#FROM A TOXIC FORMER RELATIONSHIP

[ahollowgrave]

Hiiii do you have any more writings or musings about None? I was in your writing tag the other night and they came up a couple times but I'm not sure if I should be picturing a miqo'te or some sort of service animal/familiar lol

Hello! That's so fair, my Odette writings do not offer a lot of description for them! They do have their own tag [HERE] although not much is in it, currently. Some of the screenshots I'm including here and the writings which you've already seen! I'm very sorry for how rambling this is but None is where a lot of alts and relationships spawn from! None is neither a miqo'te nor a service animal (though I think they'd give a huff at the title)! None is the saddest creature in the whole world, a widower, Odette's favorite lil guy, Gerry's estranged step-parent, and a Lalafell:

A Lalafell ranger who makes their living guiding people through the Shroud. These days they are 'mostly' retired. They're well past their middle age and when they were younger they made a deal with sylphs. To be fleet-footed and quick and the best hunter. It came with some side effects:

They wear a hat to cover the ears. It's a bit silly to have two sets and, frankly, None doesn't wanna talk about it. They are stoic, pragmatic, and a bit of a hermit when they can afford it. None is a widower, their late wife was an duskwight woman named Aloutte, who was a widow herself with a young child; Geraldine. None and Gerry were never close and in the wake of Aloutte's passing that distant only grew. None and Odette met at the Menphina temple she was raised at. The Sisters there offer grief counseling and when Aloutte first fell sick she made them go to make the transition easier. A child at the time, Odette was obsessed from the moment they met. A pale shadow trailing after them. Where None failed with Gerry, they bonded with Odette. After Aloutte's passing None returned to the temple to live long term, some grievers need more support than others, they and Odette spent a lot of time together. They very much fill a uncle/aunt role for Odette; a trusted advisor who isn't the adults who raised her. When Odette took her vows and started to travel it was None who traveled with her, taught her basic outdoors skills, bought her Beauty and taught her how to care for chocobos. When Odette has to leave her flock of karakul to travel it is None she calls to care for them. Also, while Aloutte's loss and the grief that follows is very important to None as a character I feel it is important to note they were the saddest creature in the whole world before they knew the warmth of Aloutte's embrace! Sometimes you're just born with a heavy heart, you know? Because of how important they are to Odette. Odile... fucking hates their guts. Oooh, she hates their guts so much!!! The feeling is mutual and Odile and None have come to blows a few times. Something they both keep from Odette; None because they don't want to make her worry, Odile because she'll use the information to drive a wedge at some point. None also features in Odette's WoL AU, they're an honorary scion and spend most of their time with the other off-screen members. They spend time with Krile and Tatatru discussing lalafell things and I like to imagine that F'lhaminn and None have a lot to talk about. This is... pretty long so I will stop here! But I hope this satisfies some curiosity about None and thank you SO MUCH for asking about them!

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Being in the same two fandoms for 4 years is the most humbling experience with human nature I've ever experienced

[mystxmomo]

Oh shit. Another curiouscat I had to move to tumblr because I broke character limit again.

So I am combining these two together in the same ask because, in truth, I don't think you can talk about Luca and Alva being mischaracterized separate from each other. So much of their mischaracterization comes from a respective opposing interpretation of the other character. I'm actually going to start with Luca, because I do think this is his story for better or for worse.

Guys. Luca is an adult.

More then that, Luca is an abuse victim and an adult runaway. Like that's not a headcanon, that's plain text canon. His dad neglected his family. He got a college application and rejected it within his deductions. 1900 wasn't so long ago that people were going to college at 16. By the time we meet him in the canon of the story, He's an abuse victim still dealing with that, a newly disabled former able bodied man, and coming out of Victorian prison.

A lot of people view Luca as being very childish for how he handled the fight with Alva. And to some degree it was, Luca doesn't seem like he has very good emotional regulation in the way a lot of young adults in that age range just generally are not. Even in the modern day, the amount of early 20 something's having breakdowns on their Twitter page about the injustices of the world is immeasurable.

But he wasn't /in the wrong/. From Luca's perspective, for all the information that he has. Alva Lorenz IS a thief. Not only is he a thief, but he's a thief in such a way that it, TO LUCA'S KNOWLEDGE, profited off his fathers work at the expense of his families well being. His mom died, man. And learning that Alva had those plans recontextualizes it to be just as much Alvas fault as it is his father's.

He has every right to feel betrayed! He has ever right to indignation! Alvas entire platform, to the information Luca has available to him, is based on plagiarization and theft of his families ideas. While there's shown to be a confrontation, we know this argument went on for a significant amount of time because Lucas deductions SHOW people talking about it. Luca accused him of being a thief before the confrontation that killed Alva and disabled Luca, and at any point inbetween that process Alva Lorenz could have sat him down and explained to him that he worked with his father, and that he had as much right to their ideas as his family.

But he didn't. Because Alva Lorenz is kind of a coward! He thought it would go away on its own!

This is where we get into the Alva Lorenz side of things.

Alva, from everything we have been given, is an incredibly immature man hiding that immaturity under the guise of stem professionalism, and then religious authority. With all of the above in mind, even if their relationship WAS strictly a platonic mentor-student relationship, let alone a sudo-familial one, it would not be a healthy one. Their relationship is not a healthy one.

They are both adults. Alva Lorenz is the adult with more life experience. He is the one that should have sat Luca down and explained himself. But he did not. Alva is not mature. He is not a good man. He would NOT be a good father figure. People, when they ship him with Herman, really try to make the fact they have wives work with lavender marriage. You are being too kind to his character. He would have cheated on his wife to be with Herman. And I understand wanting a more positive approach to these relationships, I understand not wanting the female characters to suffer. But that is not the canon we are presented. And we know this, because of how he treated Ann.

If he was a father figure, he would be willing to enable Herman's neglect. He was willing to enable the cat cults abuse of power to get what he needed, and he would be willing to enable Herman's neglect for that same reason. We don't know what he got from the cat cult yet, but we know he was willing to work with them. We know from Ann's perspective that he ruined her life. We know from Alvas perspective that he doesn't even think about the fact that he ruined her life, because she is NONEXISTENT in his narrative. It is ALL about Luca, and his relationship to the Balsa's.

And that's good writing. I know people are disappointed that she doesn't pop up more with him, but that tells you exactly the kind of authority figure he is. She was no one to him, and he treats her like she's no one.

The thing about Luca Balsa is that he loves passionately. Everything he does is from a place of sincere belief in the *rightness* of it. He feels as strongly as he does about perpetual motion because he believes it can help people, and if HE discovers it, HE is helping people. He sincerely does care about the people in his life, even if he is a moron about it. I think Alva Lorenz is a selfish man. I think he loved Herman, and Loves Luca, and because he cares about them that's what his focus is. He does not care that he hurt Ann through the cat cult. As far as we can tell, he does not care that Ann exists. Alva Lorenz exists in a perpetual state of "fuck you I got mine."

The most infuriating part about all of this is that Luca already has a surrogate father figure within The narrative of IDV. He HAS someone that does want to be a healthy mentor figure to him. It's BURKE. burke has been projecting onto him since we have gotten his second year letter. This relationship with Burke is literally what people who don't like Alvaluca characterize the Alva & Luca relationship to be. But at the end of the day, their goal isn't exploring a complications student-teacher relationship. It's engaging with a set of characters in a way they personally see as being morally correct.

And don't get me wrong. I do have a few issues with the Alvaluca community's interpretation of the two that I've never been quite quiet about, and that gets a lot of AlvaLuca people really defensive sometimes. The Alvaluca relationship IS an unhealthy one. You cannot get around that. No matter how much they love and care about eachother, they are so deeply and horribly bad for eachother. But that's the meat of it. They're soulmates in the worst possible way. Theyre always going to effect eachother, intrinsically and miserably.

Above all else, I want to explore Alvaluca as this really uncomfortable relationship. I want the eternity manor au to be brimming with melodrama over the Alvaluca relationship. I want Tracy to try and talk to him directly about her concern only for him to dismiss her. I want Naib to try and bring it up while they're smoking only for Luca to LIE HIS ASS OFF about not thinking anything is wrong with their dynamic. I want Edgar to hate Alvas guts because he's fucking Luca, because he sees the situation and he projects his situation with Sarai and sees red.

Because the unfortunate reality of being an adult that exists in the working world is that your friends will get into these deeply uncomfortable, deeply unhealthy relationships. There will probably be a time where someone you personally care about date someone two decades older than them. One of your college classmates will get caught hooking up with the professor. One of your retail coworkers will get caught fucking in the break room. Some of these relationships will crash and burn, some of them will move on to marriage despite the power imbalance. These are very real things that happen all the time and to say that we are forbidden from exploring that in Media is absolutely goddamn ridiculous.

[livingnotonlysurviving]

Honestly it really is love that makes the difference. I’ve been in the hospital for a couple days and yes it’s hard but my bf and so many friends have shown me love and support. I’m in pain but I’m never alone.

[saturngas]

him getting hard at you yelling at him

[🪐] the kyoto exchange event is soon and your husband has been meeting up a lot with a coworker. you get a bit jealous, not aware that your husband may have a thing with that

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: a bit angsty at the beginning, suggestive, not really smut

warnings: established relationship; jealousy; possessiveness; boners; a bit of toxicity; idk if this is super canon but some scenarios are from the jjk game phantom parade;

word count: 2.9k

..

this is stupid right? you know your husband has a natural charm that is often misinterpreted as annoying and obnoxious. not everyone is prepared to receive all that satoru gojo has to offer, only a few people have dared to try to keep up with him, including yourself.

and you knew his coworkers weren't really... fond of him.

so why were you all of the sudden so bothered by him going out so much with his female coworker utahime?

the sister school exchange event was happening soon, in two weeks to be more precise. you were a former sorcerer yourself, though you weren't really involved in the education regarding the sorcery school; so this event was more of satoru's business, you were only required to be present during the group combat.

"sweet cheeks, im going out with nanami! just to discuss things about the exchange event." he had said one day. you wished him good luck with no negative thought in mind.

"baby, Nanami wasn't of much help, so now I have to go talk with utahime." he pouted. and you paid no mind. it was known to almost every breathing being that utahime wasn't confortable around satoru, even as going to telling him to leave her alone. that has being their relationship since satoru was in high school, him often disrespecting her authority and status as a sorcerer, and her just chastising him as his former senior.

so why were you so troubled if you knew this about them? well probably them going out three times this week stirred a nerve.

it's because the exchange event. you kept telling yourself, but you couldn't avoid the venomous feeling of jealousy. which was an actual insult to your relationship with satoru, who had never given you reasons to doubt him, on the contrary, he often showers you with infinite love and words of affirmation that only fulfill your love for him.

but hasn't utahime grow tired of him already? you questioned deeply. she was his number one despiser. being with satoru for only ten minutes aged her ten years. you were incredulous she was lasted so much around your husband. even if it was work-related.

it was a Friday. your husband visited his female coworker twice this week, this day being the third encounter. he hadn't told you where, though you were sure he would have told you if you were to ask him. but you didn't. it was your untouched pride that had stopped you from that. not wanting to make your jealousy public. you were certain of the endless teasing satoru would treat you with.

you were alone in your shared house. it was actually your day off. day you had planned to spend it with your silly spouse, before his phone buzzed and he announced his meeting with utahime. it would be a lie to say you weren't upset.

"take care, toru. and please come back soon." your farewell felt bittersweet, bitter to you, sweet to satoru. his obliviousness about the hurricane going inside your core was only contributing to your indignation.

as you turned on the tv in front of you, you tried brushing off the corrosive sensations that came within the recap of the events occurred this week. the remote seemed to have a mind of its own as you picked some random show absentmindedly, just something to cloud your head.

utahime was actually a nice and proper woman. she has always being respectful to you and only occasionally made discrete comments about your relationship with satoru, questioning amusingly how you put up with him. she was obviously no harm, even less to your husband.

perhaps it was your primal instincts that were responsible of your disapproval of them going out so much. you weren't exactly the jealous type. okay, maybe you were fussing too much over this situation.

the tv show actually completed its purpose and distracted you effectively. your mind now wondering how the main character was going to open up his own jazz club.

the door opening startled you slightly, turning your head immediately to see the person you had been missing the whole evening. satoru kicked off his shoes at the entrance as he stepped closer to you, a hand running through his snowy hair and taking off his rectangular glasses.

"oh baby, you should have seen utahime! she is so bad at playing baseball even though she's a fan of it!"

what a fucking dumbass. your eyes full of love threatened to turn wicked at such comment. so he went to play baseball with her?! it wasn't work-related?!

"what do you mean, satoru?" your tone wasn't the kindest. "I thought you went out to talk over the final details about the exchange event."

"oh, that," satoru was now aware of your little irritation, your evident pitch of voice made sure of that. "yeah it is very important for the event, baby!"

"how so?" exasperation was written all over your face, making story wince a bit. you lifted yourself up from the couch to face him.

"do you really want me to tell you? I mean, I wanted it to be a surprise for the studen—"

"what could possibly be a surprise, satoru?!" you snapped. the first two thirds of his sentence infuriated you so much you didn't even listen to his last words. "you going out three times with utahime this week was definitely a suprise for me."

his baby blue eyes were as wide as plates. he didn't expect you to yell at him over this. and for some reason, he felt himself warmer.

"and, and now—" red was coating your face, endless frustration ready to be busted in forms of hurtful words and angry glances. "and now you're telling me you were playing baseball with her?! and expect me to be all okay with that? what kind of work-related stuff requires two coworkers to go out and play baseball alone?"

satoru was in a state of awe at first, his face displaying the shock your exposed irritation caused him. but his bad habit of fixing situations with comedy and witty remarks had entered the scene. it would have normally calmed you down, if it wasn't for the pent up frustration that was on the picture.

"oh~ so you were jelly~?" he sent you a wink, his lanky body getting closer to yours by instinct. "don't worry baby. I have eyes only for yo—" wrong move.

"how could you joke about this, satoru?!" your loud words stirred something inside him, something that should not be stirred nor awaken during these moments. "im here trying to tell you how I feel and you just— you just joke arou—" your words were fading away in his hearing. your red face and glassy eyes only on his mind. oh how pretty you looked when you were angry, especially when you were yelling at him. a wicked part of satoru was glad your undivided attention was on him, even if it was you snapping at him. your overly licked lips were moving furiously as you cried out your thoughts.

"and now you are spacing out!" you snapped your fingers in front of him. satoru's mind went back to the scenario occurring in the living room.

"baby, you have literally nothing to worry abo—"

"stop talking and let me finish."

oh no. he loved you and hated you for that. satoru fell in love hard for your personality, admiring how you never left anyone cut your words. you always stood for yourself, shouting your thoughts in a confident voice. and in a world still ruled by men such as the sorcery world, that was very hard to achieve. but oh how he hated that exact same admiration for your courage became warm enthusiasm—lust—in a couple of seconds. your sharp tone kindled his core, feeling his pants a bit tighter in the front.

not now please... he cursed in the back of his head. you were already cooking him, a visible boner would be the death for him. a reasonable motive to make him sleep in the couch and put him in a sex—or even touch, if you were feeling sinister—ban.

"i don't like it when you joke when I tell you about my feelings," there it was again, that stern voice he loved so much, though he cursed it at the moment. "I also don't like it when you go out too much with utahime."

if you only knew you were making him hard as hell from yelling at him you wouldn't even have to worry about his female friends.

"is that understood, satoru?" you lifted one single finger to emphasize your point even more. that little habit of yours, along with placing a hand on your hip and slightly wobbling your head, was going to be his final straw.

"yeah, of course baby." he breathed, sending you an apologetic look. "can we go to bed, already? I need cuddles."

you shot him an unamused glare. uh maybe you weren't done. satoru could feel his hot skin sticking to his clothes thanks to his sweat. you held so much power over the strongest.

"why were you playing baseball with her?"

"baby it wasn't anything of the sort!" he said agitated. "you know that after the group combat usually comes the individual combats, and I just know yuji will be in danger," you nodded at his words. that was true. satoru had told you a few days before he suspected of someone plotting against the young sorcerer. "so I wanted to change the routine and make it about something fun, you know? something harmless, like some sport the kids will enjoy."

your heart actually softened at his explanation. satoru's priorities embraced the security of the youth, especially that of the newest first-year student, which was often at jeopardy.

however, that explained nothing.

"what does that have to do with you going out with—"

satoru cut your words, and flinched slightly at the way your eyes narrowed and your brow curled up. "I couldn't come up with something myself, so I asked nanami and utahime to go out to play a sport they liked. of course I couldn't tell them what I was plotting," his hands motioned to himself. "nanami took me to bowling, I liked it, but then I thought it wouldn't be a good idea especially for yuji and maki, you know how they are." you nodded. "and then utahime took me to a baseball simulator, and it was all perfect!" he said enthusiastically, lifting his long arms in victory. he was feeling so hot his forehead was shining with sweat. it was becoming harder and harder to contain his boner. the last thing he wanted was to nut mid-explanation.

you widened your eyes in both wonder and confusion.

"no! i mean—," he panicked "it was all perfect because the game was perfect for the kids. not that it was perfect to go out with her!" your husband tried to save himself.

an unannounced sighed left your lips. you were still glaring at him, and even though satoru was a foot taller than you, you were making him a bit too much nervous.

—that and the fact that his stiff boner was still present, only softening lightly when he panicked at your misunderstanding. his little friend was eager for you to yell at him as well.

"am i forgiven now?" he battled his long white lashes to you, giving you the babiest of looks, deeply hoping you would end this silly discussion and take care of him.

"mmm..." a finger rubbed your chin as you pondered about it. "I don't know, satoru," he deflated in front of you. "why didn't you ask me for help? you know I like sports too."

"of course I thought about you, pookie! you were the first person I considered" a pout adorned his pretty face as his long arms attempted to hug you, only for you to step back. "please don't do that, im gonna start crying."

"answer the question satoru."

"it's just that you were so busy with work I genuinely didn't want to disturb you more."

it was true. even though you were not a teacher at the school, the exchange event also demanded you of your time, your main concerns being completing and getting the arrangements ready, especially with the higher ups—the part satoru disliked the most—, and making the them believe sukuna's vessel was still dead.

"but it could have been just a simple question, satoru." there you were again with that rigid tone of yours. haven't you noticed satoru is all red faced and his cock is starting to ache? of course not, because you hate him, right?

"I know baby~" a whine left his mouth, eyes pleading you two could just cuddle and maybe, just maybe, you could stroke him a bit. "but you were very, very, very stressed, I really didn't want to put another burden on you. you would often come very tense after a meeting with the higher ups."

you huffed. well, you guessed you could give that to satoru. but it still hurt he didn't even ask you the simple question, or even explaining to you his little plan. he was certain you wouldn't object.

"okay, satoru," the tall man's ears spiked at your words. ready to say yes to your proposal to cuddling. "I still need some time to cool down. so I'll go to bed." your feet dragged you to the hallway after you turned off the tv, satoru following you behind. "no," you lifted your palm toward him, stopping him. "you sleep in the couch."

"but whyyy?"

"because you didn't tell me sooner about all this! and because im still mad at you."

satoru let out a dramatic puff, blowing raspberries. he grabbed quickly his things and prepared himself for a lonely night. the disappointment from not sleeping next to you dissipated his boner.

the next day you actually didn't see each other until night. satoru had to attend a clan meeting while you met with the directors of both sorcery schools to go over all the remaining affairs.

exhaustion drew all over your face as you entered your house, a recently cooked meal aroma invading your nostrils. your feet pulled you toward the exquisite scent with little resistance. the view of your tall husband hovering over the stove welcomed you.

"hey pookie boo," satoru said excitedly as he stirred whatever he was making. tapping the utensil away before invading your personal space. "how was your meeting with the directors? they weren't rude to you, were they?" he smiled as he enveloped you in a affective hug. you hadn't forgotten about his little game from last night, but you would be lying to yourself if you admit you hadn't missed his warmth.

"it was fine, very tiring," you looked at him with tired eyes, making his heart do several jumps at your cuteness. "they made me go over all the details about the curses they will release, discussing if they were the appropriate levels for the students."

"oh poor you~" he sang. "let me feed you fully and then we can go to bed and have a well deserved sleep," he was trying to get away.

"hey!" you yelped. satoru felt his dick stir and enlarge. "don't think I haven't forgotten about last night," a stern pitch adorned your voice.

"baby, please," he whined, "if you knew what you do to me, you wouldn't be like this," he hinted silently to the ache between his legs. "what do you want me to do to—"

"satoru," a shiver danced along his spine at the sound of his name rolling from your lips. "I want you to only look at me," you don't know what roamed through your being, but a sudden urge of claiming him took over you. your bottled up feelings from last night revealing themselves. perhaps the heat of the moment didn't let you communicate your darkest desires.

your smaller frame was still held captive by his heavy arms. you lifted your arms to surround his neck, bringing him closer to you, chest to chest. satoru left you handle him as you pleased. he caressed your waist as you stared up at him, darkness painting itself over your irises, your gloomy gaze contributing to the tightening feeling of his pants, his present hard-on sharpening his breathing.

"i want your to only look at me," a twitch inside his pants.

"i want you to give me your full attention," a throb.

"i want you to only think of me," a pulse.

"you are mine, satoru, and as far as I know, im yours. so don't you ever forget that." the white haired sorcerer could bet his underwear was damp from his leaking. why were you like this?

you nuzzled your nose against his, before giving his lips a chaste kiss. "baby you are so hot when you are toxic like that." you chuckled lightly at his words, brushing your fingers along the short hairs of his undercut. you swear you could hear him purr.

"toru don't romanticize this side of me or I'll be more toxic than the elephant's foot." satoru gave your butt a little squeeze before bringing one hand up to play with your cheek, squeezing it as well, before leaving a soft peck on it. his lips then moved to yours, sharing a long and passionate kiss with you. oh how much he missed your touch.

"baby would you get mad at me if I tell you I was hard as a rock when you were yelling at me last night? no one has that power over me."

"what"

[collecting-dustbunnies]

The longer I play Obey Me, the more I feel like Obey Me is a story about how the MC, in their quest to seek acceptance by the people they care about, ends up destroying themselves in the process and losing the very thing that made them so special and loved in the first place.

In the beginning of OG, they started off as just a normal human who got whisked away to a weird ass world where literally nobody respects them. Despite this, they recognised from the beginning that these demons and angels were not so different from humans. MC's ability to see the demons as actual people and not just beings controlled by their sins was what allowed them to form close bonds with them. They had good intentions to reunite the demon brothers who had undergone centuries of misunderstanding, resentment, and pent up grief. Even though they were excessively nosy, MC's unique position as a complete outsider allowed them to see just how much love the demon brothers had for each other, and how they can become closer if everybody would just better communicate with each other. Serving as the bridge to better improve the brothers' relationships was what convinced the demon brothers to also see MC as a member of their family.

But as the MC became more involved in the Devildom's problems, they started to adopt the same toxic traits that had created wedges between the brothers in the first place. From relying heavily on their pacts to subdue the brothers, to allowing a curse to control Barbatos (even though they had the ability to break it), to going along with the brothers' manipulative scheme to trick Satan into reconciling with Lucifer when Satan ran away to the human world -- it's almost like MC has unconsciously picked up on some of their loved ones' behaviour. Gone are the days where MC brings in a new perspective to problems. Now, they just embrace the chaos and their more darker traits, for that is what is expected of them to survive in the Devildom. And since everyone within their circle puts them on a pedestal, this further affirms to the MC that this is how they should be.

Dealing with the affairs of the Devildom had also caused the MC to grow more apathetic. In the beginning, they had been actively taking steps to form pacts with the brothers and were generally very invested in freeing Belphie from the attic. They remained true to themselves and insisted that they form a pact with Satan based on mutual trust and understanding, and not just as a means to smite Lucifer. Despite being in a helpless situation, MC never refused to give up their agency. But the longer MC gets involved with these shenanigans, the more they grew... numb to everything.

Solomon bringing me back to the Devildom unannounced? Oh, sure. Diavolo and Solomon hiding the reasons for my sudden return? Not my problem.

Simeon facing a problem to the point of having a quarter of the cast acting as his bodyguards? Eh, I'll just ignore it until I can't anymore.

Watching and waiting. That's what they have resorted to doing.

And that mindset of kicking problems down the line until it lands on MC's doorstep and they have no choice but to act -- that's exactly how they have been acting when they were stuck in NB, hasn't it? MC didn't bother forming pacts with the past version of the brothers until they were given an ultimatum, and even then, they simply relied on the convenient timing of each brother struggling with an inner crisis to swoop in, resolve the situation and tick them off their checklist.

MC in NB seems like an unfortunate culmination of everything they faced so far. They're too apathetic to care about getting sent to an unfamiliar place once again, too desensitised to life in the Devildom to reclaim their agency, and too desperate to earn the love of their former family to even think about anything else. They became so co-dependent to the demon brothers that they seem to think they cannot live without them or their affection, even if the ones they are living with in the past are different people from the ones they grew to love in the present.

The phrase "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" fits way too perfectly for the Obey Me MC. After all, MC keeps getting rewarded every time they try to get themselves killed (or even when they actually got killed). Maybe that's the only way they know how to resolve problems.

So if they can't die as the hero, they'll just learn to live as the villain.

[elix8r]

Monkey Bars (sjy) Part 2

PART ONE

PAIRING: jake sim x fem!reader

GENRES: smut, angst (so much in this part), college au, frat au, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers

WARNINGS (for this part): profanity, underage drinking, violence, depression, so much slut shaming, kind of toxic relationship?, lots of crying and emotions, mentions of sex tape, unprotected sex, fingering, soft sex, victim blaming

SUMMARY: Jake Sim was like the epitome of the perfect fourth-grade boyfriend. He had it all – being a year older automatically put him on the cool list (which in turn also boosted your popularity), genuinely kind, and very cute. But then, the earth-shattering truth that he was a two-timing cheater hit you like a ton of bricks. You caught him red-handed, holding another girl's hand and it devastated you beyond measure. So of course, in your nine-year-old mind, there was only one deserving punishment – a forceful push off the monkey bars during recess, resulting in a broken arm. 

And so, the battle lines were drawn. You and Jake became sworn enemies, a feud that carried on even into college. You saw him as a total fuckboy who always knew how to get under your skin, while he saw you as a snobby bitch who thought she was better than everyone else. But fate, in its twisted sense of humor, had other plans. Out of a class brimming with a hundred other possibilities, it was Jake who ended up being your assigned partner. 

Clearly, the world had favorites and you weren’t on that list.

WORD COUNT: 18.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i know it’s been almost a year since the first part came out and so much has happened since then but seriously thank you to everyone who waited patiently for this it really means so much to me that this story was loved as much as it was and i hope this last part doesn’t disappoint! seriously love you guys so much and enjoy! 🫶

THE FRAT DIARIES MASTERLIST

GLOSSARY

You didn’t really know how the rest of the weekend went. In fact, you weren’t even sure what day of the week it was, but honestly, that was the least of your worries. Since Friday, you had been holed up in your room, refusing to leave your bed. After running out of the bar, it was as if you lost all your memory. You had a hard time recollecting everything when you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and swollen eyes.

According to Wonyoung, when she and Lily followed you out, you were in a state of absolute hysteria, hunched over on the streets, and dry heaving. Niki and Jungwon had stayed behind, and while you were trying to get away, Jungwon had apparently threw a punch, resulting in both of them getting kicked out. But neither of them cared. They came out of the bar seething with anger, not only with how the three boys treated you but also with the realization of what one of their own brothers had done to you. It was as if your body shut down, and Niki ultimately had to carry you back to your dorm. Since then, you haven't left the comfort of your bed.

Throughout the weekend, Wonyoung made sure you were left alone and took charge of your phone, shielding you from any more heartbreaking news. She couldn't bring herself to disclose the truth to you, knowing that what you had assumed was indeed true, and the reality was even more devastating than she had feared. A video was circulating, spreading like wildfire, and it seemed that a large portion of the school had already gotten ahold of it.

Your best friend had also held back in revealing that she had marched over to Epsilon Nu after tucking you in on Friday night and ended up getting AES banned from the EpNu house for the rest of the semester. None of your sisters seemed to care though as they were quick to stand in solidarity with you and wanted no association with their former brother fraternity. In fact, Yeji (AES’ President) had called an emergency meeting the next morning, which you were obviously absent from, to address the severity of this situation and how no one was to engage with the fraternity for the remainder of the semester. Once again, none of your sorority sisters seemed to protest as they all praised Wonyoung for the actions she had taken.

