to gently tag @davrinsleftpectoral @a-mumbling-nerd @chaosherald @thedissonantverses @shadowcrow @beetle-keeper

[angelsdean]

don't know how people multi-fandom. dipped my toe into another one and immediately backed out bc everyone there was insufferable.