Wonyoung was never one for violence, but upon discovering what Jake had done to you, her sister, best friend, and soulmate, she felt an overwhelming need for him to face the consequences. Jungwon, of course, did his best to reason with her, urging her not to make any rash decisions, but Niki stood firmly in support of Wonyoung's impending actions.

Jake had just put the final touches on your shared project before submitting it when his door was forcefully thrown open. Jay, startled from his slumber on the other side of the room, was bewildered but still groggy. Jake, however, recognized the situation the moment he saw Wonyoung's face twisted in absolute fury. He was too slow to react as she delivered a resounding slap across his cheek, setting off a chain of chaos. Jay was now fully awakened as Jungwon tried to restrain Wonyoung, and Niki stood in the doorway, glaring at Jake. Despite Jungwon's efforts, Wonyoung effortlessly broke free from his grasp and landed a solid punch on Jake’s face, causing him to be met with a searingly painful sensation. The commotion attracted the attention of several of his fraternity brothers, who rushed over to assess the situation. The sight that greeted them was far from what they had anticipated.

Jay and Jungwon struggled to hold back Wonyoung, who had turned feral, screaming and attempting to break free in order to continue her assault on the boy now bleeding on the floor. Jake made no attempt to fight back or escape; he simply absorbed the blows, unable to meet anyone's gaze as guilt washed over him. He knew that once the truth about his actions became known to everyone, he would be left with nothing.

It took the combined effort of about five boys to finally restrain Wonyoung, but by then, the entire house had caught wind of the incident through her passionate outbursts. The piercing looks Jake received from his fraternity brothers only intensified his overwhelming sense of shame. He was immediately summoned into Heeseung's room for an impromptu meeting to address the situation.

"What the actual fuck, Jake!" Heeseung's disbelief was eclipsed by his anger. While Jake had always been one of the more unruly members of the fraternity, this crossed a line that even Heeseung couldn't fathom.

Jake pressed a towel to his still-bleeding nose, remaining silent with his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ so you’re just not going to say anything?” Heeseung scoffed at Jake’s lack of response as he paced around his room. Then, the door opened revealing Taehyun who was in charge of risk management. He entered in silence as he eyed Jake before turning to Heeseung. 

“Soobin thinks you should call Yeji. Wonyoung’s having to be guarded by like five people. She’s crazy like she just yanked Sunghoon by his hair and threw him across the room like he was nothing, it was actually insane. The guys are kind of scared, what do you want me to do?” Taehyun’s normally big eyes were even wider as he informed EpNu’s president of their current situation. 

Heeseung, obviously stressed, exhaled really loudly and combed through his hair. “I’ll handle her and I’m calling Yeji right now. Can you take care of him? I’ll send Yeonjun up to help.” He shot Jake one last look before leaving. 

After Heeseung departed, the room fell into an eerie silence. In contrast to Heeseung's exasperation, Taehyun remained ominously quiet as he took a seat at Heeseung's desk. His unwavering stare fixed on Jake, and as mentioned earlier, Taehyun had a menacing aura when angered, which sent waves of terror through Jake.

"Is it true? What Wonyoung is accusing you of?" Taehyun's voice was cold, devoid of any sympathy for the bleeding boy.

Jake finally mustered the courage to meet Taehyun's gaze. Every fiber of his being urged him to avert his eyes, yet this time he decided to speak up. "Kind of."

Taehyun scoffed, unsatisfied with his response. "What the fuck does that mean? It's a yes or no question."

As Jake opened his mouth to reply, the door burst open, revealing a tall figure. Unlike Taehyun's icy glare, Yeonjun exuded an entirely different energy. He appeared visibly angered. "Did you fucking do it?"

"He says he 'kind of' did it, whatever that means," Taehyun informed the older male, rolling his eyes in Jake's direction.

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes, casting his gaze downward at Jake, both literally and figuratively, as he stood towering over him while Jake remained seated on the bed. "Alright, then what does that mean?"

Jake felt as though he was trapped in an interrogation room, suffocating under the weight of their scrutinizing stares. "I didn't intentionally share the videos. Some of the guys got hold of them and sent them in a groupchat to everyone during practice."

"So it's not your fault that they were leaked, then?" Yeonjun probed further, his confusion evident as he questioned why Jake bore a guilty expression.

Jake let out a heavy sigh before finally confessing, "Yeah, it's not entirely my fault when the videos first leaked, but I didn't do enough to shut it down. I don't know what came over me, but they kept pushing me to show more, and then Jeongin said some things that angered me, so I ended up giving them what they wanted. I thought they would drop it after that, but instead, they started treating me like some sort of god or something, and my ego got the better of me, so I let it continue. Even at that moment, I knew it was messed up, but for some reason, I couldn't stop myself. I just never expected them to confront her about it."

As Taehyun and Yeonjun absorbed Jake's explanation, their demeanors shifted dramatically. Taehyun stood up, seething with anger as Jake finished speaking. "You didn't think they would go after her and harass her about it? Are you seriously that fucking naive? They literally witnessed her most intimate moments, so of course, they targeted her! Unlike us, girls are constantly slut-shamed even for being even the slightest sexual!"

Taehyun practically screamed at Jake, unable to comprehend how he could have been so oblivious to the consequences his actions would have on you. Taehyun struggled to restrain himself from physically attacking Jake, his rage barely contained.

"Jesus, Jake. Taehyun is right. What the fuck were you thinking? Did you ever stop to consider Y/N? Fuck, man. Now you're going to face the repercussions of all this because you’ve really crossed the line this time." As the words of his friends echoed in his mind, Jake couldn't help but long for a chance to turn back time and undo everything.

3 days ago…

When Jake handed his unlocked phone to Eric and Jeongin so they could add their orders to the team's food delivery, he hadn't considered that they would have full access to his phone. He should have sensed trouble when he noticed them laughing loudly in the corner of the locker room. But it wasn't until he heard the sound of text notifications coming from nearby phones that he frowned, realizing the messages were from their group chat.

Reactions varied among the team. Some huddled together, laughing, while others stared at him with varying degrees of confusion, disgust, and amusement. It wasn't until Jisung approached him, asking if he had intended to send the video, that Jake's confusion deepened. Then he heard a familiar sound emanating from a nearby phone, and it dawned on him what had happened. Jake immediately stormed toward them, ready to unleash his anger for invading his privacy and sharing his private videos. But before he could even open his mouth, Jeongin beat him to the punch.

"Jesus, Jake. She doesn't even look like she's enjoying it. I mean look at you. Like this is kind of embarrassing. Clearly having a high body count means nothing by the way you’re fucking."

Jeongin and Jake had never had a good relationship, stemming from an incident during Jake's freshman year when he unknowingly slept with Jeongin's (now ex) girlfriend. Since then, Jeongin had harbored animosity toward Jake, and Jake wasn't about to let him win this time. Without thinking, he did the only thing he believed could counter Jeongin's words.

In an escalating frenzy, Jake's teammates gathered around him as he sat on one of the benches, pulling up a more recent video of the two of you having sex. The explicit video played, filling the locker room with the sound of your loud moans as you sported a fucked out expression while Jake wrapped his free hand tightly around your neck. It became evident, through the videos Jake displayed, that Jeongin had been mistaken. However, Jake hadn't considered the consequences of defending his ego. In his attempt to assert himself, he inadvertently exposed you to a vulnerable position. The initial high he experienced over the following days gradually faded as he came to terms with the gravity of his actions. Furthermore, he had forgotten about the widespread distribution of the videos. Before he could even begin to address his mistakes, it seemed that everything had already spiraled out of control.

While Jungwon had been the first to intervene between Jake and Wonyoung, it wasn't out of concern for Jake's well-being. He was actually holding Wonyoung back to prevent her from getting into trouble. He couldn't care less about Jake right now after all that had happened tonight, and he was relieved that Jake wasn't his big as this situation could have been even more devastating. Instead, he was stuck with the fool on the other side of the room, pathetically nursing his head (Jungwon was sure Sunghoon was actually crying), while Jay inspected it to ensure that Wonyoung hadn't actually scalped him. Still, he would prefer Sunghoon any day over Jake—poor Niki.

However, Jungwon had to admit that his girlfriend was quite terrifying when she was angry. His gaze drifted over to the head-shaped hole in the living room wall, a result of Sunghoon's head being smashed into it by Wonyoung. She had also kicked poor innocent Huening Kai in the stomach during her attempts to break free, and Sunoo appeared disheveled and exhausted from his own encounter with her that he narrowly escaped unscathed. Since then, Wonyoung had calmed down significantly, but everyone remained on guard as if she were a rabid dog that could unpredictably go wild again.

When Heeseung finally entered the living room after informing Yeji of the incident at the house, he took in the scene before him. It almost resembled a battlefield, with everyone tending to their wounds. In any other situation, he might have found it somewhat amusing, but right now, he had too much on his plate to find humor in it.

"Hey Wonyoung, Jungwon, and Niki, can we talk? The rest of you can go back to sleep. I'll speak with you guys in the morning," he addressed the three individuals who were present at the bar. Each of them displayed a range of emotions, with Wonyoung's anger being the most apparent on her face.

Jungwon and Niki nodded in agreement, while Wonyoung seemed unwilling to move from her spot on the couch. With some coaxing from her boyfriend, however, she reluctantly got up and followed them.

The four of them entered the kitchen for more privacy, and Heeseung let out a sigh before delivering the news. "I just spoke with Yeji, and unfortunately, due to the violence you showed towards multiple brothers tonight, AES will be banned from the house until the end of the semester. I’m sorry and I want to let you know that this isn’t at all what I wanted cause I know the reasons behind your actions, but I can’t go against the rules. We'll have time to discuss what will happen next during the break."

Wonyoung couldn't care less about the news. In fact, she was relieved that none of her sisters would have to come into contact with Jake.

"I need to talk to you three about what happened at the bar. I'll be having a more detailed conversation with Jake, but I want to know the full extent of what occurred," Heeseung's voice was stern, and it was perhaps the most serious Jungwon and Niki had ever seen their president.

"It was just three assholes who approached us while we were out and started harassing Y/N. She had no idea what they were talking about, and they assumed Jake had already shown us videos. He obviously hadn’t though so we were confused, but they were so fucking disrespectful towards her," Niki recounted, his brows furrowed and a look of disgust on his face as he recalled the degrading treatment his friend had endured.

This was exactly what Heeseung had feared, as he didn't know if any of the Epsilon Nu boys were involved in the incident. "I'll have to conduct a thorough investigation with Taehyun and Yeonjun over the next week to ensure that no one else was involved. Niki, I know you're Jake's little, and he may not have mentioned this to you, but it doesn't mean he hasn't discussed it with Jay, Sunghoon, or any of the other guys."

Wonyoung's face twisted in anger at Heeseung's words. The mere possibility that some of the EpNu boys could have been involved only fueled her diminishing fury. "Heeseung, I swear, if you find out that Jake had been showing those videos to the boys, I won't give a shit about your stupid fucking ban. I will kill them," she declared, her threat laced with genuine conviction. Wonyoung meant every word. Too many of her loved ones were connected to the boys of EpNu, and if she discovered any of them had prior knowledge of Jake's actions, she would unleash her wrath upon them without hesitation.

Heeseung understood the gravity of Wonyoung's words, knowing full well what she was capable of especially after tonight. He simply nodded silently. "It's getting late, Wonyoung. You should go back to your dorm," he sighed, rubbing his head in exasperation before he addressed her once again, this time expressing his remorse. "And I'm sorry about what Jake did to Y/N. I can't even begin to imagine what she's going through. I understand why you did what you did tonight. I'm not supposed to praise you for punching Jake, and I truly am not, but I want you to know that he will face the consequences he deserves."

His words hung heavily in the air as the three of them absorbed their weight, comprehending its significance and the gravity of Jake's actions. Wonyoung locked eyes with Heeseung, scrutinizing them to ensure he wasn't lying. Satisfied with what she saw, she gave him a firm nod and finally made her way out of the house, with Jungwon following closely behind.

By the following morning, before the sun had even risen, news of the incident had spread among your sorority sisters like wildfire. Their anger surpassed any imaginable limit, prompting many of them to march down to the EpNu house, demanding to confront Jake. Unfortunately, their attempts were in vain, leaving them to seek alternative means of seeking justice for their sister.

Winter, true to her earlier threat, didn't back down. Unable to physically harm Jake, she devised a different plan to inflict pain. With the assistance of Giselle, the sorority's Vice President of Public Relations, they composed an exposé letter, which was then published on AES' public Instagram account, boasting a substantial following of 10k. The letter called out Jake by his full name and provided enough details, carefully avoiding disclosing your identity as the victim, to shed light on his actions. Its publication sparked a significant reaction within the HybeU community, with all the sisters reposting the letter. This, in turn, flooded Jake's and EpNu's social media accounts with a deluge of hate comments, reaching such an overwhelming level that they had to disable their comments section a letter of their own in response. 

Monday arrived, and it came as no surprise that both you and Jake were absent from campus. Your friends managed to coax you out of bed for some breakfast, but the weight of the situation hit you hard as you tearfully picked at your pancakes. Despite the comforting hugs from your friends, the overwhelming sense of shame and regret still consumed you.

Lying on Winter's bed at the AES house, with Wonyoung across from you on her own big's bed, you felt a sense of solace in their presence. It was a natural occurrence for the four of you to hang out like this, given that your bigs were also best friends.

Winter broke the silence with a question, "Have you considered actually taking legal action?"

Honestly, amidst the chaos of dealing with the invasion of your privacy and its fallout, the idea of seeking retribution against Jake hadn't crossed your mind. While you were aware of the intense public scrutiny and the ostracization Jake was facing due to the public outing by your sorority and friends, you had barely had a moment to think about anything beyond handling the aftermath.

"No, not really," you replied, your brows furrowing in thought. "I mean, is there even anything I could report him to the police for?"

"You should, there's bound to be something they could charge him with. Like, at the very least for invasion of privacy, right?" Wonyoung's eyes widened with seriousness as she sat up from her bed, interjecting into the conversation.

Wonyoung’s big nodded in agreement with her little, "Yeah, there's definitely legal grounds for action. This whole situation is fucked up, and there's no way he should get off this easily."

You let out a sigh, feeling a headache starting to form at the mere thought of the complex legalities involved. "It's just so complicated. Plus, haven't we heard enough stories of things like this happening to girls, and even when they speak up, the police don't do anything? It's like I'd have to go through all this with no guarantee of justice at the end."

"There's no fucking way Jake's getting away with this. I mean, sure, everyone's hating on him right now, but give it time. After the break, they'll move on, and he'll be back to his normal life like he didn't just violate you. Meanwhile, you're gonna be forever stuck knowing those assholes have videos of you in your most vulnerable state. It's just not right," Winter vented, frustration evident in her tone. The idea of Jake seemingly escaping consequences fueled an indescribable anger within everyone present.

“Does the school know?” Winter’s roommate asked.

You shrugged in response, "I'm not sure, maybe? AES' post blew up, so it might've caught the attention of the administrators. But if they know anything, they haven't said anything about it."

"Okay, well then let's make sure they know. They'll be obligated to take action if you file an official complaint. We have proof and everything, so if they don't do something, the backlash will be insane," Wonyoung declared, already in action as she reached for her computer to draft the email.

"Wait, wait, wait. I'm not so sure about this," you interjected, your mind suddenly conflicted.

"What do you mean?" Winter chimed in, puzzled by your hesitation.

"I..." You hesitated, struggling to articulate the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "What if he gets like expelled?"

Wonyoung's big wore a baffled expression. "What do you mean 'if he gets expelled'? That's what he deserves! He probably deserves that and more."

The girls nodded in agreement, but your emotions were in turmoil, and you couldn't pinpoint why you weren't fully on board with delivering the harshest punishment to Jake. It felt utterly stupid; you knew you deserved justice for everythin he put you through, yet you couldn't shake the discomfort of potentially derailing his entire future.

"I don't know, I need time to think about this. I appreciate it, but give me some time," you said, offering them a tight smile that betrayed your inner turmoil. With that, you gathered your things and headed for the door. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

The rest of the day unfolded in the library, where you desperately tried to catch up on missed classes and prepare for looming finals. Yet, your grades felt like the least of your worries as your mind continuously circled back to the revenge plan your friends had suggested. The desire for retribution burned within you, but something held you back. 

Frustrated and overwhelmed, you sighed heavily and rested your head on the table, closing your eyes in an attempt to alleviate the pounding headache. However, as you lay there, you couldn't ignore the faint whispering emanating from behind the bookshelves nearby.

"That's her, right?" The hushed voices reached your ears, stirring a sense of unease within you.

"Yeah, it's definitely her. I've seen her at one of those EpNu parties, always with her little clique. That sorority thinks they're hot shit, but turns out they're just dirty sluts. I mean apparently she’s been run through by most of that frat," one voice remarked, failing miserably at keeping their tone down.

Your heart sank as you realized they were talking about you, and the other voice chimed in just as indiscreetly, "I'm not surprised. I heard even before her sex tape got leaked that she had a foursome with Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay. So, it’s probably true."

A heavy lump formed in your throat as you struggled to contain the surge of emotions welling up inside you. Clenching your jaw to stifle the rising anger, you continued to lie there, desperate to hear more of their conversation. It fucking hurt, but you wanted to know what people were saying about you.

"What a fucking whore. Isn't she embarrassed? I remember crying when I didn't get asked back to AES during rush, but now I'm so glad, 'cause they're probably all like her. So much for being a ‘top house’," the voices continued, each word feeling like a dagger to your heart. 

"Yeah, I’m gonna take not getting into AES as a blessing in disguise. It seems like they only go after sluts, super fucking classy. I'd be mortified if I were her parents. Did you see her trying to play the victim card? Apparently Jake's getting all the blame, but that's bullshit because she clearly played a part in making those videos," the girl's disdain dripped from her words.

"Ugh, yeah, I kind of feel sorry for him. Everyone's been treating him like shit and icing him out, but what about her? That video was disgusting; the stuff they were doing were insane, and she looked so proud of it. It's gross," the other girl chimed in, their voices laced with mockery as they burst into giggles.

Unable to bear another moment of their cruel gossip, you abruptly gathered your belongings, stuffing them into your bag, and stormed out of the library, your emotions raw and turmoil consuming your thoughts.

Was this how people saw you now? You didn't even know them, yet they felt entitled to make all sorts of assumptions about you. The weight of their cruel assumptions pressed down on you, leaving you reeling with a mix of anger and hurt. As you waited for the bus, you clenched your fists, willing yourself to hold back the tears threatening to spill. You were beyond pissed off, and any lingering hesitation about going after Jake's academic career evaporated in an instant.

The moment you stepped into your dorm, you wasted no time in grabbing your laptop, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you poured your emotions into a lengthy email to the administration.

Jake was going to fucking pay—no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Jake emerged from a private meeting with Heeseung and Yeonjun, feeling a profound sense of dissapointment and carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders. The repercussions of his actions had cast Epsilon Nu under intense scrutiny for the past few days, particularly due to the widespread awareness created by your sorority's Instagram post. The executive members of Epsilon Nu were in a frenzy, working tirelessly to address and rectify the fallout caused by Jake's behavior. It was abundantly clear to everyone involved that distancing the fraternity from Jake, at least for the time being, was not only necessary but also non-negotiable.

Fortunately for Jake, his membership as an Epsilon Nu brother hadn't been terminated, although he knew that many of the boys would probably have preferred that outcome. Heeseung explained that since the incident wasn't directly linked to the fraternity, they didn't have grounds to kick him out, but he had been placed on probation instead.

Despite the leniency shown, being an Epsilon Nu had been a source of pride for Jake so with the official announcement of his probation until the end of the school year, he felt a profound sense of loss and disorientation. The consequences he faced were still significant, as he was stripped of his participation in any EpNu coordinated events and denied the opportunity to reside at the house for the remainder of the year. Additionally, he was prohibited from wearing or engaging in anything that associated him with the fraternity during his probationary period. Still Yeonjun made sure to emphasize how lucky he was to not be kicked out and how they would allow him to live in the house until the semester ended due to it only being a couple weeks away.

He had of course anticipated some form of punishment from his fraternity, but what he hadn't expected was an email from the Dean’s Office sitting in his inbox. As he opened it and read its contents, his heart sank and what felt like panic started to creep up. He was summoned to meet with the Dean the following day to discuss his actions and the disciplinary measures the school intended to take. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him as he contemplated the impending consequences of his actions. 

While he wasn’t the exact person who had sent out the videos, there still was proof that it came from his phone. Plus, he was a willing participant in showing more content to his teammates and overall did nothing to shut any of it down. So of course, the next morning as he was sat in front of the Dean, he was sweating nervously with anxiety coursing through him at a rapid pace. 

The Dean wore a stern expression and barely acknowledged Jake's entrance, engrossed in the paperwork before him. A heavy silence hung in the room until the Dean let out a loud sigh, removed his glasses, and finally locked eyes with Jake.

"Mr. Sim, we are here today due to a troubling letter I received from one of your classmates, containing serious accusations against you. Upon an investigation by the university, it has come to light that you not only played a significant role in this incident but that it has gained significant public attention. In fact, even President Bang is now aware of the situation," the Dean stated, causing Jake's anxiety to intensify. The thought of the President knowing about his actions made him feel sick.

Without offering respite, the Dean continued, "This puts the university in an extremely difficult position, as it highlights our failure to protect our students. Consequently, certain actions need to be taken regarding your standing here. After thorough deliberation, the council and I have decided to place you on probation. This means you can continue attending classes but will be suspended from all other activities. I have already been made aware of your current status from your fraternity and must inform you that you will also be suspended from the soccer team until the next season. Your probation period will extend until the next academic year. Any further policy violations may result in suspension or even expulsion. Additionally, this disciplinary action will be recorded on your academic record, which may impact your future pursuits. While you have the right to appeal this decision, Mr. Sim, I must emphasize that the evidence against you is substantial, casting doubt on the success of your appeal."

Being a student at Hybe University had been Jake's lifelong dream, and now he found himself in a position that he never could have imagined himself in. The consequences he faced far exceeded anything he had ever imagined. He had risked everything for the mere approval of his teammates (ones that he honestly didn’t even care that much about), and the realization left him feeling utterly devastated.

"I should also mention that we have received additional information from one of your teammates who was present at the incident, providing details about other individuals involved. They too will face consequences for their actions. Know that we are taking this matter extremely seriously. By winter break, your parents alongside Y/N’s will be sent a letter fully disclosing everything that I discussed with you today to ensure that they are made aware of your status along with everything else. That will be all, and I expect to see you again at the end of your probation period." The Dean seemed unwilling to entertain any further discussion, promptly escorting Jake out after delivering the news.

Feeling numb and overwhelmed, Jake struggled to comprehend the gravity of his situation as he made his way back to the house. It was a profound realization that not only was he in disfavor with the school, but he had also lost his position as a soccer player. A series of poor choices had completely upended his life. While he understood that he would still be able to attend classes and, once his probation period ended, could potentially return to his fraternity and the soccer team, he couldn't shake the feeling that things would never be the same. The possibility of holding a leadership position within Epsilon Nu now seemed out of reach, and the dream of becoming team captain had evaporated. 

Amidst all the turmoil, Jake was also dealing with the dread of having to return back to the EpNu house. However, he had no other options; it was the only place he could go. What was once a sanctuary now felt like a confining prison he was compelled to enter.

Since Friday night, Jake had been met with glares and stony silence. He was only spoken to when necessary, and his presence seemed an unwelcomed one. Some of the guys didn't hesitate to voice their opinions and disgust towards him, while others acted as if he didn't exist at all. He wasn't sure which was worse. It hurt, but he knew he had brought it upon himself. He had no right to expect sympathy from his brothers after what he had done.

Jay had resorted to crashing in different rooms, avoiding any proximity with Jake while Sunghoon (who had been concussed during Wonyoung's attack) was outright ignoring him. Even Niki, who used to stick by his side everywhere, was distancing himself and seeking solace in the company of other fraternity members. Jake couldn't blame them; he knew a simple apology wouldn't solve anything this time. The Epsilon Nu boys were rightfully bitter and upset. They now had to face the wrath of the rest of the student body for their association with Jake, and they knew rebuilding their reputation would be an uphill battle.

Despite the circumstances, the EpNu boys stood by your side. While they knew Jake's actions weren't their responsibility, they continued to show their remorse through various gestures. When you returned back to your dorm, you were greeted with an abundance of flowers and baskets filled with your favorite treats, all signed by Epsilon Nu. Yeji had mentioned that the flowers had also been sent to the house as well. Some of Jake's closest friends, such as Niki, Sunghoon, Jay, and even Heeseung, even personally approached you to express their apologies and accompanied you to your classes to make sure you weren’t being harassed by anyone. However, while you appreciated their efforts, you knew that nothing could erase the pain you still felt.

"Jesus, this morning I even woke up to Jay screaming because Taehyun apparently stepped on him while trying to go to the bathroom! I mean, what did he expect from sleeping on the floor?" Beomgyu ranted about the changed dynamics within the EpNu house since Jake's probation was revealed. Jay had been avoiding Jake by crashing in either Beomgyu and Taehyun's room or Sunghoon's every night.

With finals week approaching, you finally decided to take up Beomgyu's offer to study together. It was quite different from your study sessions with Jake, where you would mostly study in silence and occasionally seek help from each other. Instead, you and Beomgyu seemed to prioritize chatting with your textbooks mostly on the back burner. Since the whole STD incident, you had actually become quite good friends with Beomgyu. He was kind and funny not to mention quite easy on the eyes so his presence in your life was a welcomed change. He was also one of the first to reach out to you, expressing his disgust at what Jake had done and trying to cheer you up. 

"Poor Jay, at this point, wouldn't it be best to just kick Jake out of the house? I mean, he won't even be living there when January rolls around." You were fully aware of Jake's status with his fraternity and the school, and while you should technically be happy with his punishment, the anticipated joy never surfaced. Instead, you were still engulfed in feelings of betrayal and hurt.

"That's exactly what I'm saying! None of us want him around, and the whole vibe in the house is fucked up now. I mean he’s probably going to fail all his classes cause he doesn't even seem to be attending any so he might as well just move back home." Beomgyu's eyes sparked with frustration as he voiced his concerns. Although he had already been on shaky terms with Jake, even after his apology, Beomgyu now believed that their relationship had an extremely slim chance of returning to how it was at the beginning of the year.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry, Beomgyu. It's terrible that all of you guys have to deal with this." You genuinely empathized with the boys. While you had been the main victim in Jake's actions, there was no denying that everyone around him had also been affected.

As soon as Beomgyu heard your words, he quickly shook his head in disagreement. "Y/N, I told you it's not your fault! Seriously, stop blaming yourself for this." You knew he was right, but despite that, tears welled up in your eyes, and you realized that the guilt you felt wouldn't disappear anytime soon.

In the bustling atmosphere of the cafe, you sniffled and looked down at your lap, hoping to stop the tears. However, Beomgyu reached out and gently took your hand in his, causing you to look back up at him. "I know you've been saying that you're doing a bit better now, but I can't imagine it being that easy. This isn't something you can just get over in an instant. You've known him your whole life, and I know your relationship was rough. But that doesn't mean the pain will be any less."

A tear escaped as it streamed down your face while you absorbed his words. He was right—things weren't okay, and the journey to healing would be long and challenging. But you had no choice but to move forward.

"I know you're closer to Wonyoung and Winter, and you have the support of your other sisters, but I genuinely mean it when I say that I'm here for you. Plus, it seems like your skills in physics are even worse than I thought, so I'm sure you'll need my help." True to Beomgyu's nature, he effortlessly made you burst into laughter amidst your tears. You knew this was his way of trying to cheer you up and it was working.

"Thank you, seriously." You expressed your gratitude sincerely, sharing a smile with him. His words, even if only a little, warmed your heart.

The rest of your study session went as before, with both of you laughing and attempting to get some work done. The joyful mood continued even as Beomgyu walked you back to your dorm after deciding to call it a day. However, the moment you reached the steps of your dorm, the atmosphere quickly changed.

From a distance, you could see a figure sitting at the bottom of the stairs leading to the entrance. As you approached, your anxiety grew, and you realized who it was.

"Oh, fuck no." Beomgyu seemed equally unamused by the unexpected encounter. Jake looked up as he heard footsteps approaching.

Immediately, Beomgyu stepped in front of you, attempting to shield you from Jake. Though partially blocked, you caught a glimpse of him. While you couldn't recall exactly how he looked the last time you saw him, you knew for sure that he didn't look nearly as bad as he did now. You almost couldn’t recognize him as his usual smirk and playful glimmer in his eyes were now no longer able to be found and instead replaced with sunken features that made him look as if he hadn’t slept for days. 

"Hey, guys..." Jake didn't know what else to say. He hadn't expected to see Beomgyu with you, and he instantly knew that talking to you seemed even more impossible.

He took a step forward but was quickly stopped as Beomgyu pushed him back with his free hand while still holding you protectively behind him. "What the actual fuck do you think you're doing here?"

Even from behind, you could sense Beomgyu's anger vibrating in his voice. You, too, felt shaken, but for different reasons. Panic was creeping in, now familiar friends of yours since you were sure they seemed to be visiting you more frequently since the discovery of the leaked videos.

"Y/N..." Jake's voice called out your name, and you felt nauseous.

"No, seriously, dude, what the fuck are you doing here? Are you that fucking stupid? Do you think it's okay to just show up here and what? Ambush her into talking to you? Haven't you already done enough?" Beomgyu yelled angrily at Jake. 

"Please, just let me talk to her." Jake's voice softened in contrast to Beomgyu's, and he sounded almost desperate. He knew coming here might not have been the wisest decision, but he didn't know what else to do.

By now, you were nearly dissociating from reality, trying to control your breathing, but it felt futile. You realized you would have to face him at some point, but you didn't expect it to be so soon. You felt blindsided and unprepared.

"Jesus Christ, Jake, leave her alone! She doesn't want to talk to you, and the least you can do is respect her wishes." Beomgyu felt on the brink of losing control, restraining himself from confronting Jake physically. Seeing him at the EpNu house was one thing but seeing him here seemed to have ignited something in Beomgyu. 

"Fuck, Y/N, please. I'm sorry, please." Jake was on the verge of tears, desperately trying to convey his words to you while Beomgyu continued to push him away. Couldn’t he understand? You couldn't bear it any longer.

"Go away, please." Your voice was soft and broken as tears streamed down your face. You just wished for anything to happen, anything to help you escape this nightmare of a reality you were experiencing.

Your voice sounded weak, almost shattered, as Jake heard you softly crying. It felt as though his heart was breaking under the weight of a thousand pounds, and he wished he could vanish. At that moment, Jake realized he had committed the most heinous act, not only against anyone but against the girl he loved.

Fortunately, before the situation could escalate further, your RA, Renjun, intervened after hearing the commotion from inside the dorm lobby. Upon seeing Jake, he threatened to call campus security, prompting Jake to dejectedly retreat back to the house with one last glance in your direction.

In a state of panic, you were quickly ushered into your room, where Wonyoung sprang into action, doing her best to tend to you. Without the chance to bid Beomgyu goodbye or express gratitude to Renjun, who was currently contacting campus security to request increased dorm security, you collapsed onto your bed, completely drained from the overwhelming emotions coursing through your body.

Jake seemed to have complied with your wishes since that night, as you hadn't heard a single peep from him for the next couple of weeks until school ended. He even skipped the mandatory Relationship 101 class, but honestly, you couldn't care less about whether he passed or not. You were just relieved that your project was completed before everything unraveled. In truth, you were excited that the semester had finally ended and you could escape this toxic environment and go back home. It was disheartening to witness the campus you once adored being tarnished by Jake's actions, which had caused you immense anxiety. This break was much needed.

However, amidst the chaos of managing school, rebuilding your reputation, and working through the emotional aftermath of the incident, you had completely forgotten about how your parents would react when you returned home. It was naive of you to assume they wouldn't find out about what had happened given the scale of the situation. Now, here you were, confronted by your family's intense outrage, more specifically your father’s.

"To think that we raised our daughters alongside that bastard disgusts me! How many times have we welcomed the Sims into our home? I can't understand how you're staying so calm about this. He violated our baby! I can't handle this; I'm going over there right now to make sure he knows he will not get away with this and we will be pressing charges!" Currently, your entire family was trying to restrain your father from actually committing murder on an unsuspecting Jake, who lived just a few blocks away.

"Dad, no! Oh my god, stop!" You shouted at him, joining your sisters and mother in their desperate attempts to prevent him from leaving the house. This level of anger was uncharacteristic of your usually even-tempered father, but you understood why he was so furious. After all, Jake had harmed his precious daughter, not to mention the youngest.

"Dad, please, let's think this through first!" Your eldest sister, Jennie, usually level-headed, firmly pleaded. While everyone in your family had every right to be angry, resorting to violence wouldn't solve anything—it would only escalate the situation.

"Honey, listen to the girls, please. The school has already informed us about the actions they're taking against him. He won't get away with it. I'm furious too, I mean he’s the son of one of my best friends, but acting out won't help Y/N. Let's take a moment to calm down before we discuss this further," your mother, though seething with anger, managed to handle the situation better than your father.

"But that's not enough! I mean I can’t even imagine the extent of humiliation the boy put our daughter through!" Flames still flickered in your father's eyes as he yelled out, but his body came to a halt, no longer headed for the front door.

"Mom's right, Dad. Having your photo splashed all over the news because you ended up murdering Jake won't help Y/N at all," Rosé’s words seemed to finally resonate with your father, causing him to turn back towards the living room. He let out a deep sigh of frustration before taking a moment to collect himself. Clearly, he was still angry, but he knew that his rash actions would do nothing but more harm to your already delicate situation. 

You could see right through your father; it was evident how utterly heartbroken he was beneath all the rage. He couldn't help but direct some of his anger towards himself for not being able to protect his baby girl. With gentle steps, you approached your father, who was hunched over on the couch. You knew that no words could alleviate his suffering, so you simply embraced him in a tight hug, offering a silent gesture of comfort and support.

Thanks to Jake, it felt like he had even managed to rob you of your winter break, the one thing you had hoped would provide a sense of normalcy. Since the first day back, your family had been making an effort to avoid bringing up anything that would make you uncomfortable while still trying to maintain the holiday spirit you were all too familiar with, but something felt off. Despite your parents' repeated emphasis that none of this was your fault, you couldn't help but still feel an overwhelming sense of shame, especially now that they were aware of the relationship you had with Jake and the extent of what you had allowed him to do to you. It was already embarrassing enough that your parents knew about your sex life, but to have them informed by the school about the sex tapes you had made with their best friend's child added a whole new level of humiliation. 

As expected, the usual Christmas dinner between your family and Jake's family wasn't happening this year. It was clear that the incident had strained the relationship your mother had with his, causing a noticeable rift between them. While Jake's family had expressed sincere apologies for their son's actions, you knew that rebuilding the close bond they once had would be a difficult task for everyone involved. 

However, what truly caused you the most internal struggle was the conflicting feelings you seemed to have toward Jake. Yes, you were still undeniably angry and upset with him, but a small part of you kept nagging at the back of your mind, making you think about him. The image of his absolutely worn-down look during your last encounter haunted you. It was a side of Jake you had never seen before – so broken and vulnerable, and it bothered you. Was he genuinely feeling guilt for everything he caused you to go through, or was it just a facade to deal with the consequences of his actions? You berated yourself for even having these thoughts, but they were hard to ignore. 

Despite not considering each other friends, the progress made in your relationship during the semester had surprised you. The glimpses of a different side to Jake had almost made you proud of the changes the two of you were seemingly making. So, to witness everything crumble away was painful. It seemed as though, against your better judgment, you had developed some level of care for Jake, and amid all the pain you were going through, you couldn't help but wonder about him. 

The internal turmoil left you questioning your own sanity. How could you find any compassion for someone who had caused you so much harm? It was a maddening contradiction that seemed to defy all logic.

The only time you felt fully comfortable confronting these thoughts was during your daily walks with your dog to the park near your house. Unlike everyone else in your life, Lady (your absolute sweetie pie 5-year-old cocker spaniel) not only held no judgment in her eyes and was the best listener, but she also knew the best way to comfort your conflicted heart: cuddles.

"I know you're probably sick of hearing me saying this, but it's just so hard for me to really understand what's going on." You let out a huge sigh that caused Lady to look back at you with eyes that conveyed concern. But before you could continue your rant, Lady seemed to be taken by something as her head whipped around, and she barked loudly.

A fluffy ball of fur could be seen barreling through the playground, and you started to recognize what was heading your way. It seemed as though Lady was quite aware too, as before you could even register what was happening, you found yourself being dragged across the playground where you were currently swinging, all thanks to your dog. You were all too familiar with the Sim's family dog, Layla, who seemed to have spotted you earlier and escaped from her owner. You hadn't seen her in a while, but she seemed extremely elated to be in your presence, immediately rolling on her back, hinting at you to rub her belly. Lady, too, was overjoyed to see her friend, barking and jumping around in excitement.

"Fuck, Layla, come back! Jesus, you can't just—" You heard his voice before you saw him, and Jake seemed much too preoccupied with getting his dog back to realize who Layla was running towards. His wide eyes and frozen state at your presence were a huge contrast to how he was back at your dorm when you last saw him.

"Shit, Y/N…" He muttered out before failing to find the rest of his words. His face flushed red, seemingly utterly confused about how to approach the situation. Clearly, neither of your dogs seemed to sense the distress coming off from their owners as they happily played with each other.

Unlike before, the feeling of panic and overwhelming anxiety seemed to be less present, replaced by a profound sense of confusion. Yes, initial anger surged within you upon seeing him, but there was also a part of you that wanted to take him in, to understand him. Dressed in a dark hoodie and sweatpants, he appeared disheveled, as if he had just rolled out of bed. The darkness that clouded his face persisted despite the sunny weather, and it was evident that he hadn't made much progress since before.

"I'm so sorry about Layla. She just darted out of nowhere. I guess she spotted you with Lady and got excited." As he mentioned her name, Lady finally seemed to recognize his presence,  instantly wagging her tail and nudging his leg, seeking affection. "Um, seriously, I'm so sorry about her. I-I'll just go."

However, before you could fully comprehend your own actions, you found yourself shaking your head. "Wait!" His eyes widened in surprise.

"Jake, hold on. Can we talk?" You weren't sure where this sudden urge came from, but you knew that earlier you weren't ready to face Jake. Now, however, you felt more prepared. You needed this. It was the least he owed you.

He appeared taken aback by your request, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded. "Yeah, of course."

Your assumptions about his situation seemed to be accurate, as he was clearly not doing well. His parents were on the verge of kicking him out, unable to comprehend that their son was behind all of this, and his relationship with his brother was strained, with minimal communication between them. Moreover, he had failed almost all of his classes, save for one, and it appeared that his former friends had distanced themselves from him, not wanting to be associated with him. While a few of his teammates were still willing to hang out with him, he personally didn't want to be involved with them, knowing they were also complicit in what had happened. It was evident that his once highly regarded status and reputation were now completely shattered. 

His depression had reached an all-time low, and the idea of taking a break from school and not having to return back in a couple of weeks was incredibly tempting. After all, what was the point of resuming when he already had to take extra time to graduate due to his failing grades? However, he knew deep down that this decision wouldn't help repair his already strained relationship with his parents. Despite all this, as he spent his days moping around in bed, only one thing consumed his thoughts—you.

It was ironic how the person he had always seemed to despise was now dominating his mind but for entirely different reasons. Although it might be difficult to believe this sudden shift in his feelings towards you, Jake had come to a profound realization that his previous hatred had merely served as a facade for his true emotions. It had taken a long time for him to become aware of them, but now he was somehow enlightened. Jake wasn't entirely certain if what he felt could be called love or if it was perhaps a form of obsession, but one thing he was certain of was that the feelings he harbored for you were genuine. He found himself missing your smile, the scent of your perfume, and even the snarky quips you directed his way. 

Now, he understood why the saying "you never know what you have until it's gone" was so widely accepted, especially as he sat next to you on the swings. Every aspect of you captivated him, and he made a conscious effort to absorb every bit of you, unsure if this might be the last time he would have the opportunity to see you. You were utterly beautiful, and the mere thought of not being able to call you his brought tears to his eyes.

"I know my apology means very little to you, and it won't undo any of the damage I've caused, but I need to say it—I'm sorry." His words were sincere, and while he had been right that they wouldn’t erase the pain or fix anything, you had still been yearning to hear them directly from him.

You let out a sigh. "I just need to understand why. It’s no secret that we’ve never really been fond of each other, but I thought we were making progress. Have you really been hating me that much all this time?" Despite the joyful sounds of your dogs playing happily nearby, the atmosphere between you and Jake couldn't have been more different.

This question about his true feelings towards you had been haunting you at the core. If someone else had been responsible for the hurt you experienced, it would still be painful, but it somehow hurt more deeply when you realized it was Jake behind it all. You had known him your entire life, grown up together, and despite the ups and downs of your relationship, you took a chance trusting him with your most vulnerable self. For him to exploit that trust in such a cruel way felt like an unbearable betrayal.

"To be honest, I'm still grappling with that myself. As much as I want to deny it, the truth is that my stupid pride was at play when Jeongin was egging me on. At that moment, I prioritized my own ego and how I would appear in front of a group of guys I couldn't care less about. Y/N, I don't hate you. I don't think I ever truly did and in fact, I think it’s actually always been the opposite. I'm sorry." His confession made you frown, unable to immediately process what he was saying.

"Wait, what? Jake, you've spent most of our lives convincing me that you hated me. You can't just tell me now that you never actually hated me. I reciprocated those feelings because I believed it was mutual. If that wasn't the truth, then why did you torment me all this time?" The idea that Jake had never truly hated you should have brought some relief, but instead, it only added to your frustration.

"Damn it, I don't know. Deep down, I always knew I was in the wrong when we were kids and I cheated on you. I deserved that push off the monkey bars. But my pride got in the way, and it was easier for me to blame you than to admit my own faults. So, I continued messing with you, making you believe I hated you, rather than facing the truth. And now I realize how much I've lost. You were my best friend until that point, and I loved you. Losing you because of my foolish mistake was difficult to accept. And now, it seems we're in a similar situation. We were doing so well and I was starting to really fucking like you until I went and fucked it up again." Tears welled up in his eyes as he finally revealed the underlying reasons behind his actions.

He was sincere, and his guilt was evident, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of being upset. Growing up, girls were often told that if a boy picked on them, it was because they liked them, but that notion never sat well with you. Harassing someone you liked wasn't a display of love, and Jake's admission that he had perpetuated such a toxic stereotype only added to your disappointment. He could have chosen a different approach to express his true feelings, but instead, he resorted to hate, making you feel sorry for your younger self. While you were willing to participate in getting back at him, it was a result of your genuine upset and negative emotions towards his actions. If he had simply revealed that he was sorry and missed being friends with you, you would have readily welcomed him back into your life.

"Jake..." Your voice trailed off, struggling to find the right words as a surge of emotions overwhelmed you. "I don't think I can talk to you right now. I just need some time." Swiftly, you turned away from him and headed towards where Lady and Layla were joyfully playing. However, before you could get far, you heard his pleas and felt his hands grasp your wrist.

Jake desperately clutched on to your wrist, abandoning any pretense of holding back his tears as he begged. "Please, Y/N. I don't expect you to forgive me, because you don't owe me anything, especially cause of everything I’ve done to you but..."

You waited for him to finish his sentence, but his thoughts seemed jumbled and incomplete, prompting a sigh from you. "But what, Jake? I need time to process all of this. You've dropped a bombshell on me on top of everything you already put me through, and I can't easily understand or accept everything."

"You can take all the time you need, I beg you," he pleaded, cradling your hand and looking at you with desperation in his eyes. "I’ll do anything. I just can't bear to lose you again."

"Well, maybe you should have considered that before then."

The winter break inched by painfully slow, leaving nothing memorable in its wake since your unexpected encounter with Jake at the park. Days melded into each other until school sneaked back into session, disrupting the monotony.

Jake continued spending the rest of his break under his covers, in a depressive state. While he honestly should be more worried about his future at HybeU as his GPA had plummeted and he was looking to take an extra year to graduate, but the only thing he could think about was you. Every waking moment he spent mulling over you and your tears and the way your eyes gazed at him in betrayal. You, who he’d spent most of his life convincing himself that he hated when he knew that wasn’t true. It was his fault that he lost you when you were younger and now again when given the golden opportunity to win you back, he fucked it up again. 

The decision of whether to return for the second semester hung over Jake until the day before school started when he reluctantly opted to go back in hopes of avoiding driving a further wedge between him and his parents. But now, regret gnawed at him for not taking time off, leaving him wallowing in a sea of misery.

The first week of classes turned out to be far worse than he had anticipated. His motivation dwindled, and the simple act of attending felt like a burdensome chore. No one acknowledged him, a stark contrast to the earlier days of the school year when greetings were abundant from those he passed. Even the professors seemed to have caught wind of it, their expressions carrying a tinge of disappointment. The constant scrutiny and sudden isolation became overwhelming, especially now that he resided alone, separated from the familiarity of the EpNu house he had grown accustomed to.

He caught sight of Sunghoon and Jay at the library the other day, messing around just like they always used to, making the librarian frown with their loud banter and laughter. Instantly, a wave of overwhelming upset crashed over him, compelling him to turn around and head straight back home. It felt like everyone else had moved on, leaving him adrift.

The only ones who seemed to make an effort were a few guys from the soccer team facing similar consequences. But he found himself pushing away their attempts to connect, stewing in a mix of anger and resentment. While he knew his actions were at fault, part of him blamed them for provoking him into hurting you. 

Meanwhile, your night on the other hand was taking a completely different turn from Jake's scene, with you slamming down your sixth shot and pulling a face at the vodka's harshness, quickly chasing it with cranberry juice.

“Shit! That’s so gross ugh,” you grimaced as you chased the vodka with the cranberry juice you held in your other hand. 

"Ugh, vodka’s always the worst," Ningning grimaced, grabbing your drink and downing it herself to mask the taste.

It was formal season, and this year, Epsilon Nu had gone all out, choosing New Orleans for the grand celebration. You were surrounded by many of your sisters (EpNu had patched things up with AES to a certain extent, especially after Jake’s suspension and once it became clear that none of the boys were involved in anything), all glammed up to the max. The city was alive, music blasting from the bar, adding to the thrilling chaos of the night—an ideal distraction.

"Fuck, Ningning, seriously, that dress was made for you! Jay better be all over you later at the hotel," you slurred, planting a tipsy kiss on her cheek.

She blushed, about to reply when someone crashed into you, their perfume giving away their identity.

"Wonyoung, seriously, stop it!" Jungwon's voice frantically followed, trying to separate her from you.

Well past midnight, it was evident that everyone was thoroughly intoxicated. But honestly, who could blame you? You were surrounded by some of your closest friends in a city known for its entertainment, far removed from Jake's world on campus. It felt like the first time in forever that genuine laughter filled the air, finally allowing you to escape thoughts of him.

"Been searching all over for you! Ugh Y/N, you can’t just leave me like that!" Jungwon struggled to peel his girlfriend away from you, but you didn’t mind her clinging.

"Ningning and I have been right here the whole time! You clearly didn't look hard enough," you giggled, feeling the warmth from one too many drinks.

Your feet were throbbing in the stilettos you had on, and your body felt damp from the sweat of dancing and the drink you accidentally spilled earlier (thank goodness for the black dress). You knew your makeup was probably smudged, no longer as flawless as it had been for those pre-party photos. Your ears were practically ringing from the deafening noise of the bar and you were already dreading the miserable bus ride back home tomorrow, but honestly, in this high you were feeling right now, you couldn't care less.

“Where’s Beomgyu hyung?” Jungwon asked which made you realize that you’d lost your date. 

The party beads around your neck jingled softly as you whipped your head around, scanning the crowded space. Failing to spot him, a slight pout formed on your lips. "I don't know, I think I lost him. I'm gonna go find him," you declared, pushing yourself away from Wonyoung and heading away from the bar before protests from your friends could be heard.

Finding him in this crowd, especially in your tipsy state amid similarly dressed people, turned out to be quite the challenge. But then, as you glanced towards a dimly lit corner off to the side, your eyes widened in realization. There he was—Beomgyu, engaged in conversation with Sunghoon, Jay, and Yeonjun, oblivious to your presence. As you approached them, amid the bar's clamor, you could pick up on snippets of their conversation.

"He looked absolutely miserable, like I almost didn't recognize him," Sunghoon's voice pierced through the noise.

You frowned as you inched closer to them, careful not to reveal yourself yet eager to hear more of their conversation.

"Yeah, I've heard a few people mentioning how he hardly shows up to class anymore, and I don't even know if he has any friends left. Wouldn't surprise me if he didn't," Yeonjun remarked nonchalantly, taking a sip from his cup which you were sure was filled with some kind of alcohol.

"Well fuck him. He brought this all on himself and deserves it, and now he's probably just wallowing in self-pity," Beomgyu's disdain dripped from his words as he rolled his eyes. To him, Jake was nothing but a sorry excuse for a human being, and he couldn't help but feel angry that he had once considered him a brother.

"Yeah, he deserves everything he's getting, but you guys don't get it. He looked awful," Jay interjected, acknowledging Beomgyu's sentiments while also sharing his own observations from his and Sunghoon’s encounter with Jake at the library.

Sunghoon nodded in agreement, his expression troubled. "We're not trying to excuse his actions, but you should've seen him. It was beyond concerning, like he hadn't slept or eaten in weeks. He used to be our best friend, so yeah, we're fucking furious with him, but we can't help but feel a little worried."

"No, I can't believe this," Beomgyu shook his head in disbelief at Jay and Sunghoon's concern for Jake. "I don't know if you guys realize, but he ruined Y/N. She went through hell, and even though she might seem okay now, it's all an act. The things people are still saying about her are fucking insane. Winter and I practically had to drag her onto the bus to get here because we felt like we needed to do something to lift her spirits."

Yeonjun scoffed in annoyance, joining the conversation. "Yeah, you guys need to realize that while Jake may be struggling, it's nothing compared to what Y/N went through. Don't fucking bring this up again, at least not until we're back on campus."

And with that, Beomgyu stormed off, followed by Yeonjun while Sunghoon and Jay exchanged weary sighs, shaking their heads in resignation. The effects of alcohol seemed to evaporate from your system as their conversation sank in, leaving you painfully sober.

You should have been rejoicing in Jake's suffering, but instead, a sickening taste lingered in your mouth, refusing to dissipate throughout the rest of the night. Even as you returned to your hotel room, the intensity of your thoughts about Jake seemed to amplify. While Beomgyu softly snored beside you, you laid still on the bed, unable to escape the swirling whirlwind of emotions the thought of him had stirred within you.

This feeling didn’t seem to leave you as the bus ride back to school was filled with laughter and chatter, but even then, Jake continued to haunt the recesses of your mind. You felt guilty for allowing yourself to harbor such conflicted thoughts about him. How could you feel sympathy for the man who had shattered you in the worst possible way? Yet, shamefully, his presence persisted in your thoughts, a constant reminder of the turmoil he had inflicted upon you. 

"What's up with you?" Wonyoung's voice pierced through your thoughts, jolting you back to reality.

You quickly shook your head, trying to brush off her concern. "Nothing, what do you mean?"

But Wonyoung wasn't buying it. "Stop lying. I know you better than anyone, and I can tell something's been bothering you ever since formal. So, what's going on?"

You hesitated, debating whether to confide in her. Wonyoung was your best friend, but you feared her reaction to your shameful empathy towards Jake. She wouldn't understand. "Seriously, I'm fine. Don't worry about it," you insisted, hoping to brush off the conversation.

Her frown deepened, and you knew she wouldn't let it go. "Y/N, I'm serious. What's going on? I promise I won't judge; just talk to me."

With a heavy sigh, you relented, knowing her stubborn nature wouldn’t leave you alone till you told her. "Okay, fine. But you have to swear not to get mad or make me feel worse about it, because I already feel terrible," you requested, seeking her assurance. She nodded, prompting you to continue.

"During formal, I overheard a couple of the EpNu boys talking about Jake. They saw him at the library, and apparently, he looked really rough," you began, sensing Wonyoung's urge to interject but you gave her a warning look to let you finish. "Like, he apparently looked so bad that they barely recognized him, and he seemed like he hadn't slept or eaten in weeks. He already looked bad enough the last time I saw him, so I can’t even imagine what he probably looks like right now. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I'm worried, and I can't stop thinking about it, especially considering all the stuff he said when we ran into each other at the playground. I really-"

Wonyoung's reaction cut you off abruptly. "Wait, what do you mean you saw him at the playground? You didn't mention this! When was this? Are you okay?"

You cursed inwardly, realizing you hadn't shared this with anyone and hadn't really planned on doing so. "Shit, I forgot to tell you. I'm sorry," you apologized, offering her a sincere look before continuing, "We just ran into each other at one of the nearby parks during the break while walking our dogs. He wanted to talk, so I listened. He started apologizing, and then he started revealing things, like how he never actually hated me when we were younger and actually liked me. It was overwhelming, so I walked away, and I haven't seen him since."

Wonyoung's mouth hung open in shock. "And you forgot to mention this? Oh my fucking God, this is insane. He's actually fucking crazy, isn't he? Does he think confessing to you after what he did is going to fix anything? You're not buying into this, are you?"

"No, of course not," you asserted, your voice wavering with emotion. "Well, actually, he did seem genuine about being sorry and liking me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to forgive him. I swear I'm not. But the thing is, I can't stop thinking about him. Wonyoung, I don't think you understand. I fucking hate myself right now because all I can think about is him. I hate him so much for what he did to me, but why am I feeling this way?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally let out the pent-up emotions, laying bare your inner turmoil to her.

"Oh, honey," Wonyoung's face softened as she rose from her seat and approached you, enveloping you in a comforting hug as you sobbed into her embrace. "You're right, I have no idea what you're going through, and I fucking hate Jake so much for hurting my best friend in the worst way possible. But I also can't ignore the fact that you just admitted how you can't stop thinking about him."

There was a brief pause before she sighed and gently broke the hug, facing you with a serious expression. "Y/N, do you maybe like Jake?"

Her question caught you completely off guard, and a baffled look crossed your face as you almost jerked in surprise. "What?"

You started to shake your head, but she quickly interjected before you could even deny. "Y/N, just listen. I know this might sound insane, but have you considered that maybe you're experiencing this immense guilt and can't stop thinking about him because you have feelings for him?"

The moment Wonyoung uttered those words, panic surged through you like a tidal wave, causing your breathing to quicken as you vehemently shook your head in denial. There was no way.

"No, what the actual fuck, Wonyoung," you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes as you rose from your seat, needing to put distance between yourself and her. "Why would you even suggest that?"

Wonyoung could see you on the verge of hyperventilating, and she reached out to try to calm you down. "Hey, hey, Y/N, come on, sit down, please," she urged gently. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to upset you. I just think that you're going through so much right now, and from what you just told me, you're conflicted and in a really difficult place. We don't choose who we love, and I think it's weighing heavily on you right now, maybe that's what happened with Jake. He's put you through so much, not just this year, but practically your whole life, and maybe coming to terms with that despite everything, you still fell for him, is creating this guilt within you. It's not your fault, and for fuck's sake, Jake would be the last person I would choose for you to love, because he will never deserve someone like you. But I'm not in charge of that, and I'm so sorry."

In that moment, you broke down completely, your sobs wracking your body as you clung to your friend, desperate for some semblance of solace. Deep down, you knew she was right. You'd been grappling with these feelings for Jake for longer than you cared to admit, and the realization terrified you. You despised yourself for loving him.

"Wonyoung... What do I do?" you whimpered softly, your voice tinged with fear.

"I don't know, Y/N," Wonyoung replied gently, her own voice filled with empathy. "But I promise you're not alone. We'll get through this together."

You hadn't set foot in any of the downtown bars since that night when you learned about what Jake had done after being harassed by those guys. The thought of returning made you uncomfortable, yet on this Saturday night, with seemingly everyone in your friend group going out, you decided to push yourself to socialize, to reclaim some sense of normalcy in the chaos of your year. However, it quickly became evident that your judgment wasn’t the soundest; you were already feeling miserable, and it wasn't even midnight.

You had arrived with Winter and Ningning, meeting their boyfriends at the bar. But as the night wore on, you lost track of them. Winter was beyond drunk, likely off somewhere making out with Felix, while Ningning and Jay were lost in their own world on the dance floor. Unlike their blissfully intoxicated selves, you felt painfully sober. You longed for Wonyoung's presence; she was away for the weekend with Jungwon visiting his parents, and you regretted accepting the invitation to go out. 

Sighing, unable to immerse yourself in the same mood as your friends, you downed the shot of tequila in front of you before gathering your stuff and making your way to the exit. You made sure to send Winter a text, explaining that you weren't feeling well and were heading home, urging her to enjoy herself and not to worry. Just as you were about to summon an Uber though, an unfamiliar voice called out your name, halting you in your tracks.

At first, the voice seemed like a distant echo, easily dismissed amidst the clamor of the bar. But when it persisted, calling your name again, you couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Hey, Y/N!"

Turning abruptly, you were met with a face that you really didn’t ever want to see. He was obviously in a very intoxicated state; his words slurred, and his movements unsteady as he stumbled toward you.

"Hey, where're you going so fast? Have somewhere to be?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face as if you were close friends.

"Fuck off Jeongin." You curtly spat at him as you attempted to walk away.

He scoffed, his laughter tinged with bitterness. "Jesus Christ, Y/N, is that all you got to say to me after getting me fucking suspended?"

His words sent a chill down your spine, and you whipped your head around to address him. "I don’t know what you’re talking about because I didn’t do anything to get you suspended, but seriously, leave me alone," you angrily told him. As you attempted to walk away once more, you felt his hand reach out and harshly grab your wrist.

"Where the fuck do you think you’re going?" His tone turned menacing, the overpowering scent of alcohol made you grimace. "Aren’t you cute trying to act like you have no idea what you’ve done?"

His grip tightened on your wrist, sending waves of pain shooting through your arm as you struggled to break free. Panic surged within you as you realized he wasn't going to let you leave. "Let go of me! I have no idea what you're talking about. If anything, you’re the one who did this to me!"

"Listen here you bitch, because of your stupid little act of trying to paint yourself as some poor little victim, my fucking future is ruined. So this little act of you trying to act like you have no idea what I’m talking about isn’t going to cut it. You’re going to fucking pay, it’s the least you deserve,” he snarled, his grip on your wrist tightening as he dragged you out of the bar. You fought back, but his anger seemed to fuel his strength.

“You’re fucking hurting me! Seriously let me go you asshole!” you pleaded, your voice trembling with fear as you struck his arm.

“If you don’t shut the fuck—”

“Let her go, Jeongin.” The interruption came from a familiar voice, causing both you and Jeongin to turn toward the source.

Despite it only being about three months that had passed since you last saw him, Jake looked almost unrecognizable. His hair was longer and a bit unkempt, and he wore plain sweats and a hoodie. Yet, there was no mistaking him.

“Fuck off, Jake. Mind your own fucking business,” Jeongin spat, his disdain evident in his tone.

“You made it my fucking business once you dragged her into whatever you’re doing. So fucking let go of her,” Jake asserted, his voice laced with fury as he approached.

“What? You still fucking pussy whipped for her, huh?” Jeongin harshly threw your wrist away, turning to face Jake. “From what I know, aren’t you also in the same position as I am because of this bitch?”

“Don’t fucking call her that, and the only reason you’re in this position is because you put yourself there. So leave her out of this and go home, you’re drunk. It’s pathetic,” Jake shot back, his anger palpable.

“You’re in no place to be calling anyone pathetic. I mean, look at yourself. Newsflash, she’s a fucking whore! Jake, it’s honestly embarrassing to watch you throw yourself for what? A girl who obviously doesn’t give a shit about you. In fact, I did you a favor, she deserved this. I mean, she’s been so passed around she’s literally like a—” Before Jeongin could finish his drunken rant, he was knocked out cold. Jake's fist met his face in a swift, furious blow.

“Jake!” You gasped in shock, watching as Jeongin crumpled to the dirty street.

“He fucking deserved it,” Jake snarled, his rage barely contained. But before he could do further damage, you reached for his arm.

“Hey, he’s already out, just let it go,” you urged, tugging Jake away as you tried to diffuse his anger.

He turned to you, and in that moment, it was as if his anger melted away, replaced by concern as he took you in. You looked stunning, your eyes filled with worry for him, and Jake couldn't help but once again be struck by the realization of what he had lost.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His voice was gentle as he reached for your wrist, handling you delicately as if you were made of glass.

You furrowed your brows, concern evident in your features. “I’m fine, seriously. But Jake, you hit him really hard. Are you sure you didn’t break anything?”

Only then did Jake become aware of the ache in his knuckles, the pain radiating through his hand. He winced slightly as you reached to inspect his injured hand.

“You need to get that checked,” you insisted, but Jake shook his head stubbornly.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just ice it and it’ll be fine,” he assured, but you rolled your eyes at his attempt to brush it off.

“Ok fine, let’s go then,” you relented, letting out a sigh and crossing your arms.

Jake gave you a confused look before shaking his head. “I’m fine, Y/N, just go home. It’s late.”

“Jake, I’ll leave once you’re done icing your hand, so let’s go,” you insisted firmly. Knowing you wouldn't budge easily, he relented

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, fine. Let’s go,” he let out another sigh, closing his eyes briefly before nodding and the two of you walked away from the bar, turning left after walking a bit into what seemed to be the entrance of one of the student apartments located downtown.

Quietly, you followed him to the elevator, the tension palpable between you. After a while, Jake broke the silence. “Why were you out alone anyway?”

“Oh, I wasn’t alone. Well, I didn’t come alone, but everyone got really drunk and went off on their own, and I just wasn’t feeling it, so I was trying to go home when Jeongin ambushed me,” you explained, picking at your fingers nervously.

“Wait, so they just ditched you? Who’d you go out with? That’s not safe at all and in fact really dangerous—”

“No, they didn’t ditch me. They were dancing and all, and like I said, I just wanted to go home, so I left. You know damn well Winter and Ningning would never ditch me,” you clarified, rolling your eyes. Thankfully, the elevator dinged, cutting off any further discussion on the matter.

“So, how’s living alone?” you asked, eager to change the topic as you followed him down the hall to his apartment.

He let out a disgruntled grunt. “As lonely as you can expect it to be.” Fishing for his keys in his pocket, he winced a little at the pain his knuckle was giving him. Maybe you were right; it was starting to hurt like a bitch.

“Yeah, I guess going from living with a bunch of guys to being by yourself can be a huge adjustment,” you nodded in agreement. 

Despite the awkwardness in the air, you found yourself surprised at how calm you were feeling in Jake's presence. Given the strain in your relationship over the past few months, you had anticipated the reunion to be much more uncomfortable, especially seeing how the last encounter went, but it wasn't as bad as you had imagined. In fact, you felt lucky that he had run into you and Jeongin; if he hadn't been there, you weren't sure how you would have gotten out of that situation.

“Well, here it is,” Jake said, opening the door to his apartment and gesturing for you to enter. It was a clean studio, cleaner than you had expected, though it seemed he had only the bare essentials.

“Oh, it’s actually really nice,” you remarked, taking in the space as you set your purse down on the island.

Jake chuckled softly as he reached for the fridge to grab some ice for his hand. “What, you weren’t expecting it to be?”

“Oh no, it’s just... I don’t know,” you trailed off, unsure of what you had expected Jake's living space to be like. You hadn't really thought much about his living arrangements; your mind had been preoccupied with other matters, particularly your feelings toward him.

“I just overheard a couple of the EpNu boys talking about how they saw you and you weren’t in the best shape, so I didn’t really expect your apartment to be in the best shape as well,” you truthfully told him. Jake didn’t respond for a couple of seconds, just taking in what you said as he iced his hand.

“Sunghoon and Jay?” he asked, and you nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know... I guess they’re right. I haven’t really been doing the best, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be living like a slob. It’s already depressing enough.” Jake couldn’t meet your gaze. Both of you knew why he had reached this point, and he didn’t want to see any disgust reflected in your eyes towards him.

“Jake, can we talk, for real this time? I know we saw each other during the break, but I think that was just way too soon, and we were both just dealing with so much emotion to fully hold a coherent conversation,” you sighed, finally broaching the subject you had been avoiding. But you knew there would be no better opportunity than now to talk with him. You needed to, at least for yourself.

He nodded before answering, “Uhm, yeah, of course, but if you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to. I can just drive you back home.”

“No, I want to. I think I need to, and it’s the least I deserve,” you insisted. He nodded again, leading you to the couch.

Jake nervously bit his lip before sighing, facing you squarely. “Y/N, I just want to start by saying I’m sorry. I know you’re probably tired of hearing it, but I really mean it. I've had a lot of time to myself to reflect on everything, and I know that simply saying sorry will never be enough to make up for what I’ve done to you.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “I just can’t even begin to imagine what I put you through, and I’m just so fucking sorry for that. Hearing the awful things people have been saying about you, knowing it’s because of me, it’s just... it's horrible and so upsetting. You don’t deserve any of this. I know we haven’t always gotten along but you have always been a constant in my life and these past few months without you have made me realize the full extent of the pain I caused you. I ended up hurting the person I fell in love with in the worst way imaginable.”

Jake's confession to you brought tears to your eyes as your lips quivered. To hear those words from him ached your heart. It took you a moment to look up at him and regain your breath before you could respond.

“Jake, I know you didn’t send those videos out in the first place, but you were being so fucking stupid, and that ended up costing everything. You’re right, you don’t know what I’ve been through these past few months, because it’s been hell. But I’ve also been suffering not just because of the humiliation from classmates or just knowing that there’s a sex tape of us out there for everyone to see, but it has been so hard coming to terms with the fact that amidst all this, I had also somehow fallen for you. You ruined something that could’ve been so good, and that fucking hurts.”

"I miss you so much, Y/N, so fucking much it hurts. I'm sorry." A tear made its way down Jake’s face, and you couldn’t help but reach out for his hand because you couldn’t help but feel the same way.

“Jake, I don’t know what to do,” you softly said while looking at your intertwined hands.

Jake breathed heavily, “I don’t know either, but Y/N, I’m not expecting you to forgive me. I’ll be spending the rest of my life working for that, but I don’t know if I can go on living like this. I feel so empty without you, like I’m hollow inside and it aches like-”

You just couldn’t listen to him any longer. It hurt too much to see him like this. It hurt you too much to be away from him and so you did the only thing you could think to do. You kissed him.

Jake was obviously taken aback as he stood frozen on the couch, unable to reciprocate or even process what you had done. But your lips eased him as he slowly started to move against them. It was like he was riding a bike again, with muscle memory kicking in. The two of you got closer as your bodies touched one another, deepening the kiss. His hands made their way around your face, cupping them softly as if he was handling delicate porcelain, and you reached for his neck, pulling him closer as you wanted to feel more of him. You had missed this beyond words. You had missed him beyond anything.

As the kiss started to get more heated, you felt Jake slowly pull away, leaving you confused. “Wait, wait, Y/N, shouldn’t we think about this?”

He was right. You should, as every cell in your body was screaming at you about how big of a mistake this was. But right now, you couldn’t give a damn. “Can we just talk about this after? Please, I just need you right now. It’s been so long.”

Jake looked sincerely into your eyes, making sure you were sure of your decision before he gave a small nod and reached for you again.

Your lips moved against one another as if they’d been starved for each other and you quickly moved your body on top of his, straddling him as your mouth opened, letting more of him in. Quiet moans could be heard as you slowly moved your hips down on him while his hands made their way down to cup your ass. 

His lips detached from yours but before you could complain, they reattached themselves to your neck, nipping at your soft spot as you softly moaned. You had been wearing only a thin black slip dress so you could feel the hairs on your body all rise as chills went down your spine. 

As his lips moved their way down your neck, you palmed at his hoodie, “Take it off.”

He obliged with no hesitation and in one swift motion, his bare torso laid before you. Fuck, you had missed him. He looked as gorgeous as ever despite everything and you couldn’t help but rake your eyes over him, taking him all in. 

His patience got to him though as he yanked you down, bringing your lips together again. His fingers played with the bottom of your dress and before you knew it, that too was getting yanked off.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered. You had forgone wearing a bra and so you were only left in a small black thong. You looked like a little present perfectly wrapped for him. 

You gave him a soft smile before reaching for him. You started to kiss your way down his neck to his chest, eliciting another groan from him, but before you could go further, he pulled you up. You shot him a quick look of confusion but he dismissed it. “Next time, I just need you right now.”

Jake got up from the couch, helping you up as well before guiding you backward a couple of steps to his bed. You laid back as you watched him take the rest of his clothing off. Your mouth was watering and to be honest, you hadn’t slept with anyone in a while and you hadn’t realized how badly you had been craving this until now.

He quickly made his way back to you and the two of you attached your lips once more, moving against each other as if you had been starved. One of his hands made its way down to your breast, softly kneading it, as the other hand went further down before reaching under your thong. 

His finger softly glossed over your entrance as you gasped, aching for more. You were wet, beyond soaking and it made Jake harder than ever. He gently played with your pussy before slowly entering a finger. 

You were just as warm as ever as your soft gummy walls sucked him in and your soft mewls were enough to instigate him to start moving his finger slowly. You tightly pulled at his hair as you continued panting into his mouth.

“Babe, you’re soaking,” he smirked a little before kissing you again. His finger was now steadily moving inside you as he teased another.

“Please, Jake please,” you moaned, seeking more of him.

He gave in to your pleas as he added a second finger, stretching you further. You already felt incredibly tight and Jake felt like he was losing his mind. He couldn’t bear to go further without fully being inside you so he pulled his fingers out before yanking your thong down and spreading your legs open.

“Jesus, you’re so beautiful. The absolute prettiest.” Jake praised you before taking his cock and lining it with your entrance. Feeling his tip alone was too much of a tease for you and you whined. 

“Just put it in, please.” He gave in to your plea as he plunged inside of you. 

Your eyes instantly rolled to the back of your head as your mouth opened wide. You felt like you were about to burst with how full he was making you feel. 

“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Jake clenched his jaw, taking in how you felt around him. You were made for him and he couldn’t wait any longer. 

His thrusts were hard and powerful, making sure you felt him everywhere. Your soft pants turned to loud moans as you couldn’t hold them back any longer. He felt too good, plunging deep inside you, hitting against your cervix. Your toes curled and your hands reached for his shoulders to hold on to as he pummeled himself in and out of you.

“Jake, fuck! It’s too good,” you cried out. Tears were forming in your eyes from the pleasure. 

Sweat dripped down his back as Jake continued to thrust into you. He could feel himself getting closer every time you clenched around him and he reached down to capture your lips in his once more. 

Sounds of skin slapping against each other while lewd noises of tongues moving against each other filled Jake’s small apartment as the air around the two of you grew thicker. You knew you were getting close as you could feel the familiar coil below your belly on the verge of snapping.

“Fuck, Jake, I’m almost there, keep going,” you urged him as you maintained eye contact with him. His eyes were raging with fire as your words had him thrusting into you harder. 

Then the splintering feeling came crashing down on you as you clenched around him tightly. It was too good as the world around you spun while all the noise cut out. You let out a whimper as your toes curled tightly and back arched while you finished. 

The sight of you cumming was beyond heavenly and Jake chased quickly after his release. You were limp against him, softly mewling at the overstimulation as he continued to hammer into you before finally cumming inside of you. His deep groan in your ear had you clenching around him one last time as you felt him slump over you. 

The two of you panted loudly, trying to catch your breath as you stayed in your embrace. Your mind had been thoroughly blown, and this moment solidified just how much you had missed Jake. You never wanted to leave his embrace; it was where your raging mind and racing heart seemed to find stillness. Despite everything that had happened, you still yearned for this, and for the first time in a couple of months, you felt some semblance of clarity.

Your eyes fluttered open, and at first, you were confused as you took in your surroundings. But the events of last night quickly came back to you as you spotted Jake’s now bruised knuckles, his arm wrapped around you.

Tightly closing your eyes, you sighed, knowing that sleeping with Jake had just further complicated an already complicated situation. But no matter how much you tried to paint it as a mistake, you really couldn’t. You simply couldn’t change the fact that you had missed him deeply despite everything.

Feeling too hot under the comforter and the body heat emanating from Jake, you decided to quietly get up, gently moving his arm off of you to avoid waking him up. You searched around for your clothes but quickly realized that you had only worn your dress and there was no way you were getting back into that right now. So, you opted for Jake’s hoodie that was discarded on the floor last night.

You heard rustling from the bed, and when you turned around, you saw that Jake was half awake as he rose up from the bed. His hair was disheveled, and he rubbed his eyes before they laid themselves on you. He seemed surprised that you were still there.

“I thought you’d have been gone by now,” he murmured as he too searched around for his clothes.

You shrugged. “Running away from this would make it even worse.” It was true; what the two of you had done last night definitely wasn’t smart or ideal, but it had happened, and the two of you needed to deal with it.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jake nodded, then asked, “You’re not regretting it?”

You shook your head. “Honestly, no. But Jake, I hope you realize that this doesn’t mean I forgive you for everything.”

“No, I know, I wouldn’t expect you to. But I hope you also realize that what I said yesterday is all true.” He walked towards you, taking both your hands in his as he peered into your eyes. “I love you, Y/N, and I’m not just saying that to get you to forgive me. I mean it.”

You looked deep into his eyes, searching for any signs of deceit, but found none. All you could do was nod. “Okay.”

“So what does this mean for us?” Jake’s question lingered in your mind. What did it mean? It was already established that the two of you loved each other, but you also couldn’t just overlook what he had done.

“I’m not sure, Jake,” you sighed. “I think we need to start over.”

Jake nodded. “Okay, and what does that mean?”

“I think you and I both know that we can’t date each other right now. That relationship would be fucked up the second we do. I think we need some time to maybe rebuild our relationship on a blank slate.” You scanned Jake’s face, hoping to gauge how he was feeling about your suggestion.

“Okay, a blank slate, that works for me.” This was more than he had expected you to give him, and it meant there was hope for the two of you. It was all he could ask for.

“Jake, you need to get your act together with school, your friends, and your parents. I don’t want you fucking up everything because of this one mistake. Yeah, it was a huge one, but what’s done is done and it can’t derail your entire life. And once you feel like you’re back on the right track, then maybe we can start over again.” You peered at him deeply, and he sighed. He knew you were right. His life had been so fucked up for the past few months, and he knew he had to straighten it out before even thinking about pursuing anything with you.

“I will, I promise. Thank you, Y/N, and I know I’ll be working for what I did to you for the rest of my life and that I’m nowhere close to being deserving of your forgiveness or even this. So I promise I’ll make it up to you and get my life back together. I love you.” Jake nodded as he cupped your face in his hands before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

You hugged him, and the two of you stayed in that embrace for a bit until you pulled back. “Wonyoung’s never going to forgive you for this, you know that? But I’ll be willing to work on her if you just show me that you’re genuine about this and working on yourself.”

And from the moment Jake dropped you back at your dorm, he did just as he promised you. For the first time in a while, he found himself eagerly making his way down to the library to get some work done for his classes, and while he knew it was a long shot, he texted Sunghoon and Jay. They were his best friends, and they also hadn’t deserved the betrayal Jake had put them through; they deserved a real apology. Jake was determined to change.

Slowly but steadily, it seemed to be working. Every now and then, you’d see him in the hall or at the library, and you would exchange waves or smiles. Each time, he looked like he was doing much better. You had also heard through the grapevine that he had been trying his best to mend each of the relationships he had with the EpNu brothers. Of course, not everyone had been as receptive or even willing, but everyone knew that he was atleast making an effort.

Long before you knew it, the year was ending, and while the back half of your semester didn’t bring you much excitement, you actually preferred it that way. After all that had happened, you didn’t need any more drama in your life. And honestly, you couldn’t complain. You still had your best friend by your side, along with a couple of other friends you had made along the way, whom you knew you would have for the rest of your life. Plus, you ended the year with pretty good grades, considering everything that had happened. The gossip and hate you initially received had pretty much died down, and honestly, you believed this was the best outcome that could have happened.

"I think we did alright, don’t you agree Lady?" Your sweetheart of a dog barked excitedly, as if she was agreeing with what you had said. But before you could say anything further, Lady's attention was taken as you saw a familiar ball of fur make her way towards the swingset where you and Lady were. Lady seemed to disregard you the second she spotted her friend and started excitedly chasing after Layla.

You watched the two of them playing with each other, a smile growing on your face. A few seconds later, you felt a presence on the swings next to you. You knew exactly who it was before you even turned to face him.

“Hey,” he said softly, offering you a smile as he extended his hand for a handshake. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet you.”

A smile as bright as the sun spread across your face as you shook his hand. “Hey Jake, I’m Y/N. It’s great to meet you.”

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[coffee-and-geto]

“I THINK HE DID IT BUT I JUST CAN'T PROVE IT (HE DID IT)”

“Tell me something… You really like to put yourself in danger wherever you go, don’t you, troublemaker?”

❦ pairing: professor!toji x f!reader

❦ summary: you are a student of criminal studies at a prestigious university with one goal in mind: get your father out of prison one day. but how will you react when your new professor in the subject, as attractive as he is odious, comes to replace your old teacher who has deserted the post? especially when that new teacher is keeping a secret that will jeopardize your plans. one thing’s for sure, your life will never be the same again...

❦ warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, dead dove: do not eat!!, toxic parental relationship, yakuzas, mention of violence, vulgar language/insults/alcohol/bullying/suicide, use/mention of weapons and drugs, murder, art by @/521jie.

❦ wc: 19,055 (sorry for all this length. next parts will be less long—at least I hope so...)

“No way…” 

“Is it true?”

Whispers of gossip rippled through the crowd of students packed like sardines in the Keio University courtyard under a grayish sky, crying its fine April rain. A back-to-school gathering announced straight away upon the opening of the doors of the prestigious school spared no curiosity.

Not even yours.

It’s was as if the news uttered has echoed like a clap of thunder in your ears.

Amid this gathering, you have a direct view of the main rostrum of the university, which usually serves as a stage for annual events. Mr. Yaga, the principal, stands, the handle of a microphone wrapped in his fingers, patiently waiting for a silence that you think takes an eternity to muzzle all those voices.

“Your attention, please.” Mr. Yaga’s voice resonates throughout the courtyard and cuts off the chattering. “As I just mentioned, Mr. Kiyotaka Ijichi, the professor of criminological theory, has submitted his letter of resignation at the beginning of this semester.”

He lets a silence permeate the consciousness of his students before continuing in a solemn voice, “He didn’t wish to give any justification for this sudden decision, and I doubt that this news will please the master’s students in criminal sciences. We have sent an express request to the Tokyo Academy to find a new professor worthy of teaching in this school. Temporary schedules will be sent by email this weekend pending a new professor for this position. Please be patient. Our staff is well aware of the concern you may feel. But we can assure you that we are doing everything possible to enable you all to excel in your studies.”

It’s done.

The image of your former professor of criminological theory—the man who previously handled your dominant subject—begins to fade from your mind. The subject for which you usually strive has just slipped from your hands like a wet bar of soap. 

No matter Yaga’s words.

The chances of a qualified and worthy professor walking through the doors of Keio University is like ‘looking for a needle in a haystack’.

You stop listening to the rest of the principal’s back-to-school speech and understand that it has ended when the crowd of students disperses under the squeaking of their shoes trotting on the wet grass of the courtyard.

“Don’t you find it strange?”

A mischievous voice whispered in your ear making you jump. You glance in your peripheral vision and the fresh breeze finally blowing on you making you catch a glimpse of blue hair.

“Miwa,” you mumble without turning around.

A discreet chuckle follows. You begin to leave the courtyard without lingering, and Miwa theatrically sighs your name before slipping to your side in your attempt to quicken your pace. You’re one of those people who avoided Miwa Kasumi.

Alias the university gossip girl. The one to whom you can never hide any of your secrets.

Miwa’s gaze follows you as you hurry towards the exit gate. She has a smug smile on her lips. A smile that screams ’you know what I’m talking about’.

“So, your teacher resigned without giving any explanation?” Miwa says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How strange...” A second laugh escapes her lips, and a shiver runs down your spine.

You quicken your pace, not wanting to further prolong the conversation, already too long for your liking.You don’t respond to Miwa’s remarks—unsure if it’s because you have nothing to say or because you already know the reason for her approach.

Miwa finally sighs in annoyance. “Why are you in such a hurry? Don’t you want to listen to me? Don’t you want to discuss Mr. Ijichi?” she asks.

But you already know what she wants to talk to you about.

The light rain from earlier is now heavier, and drops crash down on the top of your head. You anticipated it, which is why—still immersed in silence—you take out your umbrella from your bag and unfold it over you.

“C’mon... Talk to me a little...” Miwa insists with her teasing tone. She gives you a pout, pretending to be hurt by your indifference.

You sigh and stop walking, standing at the edge of the university gate. “What do you want?” you finally give in. You check the time on your phone, pretending to be in a hurry.

“I’ve got an exciting article lined up for this week.” Miwa locks her blue eyes on you, and for a moment, you feel naked. It’s as if her eyes exist only to probe people’s minds. “And guess who will be in the spotlight?”

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. “I don’t know,” you mutter uncertainly, your eyes fixed on her with uncertainty.

Miwa raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your lie. “It’ll be a weekend surprise, I advise you to stay active on the blog.” Her icy-sweet tone makes you want to run away, but you remain silent.

She winks at you before slipping away.

If the students of Keio University couldn’t bring themselves to continue living their student lives—with the apprehension of seeing their names displayed in bold on Miwa’s blog every Sunday, revealing the juiciest secrets of their private lives—this year, she subtly gave you a new piece of information about the extent of her new targets.

This year, even the teachers won’t be spared.

°°°°

“I think... Well... Let’s say next Friday? Would that work for you?” The secretary’s voice and the clicks of a computer mouse reach your ears.

You stand in front of your fridge, looking at your calendar fixed with decorative magnets. After a few seconds of thought, you nod before replying, “Yes, that would be perfect,” momentarily forgetting that the secretary at the penitentiary you’re contacting can’t see you.

“Very well. I’ve scheduled your appointment, and we’ll contact you by email to confirm your visit. Your father will be informed, of course.” You can feel the secretary’s pleasant smile in her voice. She seems to be waiting for your confirmation.

To which you quickly respond before ending the call.

Your mind has been distracted since you left the university this morning. The news of Mr. Ijichi’s unexpected (or almost) resignation and Miwa’s announcement about her next article this Sunday had you overthinking. However, setting up the visit with your father in prison, sweeps away some of the weight on your shoulders.

Yet, in the darkness that settles in your apartment as evening begins, you sincerely hope that no other news will distract you so from the goals you’ve set for yourself.

°°°°

One skill that sets you apart is your undeniable sixth sense.

Just two days ago, you feared more or less unpleasant news, but this Sunday, two caught your attention when your phone emitted notification sounds from two different sources—but nonetheless related in some way.

The first comes from a blog you reluctantly follow titled “Keio’s gossip.” Although the author of the articles posted remains anonymous, every student on the Keio University campus knows their true identity, without having the necessary evidence to do anything against him—or rather her.

Miwa Kasumi is indeed the author of the articles that publicly displayed the slightest gossip concerning each student. A majority has already tasted it, and the flavor was far from the sweet mochi sold as dessert culinary specialties in the heart of Tokyo—according to the faces that the ’pointing fingers’ made on Monday after the weekly publication of an article every Sunday afternoon.

With your eyes glued to your phone screen, you discover the article that was posted a few minutes ago on the blog. The light from your phone is the only source illuminating your room as you sit cross-legged on your bed. Your mouth opens slightly, and you resign yourself to reading the article, the title of which tightens your heart:

’Kiyotaka Ijichi: voluntary or forced resignation?’

Your eyes begin to move back and forth from line to line, and a vise grips your chest as you continue to swallow the horrifying words recounted in the article.

“It was true that Professor Ijichi was subjected to certain remarks from his students,” confides a second-year master’s male student in criminal sciences. “Jabs, sometimes even inappropriate remarks. But no one really reacted... We all thought it would stop at some point...”

“Last year, we all thought he would eventually commit suicide,” adds a history female student. “He was the type to just take it and wouldn’t dare respond or discipline his students for fear that their parents would put his position at stake at the university. Spoiled brats with excessive power, you know.”

“Yet, he was a very good teacher. He was very kind, attentive, and always spoke with humility, no matter who was in front of him,” affirms another female student, on the verge of tears. “He really didn’t deserve this...”

“It was after several other testimonies like these...”

“So, we concluded that...”

“...Kiyotaka Ijichi, former professor of criminological theory at Keiô University, therefore decided to resign from his position as a professor, which would also imply that suicide, could have been a very different departure option that he left behind at this prestigious school. The constant harassment of students, mostly from children of parents with high financial means, would thus be the real reason for Mr. Ijichi’s departure.”

“Keiô private university regularly proclaims its impeccable professionalism through numerous awards, the excellent teaching of its professors, and the discipline of its students. Here is a fact that calls all of this into question—particularly regarding the treatment of teachers. Does Keiô University really admit students for their promising futures? Or is it swayed by the big checks provided by parents from the upper bourgeoisie?”

You finish reading the article, and your brain is bombarded with thoughts racing at over a hundred kilometers per hour, but no words can break through the barrier of your lips.

Even after his departure, Mr. Ijichi couldn’t leave in peace.

A sense of injustice runs through your veins, but you can’t do anything about it.

Why did Miwa feel the need to write this article?

Was it really necessary?

You leave the article page, which is starting to receive comments as you watch the numbers increase below the end-of-page bar, and you redirect yourself to your email inbox.

It’s always the weakest who suffer the worst treatment from society. Whether it’s in the family, at work, with friends, or even at school.

You bite your lip and check the second notification in your inbox. As you expected, Keiô University has sent you your schedule for the coming week. You even expect to find empty slots in your schedule. But strangely, your major subject—criminological theory—fills its place on the colorful digital file with different colors according to the subject indicated. You think there’s an error or something. Until you read the name of the professor in charge of your courses.

T. Fushiguro.

You hastily exit the downloaded file on your phone and open the email sent by the university. After a second reading, your eyes widen like saucers.

“Regarding the replacement of the former criminological theory professor, a request has been submitted to the university. The director’s decision has been finalized. The new professor, Mr. Toji Fushiguro, will therefore lead the courses in this branch for master’s students in criminal sciences from the beginning of the semester.”

Two contradictory feelings finally want to burst in your chest.

The first is relief. You can finally resume your goals serenely without having to worry about the delay you might have experienced in the case of a prolonged wait for Mr. Ijichi’s replacement. What other good news can offset the frustration you felt less than two days earlier?

But the second taints this joy that you should feel: doubt. Keiô University is known for its excellent teaching, which includes rare, highly qualified, and renowned professors. It goes without saying that each of them has at least one doctorate mentioned on their CV. So how, over the course of a single weekend, could your former professor of criminological theory have been replaced so quickly? That’s where Miwa’s article strikes you.

“Is the university being swayed by big checks?”

You need a teacher. And not just any teacher. A teacher who would help you get a degree that would help get your father out of prison. So the fact that the university found a new professor so quickly leaves you skeptical, and your sixth sense wandering behind you like a ghost does not bode well.

So you pray that, for once, your sixth sense is wrong.

°°°°

“How’s he called, again?”

You bite your lip, your gaze lost in the rainy landscape of the courtyard outside the window. “Toji Fushiguro.”

Shoko takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales through the window opening next to which she’s leaning against a shelf. She glances at your absent expression with a slight smile on her lips, and then flicks her finished cigarette butt over the window ledge, making sure it’s extinguished by the damp grass outside. She sighs and stands up. “Let’s go. The bell is about to ring.”

You grimace but obey her words, pushing your back off the wall of the university library and following her along the rows of books stacked so high on wooden shelves that ladders are provided for students invested enough in their studies.

It’s already Monday, and you dread your very first class in criminology theory with your new professor Toji Fushiguro. Is it necessary to mention that, for the first time since your entry into the university a few short years ago, you don’t feel well? But in a normal way, like any average student? No, you have a bad feeling. Something’s off. And you can’t put your finger on it, the only thing you found to do is lament to Shoko, your trusted friend.

“Stay strong. You’ll brief me afterward, won’t you?” Shoko encourages you with a friendly elbow nudge to the arm followed by a wink from one of her eyes marked by violet circles.

You respond with a nervous laugh, and she waves before leaving you in front of the library doors as she heads towards the wing dedicated to medical sciences. With a knot in your stomach and a desire to go home and bury yourself under your blanket, you head towards your classroom in the building reserved for law students.

When you arrive at the amphitheater door, a small herd of students begins to gather in front of the swinging doors, clustering together like a school of fish. The most eager are female students who, dressed in their university’s pine green uniforms, make the most noise with their conversations, the subject of which soon pierces your ears.

“Did you see him this morning?”

“Yes! He’s so hot!”

Giggles echo until you notice that the class line-up is oddly divided. The girls are glued to the closed doors and the boys are standing back, lined up along the corridor walls. Most of them pay no attention to the girls’ chatter and pass the time on their screens—laptops and phones alike.

When the bell rings throughout the university, you enter behind your peers and sit at the end of a central table in the amphitheater. Your eyes scan the stage reserved for the professor after the last steps at the bottom of the room, and your eyes finally settle on a singular silhouette.

Your breath catches, and you almost feel your pupils dilate as Professor Fushiguro leans over his desk, with his open laptop in front of his eyes.

With your mouth slightly open, it’s as if you’ve been robbed of the ability to speak, think, and soon, to breathe.

You don’t know which details unsettle you the most—from his tall silhouette and broad musculature adorned by the beautiful navy blue shirt so deep that from further away you would have mistaken it for black; to his hair, the jet-black locks similar to stalagmites that brush his ears and neck, to his sturdy and prominent jawline.

Everything about him is so grand.

And so beautiful...

You catch yourself looking at him for too long, and your thoughts drift too far. Heat floods your face. Fortunately for you, you weren’t the only one staring at him so much—and with interest—which you use as an advantage to mask your embarrassment when you take out your belongings.

Professor Fushiguro has a beauty that you don’t consider fair for just a simple professor.

As the amphitheater falls into a heavy silence, Professor Fushiguro raises his head towards his students, and the class begins as soon as his voice is heard by all ears.

It’s—

Deep, profound, calm, composed, and above all...

...magnetic.

Professor Fushiguro doesn’t need to ask for silence for the class to hang onto his every word. Nobody seems to react as he doesn’t mention his previous colleague—Mr. Ijichi—not even once.

With furrowed brows, you rest your elbow on your polished wooden desk space and don’t take your eyes off your professor. Under your mask of attentive student, the screen of your laptop hides your chest, where your heart buried inside beats to the rhythm of cannonballs launched at full speed.

Professor Fushiguro doesn’t have the visual demeanor of a professor.

That’s the sentence you keep repeating as Professor Fushiguro continues his class, unaware that three-quarters of his class have stopped listening to what he’s saying since the first word crossed his thin lips—and prefer to admire his only physiognomy built by God himself.

Fuck.

You knew it.

You knew this replacement couldn’t be normal. The way things concluded with such a quick replacement couldn’t help but hide something.

Professor Fushiguro doesn’t have the visual demeanor of a professor.

You force yourself to tear your eyes away from your teacher and start taking notes on the course introduced on ’The Evolution of Crime and Detection Methods Throughout History’. He provides an appendix with a manual to be obtained by the end of the next two weeks, and you try to type its title into your schedule for the coming days in the Notion app on your phone without being distracted by how well your ears welcome the timbre of his voice.

You swallow and close your eyelids for a few seconds, analyzing each word in an attempt to understand the course he almost entirely reads from his printed sheets held in one of his hands just below his nose.

“...legal reforms have also shaped our understanding and treatment of crime. For example, the abolition of the death penalty in many countries reflects a change in our values and conception of justice. These reforms reflect our evolution as a society and our commitment to principles of justice and humanity.”

You open your eyelids after a minute in hopes of refocusing. Unfortunately for you, your eyes fall directly onto emerald orbs that stare at you for a moment.

With a lower lip curled up in a sign of noticeable annoyance, Professor Fushiguro doesn’t say a word and eventually averts his gaze from you, resuming his magnetic monologue.

You bite the inside of your cheek and hide behind the screen of your laptop, your cheeks probably flushed. Perhaps he thought you were dozing off in his class... You curse yourself internally despite the fact that he made no remarks.

At the end of what seems like an eternity, the bell rings, signaling the end of the class. The entire class stands up simultaneously, and you expect to have to wait for the exit door to be unblocked by the herd of students eager to leave the amphitheater.

But to your great surprise—which ultimately wasn’t so unexpected—a part of the group of girls whose conversation you overheard just before the start of class descends the room’s steps towards Professor Fushiguro.

You purse your lips and leave the class with a nonchalant step, your bag hanging from your shoulder.

You feel how long this semester is going to be...

°°°°

“And how are the classes?” your father asks through the window that separates you from him.

Your index finger traces distracted patterns on the metallic surface of the side of your table where your forearms rest, supporting your slightly hunched shoulders. You are still haunted by the image of your new professor.

“It’s okay. We have a new professor in criminology theory,” you reply, looking up at him.

Your father raises an eyebrow. “For what reason?” he asks suspiciously before wrinkling his nose. You notice he has a three-day beard and that his wrinkles appear more pronounced than usual—or at least, since the last time you visited him.

“Actually, the old one resigned, and the university found a new one.”

This time, your father’s eyebrows furrow. “So fast... Is he any good? I hope they didn’t hire some nobody who—“

“No,” you quickly cut him off, shaking your head, “he’s good.” You refrain from adding ’why don’t you take an interest in me?’ And your heart twinges every time you see your father show more interest in your studies than in yourself. Your avoiding eyes wander over the contours of the window that separates you from him, sitting across from you in a somewhat tense position—shoulders slightly hunched inward, and hands clasped on the table.

He seems to notice it and clears his throat before sitting up straighter on his plastic chair. “You... remember my friend Miguel?” your father starts, changing the subject. He speaks in a more concerned tone. “The one who went to Kenya.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you focus your gaze back on him before blinking. “The one who was with you?” you ask with a bitter taste in your mouth. Miguel was your father’s ex-business associate, who, unlike your father, wasn’t imprisoned when the police arrested him.

“Yes. He wrote me a letter earlier this week,” he replies, “to ask how I’m doing and to let me know that he’s coming back to Japan next week. He said he’s inviting you to dinner with his wife and daughter.”

You process the information at the same pace as your swallowing. Your father slides an envelope—no doubt already opened by the prison administration before him—through the communication slot between you under the window. You take the envelope and read the letter inside.

“Why?” you murmur.

“He’s not a bad guy, you know.”

This simple sentence reminds you of something he’s told you before.

’Miguel hasn’t done anything. Nobody has anything against him. They wrongly accused me. I did it for you. I’m not like the others.’

And by ’the others,’ he referred to other associates who were arrested along with your father a few years ago, for the same reason—embezzlement.

To the tune of a considerable sum of just over a hundred billion yen.

Your father assured you that he wasn’t involved in any of it and that former acquaintances he thought were trustworthy led him to be involved against his will in a whole story that ended behind bars.

You believe him, of course.

Your father—with whom you’ve had a rather difficult relationship since your mother’s death when you were in middle school—seemed to want to rebuild a healthy father-daughter relationship with you. And who were you to refuse? You wanted your father to give you the affection you dream of every night after seeing a father and his daughter eating ice cream in a square, or a father and his daughter shopping at the mall.

Everything you’ve never had.

And when your father opened his arms to you at the end of your high school studies—still undecided about your direction for further studies—your father let you know that studying criminology could be ideal. And with that, maybe you could help him get out of the unjust prison that prevents you from being fully happy.

You love your father.

So it didn’t take long for you to become one of the top students in your university class in criminal science studies. You want to excel, and that in all areas. It makes your father proud. It stretches his lips into a smile that warms your heart. Who calls you ’my angel’ and admits wanting to hug you.

Things he would never have told you before.

“Yes,” you reply, lifting your chin. “I’ll visit him. Don’t worry. I promise.” Your voice softens, and you refrain from letting tears fill your eyes as a faint smile stretches across your father’s lips.

“Thank you.”

°°°°

“Don’t tell me he’s that handsome?” Shoko lets out a giggle that resonates through the speaker of your phone.

“Want to bet that most girls drool over him every night, imagining him in their beds?” You mutter with a hint of aggression aimed at the pot whose sushi rice you ate for lunch has stuck to the bottom. You scrub the leftover rice with your metal sponge in the kitchen sink and let out a sigh.

You glance at the screen of your phone leaning against the tiled ledge, giving you a FaceTime view of Shoko sitting at her desk in her bedroom. She giggles and brings a pen to her mouth to nibble on its end—a tic she has to replace the cigarette usually in that spot. “Just like you, for example?” she teases.

Your cheeks warm up. “Excuse me? You know that’s not true.”

“Nuh-uh…”

You purse your lips as your heartbeats accelerate at Shoko’s words and her sarcastic tone. No, you didn’t have wet dreams about Professor Fushiguro. But that doesn’t stop most female students from gossiping about the entirety of Professor Fushiguro’s physique—aka Hercules’ twin body. And from what you’ve already heard during the first week of classes, they don’t mince their words.

But you can’t say you were indifferent to him. The rest of the week flew by so quickly that you find yourself on a Wednesday afternoon discussing your life on FaceTime with Shoko. She has to study for her medical exams, and you didn’t have time to see her during the first weekend due to the workload your friend endured.

You toss the metal sponge into a corner of your sink and grab a classic, foamy sponge to scrub the surface of your pot, now smooth and immaculate.

“Oh, by the way. Are you free this weekend?” Shoko asks, looking up from her books.

You rinse your pot, turning on the faucet, and sniffle mournfully. “Nope. A friend of my father invited me to dinner with his wife and daughter. I spoke to him on the phone this morning.”

“Damn. We need to meet up so you can show me this professor too. I feel like everyone has seen him except me.”

“Even Satoru,” you chuckle as you dry your hands. “Have you heard him curse about him? He has a beautiful rival, I must say.” You continue to smile at the memory of your friend with albinos hair and cerulean eyes who was shocked to see his popularity among the female gender decline in less than a week. You shake your head, still shaking with laughter. “The look on his face…”

Shoko giggles in turn. “I guess you’ll also be studying on Sunday?” Her smile fades, and she rests her cheek against her palm a bit bored.

“Unfortunately.”

She snorts after seeing your apologetic smile.

“But don’t worry. I’ll find time for us to meet. And also to show you—”

“Yes, the man of your dreams,” Shoko cuts in with a laugh, “literally!” 

You gasp at her words. "Shoko!”

°°°°

“And on this one, we were visiting Paris. We were so young…” You lean in slightly to observe the photo that Miguel, your father’s friend, is showing you.

“Oh, he never told me he traveled so much. I remember him mentioning taking my mother to Spain once, but he never talked about his trips with you.” You smile politely, sweeping away the twinge in your heart that makes you want to wince.

Miguel adjusts his beret and tilts his head to the side. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you reply, rocking back and forth on your feet, “but I suppose he didn’t think about it. He was often tired when he came home from work when I was younger.” You force your smile even more at Miguel’s surprised reaction, which stretches the features of his smooth, dark skin.

Unlike your father, Miguel is clean-shaven, and you have no doubt that his well-groomed appearance—from his navy blue suit and charming tie with silver stripes—speaks of the comfortable life he enjoys and shares with his family. This simple fact rekindles the cuts in your heart that you’ve tried to mend over the years. But is it enough?

“And otherwise, is he doing well? Will he soon have served his sentence?”

“No, he still has a few years left,” you reply with a hint of intentional bitterness that wipes the smile off your face. “When I think that he was wrongly accused while he’s innocent…” Your fists clench, and you notice Miguel freezing. You furrow your brow, curiosity piqued by his behavior.

“Yes,” he says with a embarrassed throat clearing and a nod. “Yes, of course. The justice system is really too manipulable. I didn’t know he told you he was... innocent.”

You note Miguel’s tone. He doesn’t seem certain of what he’s saying, and you wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that he didn’t have a sentence to serve unlike your father, of whose innocence you’re convinced.

“Yes, he is,” you repeat firmly. Your gaze wanders around Miguel’s main living-room, which is decorated very chicly, in beige and black tones—warmed by the soft light of the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the fireplace in the background. It’s the epitome of a luxurious and cozy home. Yet again, something you don’t have.

You swallow back the bile rising in your throat, and as Miguel is about to continue the conversation, his wife, dressed in a stunning red velvet evening gown, enters the living room, a smile on her lips and a large plastic spoon in her hand. “Are you staying for dinner, dear?”

You’re taken aback for a moment and glance at the time on your phone then at the bay window in the living room, which offers a view of the already darkening sky. “I have to pick up a package from a nearby store before it closes... So, I’m not sure. Do you mind if I go and come back? I’ll be quick.” You offer her the same polite and forced smile you gave Miguel a few minutes ago.

“No, not at all. You’re welcome, my dear.”

And you purse your lips at the nickname but don’t let anything show. Miguel’s wife walks you to the front door, and before you have a chance to turn the handle, you hear small footsteps behind you. You turn around and see Miguel’s nine-year-old daughter, holding her Barbie doll close. Her brown pigtails sway slightly with each step, and she offers you a shy look.

“You’re leaving? Already? I haven’t shown you all my dolls yet…” she murmurs in a small voice. Her mother giggles, and you do the same. You take a few steps toward the little girl and bend your knees to her height.

“No, sweetie. I’m just going to get something outside, and I’ll be right back for dinner. We’ll even have time to play, if you want.”

“Yippee!” she exclaims, throwing herself into your arms and threatening to knock you over.

You burst into a genuine, light laugh. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Miguel’s daughter pulls away from you, a huge smile on her face, and her mother opens the door for you, apparently pleased to see her daughter showing affection for you.

Without lingering, you quickly leave the Oduol’s huge luxurious house and head to the tobacco shop a few hundred meters away. You ordered the manual that Professor Fushiguro requested for the coming weeks, and your order needs to be picked up from a store where the package was deposited. The air outside is icy and sharp for an April evening. It has been raining every day, and strangely enough, the sky has decided to hold back its tears this evening—just like you.

Arriving at the store, you ask to pick up your package, and once you have it under your arm, you almost immediately regret it. The warmth of the shop contrasts too much with the icy cold of this evening. In the deserted streets, not even a cat dares to show its nose. The neighborhood where Miguel lives is usually quiet because it’s reserved for the wealthiest. You clearly don’t live as luxuriously, and that’s somewhat reassuring. It’s as if anything and nothing can happen here.

As you turn the corner of the street where Miguel lives, bursts of orange light catch your attention. You barely have to look up before your package slips from your hands and collides with the pavement.

Miguel’s pavilion, as beautiful and luxurious as you saw it earlier, is on fire.

Despite this, silence reigns in the street. It’s as if no one sees what you see—huge flames licking at walls now darkened by the heat, and beams giving way and crashing onto the gradually shrinking lawn, also consumed by the fire. You want to scream and call for help—anything. But a silhouette emerging from the front door of the house seals your lips shut. You would have hoped it was Miguel, but you don’t live in paradise.

It’s indeed a masculine figure with an imposing muscular build, tall stature, and a black compression shirt, walking towards a motorcycle casually parked near Miguel’s fence. A large sports bag hangs from his hand by the handle. He effortlessly loads it onto the back of his bike despite its obvious weight. You’re afraid the man will notice you—though he hasn’t yet—but the paralysis freezing your limbs prevents you from making any move. While there’s no outward sign of activity, your heart rebels. It thumps so loudly in your chest that you almost fear the man might hear it from where he stands.

He straddles his bike and puts on his helmet before you have a chance to identify his face. The evening’s darkness obscures any chance of recognizing the arsonist. Once his motorcycle helmet is securely fastened, the man starts his bike and glances back one last time.

Familiar emerald eyes fall upon you.

And as the man turns away without a hint of reaction, he lifts his foot from the ground and rides off into the night’s silence.

A silence that persists even as you rush to the front of Miguel’s house and scream with all the strength of your lungs for help, calling out the names of his wife and daughter. But only the crackling of flames burning your hopes for their survival answers you.

°°°°

You can’t breathe.

The air escapes you.

Emerald irises glare at you from the corner of your room where you’re paralyzed by sleep. Thin lips stretch into a smile that haunts you like a cursed spirit. You blink, and the silhouette is now leaning over you on your bed, hands clasping around your neck with a powerful grip.

It suffocates you.

And its irises stare at you impassively.

Choking you in a deadly silence.

DING DONG.

DING DONG.

DING DONG...

You wake with a start. Your forearm rests on the polished wooden table of the university library, a small patch of saliva staining the fabric of your white shirt from your sleep. Still bleary-eyed, you look around and notice the ghostly silence of the library. You retrieve your phone from your pocket, and the displayed time tells you three things.

The first is that the bell that just rang was the second warning for the start of classes.

The second is that you’re late.

And the third—the worst—is that you have class with your current nightmare: Professor Fushiguro.

You hastily grab your bag and dash through the corridors towards the law studies building. Of course, your classroom had to be the farthest one, and of course, you’re running late. Your lack of sleep, caused by the multiple nightmares you’ve been having lately, only serves to increase your stress, which is clearly not what you need.

What you witnessed last weekend.

Breathless, you gently push open the swinging doors of the amphitheater, praying with all your heart that the class is still chatting as they settle in.

But as if your poor heart wasn’t exhausted enough, as soon as you step through the swinging doors, a familiar and magnetic voice interrupts, and a heavy silence greets you, with all the students’ heads turning towards you. Heat climbs up your neck, and you dread a fainting spell.

“You’re late.” Professor Fushiguro’s icy voice is as cutting as the iceberg that split the Titanic and resonates throughout the lecture hall. You struggle to swallow, nearly choking.

Mumbling apologies, you lower your gaze, not wanting to meet eyes that has haunted you recently. After sighing, Professor Fushiguro completely ignores you, and you take a seat on the nearest chair, still red with embarrassment as he resumes his lecture. Two male students whisper to each other, their voices audible enough for you to hear as you take out your trembling laptop.

“What’s up with him today?”

“I don’t know. He seems to be in a murderous mood today, according to the other classes.”

You clear your throat softly. Your hands shake so much that you can’t type a word on your keyboard without making multiple spelling mistakes. Your already empty stomach twists, and you suppress the nausea lingering in your chest.

“The time is up. You will submit your essays on my desk,” Professor Fushiguro orders in his deep voice.

Your pen continues to scratch your paper with its blue ink as you lift your head abruptly, panic flooding your face. “No, no, no…” you murmur, looking over your sheets, knowing that the work is insufficient.

Professor Fushiguro had given an in-class essay assignment on the recent topics introduced on criminality. Unable to write a single word during the first forty-five minutes, the limited time left had triggered a realization that made you forget about Professor Fushiguro and recall that your grades affect the relationship you’re trying to build with your father. The mere image of his disappointed face is enough to bring back the nausea you felt earlier.

Most students rise almost immediately and descend the lecture hall steps to submit their work. Yours, which must contain half of what the others have provided, will not secure an average grade. You are already certain of it. While you are usually one of the top students in your class, this year is off to a rough start, especially given your delicate situation with Professor Fushiguro.

Resigned, you abandon your pen and pack your belongings into your bag. You’ll start your first grade of the year with an F – and, more importantly, with a professor/student relationship whose outcome you don’t even know. Is Professor Fushiguro plotting something against you?

As you drop your papers on his desk surrounded by girls who you often see gossiping about his beauty—which you no longer appreciate— you intentionally meet his gaze. Your breath catches.

Behind his statue-like mask, Professor Fushiguro’s emerald irises pin you in place. With a hatred you sense is more intense than the incident involving Miguel that led to his death and that of his wife and daughter.

Turning your head away, you spin on your heels and climb the amphitheater steps. But you distinctly hear Professor Fushiguro dismiss the group of admirers sharply. “Leave the room if you have no questions about the class.”

Regardless of his lack of comment.

You will do the same—hoping he won’t touch anything directly related to your life.

And you push aside yet another bad feeling that you hope is wrong.

°°°°

But you are wrong, even years later, to doubt your sixth sense.

With shaking hands, you hold your corrected essay paper returned by Professor Fushiguro. Covered in red pen marks, a large F – circled in the corner of your sheet is the only thing that catches your attention despite the background chatter of the class. In a situation like this, you would have gone to see your professor and asked for clarification on what you did wrong and to understand what went awry. But you can’t.

A sigh escapes the barrier of your lips as you shove your paper into your bag, trying to forget how it’s not even the mediocre quality of your work that cost you this grade, but rather that every paragraph you wrote had been aggressively attacked with crimson ink. This means that Professor Fushiguro probably didn’t grade you so poorly out of some revenge.

At least, that’s what you hope.

Until the next classes resume, and each of your assignments submitted to Professor Fushiguro ends with an F – or F + (the latter when he seems to be in a good mood). You can’t count how many times you’ve run your hand over your face to sweep away the frustration that overtakes you—especially when you see other students getting results you should have. Assignments for which you put in maximum effort. Yet, nothing seems to change.

“It’s true that no other article has been posted since…”

“Do you think she has another scoop?” a frustrated voice says from behind a bookshelf.

“According to some students in her class, she no longer shows up for lectures.”

“Weird…”

“Good riddance, I say! It’s been paradise since we stopped reading anything on her damn blog!” curses a student, storming away from the aisle followed by his friends.

You lift your face from where it’s buried in the crook of your folded arm on the table. Only the faint sound of Shoko’s keyboard tapping reaches your ears. You exchange a glance with her to see if she caught what you just overheard.

Shoko takes a small breath that she releases in a small sigh. Stretching, she yawns before pulling out a bottle of your favorite drink. “Here. Keep sleeping instead of listening to such crappy gossip about Miwa. At this rate, you’ll end up just like me.”

You offer her a tired smile and take the bottle, eagerly gulping down its contents. You eat much less at home, sleep less, and spend most of your time dozing with your arms crossed on one of the tables in the university library, soothed by a sense of security reinforced by the fact that you’re not alone and the sound of the rain beating against the windows is one of the most relaxing sounds to fall asleep to.

You’re constantly on the alert at home. You startle at the slightest noise and constantly feel like danger is lurking overhead. You have no one to confide in.

You haven’t revealed anything to Shoko either.

Omitting from the police and your friend that you know the identity of the murderer of the Oduol family, you lied by saying that fear and shock caused memory issues. A policewoman took note of your statement after escorting you to the police station following the fire you urgently reported. You bluntly responded that you saw a vague figure leaving the house but don’t know more. The policewoman, sympathetic, brought you back safely home and kindly offered for you to provide any details regarding the ongoing investigation in the coming days. She then left and you haven’t contacted her since.

You’re exhausted.

Tired of studying for courses where you end up with a poor grade every time, of having insomnia that prevents you from sleeping with the constant fear of being killed in your own home.

And the worst part is your grades.

You dismissed the excuse of the mediocre quality of your first assignment. But as for those that followed, you almost gave your soul. You don’t understand the mistakes you make in each assignment. And you don’t dare to talk to the source either.

You’re too afraid.

Especially of opening your mouth during his classes.

But the next one might be even harder—because the next session will focus on a themed debate.

°°°°

“The nature of redemption for criminals.”

The debate opens for your next few hours, and you’re trapped in the amphitheater room that’s become your nightmare. For the first time, you see Professor Fushiguro questioning students and engaging in conversation with them on a topic you never thought he would address. He responds with the perfect image of a teacher. And it unsettles you.

For a criminal, he’s surprisingly good at it.

Snide remarks keep blooming in your head with each student’s intervention that receives a response from your professor. You’re so frustrated that your clenched teeth start to hurt your jaw. But you say nothing. You know you mustn’t open your mouth. But still, you burn with the desire to participate. To respond with your arguments, to shut Professor Fushiguro up, and to spit out all the hatred and frustration you have against him. But nothing can break your forged silence.

Nothing except—

“...even the most ruthless criminals may have the opportunity to redeem themselves and find redemption, provided they sincerely express remorse and commit to changing their behavior. Malcom X, Shaka Senghor, or even Piper Kerman are excellent examples of individuals who have committed reprehensible acts but have managed to reintegrate into society after serving their sentence and showing real change,” asserts Professor Fushiguro, standing with his lower back leaning against the edge of his desk and facing the class.

His calm and composed voice makes you want to scream what you’re holding back from replying.

Redemption my ass!

Your eyes burn into Professor Fushiguro’s figure, and when his gaze lingers on you, you notice the small smirk forming on his lips.

A smug and discreet smile but one that openly mocks you—because you can’t say anything about it.

And that’s the last straw.

You rise from your seat in front of the entire amphitheater, chin held high. “I disagree,” you say in a loud, clear voice that resonates in everyone’s ears.

Professor Fushiguro loses his smug smirk and turns it into a mask of ice. He raises his eyebrows—probably surprised that you’re speaking up. “You disagree?” he repeats your words slowly and doesn’t blink once. For the first time since the beginning of the year, you have his full attention publicly.

“Yes,” you affirm with conviction. You maintain a steady voice that threatens to tremble under the rapid beats of your heart.

Your last name rolls off Professor Fushiguro’s tongue like venom. “Well, then, enlighten us with your objection,” he says sarcastically and provocatively but in the silence of the room, you dare not cross any line.

Not yet.

You take a tiny breath of courage. “I have doubts regarding the possibility for some criminals to truly find redemption, especially when they have committed particularly heinous or repeated acts,” you retort. “Don’t you think that raises some neglect towards the personal responsibility of criminals? I believe it’s necessary to also consider the interests of the victims in the rehabilitation process.”

Throughout, the class as well as Professor Fushiguro haven’t taken their eyes off your bold mouth. Your teacher’s neutral face doesn’t change, but you sense a hint of irritation in his voice when he speaks up.

“I understand your concerns, but we cannot afford to condemn individuals outright without giving them a chance to redeem themselves. Even those who have committed unforgivable acts deserve a chance at redemption, for that’s how we, as a society, progress towards a better future.”

You hold back a sarcastic laugh.

You don’t care about the consequences now. You release all the frustration you’ve been holding back, crossing your arms over your chest to reply, “Allow me to doubt the nature of redemption for those involved in clandestine criminal activities. Some individuals may claim to seek redemption while continuing to commit reprehensible acts in secret,” you emphasize, raising your eyebrows and curling your lips. “Perhaps it would be useful to question the sincerity of their repentance.”

It’s as if the breath of the entire class is held.

Professor Fushiguro remains silent, but you feel him freeze at your words.

“On what examples are you basing this, exactly?” he asks in a sickly sweet tone before pursing his lips.

His response makes you let out a scoff.

Seeing Professor Fushiguro’s game, you cross the forged line. He’s testing you to see if you’ll dare to speak up. And that’s exactly what you do.

“Is this a joke? Well, let’s see…” You pretend to think, and release all your frustration accumulated over so many days. “What about hitmen?”

Never have you shown such insolence to a teacher. You realize you’ve gotten yourself into serious trouble when right at that moment, the bell rings to signal the end of classes and Professor Fushiguro utters words that sign your death sentence.

“You’ll come see me.”

As the entire class rushes to pack up their belongings, you ignore the whispers behind you and stuff your laptop into your bag with slow, feverish movements. Your heart is pumping rapidly, and your tongue, burning just a minute ago, now feels numb.

You descend the emptying amphitheater stairs and wait for the double doors to let the last student pass before approaching Professor Fushiguro’s desk. He hasn’t moved from his position, partly leaning against the edge of the desk. You leave a safe distance between the two of you, ready to sprint if he tries anything against you. But will he dare to do it within the university premises?

“You displayed a certain insolence during the debate,” he begins in a low voice. His eyes scrutinize yours, but this time, you don’t look away.

“It was a glimpse of my frustration,” you reply with coldness.

“Oh? Your frustration?” He tilts his head to the side, a sarcastically surprised expression on his face.

“I suppose you know the cause.” You leave a silence for a response he doesn’t give you. So, you continue, “Stop giving me unjust bad grades. I know you’re doing it with the intention of ruining my academic record.” Your voice is as low as Professor Fushiguro’s, who sneers at you.

“I could easily inform on you to the police, you know. I haven’t said anything until now, but they assured me they’re keeping an eye on my voice,” your courage loosens your tongue but raises the heavy, fast beats of your heart in your ears. Blood pounds in your ears.

Toji purses his lips but doesn’t falter in the face of your threats. “And I could sue you for defamation. You have no proof, my lovely.” A smug smile stretches his thin lips, and you notice the hint of a scar drawing in their corner. He leans slightly forward so that his low voice can only reach your ears. “By nosing around into things that don’t concern you, maybe the absence of your colleague Kasumi, which worries the principal so much, will eventually affect you too." He grins as he sees your eyes widen in horror.

“...Are you involved in that?” you whisper in a hoarse voice, to which he responds with a shrug.

You’ve put yourself in a situation that may be worse than it already is, but you value your life. You take a step towards him and speak with less confidence. “Fine. I’ll keep quiet. But change my grades in return. Or at least, give me a better grade next—”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “You’re not in a position to negotiate. And what makes you think I trust you?” His smile turns into outright mockery. “Your word means nothing to me.”

The noise of students’ conversations waiting behind the amphitheater doors grabs your attention. You don’t have time to argue any longer.

As you prepare to respond one last time, your face contorted by Professor Fushiguro’s blunt refusal, he interrupts you by raising his index finger to impose silence. “A word of advice. Don’t risk playing with the devil when you don’t know what hell looks like. Don’t venture into a game where you’re not ready to risk your neck.”

°°°°

“In a delicate yet profitable context, I’ve organized, with the help of the principal, a collaboration with the police to put you through a real investigation exercise. The main subject of the investigation revolves around the worrying disappearance of a student from this university. As you’ve probably heard from leaked rumors, Miwa Kasumi’s disappearance was reported a few days ago by her family to the police station. We’ll take advantage of the investigation’s opening to help the police find Miwa with your assistance and to use this situation to your advantage by putting you in the field. Professor Fushiguro will supervise this exercise with me.”

The words of your criminal justice professor—Professor Higuruma—come back to you as a distant voice seems to call you.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

A snap of fingers brings you back to reality.

You raise your head to your father, who watches you with concern from behind the glass that separates you from him. “Yes, yes. Sorry.” You rub your eyes, burning with tiredness and reddened with burst blood vessels.

You’re back in prison for another visit to your father, who has been informed of Miguel’s death. You told him everything in detail—naturally omitting the perpetrator of the fatal fire. After over an hour of questioning you, your father changed the subject to discuss your studies.

As usually.

“And the classes?” he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Usually, at this point in the semester, you give me updates on your grades.”

You swallow hard. “Uh... Well, the workload is a bit heavier and—”

“You got bad grades?” your father interrupts, raising an eyebrow.

His conclusion catches you off guard.

“No... Well, my grades aren’t as excellent as they used to be but—”

“Answer my question.”

You blink. “I... Yes.” You take a deep breath. “But wait, Dad, I can explain—”

“And do you think this is how I’m going to get out of this rathole? I thought you wanted us to reconnect,” your father retorts, shooting you a sharp, annoyed, and disappointed look. He crosses his arms over his chest before standing up. “Don’t visit me again until your grades improve.”

“No, wait! Dad!” You exclaim, standing up abruptly and pressing your hands against the glass that separates you as your father’s back leaves the inmate visitation room. “DAD! DAD!”

Your voice breaks under the punches you give to the glass to hold him back—in vain.

°°°°

Toji enters a sushi restaurant and glances around to analyze each customer, looking for a particular person. His eyes settle on a man tattooed up to his neck, and he joins him at his table, taking a seat across from him.

The man looks up at Toji, his face lighting up as he recognizes him. “Ah! Here’s my guest. Please, order whatever you want.”

Toji nods in greeting. "Oyabun."

An elderly waitress approaches their table and smiles kindly at them. “Have you already ordered, gentlemen?”

The oyabun nods and turns to Toji. “Place his order. I’ve already eaten. You’ll put it on this account.” He takes a business card out of his jacket pocket and hands it to the old lady.

“Takoyakis,” Toji orders without a glance at her.

The lady takes note of the dish and leaves. Toji leans his elbows on the table and leans just enough to inform him, “I handed the bag to a kaikei. You didn’t tell me it contained so much money. I remind you that you still haven’t paid me.”

The oyabun puts on a serious expression and takes out a joint from his jacket. Toji lets his eyes wander vaguely over the pockets and wonders what else he could pull out.

“Do you remember the issue concerning the clan? Well, this money you recovered from Oduol belongs to me and is partly what I’m reclaiming.” He takes on a paternal tone and lights a lighter to scorch his spliff. “The rest of the sum still eludes me. I can’t pay you yet. But you know I’m not a scammer, Toji. I’ve always paid you, haven’t I?” The smell of cannabis reaches Toji’s nostrils, and he wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“And you can’t pay me with the money I recovered?” Toji asks, almost... urgently. “I’m sure the bag already has enough to cover all my other unpaid missions.”

The oyabun shakes his head and inhales the smoke from his spliff. “This money is mine,” he replies before exhaling, “and that means you should be paid with the money that’s rightfully yours. You still don’t realize the astronomical sum one of those bastards owes me.”

“So I have to keep playing the good teacher? Where are you sending poor Shiu to look for work, seriously? I’m already struggling to pay my rent, you know? I want to get back to my real full-time job,” Toji retorts bitterly.

The waitress approaches their table and sets the plate of takoyakis in front of Toji, wishing him bon appétit before slipping away. He loosens his chopsticks and crosses them to pick up a sauced ball between them.

“I know, I know. Listen, Toji. I already have some issues to sort out, but you have my word that as soon as I’m done, you’ll be paid in one go. It’s this problem that’s preventing me from paying you. I need you, and you’re already helping me a lot. Oduol had a part of the money that belongs to me, and I recovered it. Thanks to you,” the oyabun smiles wide—revealing gold canines. “You’re my best man. You’re the only one I truly rely on. You’re under my protection as long as you stay with me.”

"I need nothing but my dough," Toji answers back with less pronounced bitterness but still irritate, and the oyabun knows his words have managed to appease him somewhat. Toji swallows his takoyaki balls one by one and casually adjusts the loosely unbuttoned collar of his black shirt.

The oyabun leans back in his chair and pours himself a glass of sake. His fingers adorned with silver rings grasp the glass, and he drinks its contents in one go. “While you’re waiting for your next target, you can take it easy.”

°°°°

Toji’s calloused hand tidies his course papers on his desk as the students in his class hurry to leave the lecture hall in the usual cacophony. He hears giggles behind him and sighs in annoyance before rolling his eyes.

Those pissy girls in uniform again.

The lecture hall grows quieter, and a quick glance over his shoulder informs him that you are still packing up your belongings. The group of girls approaches him, and he turns halfway, exasperated.

“Professor Fushiguro,” one of them begins before cackling like a hen, followed by her peers, “we wanted to ask you—”

“No, I haven’t changed my cologne. No, I’m not a former national boxing champion, and no, my shirt isn’t from a luxury brand, but from a thrift store. Now, go away,” he cuts them off sharply.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs again, hoping not to have to fend them off any longer.

Since his first day here, Toji has been the constant subject of discussion among both professors and students alike. And he knows it perfectly well. But he didn’t expect to have a fan club of ‘pissy girls in pine green uniform’—as he calls them—during his very first class.

The girls stop giggling and freeze. They look at each other and give up. The group wishes him a good day and finally leaves the lecture hall, leaving Toji in peace. But Toji knows he’s not alone. You are already descending the stairs with measured steps.

He sits at his desk, waiting—and even praying—that the bell rings earlier than expected so that you don’t have to talk to him. But Toji has never been lucky. If that day were to come, it would be because God has shown him mercy.

“Professor,” you murmur cautiously once you’re at his desk.

Toji ignores you, feigning to focus on his laptop. He knows he has nothing to do on it, but he prefers to keep his eyes absentmindedly on the screen rather than having to talk to you.

“Can you explain to me what my mistakes were in this assignment?” you continue with a fragile sweetness that almost prompts Toji to lift his gaze from his PowerPoint to check if you’re crying or not. “I don’t understand my errors despite your corrections…” You hand him your paper marked in red ink.

Toji doesn’t respond and pretends to turn a deaf ear while correcting elements of his slideshow. His peripheral vision notes that you have approached him, reducing the distance to about one inch.

You are crossing a boundary that is forbidden to you.

“Please,” you insist with a hint of impatience.

Toji is about to continue ignoring you when he freezes in place as you place a hand on his forearm resting on the polished mahogany desk and gently squeeze it with your fingers. The contact of your hand sends an unusual shiver down his spine, and the warmth emanating from your palm on his skin is as scorching as the fires of hell awaiting him in exchange for his sins. He regrets rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing forearms defined with muscles and a few raised veins running across the surface of his pale, almost translucent skin.

Turning his neck slightly to look at you, Toji squints and murmurs in a threatening tone, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Your eyes meet his, and he almost feels the dilation in his pupils as he realizes the mirroring effect of yours.

You were on the verge of tears.

“Please…” you murmur as your eyes speak for you in a unspoken plea. “I swear I won’t say anything. It’s my grades that matter to me. I have secrets to keep too, and I don’t want to get involved in yours.” But seeing that he offers no response and merely stares at you without any further reaction, you continue, “Professor, please—”

“Enough!” he snaps in a half-annoyed, half-angry whisper. With a sudden movement, he pulls his arm away from the weak grasp of your hand. “Go away.”

“But—”

Once again, you’re unable to continue your pleas because of the bell ringing for the next classes, along with the voices of the next class with Professor Fushiguro behind the doors.

Swallowing back your tears, you turn on your heels and crumple your umpteenth paper, marked with an additional F –, adding to the frustrated sob that escapes your mouth as you leave the lecture hall in long strides.

All under Toji’s eyes, who, for the first time, has a heart still pounding from a confrontation he would have preferred to avoid.

°°°°

The rain pounding against the windows of the lecture hall is so loud that it drowns out the voices of the police officers. A policewoman, annoyed at having to raise her voice, borrows a lapel microphone from Professor Higuruma and stands in the center of the small platform reserved for the professors.

“Testing. Can you hear me? Perfect,” she says with a smile. “So, as we’re trying to tell you, this amphitheater has been reserved specifically for us, the police, as speakers.” She gestures toward Professors Fushiguro and Higuruma, who stand in a corner of the platform with their hands in their pockets. “Thanks to your professors,” she continues, “we can now officially open the investigation into the disappearance of student Miwa Kasumi, reported missing by her parents a few days ago. Your professors have deemed the situation, while concerning, suitable to put you in a real investigative situation. No report has been filed yet. Kasumi’s parents have provided us with some information about the last time they saw her.”

She clasps her hands behind her back to replace her smile with a serious and professional demeanor. “So I’m counting on you to help us write this report. You’ll give us all your information, and vice versa. We’ll sort it all out, and we’ll print it out for you. Over the next few days, you’ll be tasked with gathering information by visiting the last places Kasumi went before disappearing and gathering testimonies. Your invaluable help, combined with our own research, will constitute key elements. As soon as we feel we have enough and your professors have enough to grade you, the investigation will no longer concern you and will be entirely our responsibility. If you have no questions, I think we can begin.”

The policewoman joins one of her coworker sitting at the desk assigned to a professor and starts typing on her laptop.

Sitting at the back of the room, you stare at Professor Fushiguro. He stands nonchalantly leaning against a wall next to Higuruma. You notice that he has his lips pinched and his eyes alternate between the police officers. A thin, sinister smile curls your lips.

Of course, a hitman isn’tt comfortable in front of those who could send him to prison on the spot.

You rub your eyes with the palms of your hands and yawn.

The police’s questions begin.

Your insomnia from the previous night has left you in a murderous mood. Your reddened and burning eyes from crying all night don’t help you keep your eyes completely open under the aggressive lights of the amphitheater.

But you don’t take your eyes off Professor Fushiguro for a moment. You’re not going to let a fool like him ruin your life for grades. If you have to resort to extreme measures, you will. And that’s what you’ve been trying to do since your last desperate altercation with him. You gave up your dignity at that moment. This time, you’re already looking for something—a threat, anything—to make him change his mind. The police right now must be making him very uncomfortable—because a word from you, and he could end up in handcuffs. But you can’t.

At least not yet.

As the session nears its end, a police officer sends the report to each student’s university email and also sends it to be printed at the university library. So as you come to pick up your copy at the bottom of the amphitheater, you pass by Professor Fushiguro without a glance. As you turn on your heels, your eyes rise to meet his. He doesn’t break eye contact, but you know he can’t have failed to notice your bloodshot eyes and your silence in front of the familiar policewoman—the one who escorted you home after the fire at the Oduols’.

Despite her inquiries about your memories, you claimed that you don’t really remember who the man was.

°°°°

At the end of the week, your research has finally paid off. And there’s no way this time that Professor Fushiguro will give you yet another F –. You’re prepared to go to great lengths to force him to stop his blackmail.

Your knuckles rap three times on the door of Professor Fushiguro’s office. A muffled “come in” reaches your ears, and you enter the room. You immediately close the door behind you and observe the surroundings. Contrary to what you might have imagined, the space is decorated in a traditional academic aesthetic—large bookshelves filled with books of all sizes adorn the walls, floral wallpaper, or even a Persian rug with complex blood-red patterns sleeping at the feet of a burgundy sofa.

You clearly doubt that the aesthetic taste of the office comes from him.

“I’ve come to bring you my report,” you say after clearing your throat.

Professor Fushiguro, seated at his ebony wood desk, pays no attention to you and keeps his eyes glued to his computer. The only response is the clacking of the keyboard keys.

You take a few steps and reach the desk. You carefully place your report down and sit in one of the armchairs facing your teacher.

With your heart pounding, you take a small breath and waste no time. “Professor? Can we get back to what I was trying to tell you last week?”

Professor Fushiguro continues to royally ignore you, and you close your eyelids for a second.

This can’t go on any longer.

“Stop ignoring me.” You suddenly stand up and close Professor Fushiguro’s computer with the tips of your fingers. He barely has time to remove his fingers from the keyboard and looks up at you.

His eyes narrow like those of a cobra, and he’s about to respond—undoubtedly about your insolence—but you raise your hand in the same way he has done with you before to impose silence and hiss a “no!”

The professor’s thin lips part in surprise at your boldness. He doesn’t say a word and waits for what your audacity has in store for him. For the first time, you leave him speechless.

“Now, you’re going to listen to me until the end.” You lean dangerously toward him across the desk and place a hand on its surface. A determined gleam shines in your eyes, and your tongue loosens immediately. “You seemed particularly nervous during the first intervention with the police, or am I mistaken? You were very tense despite your facade of a relaxed man. And you saw me. I didn’t say anything.” You grit your teeth and hold back the urge to strike him in the face with his silence. Your throat is already painfully tight. You really hope he’ll listen to you until the end.

“I know you were bluffing about Miwa because you would never have dared anything directly with the police. Nothing will happen to me. So if you decide to do nothing about my grades thinking you can relax, you’re sorely mistaken. You underestimate me far too much. If I won’t speak about your crime, I’m ready to create one against myself. I’ve been kind enough so far,” you declare in a strained voice. The accumulation of silence over these weeks is too much today. 

You’re exhausted. You take a breath that has shortened.

But after all the reactions you could have hoped for from Professor Fushiguro, the one he offers you catches you off guard. At first, a slow smile stretches across his lips, then a chuckle escapes him, and finally, he bursts out laughing. The heat rising to your cheeks spreads all over your face, and the blood pounds in your ears.

“Let me laugh a little more. Who’s talking about bluffing here, again? Do you think I’m going to swallow that?” He leans his elbows on the desk with both arms to rest his chin on the back of his intertwined hands and looks at you with his emerald irises. “I don’t believe you, pretty girl. You’re capable of nothing. And I’ve already told you. Your word means nothing to me,” he murmurs with a mocking smile that curls his lips.

“Oh really?” you murmur under your breath. “That’s what I thought. You know you’re the subject of almost every conversation in this university, Professor Fushiguro. Wouldn’t it be detrimental to your already dubious reputation if a professor like you—who looks more like a model working for Calvin Klein than anything else—gets involved in an unpleasant affair with a student? You underestimate the cunning of women. Knowing that three-quarters of the female students have already had wet dreams about you. And believe me, it’s certainly not the stress of student life that stains their underwear every night. Nothing is indifferent to anyone in this university.”

The image of your father walking away from the inmate visitation room comes to mind. Your eyes sting, but you try to hold on and not break down in front of him.

Caught up in the momentum of emotion, you lean so close to him across the desk that the distance between your two heads is only about eleven inches. “I stand by what I said. I won’t let my academic record rot for a man like you. I also have secrets to keep. And I’m ready to do anything to protect them. Even if it means committing immorality.”

With these final words, you can’t hold back a tear escaping from one of your eyes and letting it roll down your cheek.

You don’t give him time to respond and turn on your heel to leave the office, wiping away the other tears that finally streak your cheeks.

°°°°

“And another loss, my friend.”

Shiu Kong chuckles beneath his neatly trimmed mustache. He shuffles the blackjack cards and picks them up one by one. He glances at Toji’s indifferent expression. “What? Is that all it does to you?”

Toji shrugs and takes a sip of whiskey. “Nothing new. I never have any luck.” The liquid burns his throat for a moment, but the sounds of the casino machines distract him, and his thoughts keep drifting to your face he encountered the previous day.

Shiu takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. With a nod of his head, he offers one to Toji, who declines with a shake of his head. “It’s a shame you lose at games that could earn you a little cash—of course—but which can quickly accumulate thanks to many rounds. Must be better than your teacher job, right?”

“I also have secrets to keep. And I’m ready to do anything to protect them.”

Toji leans back in his chair, sighs, and runs a hand over his tired face, trying to rid himself of your voice in his head. He hasn’t forgotten the sound of your sobbing or your sniffles every time you left after trying to change your grades.

Toji has never felt the slightest guilt.

And he doesn’t want it to start now.

Especially when it involves you.

“Yeah. It really is a shitty job.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but he has the right to refuse visitors.” The voice of the penitentiary secretary sounds slightly irritated.

“But—”

“I’m sorry to insist, but even if you come in person, it won’t matter. He’ll probably remain in his cell,” she interrupts hastily.

You purse your lips and sit on your bed in the dim light of your room. “I see... Thank you,” you murmur softly, your voice breaking.

“Have a nice day, miss.”

The line disconnects, and you let your back sink into the mattress.

Your father requested to refuse your visit if you try to contact him in any way. Your throat knots horribly, and it feels like the knot is laced with thorns.

It’s all his fault.

Professor Fushiguro is your tormentor.

You hate him so much.

He ruins your life in every way—without you being able to do anything about it.

All you ask for is your father’s love, as you dream of every time.

Were you asking for too much?

Or perhaps you simply don’t deserve it.

°°°°

C +.

“C +.”

You blink several times.

No...

You must be dreaming.

From your seat at the back, you watch Professor Fushiguro finish distributing the corrected reports made by the students in the class. When he returns to his desk, the rest of the students quickly pack up their things, following suit. With Professor Higuruma present, the rest of the class will continue in a different amphitheater to update the police, who will collect all the information provided by each student.

But you still can’t believe that Professor Fushiguro, the man who has been threatening you and making your life difficult from the start, is starting to give you better grades. A “C +” isn’t the best grade you’ve ever had, but in theoretical criminology, it’s worth celebrating.

A bubble of hope swells in your chest.

Throughout the continued class, you’ve been trying to catch Professor Fushiguro’s gaze, but to no avail. Without even knowing why you’re doing it.

“Very well. Excellent, I would even say,” the same policewoman declares during the first intervention. Her voice projected through the microphone is clear and captures everyone’s attention. “Thank you, dear students. According to the overall assessments and reports from your professors, Miwa was seen in some very undesirable places just before her disappearance. Other information has been taken into account, and I ask those who know of such... prohibited areas, not to disclose their locations. Please. This part of the investigation is for the police only. We plan to involve you in real investigation work with the agreement of your professors, but for now, do not attempt anything dangerous to find your missing classmate.”

The entire class exchanges sarcastic looks.

It’s true, after all. Miwa ins’t the favorite student of most students at Keio University. She has always posted articles against any student who has a secret that could draw attention to her blog.

“But I want to emphasize that if you obtain any further necessary information before our next meeting, you are welcome to share it. Your help is greatly appreciated. Thank you for your hard work.”

Applause erupts from the group of police officers alongside Professors Higuruma and Fushiguro. The class joins in, and whistles echo through the room.

Your eyes continue to search for Professor Fushiguro’s, but not once has his head turned in your direction. A pang of disappointment pricks at you without understanding why. If he has finally decided to listen to you and stop his threats, you should be happy about it. Not that you’re not pleased, but you want him to pay attention to you.

And in a good way.

°°°°

The coffin lids finally close, plunging the Oduol family into the sleep that death offers them.

You can’t help but bite your lower lip.

The committee attending the funeral is much smaller than you thought. The morgue is filled with just over half a dozen people—including you. The majority consists of a few men in suits, one of whom, presumably their leader, is tattooed all the way up to his neck.

Without exception, they all prayed.

You’ve wondered many times who they are. Especially when, in your somber attire, a glance from you is enough to meet the gaze of the tattooed man. His indifferent eyes glanced at your silhouette, perhaps wondering who you are, but you didn’t speak to each other—because the men didn’t linger at the morgue either.

If you sideline that, on the way back to your apartment, you constantly wonder why Professor Fushiguro had to kill Miguel. And the image of the huge gym bag he carried with him twists your stomach into a bad omen.

It contained money, you have no doubt.

And then, Miguel was wealthy.

He was also your father’s friend.

But unlike him, Miguel didn’t end up in prison for embezzlement. You begin to wonder if Miguel’s wealth came from the infamous sum for which your father is behind bars. Is the money being pursued by other people?

If this deduction is true, Miguel had been a target while free, while your father has not been for years.

If Professor Fushiguro decided to target Miguel, it must also be related to why your father is imprisoned. But one last deduction lights up your brain, and suddenly nausea grips you.

Is Professor Fushiguro also after your father?

°°°°

Your fist knocks three times on Professor Fushiguro’s office door.

A muffled “come in” allows you to enter the room with a steady step. For some reason or another, you are no longer afraid to speak with your teacher—despite the fact that you haven’t said a word to him since the first time you came to talk to him in his office like today.

You’re not afraid anymore.

And only when it concerns your father.

You carefully close the door before sitting down on one of the armchairs opposite him as he doesn’t deign to look at you. Professor Fushiguro is buried in a small stack of students’ papers to correct mercilessly as he did for you.

“Hello, Professor.”

Silence.

Undeterred in the slightest, you continue, “I would like some explanations about the report you corrected. I don’t understand my grade.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, and his pen scratches a sentence on the paper he’s working on. You take the opportunity to take out your own report handed in a few days ago in class. You remain perfectly silent, waiting for an answer that you’ll force out of him if necessary.

Several minutes pass, and you wonder for a moment if he will open his mouth at any point.

Your request seems to have been heard when he sighs in annoyance and sets aside one assignment to move on to another before glancing at you and your report. “Can’t you read?” he says sarcastically. He shifts his attention back to another assignment to correct.

“So you’re still giving me bad grades on purpose?” you ask, furrowing your brows, a feeling of revolt swelling in your chest and encouraging your tongue to say what you’ve been holding back. “I thought you had changed your mind about—”

“Can you stop chattering like a magpie for two minutes?” he cuts in, looking up at you with a stern expression. “How do you expect me to do anything if you never shut up?”

Silence.

“...So,” you blink, “do you agree?”

“One more word, and I change my mind.” He adjusts his dark tie over his black shirt, and your gaze follows the movements of his hand holding the pen.

A few minutes later, Professor Fushiguro pushes his papers aside and sighs. You wait for him to focus his attention on you, and when he does, his deep voice snaps like a whip in your ears, “What’s wrong this time?”. He’s annoyed. And he doesn’t hide it.

You show him the red marks streaking your paper with careful words you endeavored to put on. “I didn’t understand why I got this grade. I took it seriously. I think you’re grading me too harshly.” You tilt your head slightly to the side and squint. “And I don’t understand your correction.”

“So you can’t read.” He leans his elbow on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose, then straightens up.

“I said I didn’t understand,” you insist. You purse your lips.

Professor Fushiguro seems to relent, because for the next ten minutes, he turns the paper towards him to re-explain the notes framing the margins of the pages.

When he finishes his oral correction, a question gnaws at you, and you scrunch your nose.

“I have a question.” You pause. “Are you grading me this way because you’re being harder on me or because you’re really grading me?” Your expression of indifference hides an analysis of your teacher’s facial expressions.

“I thought I made myself clear. I’m not threatening you anymore. But that doesn’t stop me from grading you as you should be.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Your old teacher was unbelievably mediocre. No wonder you’re surprised by such poor results when reality hits you.” He raises his eyebrows as if what he just said was such a mundane fact that you seem stupid for not understanding it earlier.

You purse your lips in an indignant pout. “Says the professor who bought his degree,” you reply almost venomously.

Professor Fushiguro raises an amused eyebrow. “So you think I faked my degree?” A smirk curls his lips.

“Coming from someone…” you murmur, searching for your words, “...like you, it’s obvious.”

“Sometimes, what seems most obvious to us is very far from reality.”

“So are we making peace?” you ask, resting your hands on your thighs, a hint of suspicion.

Under his gulp, Professor Fushiguro’s Adam’s apple oscillates. “I suppose so. But that doesn’t mean other threats can’t come your way, and for real this time.” His tone, sickly sweet, sends a shiver down your spine.

“I see. So, I’m not exactly your bosom buddy?” you say sarcastically. You cross your legs and fidget with your fingers. “So, my grade is deserved?” The corners of your lips twitch in a murmur of frosty disappointment.

An imperceptible nod from the professor is his response. “Since I’m not a ‘real teacher,’ as you put it, I might as well do my job properly to avoid arousing suspicion. If you have no further questions, the door is open.” His hand vaguely gestures to the door behind you with a sign. But you notice that he looks up insolently.

He looks like a teenager.

He pulls his laptop towards him, but you speak up again, your heart pounding. “No, I still have questions.” He rolls his eyes and pushes your report back towards you, probably hoping to silence your questions.

“I attended the funeral of the man you—” He gives you wide eyes and suddenly turns his face towards the closed door of his office. You lower your gaze to your intertwined fingers and freeze. “Anyway. I know it’s the last thing you want to talk about but…” You lean forward slightly. “Do your targets have any connection with Miguel?”

Professor Fushiguro purses his thin lips and glares at you. “No,” he murmurs reluctantly. He squints suspiciously and speaks in a voice so low that you have to lean in even more to hear him and not miss a word of his response. “I work under orders, period. I have no connection or relation with anyone. And you should stop sticking your nose into business that doesn't concern you. Or there will be consequences.”

The vise gripping your chest loosens, and you sigh with relief.

“Oh, one last thing.” You take your corrected paper and put it back in your bag. “Do you have, um, any textbooks to recommend to improve my grades? I won’t ask you anything else after this,” you add hastily, seeing his expression about to give you a flat no.

He sighs again and thumbs over his shoulder to the library behind him. “First shelf from the top on the right.”

You quickly get up and start looking at the books with dark bindings. Some vases with green plants adorn the wooden shelves, and you stand on tiptoe to try to grab two books that you can only touch the bindings with the tips of your fingers.

“I can’t reach them,” you say without turning around, breathless from the effort.

You reach higher, while the size of Professor Fushiguro looms behind you. He mutters to himself, and when your nails finally grip a leather-bound book, you pull on it and lose your balance. Your hand clutching the book sweeps the vase nearby, and in the momentum, you expect it to fall on you.

But it doesn’t.

A powerful hand pulls your forearm, and your nose hits something flat and hard. A second later, a crashing sound is emitted at your feet.

Your eyes, closed in fear, open, and you immediately look behind you.

The potted plant decorating the bookshelf has just shattered right where you were seconds ago. Your breath catches, and your heart races against another heart. The scent of masculine cologne fills your nostrils, and a single movement of your head puts you face to face with Professor Fushiguro.

Who just saved you from a trip to the hospital.

His strong arms encircle your waist in a firm and secure hold against him. Silence weighs in the room as your eyes get lost in the emerald ones of Professor Fushiguro—whose dilated pupils, alert from his movements, probe you. You swallow imperceptibly, and his warm breath brushes your face.

It’s as if time has stopped.

But the bursting of a storm outside breaks the moment, and you let go of the book you’re holding with the tips of your fingers.

Immediately, and in a synchronized movement, you both pull away from each other and avert your gaze. With flushed cheeks, you lean down to pick up one of the books, and as soon as you straighten your torso, two other books hit your chest.

Professor Fushiguro holds out the books to you and doesn’t wait any longer to lean towards the broken vase where soil has scattered on the floor. Neither of you speaks a word, and the sounds of rain beating against the window replace the silence of a few seconds ago.

You clear your throat and approach the pieces of pottery vase to pick them up, your cheeks crimson. But the same hand that just saved you pushes you away with a sharp gesture.

You raise your eyes to Professor Fushiguro who gazes back at you with...

…uncertainty? Embarrassment? You’re not sure. His eyes are too clouded.

“Leave it. You have your books,” his voice mutters before he turns around to pick up the pottery shards. You don’t see his face because by the time you perceive the expression he wears, he’s already turned his back to you.

Not wanting to push further under his tone indicating you should leave quickly, you nod anyway despite the fact that he can’t see it.

With your books and bag over your shoulder, you stride quickly towards the exit of the office, almost having legs like jelly. The areas of your body that came into contact with him burn, and you open the door before stepping halfway through and freezing.

You glance over your shoulder. Professor Fushiguro turns around at the same moment. Seized by some unknown impulse, you regain the use of your voice to whisper three words, “Professor Fushiguro... thank you.” Before swiftly disappearing without giving him a chance to react.

And your tone indicates that you’re not just thanking him for the books.

°°°°

Back in his apartment that evening, Toji slumps onto his couch, exhausted. He rubs his eyes with one hand and turns on the TV, a habit of his to avoid overthinking when sleep calls but his mind won’t rest. Unfortunately for him tonight, his heavy eyelids flutter open every time he tries to drift off. So he eventually gives up on dozing off, sleep eluding him. A shadow catches his attention in the dim light cast by the TV in his otherwise darkened living room.

He recognizes your silhouette.

He’s speechless by your sweet, angelic smile. Your shining eyes caress him with their gaze, and your lips are delicately parted. Paralyzed, Toji swallows hard but doesn’t move an inch, his eyes almost bulging in shock at seeing you here—while you, you lean towards him with a slowness that he thinks might be an eternity.

“Professor Fushiguro... thank you.”

His heart skips a beat.

His lips feel dry as if sewn shut, while you draw back and glance at the TV broadcasting the day’s news. You shift your focus back to Toji and grace him with the most angelic smile for the second time.

Angelic.

That’s the only word that registers in his brain, unable to think.

But he knows he’s never seen that smile on your lips in reality.

It’s the first thing he thinks about as he blinks his tired eyes, which soon squint as the harsh light from his living room TV makes him realize that it’s all just a dream.

°°°°

“Where did you get this?”

You swallow thick.

The policewoman’s question echoes in your head.

You purse your lips and reply in a barely audible whisper, audible only to her. “In a bar…” you lie. The sharp, piercing gaze of the policewoman silences your voice, and suddenly, you feel intimidated.

“Really? And when? In such a short amount of time?” She bombards you with questions while raising her thin eyebrows. She briskly takes the report folder from your hands and begins to flip through it without really reading your findings.

Your heart pounds in your chest like crazy, and your body temperature rises a notch. Lying has always made you anxious. And lying about where you actually went—a casino—will be no exception for you today. You sneak a discreet glance towards Professor Fushiguro, who approaches his desk in the lecture hall, the very place where you are confronted by the policewoman.

Your eyes lock onto his with insistence as the suspicious policewoman continues to grumble while flipping through your report. “Did you do your research all by yourself?” the policewoman insists, squinting her eyes.

You nod and turn your attention back to her. “Professor Fushiguro is aware,” you add a bit too quickly, blood pounding in your ears. “He has read my report and is aware of the situation.” You turn to him. “Isn’t that right, Professor?” This is your moment to send a distress signal to the only person who might save you at this moment.

The policewoman clicks her tongue against her palate and looks at the concerned Professor Fushiguro with annoyance, tacitly asking him to confirm your words.

Please, please, please...

Professor Fushiguro brings his hand to his chin and rubs his jaw. Now standing next to you facing the policewoman, his imposing physique towers over both you and the policewoman. During the split second of your silent eye contact exchange, you pray that he will cover for you and support your lie.

You dread that your heart will stop beating when he slightly parts his lips and declares in his deep, grave voice, “Yes, she came to see me.”

“You see?” you immediately insist with a forced smile. The heat on your face must be apparent now, but you choose to be in denial when neither of the two interlocutors makes any remarks. “I found a witness in a bar who told me they saw Miwa there. Professor Fushiguro tried to call her using the contact information she provided, but she didn’t answer.”

You cough, and your foot brushes against his.

Professor Fushiguro lifts his head a little and sighs, playing along with your game. “I had already decided to call her back as soon as possible, but I see that Miss has been a little more impatient than expected.” He tucks his lower lip and gives you a sidelong glance. His expression is icy and nonchalant—almost grumpy—as usual. “I understand your suspicion when we see that a student is the only one submitting a report, knowing that no other student has done so. And that the information she seems to... provide has escaped the police.”

You feel your armpits becoming slightly damp with sweat under your white shirt. You clear your throat. “Yes. I apologize for not being clearer from the start.”

The policewoman hums and sets your report aside on the table, visibly irritated. “It will be reviewed as soon as possible.”

You sigh as your steps lead you to your seat in the lecture hall and thank God that the noise of the students has helped to conceal your discussion. Perched on your chair, you lock eyes with Professor Fushiguro for the umpteenth time. And a gleam in his emerald eyes reminds you of the clear message he has already indirectly conveyed to you.

Clear explanations will be necessary.

°°°°

“Wait. I know—”

“What the hell is this now?” Professor Fushiguro cuts off sharply, carefully closing the door to his office. He returns to his seat and drops heavily into it. Rubbing his eyelids with one hand, he lets out a sigh.

Taking advantage of his momentary silence, you continue, “Listen to me, at least. I didn’t go to a bar. I lied.” You nervously fidget with your fingers on your thighs. “Actually, I went to... a casino.”

Professor Fushiguro’s eyes widen, and he tilts his chin up to your face, wrinkled with your confession. “Excuse me? And the police warnings?” He exhales irritably through his nostrils, and you could swear you see smoke coming out like a bull.

“Listen, you just have to call the woman and tell her to simply overlook the fact that I met her in a casino rather than a bar.” You force a smile, hands now sweaty. “She’ll agree, I’m sure. I’ve already saved her contact details on my phone. We just need to do it before—”

“And why didn’t you do that at the time? You knew you weren’t allowed to go there for the investigation.” Professor Fushiguro’s jaw tightens, and this time he tugs at his indigo tie—a perfect match for his black shirt, you can’t help but think—to loosen it a bit. “I can’t believe I defended you…” He sighs, dismayed.

You notice his under-eye circles are a bit more pronounced than usual but refrain from commenting.

You bite your lower lip and dare to speak up nonetheless. “She gave me informations because she also owns a bar. And... she has quite a few contacts who—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cuts off abruptly. “I don’t even have the energy to reprimand you properly.” Leaning on his desk, he clasps his hands to address you. “Stop pursuing the investigation outside of class. You’ve done enough.” It’s an order, you notice.

Determined, with your eyes narrowed in frustration that is starting to hit you like a shockwave, you assert, “To make progress, ongoing work is not enough.” You straighten your back a little to show him your determination. “I’ll find Miwa.”

Professor Fushiguro’s incredulous face is presented to you. But he doesn’t seek to ask you why you are so attached to a student with a reputation more than unfavorable.

Perhaps it’s the strange, subtle attachment you have to her? Just because she never pointed fingers or denounced your situation with your father, which could have shattered the reputation of your school record? For that alone, you thank her by searching for her.

“And... it’s also kind of you to have covered for me.” Your voice softens. “I promise you that if the woman listens to us, there will be no more problems.” Your lips twist into a slight, embarrassed smile against your will. “So, thank you.”

Professor Fushiguro’s Adam’s apple oscillate as he swallows. His lips part for a moment then close again, and he hums in response before averting his gaze.

Your smile widens, and all the nervousness you felt evaporates. You gain a bit of confidence, and when he rolls his eyes, you can’t help but let out, in a whisper, “I don’t see why you’re being grumpy when everything is under control.”

He shakes his head. “You’re a real troublemaker, you know? A trouble magnet, I would even say.” He stands up, a sign that the conversation between the two of you is over.

But you remain seated.

The unpleasant remark pinches your heart, but you don’t lose your smile. “Perhaps... you’re precisely the one who’s supposed to protect me and save me from these problems—even in your role as a teacher.” You lower your gaze to his large, calloused hands. “Despite your hands stained with the blood of your sins,” you hold back a broad smile and add, looking up at him, “and your grumpy bear behavior.”

Hands in his pockets, he takes a step towards you—one that would require two for you—and his stature looms over you despite his stooped spine to meet your eyes squarely. “Unfortunately for you, a sinner cannot afford to protect the wings of an angel. He might dirty them.” He pauses to tilt his head slightly to the side. “Or worse, burn them in trying to help.”

His words hit your heart and make it skip a beat.

Palpitations seize you, but you brush them off with a blink of an eye. Your eyes get lost in the emerald of Professor Fushiguro’s eyes. The parting of your lips is the only thing that allows air into your lungs. You also ignore the strand of hair that has escaped from your hair and refrain from blowing it away.

It serves no purpose.

Especially when it’s him who tucks it back behind your ear without a word.

°°°°

Under the usual hubbub of the lecture hall, where students discuss yet another assignment given by Professor Fushiguro, your fingers shake under the featherweight of your corrected paper. But instead of dreading to see the grade marked on it, your breath catches as you discover it.

You can’t believe it.

Or maybe you don’t want to believe it.

It’s unreal.

“A +.”

You lift your gaze from your corrected paper, which bears barely traces of ink from your professor’s pen. Your heart leaps in your chest as you meet his eyes.

Professor Fushiguro has his hands buried in his pockets, as always, and he looks at you with a neutral expression—perhaps omitting the obvious glint in his eyes. You try to guess his expression, and a faint smirk gives you the answer before he looks away.

°°°°

At the end of class, when the amphitheater is empty, you decide to descend the steps to speak with your professor, your heart strangely drumming in your ears.

“What did I do to deserve such a nice grade?” you start with the beginnings of a smile. You adjust the strap of your bag and absentmindedly play with the dangling end of the compression strap.

Professor Fushiguro responds without stopping to organize his lecture notes. “My hand slipped,” he replies sarcastically.

You curl your lips into a smile. “We can say it slipped at the right moment on the right paper.” A gentle warmth rises to your cheeks.

He doesn’t respond and closes his laptop.

“Also, were you able to contact the woman from the casino?” you ask in a low voice.

He hum in response, and as he doesn’t seem willing to continue the conversation, you purse your lips together into a tight pout.

“Has your opinion of me changed, at least? Do you no longer see me as a danger?” you insist in a whisper.

Professor Fushiguro doesn’t speak right away. He carefully packs his belongings into his own bag, avoiding looking at you with care. When he finishes, he finally lifts his eyes to yours, and his tone towards you is so peculiar that it catches you off guard. “Your mere existence is a danger. You sow trouble wherever you go.” Yet, his tone is neither dry nor hurtful.

But unbeknownst to you, in Toji’s eyes, you are simply the embodiment of danger.

“I shouldn’t be so lenient with you. Especially when you are the only person who knows a truth that risks my life.”

You furrow your brows. Your tongue burns, a sign that you’re dying to ask him what he’s implying. Professor Fushiguro is a part-time hitman, and that’s no secret to both of you. So why is he saying such... mysterious things?

“I will restore justice,” you assert with conviction. “I will find Miwa.”

As you exit the room with determined and confident steps, your brain still simmers about your professor and his strange remark.

But one thing is sure in your mind amidst all your doubts.

You will get your father out of prison. And you will prove his innocence.

That he was unjustly imprisoned.

°°°°

“Lost again,” Shiu scoffs, a smirk on his face and a cigarette dangling between his teeth.

Toji grunts before scowling. He exhales in annoyance and rubs his eyes, burning with tiredness and bloodshot. Sounds of disappointment from the pachinko machine he faces taunt him before displaying his mediocre score on the screen. Once again, Toji has lost at a game where he hoped to earn some extra money alongside his poorly paid teaching job.

“Anyway, I’ve got a new mission from the oyabun,” Shiu announces.

Toji suddenly perks up, awakened by the mention of his true job, which was enough for him before the problems his boss faced. “Spill it out.”

“Oh? Awake now?” Shiu chuckles. He raises an eyebrow before continuing, “And let me tell you, buddy, this ain’t just any target.” He takes out a lighter from his suit jacket pocket and lights the cigarette between his teeth. “According to oyabun, it’s a former associate who used to work for him before deserting the clan. And that son of a bitch stole some of the money he had. It represents a significant portion of what belongs to the clan. Get it?”

Toji stares into space, though his ear is still attentive to Shiu’s explanations. His muscular arms hang halfway between and against his negligently spread thighs on the chair he’s sitting on. Veins bulge along his forearms, exposed by his black t-shirt—he can thank his long gym sessions for the gift.

“But the man isn’t alone,” Shiu adds. “He has an associate from the same hole, but oyabun doesn’t want you dealing with him. He asked me you to focus on the associate currently at large. The rest of the kyodai will fill you in on the other details.”

Toji nods and is about to respond when a security guard with eyes concealed behind black sunglasses approaches them. “If you’ve lost and don’t have any more money, free up the seat,” he orders coldly, feigning a certain authority by crossing his arms, which only serves to annoy Toji.

The latter stands up. And even a blind person could sense how tall Toji is. He towers over the guard by two heads, who, despite his broad, stocky shoulders, pales in comparison to Toji’s stature.

“Hmm?” Toji’s face is filled with nonchalance and scowls, having lost his game, and especially with a cold anger that constantly boils within him but never explodes. His almond-shaped eyes narrow, and he tucks his hands into his pockets.

The guard’s lips part slightly, and he swallows, unable to utter a word—mesmerized by the figure of the man in front of him.

Toji shrugs and walks past Shiu, who’s been waiting for him. “Let’s go,” he says.

°°°°

Camouflaged in dark clothing and a hood of the same color, Toji sits at a small, discreet round table in the corner of a seedy bar. His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the back of a man seated on a stool at the counter. His new target.

His gun is fully loaded and strategically placed at his waist so that a single movement would allow him to eliminate the target as quickly as he would leave this place where the various scents of mixed alcohols sting his nostrils. There aren’t as many people as Toji had expected—which suits him just fine. His target sips from a sake glass and reads one of the newspapers provided for patrons.

A single shot, and a new sum will be added to the one awaiting him.

Toji prepares to reach for his weapon when the bar’s doorbell tinkles softly.

And there, Toji realizes he’s truly cursed from birth.

With your usual gait, you take a seat on a stool three spaces away from his initial target.

God fucking damn it.

You grip a small notepad and pen between your fingers and place an order. From where he’s seated, Toji can barely hear your voice. Fragments reach him, and he just wants to set fire to this bar as he did to the man’s house weeks earlier.

Of course, you haven’t seen Toji.

From his ‘hideout’, you may not even notice him at all.

And, thrown off by the situation—for the first time on a mission—he doesn’t know what to do. Should he kill his target as planned, despite your disturbing presence? What if he accidentally harms you due to another unforeseen circumstance? Toji swallows thick. He could, but something within him prevents it.

Especially when he hears snippets of your voice conversing with the bartender. And Toji just wants to smack you for disobeying him.

“...gone missing for a few weeks now…” Your voice reaches his ears in snippets. “It’s worrying, and…”

The bartender, eyebrows furrowed, shakes his head. He continues to wipe pristine glasses. Toji grits his teeth when a group of men—mostly tattooed and wearing piercings—takes seats on the stools beside you. Even from his vantage point, Toji sees you flinch. But you don’t falter. You continue your questioning.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices two men from the group engaging you in conversation. For a moment, he restrains himself from getting up and breaking their bones. Toji suppresses his impulses. His eyes never leave your form. From your nervous tic of biting your lip to your foot tapping gently on the stool’s lower bar.

But you’re not the only one who notices, especially as you alternate between your interrogation with the bartender—who’s starting to grow suspicious—and the multiple evil glances thrown your way by other patrons.

Why did you have to be here on the same night as his mission?

But your inquiry goes largely unnoticed when a distinct voice from one of the tattooed men is heard all the way to Toji’s table, even drawing some attention from his target, who slightly turns his head toward you. “You sent by the cops?”

You freeze in your chair.

A bead of sweat rolls down Toji’s neck.

You quickly shake your head, your lips mouthing a stuttered no. The pressure on you intensifies when Toji discreetly listens and hears the bartender slamming a clean glass onto the counter, angrily cutting you off, “I don’t want to be associated with anything or anyone. Especially not with the cops.”

Toji’s heart races, and he abruptly stands from his table to slip away to the restroom when he notices the glinting blade of a knife slowly emerging from the pocket of one of the men sitting at the counter. Toji discards his stifling hood and adjusts a few details to avoid being noticed as ‘the hooded man in the corner of the bar’.

He rushes out of the dingy men’s restroom and adopts a casual stride as he heads toward you. The men along the counter turn toward him as you’re almost in a panic.

Toji positions himself just behind you, towering over the entire group surrounding you—including the bartender. From his peripheral vision, Toji’s heart stills as he sees the blade of the knife from one of the men slide back into his pocket.

He still places his hands on your waist, exerting a slight pressure on the flesh. The warmth of your body sends waves to Toji’s cold hands. He leans dangerously to the side of your neck and peeks a small kiss there, causing you to slightly startle and turn around.

Toji offers you a reassuring smile despite the turmoil in his mind at this very moment. His alert eyes try to capture your attention, and you seem to understand.

“How long have you been waiting for me, angel?” Toji asks softly.

You look up at him—your pupils dilating in surprise at his unexpected presence—and you blink twice. Your lips part, and you weakly blow out, “A while already.”

“Forgive me. Can we go now?” Toji gently squeezes your waist, a clear sign of refusal for a no.

You nod in the silence of the bar, and Toji takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. He leads you to the exit where no one dares to utter a word. His mere stature was enough to deter the group of men who are—without a doubt—members of enemy yakuza clans that Toji’s oyabun explicitly forbade him from contacting.

Too bad for the mission.

°°°°

The cool night air whips against your face. You try to pull your sweaty hand away from Toji’s much larger one, but his firm grip keeps your fingers intertwined in silence, and you refrain from throwing a tantrum like the children in supermarkets.

He leads you to the back of the grassy courtyard of the bar. A single beech tree planted near a wooden fence prevents you from slipping and falling when suddenly, Toji’s muscular arm sends your back colliding with the trunk. The pain from the impact brings tears to your eyes.

With anger etched on his features, Toji opens his mouth to say something. But the bell on the bar’s door chimes the very next second, letting out the group of men from earlier along with some new faces. The group is much larger than before.

From your position, you can’t see them, but nothing escapes your notice, and you understand. Toji senses that attention is directed towards the two of you, and under an impulse that escapes him, he leans towards you and presses his lips against yours.

Caught off guard, you freeze and widen your eyes. You run a hand over his chest to push him away. You can’t comprehend what’s really happening and push against his chest, but it’s futile.

In the end, you find yourself awkwardly returning his kiss to cut it short. Toji’s lips are cold but so soft against yours. They steal your breath away, and you almost get lost in them.

Until a male voice laughs and declares cheerfully, “Are the whores out here too?”

Coarse laughter erupts from the group of men. Your blood boils in your veins, and you prepare to push Toji away for good and defend your dignity. But Toji runs his hands along your sides and slips them under your shirt to access your bare skin, drawing slow and pleasurable circles with his thumbs on your stomach. He deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but let out a small moan that cuts short your desire to revolt. Toji’s tongue brushes against your lips to request access to yours, and your palm pressed against his chest gives you a glimpse of his racing heartbeat.

You part your lips, and your tongue meets his in a warm, wet kiss. You lose your breath, and the sound of the footsteps of the group of men fades into the silence of the night. Toji freezes his lips and gently pulls away from you. His lips are glossy from the shared kiss, but no smile lights up his features. A dark gleam animates his irises.

Your chest simply rises and falls with the rhythm of a breath you seek to regain. A warmth rises in your neck to the roots of your hair. Toji’s eyes narrow as he scrutinizes you, and his hands withdraw from under your shirt.

“Tell me something… You really like to put yourself in danger wherever you go, don’t you, troublemaker?”

❦ a/n: so there we go! i hope you all enjoyed this first part ;) english isn’t my first language, so be gentle. @gojonanami this incredible girl who one day restored my taste for writing and kindly let me know to feel free to tag her if I post my fic. thank you Sab!

[danyllura]

The final Ken war turning into a dance battle is another example of how the film explores toxic masculinity and how dismantling it helps men form deeper emotional bonds. The Ken’s are not a united force. They allow jealousy and competition over the Barbie’s to get in the way of their relationships with one another. This is one of the reasons why they’re so hurt by the Barbie’s lack of interest, as the only form of praise or attention they get is from them. This plays into the issue of men not allowing themselves to be emotionally vulnerable with their male friends, and instead often pushing their turmoils onto women in their life. And when these women can not or will not shoulder their emotional burden they lash out.

The Ken’s go to war in a traditionally masculine way, with horses and weapons. But it isn’t until they start their dance battle that we see them stepping back away from toxic masculinity.

The Ken’s initially dance in competition, which is reminiscent of the former dance sequence in the movie. At Barbies dream house the Barbie’s dance together in unity, with love and admiration for one another. They are basking in their sisterhood and having fun. Meanwhile the Ken’s dance with the intention to impress the Barbie’s. They are in competition with one another, dancing in unison but not as one.

In the final dance battle this changes. The Ken’s begin to dance together, in unity. And we see as they begin to look at one another as genuine friends their actions become softer and more emotional (eg; kissing eachother on the cheek and hand holding). They are no longer mimicking the men Ken had read about, and instead allowing themselves to form the healthy, emotional friendships men are often discouraged from having. Under patriarchy men lose the chance to be caring and loving with their friends. They are told to bottle up their emotions and not express their feelings in a gentle manner. Being deprived of this emotional depth hurts men and their future relationships. And it is why the Ken’s are only able to begin finding acceptance in themselves and their identities once they allow themselves to be open with people other than just Barbie.

[tsukimefuku]

blunt trauma ♰ nanami kento

summary: your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.

tags and cw: dark content, no use of y/n, sorcerer!f!reader, villain!nanami, +18, explicit smut (mostly rough with tender moments hate/love sex), unprotected sex (wrap it, ppl), masturbation, oral (f receiving), pv, from enemies to enemies who fucked 👍, drama and angst (i’m a latina who grew up watching telenovelas), mentions of death, canon-typical violence, ptsd, cursing, hurt/no comfort, this man is saltier than the sea and turned it into everybody else's problem. 

wc: 7.5k

notes etc.: somehow it became a character study. this is my rendition of what i think gege would make nanami to be like if they followed their original plan and had nanami be a villain. inspo list is so huge i had to make a playlist, i got carried away.

writing/reading soundtrack: playlist link ; main songs → way down we go (kaleo) and daylight (david kushner).

disclaimer: i do not in any way approve of (or encourage) the relationship depicted here. it is toxic and bad for all parties involved. this is fictional and should stay that way.

oh, father, tell me ♰ do we get what we deserve?

It felt like the air had been beaten out of your lungs by the very one and only blunt blade you ever knew when you heard the news from Gojo.

Of course the first thing he did when he finished wrapping things up was calling you. If roles were reversed, and this had been Geto, he wouldn't expect any less from you.

During the School's Exchange Event, Jujutsu High was attacked by multiple high grade curses and curse users.

One of them was your former best friend from high school, Nanami Kento. 

"Are you certain it was him?"

"Absolutely," Gojo replied on the other side of the line, "there were traces of cursed energy from his cursed technique. He was also spotted by one of MeiMei's ravens."

"And how many students did he…"

"Two students from Kyoto."

Your head instantly felt dizzy.

"He also killed around a dozen assistants and people securing cursed objects underground."

"Shit… shit," you muttered, forgetting for a few seconds what words were and how to form a coherent sentence. Following suit, your stomach dropped with a sinking ache the moment you made the obvious realization, uttering the most painful thing you had to say in your life — even worse than he's gone, so many years before.

 "This will earn him a death sentence, won't it?"

Gojo was silent for a few moments.

"Hey…"

"Tell me. I can take it."

After a bated breath — from your end, mostly — he confirmed your worst fears.

"Yes. It will."

Ever since Geto's and Nanami's defection, you and Gojo had a special type of shared sorrow over each other's failures to save the people you both loved the most. Call it trauma bonding or codependency, but you developed an unwavering sense of loyalty towards one another.

For that reason, he already knew what you were about to ask him, and you only would because you knew he wouldn't find it in himself to refuse it.

"When it happens, please, have me be appointed as the executioner."

"Of course."

Sitting with a glass of whiskey while gazing out of the window in an understated house just by the outskirts of Sendai, Nanami couldn't say he was fulfilled, unable to grasp the concept of feeling in any way elated ever since his teenage years. However, he was definitely satisfied that this plan had worked.

He managed to put a dent into Jujutsu Society, aiding Geto — or, at least, someone that looked like him, not that Nanami truly cared about it by this point — in retrieving multiple cursed objects that would be used for their inevitable fallout.

There had been a few casualties, though.

Two students and many personnel died — or rather, met their fateful end by the edge of his blunt blade —, but some deaths should be expected if Jujutsu Society was to be brought to the ground, down to its last brick.

Ever since that fateful day when he was nothing but a tall child sitting beside the cold corpse of his best friend, Yu Haibara, Nanami had simmered what would become a cauldron of absolute venom-dripping rage against Jujutsu Society.

To hell with saving other people — what about them? What about the teenager that would never grow to be a sorcerer, who became an inanimate nothing before ever getting the chance of making something out of himself? 

That face… Nanami could never forget it. It haunted his dreams, even a decade later. Such a stark contrast between the light-spirited smiles and this cold, gray monolith that laid in the morgue.

They had no right to rob their students from their youth, much less from their lives, but that's exactly what Jujutsu High did when they didn't even bother to check the mission appropriately before dispatching Haibara and Nanami to a certain death.

Nanami escaped, but just barely, by the skin of his teeth. Haibara, however, wasn't blessed with the same luck, and drew the short straw when his hitched final breaths met their end against Nanami's shoulder. Nanami, who carried his best friend on his back, desperately tried to win a losing race against death. 

Help was late to arrive.

They were too late for Haibara.

And, in a sense, they were too late for him, too.

The worst part, though, was when they were finally being transported all the way back to Jujutsu High. As he glanced over Haibara’s cadaver, now covered by a body bag, one particularly insensitive assistant very rudely stated, “at least there is a body to be buried.”

At least

There is a body 

To be buried

Those words echoed in his head for what felt like eternity. Was that the best they all had to hope for? To at least have remains left behind for the mourning?

In any case, that was why, even though he had to kill, Nanami never mangled any of his human victims — something not easy to do, given how his technique worked and how easy it was to split someone in half.

You had noticed this perverted benevolence while looking over the necropsy reports, a realization that just added insult to injury.

Let there be something for the funeral, I suppose, was what he told himself.

In his own twisted way, Nanami figured this was a kindness very few sorcerers received at their tragic ends, and decided he'd definitely be more compassionate than what Jujutsu High put their sorcerers through. 

In his eyes, those from Jujutsu High who died under his will were the ones granted a truly merciful death.

His peace was disturbed by the sound of the entrance door being brutally kicked in, flying its way across the living room. He pulled his blunt blade from the side of his armchair with his free hand, but quickly put it down when realizing it was you that had just barged inside.

He knew you very well — well enough to be certain you wouldn't come swinging at him immediately.

"I can see you still have a temper. Destroying the door wasn’t necessary, I would've opened it for you," he stated, sipping on his drink.

"I don't care," you retorted, "I guess you already know why I'm here, in any case."

"I do. You're here to carry out my death sentence," he stated, completely unbothered, as if talking about the weather.

As if he was just mundanely stuck in his ways. 

You huffed, placing your hand over your sword's handle.

"Precisely."

"We haven't spoken in a long time, why don't you take a seat?" Nanami inquired, pointing at the armchair right in front of him. "I want to finish my drink."

You glared at the curse user, as he, unfazed, kept gulping on his whiskey. Nanami was wearing a black buttoned shirt, black pants and black oxford shoes, and you couldn't help but see him as a grim reaper — this was a somber look, fitting for the equally somber man who carried it.

For a second, you took in his features — you hadn’t seen Nanami for a few years after the last time you crossed paths.

His shoulders had slightly broadened, and he still bore the same chiseled face, framed by his sand-blond hair neatly slicked back.

Nanami’s eyes traveled over you quickly, apparently doing the very same thing.

Time had left its marks. It was evident you both had grown up — and apart.

You knew this was a shit idea, but entertained it enough that you actually walked towards the chair and sat down. There were definitely things to be talked about, and you just about had a million questions for him.

Most of them, however, boiled down to what you immediately asked.

"Why did you do it?"

Nanami put his glass on the coffee table right in front of you.

"It was a necessary means to an end."

His words came with frost-bitten coldness, his voice embodying the monotone you once loved, but eventually, grew to hate.

You scoffed, incredulous at his reply, involuntarily clenching your fingers around your katana's handle as it laid on your lap.

"Necessary means to an end? Nanami, you killed teenage sorcerers!"

"As I said, and I don't like repeating myself," he interjected, "it was a necessary sacrifice for a greater cause."

"You're such a hypocritical, self-righteous ass!"

Nanami sighed, clearly displeased.

"We have always been able to keep some semblance of respect for each other, despite our… differences. Do not use that foul language with me."

You laughed bitterly, no amusement or fun in your voice as you did.

"Do you think I can still have an ounce of respect for you after what you did? You murdered my people! They were all sorcerers. You killed students, Nanami! Jujutsu High's students! Just like Haibara once was!"

He shot his eyes at you, and the aura of his cursed energy grew sinister at your words. 

"Don't say his name."

Yu Haibara, arguably the glue that kept the trio together. You were hot headed, Nanami was intransigent, and Yu was the conciliatory ray of sunshine that kept you two — but you, particularly — from constant quarreling as classmates nearly every day.

But back then, you'd argue with Nanami with love.

This wasn't the case now.

Not entirely, at least.

"He was my best friend too, the three of us were! Do you really think this is what he would've wanted?!" you questioned him, equal parts hurt and enraged.

"I'm not one to ponder on could've or would've been's. Haibara is gone."

"I'm not a would've been!"

You could still remember it. The day you realized why dealing with Nanami and hearing his sharp comebacks riled you up so intensely. 

You finally understood you were in love with him.

Ever since the first day you met Nanami, you envied the way he'd be able to keep his feelings in check when you constantly felt like falling apart. You felt jealous at how he was considered a greatly competent individual, regarded by all as the best of your class, while you were basically viewed as a ticking bomb nearing explosion. And finally, it made you livid the way how everyone treated him like the informal leader of the trio when the three of you were out on a mission together.

However, those were the same things that got you to admire your friend and, eventually, fall in love for him.

That day, you asked Nanami to meet you outside after class by himself — much to Haibara's dismay —, because you had something to tell him. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the unforgiving sun of summer was already setting, casting an orange glow through the leaves of the tree you were both under.

After confessing your feelings for him and bracing yourself for being shot down, because why the hell would Nanami Kento, the brilliant, competent, and mature second-year, have any interest in the chaotic, hot headed mess you were, you realized he actually looked surprised. After taking a few moments to collect himself, Nanami told you how he had thought you actually hated him.

At last, somewhat nervous — but definitely intent on not letting it show —, he confided he had affectionate feelings towards you as well.

Your first kiss was awkward, as it would be expected out of two inexperienced people such as you and Nanami were at that age, but it carried the sweet taste of a blue spring marked by teenage years' innocence.

It felt like a promise.

Unfortunately, such promise was unmercifully cut short the very next day, when Nanami and Haibara were dispatched to their life-changing mission.

What an irony it was that, in the end, you were the one to actually mature over Haibara's death, growing up to be an upstanding sorcerer, loved and admired by peers and students alike, and Nanami was the bomb to blow up in everybody's faces.

What a cruel irony.

"I was there too, and I'm still here, having to pick up the pieces of what you deliberately destroyed!" you rasped, angrily.

"You weren't a 'would've been'? Where were you when we needed you? When I needed you?" his voice didn't conceal the tinge of hurt that those questions carried.

What a fucking low blow.

"Nanami, that's not fair. There wasn't anything I could've done in that situation, and you know that!"

You blamed yourself for a while for not going on that mission with them, until you realized that you too would probably have died if you were there. From the three, Nanami was the only one strong and fast enough to pull off an escape like he did.

He diverted his gaze back to the window.

"You were the one to bring up hypothetical scenarios. Let's indulge in them for a minute, shall we?" 

Nanami glanced back at you, and his next words brimmed with bitter resentment, even if his voice sounded more calm and collected than ever.

"You see someone you supposedly love slowly sinking into darkness. What do you do?"

"Don't you dare, you condescending prick! I asked you so many fucking times what was going on. You were the one who shut me out!"

Your voice carried a decade-old pain that resonated from the depths of your soul.

It came from all the times you entered his dorm room with his favorite sandwich after he had cooped up in there for days on end, and he didn't even bother to eat it. Every time you asked him to talk to you, said you were there for him, and was met by a vacant stare.

And, at last, the time when he cruelly blamed you for not being there when Haibara died.

The way he coldly told you about Haibara's last words.

According to Nanami, Haibara said he wanted to speak to you one last time, at least to bid you farewell.

And you weren't there.

Oh, the viciousness with which he blamed you, and decided you owed him something for this perceived failure. 

The next time Nanami talked to you, he asked you to leave Jujutsu High with him, just like Geto did, and swore to destroy them. You tried, pleaded, implored for him to reconsider and stay, but the very following day, you were met by an empty room where the person you once loved used to be. 

That emptiness had, paradoxically, filled you wholly with grief.

Gojo once told you that nobody could save someone who didn't want to be saved.

You still thought you should've tried harder, in a childish attempt at giving yourself an illusory semblance of control over that clusterfuck of a situation.

This is the gap inside our psyche that feeling guilty tries to fill, isn't it?

We can only feel guilty about the things we could've changed, right?

Your voice sounded decades older than yourself, burdening the weight of multiple lifetimes of hurt and grief. Your soul was too old for your own good.

"How can you find it in yourself to blame me for this?! No… This is a prison of your own making. You built the house of cards that is tumbling down on your head as we speak entirely by yourself."

He huffed intensely through his nostrils — Nanami’s version of a snort —, looking the other way before proceeding, each syllable hitting you with the deadly precision of his cursed technique.

"You abandoned us, leaving me and Haibara to fend for ourselves, just like Jujutsu Society did."

By that point, you began yelling, and your voice reverberated all across the room.

"The hell I did!"

You had to take a deep breath before proceeding.

"I just couldn't get behind this dumb idea that we should become curse users and bring down Jujutsu Society."

"Why didn't you come with me?" he finally asked, in an amalgam of pain, sadness, longing, anger, and stinging resentment. "I would have followed you to the deepest recesses of hell if you asked me to."

You huffed, laughing angrily in between your teeth, before thrusting your words like thorns against him.

"Funny you should say that. You'd go anywhere for me? How about staying? Why couldn't you have stayed for me, then?!" 

Perhaps that request was egotistical, but you didn't care. If only for a moment, you wanted to give yourself this small privilege — to want in a world of duty.

"I was the one actually left to fend for myself, right inside the belly of the beast, and you couldn't have cared less."

He stared at you, nothing in his eyes other than the void left behind after his spirit got killed with his best friend so many years ago.

"I didn't stay because… Because," Nanami stated, with a grave finality, "and you're the one who chose to stay. You're still actively choosing to, just like you did back then."

"That's not a good enough answer," you replied with a bad taste in your mouth.

"It's what you've earned," he coldly replied, "but in case you change your mind-"

"Enough," you interrupted him, incredulous that even after everything, this man had the nerve of suggesting you'd ever be interested in running away with him. "It appalls me you would even consider I could… After what you've done? No, never."

Nanami sighed, and for a brief moment, seemed to be actually disappointed under his resigned, polished visage.

"Well, then. Let's get this over with, at once."

In a split second, you pushed your chair on the ground, falling on your shoulders and rolling on your back, dodging his lightning-fast attack. It left a crater behind, right where you were seconds before. Nanami jumped over the fallen armchair, and you dodged him once again, spinning on your heels, unsheathing your sword as you did so, to deal a beheading blow on the back of his neck.

However, right before impact, you faltered, slowing down your movement.

Your own body held you back from taking his life.

He didn't seem to notice.

Nanami bent down just in time to avoid the blow, and swung his blunt blade towards your kneecap. You were quick on your feet, and jumped back, putting a good distance between the both of you.

"I can see you're actually fighting to kill," he noted, getting up on his feet.

"Of course. That's what I came here to do," you spat in his direction.

"You were never the practical one."

You scoffed.

"Guess I learned something from you."

He smiled at the irony of that, but his eyes didn't follow his expression. 

Nanami lunged at you, but while you thought he'd deal his next blow in your direction, he hit your footing, having you fall on the ground. Abruptly, his blunt blade descended in your direction, but you were able to catch it and have it slip to your side using your katana supported by your hand behind it, sending a sharp, loud sound around the vicinity, trembling against the bones and flesh of the house.

You rolled on your side when he struck a new hit in your direction, leaving another gaping hole on the floor, and you jumped yourself up. 

Before you could attack him, however, he took you by surprise, and you lifted your sword to defend yourself. Nanami hit your katana with his blunt blade, breaking it near where the handle and the steel met, launching your body back on the wall.

The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and you fell to your knees, unable to recover yourself as you got up. Instantly, you heard his quick, steady steps sprinting their way in your direction.

You were cornered.

This is it.

You braced yourself for the impact, closing your eyes. You remembered his technique perfectly.

Precise, just as he was.

Deadly, just as he was, too.

You were to die at the hands of the man you loved, who had become a murderer and only a distorted, broken version of whom you used to truly love.

This seemed like an oddly cruel way to go.

However, the impact never came.

His blunt blade stopped as it was about to hit your stomach, and you opened your eyes, just to see his face mere inches apart from yours. His mountainous form blocked your view from anything else behind him, and Nanami, at that moment, actually looked like the menace he truly was. 

“Why were you appointed as my executioner?” Nanami asked, much to your surprise.

“I asked to be,” you answered, holding his gaze as something went through his eyes. A hint of anger, most likely, and some sense of betrayal, certainly. 

“So, you want to kill someone you once loved? You were always prone to self-penitence, so it stands to reason you’d do something idiotic like that.”

You scoffed, grimacing at him, feeling your entire body incandescent with rage.

“I fucking hate you, Nanami.” 

He inched his face even closer, brushing your noses against one another, eyes stone-cold and hauntingly vacant.

“I hate you as well.”

For a moment, you wondered if he had really stopped his blade before impact. You didn't expect it, but hearing those words felt like you just had been hit, victim of a blunt trauma, at how much they tore you apart. 

The same blunt trauma that severed the Nanami you once knew — the teenager with bangs, who'd always be carrying around a few spare changes to get soda cans from the vending machine for you and Haibara, in his own understated kindness — and this empty monster looking back at you.

"Good. Finish me off, then, and get your revenge for a crime I never committed. Being unfair and an all-around self-centered asshole certainly suits you, fucker."

His hand made its way up your neck, and you were pressed against the wall. The grip was firm, but not enough to choke you — it came more as a warning than anything else.

"I already told you to stop using that foul language with me," he ordered, low voice simmering with genuine irritation.

"Then make me," you challenged him, hoping for this torture to be over as fast as possible.

Just fucking kill me already.

His blunt blade fell with a thud on the floor, and you were confused for a moment, wondering if he really wouldn't give you the kindness of a quick demise. Did he plan on choking you to death?

Did he hate you that much?

His other hand came up, but before you could do anything to try to resist — which would be nothing but a futile attempt at survival, given that Nanami was physically much stronger than you —, his fingers snaked their way through the back of your hair, tugging it at the roots. 

His mouth clashed against yours, all teeth, tongue, anger, and hunger, and instantly every nerve in your body flared up with a raging fiery ember you hadn't felt in years. All the pent-up resentment, hurt, and desire you had for Nanami swirled together in your gut, guiding your hands up his hair, as you also pulled on it intently, robbing him of a gasp.

You intertwined your tongue against his, and he unceremoniously bullied his own inside your mouth, leaving no crevice unexplored, as his hand on your neck descended towards your waist, where he clenched his fingers with a vicious grip. You whimpered against his lips, and he grunted in return, pushing his body on yours. His throbbing growing cock could be felt, even through both of your clothes, as he pressed it right against the edge of your pants.

When you finally parted after what seemed like a not-long-enough eternity, you huffed and panted, and albeit less than you, he was panting too.

"I fucking… hate you…" you gnarled, glaring into his eyes. The hazel-brown gaze you once adored was now clouded and dark, like the muddy waters of a deep lake.

"Shut the fuck up," Nanami groaned back, strongly cupping your cunt with his large hand. You whimpered in surprise, and he pulled you in harshly for another kiss, letting go of your hair and sex to sink his fingers on the backside of your thighs, pulling them. You immediately jumped up and threw your arms around his shoulders, as he manhandled your legs to have them hooked around him.

He quickly took you both inside the room, and tossed you on the bed, having you gasping in surprise. Before you could catch your breath, he climbed his way on top of you, pressing your body down, and clashed his mouth against yours again, making you actually lightheaded from a lack of air.

You pushed against his chest, grunting uneasy, and surprisingly, he parted his lips from yours.

"What?"

You panted heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and mindlessly rested your hand on his cheek.

"C-can't breathe…" was all you mustered up to say, trying to replenish oxygen back into your system.

His eyes softened so discreetly you nearly missed it, and his cold-ivory enclosure slightly cracked under the affectionate touch he didn't expect.

Nanami had no idea how much he had craved it ever since you parted ways, and hated himself, just a little, for how much such an innocuous gesture stirred his old feelings up, throwing his heart against his chest in a fluttering rush.

I should be over her by now, dammit.

Nanami also brought his hand up your face, and ghosted over your cheek for a second before sliding his fingers delicately down over it.

You also weren't prepared for that, and your chest tightened all over your heavy heart as you remembered your first kiss.

The way he'd cup your face in his hands.

 So delicate, so lovely.

This touch, at this very moment, felt like a painful reminder of everything you had lost.

"Kento…" you cooed, voice strained in your throat, with all the things you were sure you'd never say.

He hummed your name in return, and kissed you while sinking your body against the mattress. This kiss was different, as his lips brushed gently over yours, and his tongue tenderly teased over the seam of your mouth. You welcomed him in, and you both explored these deep waters tentatively, as he upped the intensity after each stroke of your tongues against each other.

He tasted like whiskey, and bread, and the tainted love left behind as nothing but a reminiscence of less grueling days. You couldn't help but feel robbed by him.

You both had been missing out on this for all these fucking years.

"Why did you have to go?" you asked, pulling back from him, a tinge of anger to your cadence, and another of pain in your face.

"Why did you have to stay?" he spat back at you, equal parts saddened and resentful.

His mouth made its way to your neck, and you gasped with the sensation of his warm breath mingled with saliva against your skin, as he licked and bit his way around.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away, and your eyes burned with the prickling sensation of tears that wouldn’t come. You were starved for his touch, his smell, his body, even if this was the murderer of your students, of your friends.

In your head, you felt like digging a hole and throwing yourself in it, to wallow in the misery of realizing that you were about to fuck the murderer of people you loved, and that it felt good.

A pool of heat and fire shot down your insides as your heartbeats throbbed in between your legs.

You hated yourself, and on top of it all, hated Nanami. 

Hated that you couldn't help but still love him, even after all he had done.

This was the setting tension in between the both of you, the two extremes of hate and love pulling against each other, all while the tug of war rope refused to snap to either side.

He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, and you undid his shirt, unzipping his pants. He unzipped you too, and quickly enough, took off your pants along with your panties with a single sharp tug.

Back to rough, but not entirely, it seemed.

His hand glided against your thigh and his fingertips slipped over your entrance, getting completely glazed by your already dripping arousal. He grunted, a guttural and intense sound deep in his chest, giving you another bite on the soft skin of your neck.

"Hate me?" Nanami asked, teasing his digits over your cunt, "doesn't seem like it."

You managed to scoff at him, which would prove to be a mistake.

"Go fuck yours-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he dove two of his fingers inside knuckle-deep, without any hint of a warning, forcefully stretching your walls around them. You immediately let out a whimper so pitiful you wondered if that was really your voice.

He seemed satisfied at that. Perhaps, even elated.

"Good girl," Nanami whispered right beside your ear, nibbling against your earlobe with his teeth, sending shivers down your spine. He began sliding his fingers in and out, and you bucked down against his hand while moaning and mewling, walls sheathing his digits as he finger-fucked your cunt, neglecting your clit as punishment for calling him a condescending prick earlier.

His palm rucked against your dripping folds, echoing wet slaps all throughout the room, as your arousal kept pooling on his palm.

He mumbled softly against your skin, bringing his mouth up to brush against yours, "hate… you still love me."

You instantly drew one of your hands to slap him in the face for this hurtful teasing, but he had quick reflexes — quicker than yours. He dodged himself back as your hand hit the empty sheets, and edged his fingers to hit against your soft spot, pressing it so violently, you let out a strained cry from the shooting overstimulation pain.

"Ah- Shit!" you shouted, face all scrunched up.

"Can't you behave for once?" he chided, "why is it so hard for you to j-just-“ 

Nanami’s breath hitched in his throat as he grunted, unable to finish his sentence.

You shut him up the only way you could think — grabbing his cock harshly over his boxers. It was extremely effective, and he immediately humped his length against your hand, while lowly groaning.

With trembling hands and a violent snap, you haphazardly pulled his boxers down to his mid-thighs, as his fingers kept mercilessly bullying their way inside you, sending vibrating waves all throughout your body with every thrust.

“Stop… telling me… ah-aaah-“ you rolled your eyes back with a loud moan, struggling to keep a train of coherent thought, gnarling your next words,  “what to… ah- do!”

His cock sprang out, slapping against his belly. The tip was already flustered red, leaking with pre-cum, and had a long, prominent vein on the underside.

To punish him back for the roughness, you grabbed his length with one hand, and with the other, pressed the middle of your palm against his flushed tip, glistening his arousal around it with enough force to jump across the divide between intense pleasure and painful overstimulation.

Nanami cursed with a feral voice through his teeth, immediately biting the side muscles of your neck with no semblance of restraint, making sure to leave a purple remnant of pain etched on your skin.

“Ah- ouch! Fuck!” you spat out, tightening your grip around his cock, but weakened enough to release the tight pressure against his tip, letting him fuck into your hand. His hips bucked erratically, and his lips pressed a quick kiss right where he had previously bitten.

He couldn't help it.

Suddenly, Nanami stopped his rutting fingers to press his thumb against your already throbbing clit. That instantly had you seeing stars as you cursed loudly in between moans and grunts, drawing your free hand to his head, ferociously tugging at his hair, as heat pooled in your lower abdomen like fiery embers of coal.

He grabbed your arm, pulling it away from his shaft, and removed his fingers from your walls, having them clenching around nothing at such a sudden emptiness. You began complaining, only to have your voice cut short by his tongue slipping its way inside your mouth, in a sloppy, wet kiss. 

Parting from you, Nanami’s eyes were glassy, and you were absolutely sure your gaze must’ve looked just as hazy as his.

In a brief moment, before you realized it, he slid himself down, and unceremoniously lapped at your already sensitive clit with his warm tongue, hot breath tickling against your sensitive skin.

Both of your hands descended towards his hair, brushing over his golden and now messy locks more tenderly than you expected. Nanami suddenly shivered and moaned into your cunt, edging his tongue down your folds and back, eyes fluttering shut the moment he tasted you entirely.

He felt a tinge of pain clench at his chest, realizing this was the taste he had missed out on for all that time — your taste, which would surely ruin him forever.

Nanami’s pain, however, was quick to turn into outrage, as he began sucking on your clit relentlessly, eliciting the most animalistic sounds you had ever uttered.

You instinctively tried backing away, and he pulled on your thighs, holding them with such a violent force that his hand was sure to leave an engraving of his digits over your plush skin.

Nanami was intent on dragging this orgasm out of you by any means necessary.

You had never given him anything he wanted from you — be it the company to fight against Jujutsu High or the same unwavering loyalty he had for you. So this was something he’d take.

If you wouldn’t be by his side, then the least you could do was to cum for him so fervently, he’d be sure to ruin you just as much as he felt like you had ruined him. You owed him that, or so Nanami thought.

“Aaah-- Kento! S-slow d-… fuck!”

You came with a thunderous shout, jolting your hip forward as your thighs tightened with inhuman strength to the sides of his head. Nanami made sure to deliciously lick your way down from your high, applying such a precise and perfect pressure on your clit that you could’ve wept from sheer satisfaction.

After your legs went limp, he slowly climbed his way back to you, pressing kisses all over your body, leaving a ghost of heat wherever his mouth traveled. When Nanami finally reached your face, he put his forearms against your sides, hands over your shoulders, caging you in, as he pressed his mouth against yours in a slow kiss.

You were floating in a calm sea, salty waves caressing your body every time they passed through, and it felt cozy. Inviting, even. As he parted his lips from yours, Nanami gazed into your eyes in the way he used to.

For a second, you got catapulted into the past, and the orange sun that warmed your cheeks through the leaves as you kissed for the first time seemed to shine its rays over again.

With his arms around you, the nonsensical feeling of being protected washed over your heart.

“Come with me,” he whispered with a sultry, husky voice. 

“Kento…” you cooed, sighing, wanting nothing more than for this moment to extend for infinity.

But it couldn’t.

You didn’t go with him, so many years ago.

And wouldn’t go now, either.

That wasn’t how it worked for the both of you.

Nanami understood it, and what seemed like another crack against his unwavering walls had formed the moment his brows furrowed above his eyes.

“Fine, then,” he said, with a tinge of genuine hurt to his voice.

You parted your thighs to accommodate his hips, and he obliged, guiding his hand down to align his cock against your entrance. You bent and hooked your legs around him, pulling him in, and as the tip of his length got pressed against your dripping cunt, he gasped slightly over your lips.

Nanami sunk in slowly, going through your already relaxed ring. However, it apparently wasn’t relaxed enough, or perhaps he was just too big, because you could feel every inch of stretching his cock made against your walls as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt.

His mouth fell open and you exhaled a moan into it, breaths mingling together. You two drank each other in. Nanami pressed his forehead against yours, and you both held each other’s gaze, as he pulled your left wrist above your head, holding it there, pushing you down the mattress by your waist with his other hand.

After a moment for you to take him in, Nanami began rolling his hips into you, while his hand kept bruisingly pressing your wrist against the mattress. You could feel his balancing act of trying to love you and wanting to hurt you at the same time.

You weren’t so different from him in that sense, though. Your nails got dragged down his back with abrasive force, and for a second, you considered drawing blood from him. He grunted, and you saw the spark of cold-hearted anger flash through his now dimmed eyes.

You both wanted to love each other just as much as you wanted to hurt each other.

In a more forgiving universe, perhaps, he’d hold your hand tenderly, intertwining his fingers in yours. Maybe you two would be in the kitchen as he showed you one of his favorite bread recipes, and share quiet moments of understanding companionship when remembering those who had left this world too soon.

But this wasn’t that universe, unfortunately.

He was to die, and you were to carry out his execution. 

Except you couldn’t, because even if you still tried to cling on to any sliver of morals, even if his life was something yours alone to take, the mere thought of a world without Nanami was far worse than the reality of a world in which he was a murderer.

You insisted on fighting a losing game, and much to no one’s surprise, you lost. 

Good riddance to me, I suppose.

His grunts came hitched and stuttered against your mouth as he was now rutting himself into you, biting your lower lip hard enough to almost pierce the skin with his teeth. You moaned loudly, dragged around with pain and pleasure, the combo that seemed to summarize the gist of your relationship.

He let go of your wrist and descended his hand without a warning towards your already overworked clit, glazing his thumb against the ring of arousal you were leaving around him before starting to make circles around your nub. Your moans came out cracked and faltering, as you tried to resist the instinctive urge of fleeing that the overstimulation was eliciting.

“Give me… one more,” Nanami groaned lowly against your cheek, planting multiple kisses down the side of your face and your chin. His hair — which had already fallen from its usual slick arrangement — brushed against your fluttering eyelids, momentarily weaving golden sand colors over your your vision, and you drove both your hands to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss. 

You could kiss him like this forever. 

You actually wanted to, at that moment.

To his request, you nodded, and this was probably the first time you acquiesced to any request Nanami had ever made to you. 

Fulfilled, his thrusts and his finger over your clit became increasingly erratic, as he was now moaning your name against your mouth. You pushed your tongue over his, sliding your hands up his head to tug at his roots, and that was all it took to tip him over the edge.

Nanami came with a muffled groan, having your tongue still pushed inside his mouth, and kept pumping himself inside you trying to keep the comedown at bay. His thick, white cum got glazed all over inside you, and the slaps of flesh and skin began sounding ever more wet than they already were.

You weren’t so far off, with your walls fluttering around him, and he noticed it, keeping his now trembling thumb pressed and circling intently over your clit. With one perfectly applied nudge on your sensitive bud, Nanami finally pulled you over the edge along with him.

Some tears began pooling on the edges of your lashes, and all your emotions — anger, sadness, grief, longing, and a particular brand of despair you cultivated during the last decade — came crashing down as he wrenched your second orgasm from you.

Your body convulsed under him, fluttering walls expelling his softening cock out, as you shouted and grunted into his mouth. You didn’t know if you were more furious at yourself for still loving him, at him for loving you, or at Jujutsu Society for jumbling you both like pawns to be tossed around until you two were broken beyond repair.

Angry at them for sending the young out to have their spirits crushed too soon. For all the deaths no one got to mourn because there was too much work, too little time, and the wounded were always left behind to fend for themselves.

Just like you were.

And just like Nanami was.

You sat at the edge of the bed while putting your shirt back on, and looked back at Nanami, who had his buttoned shirt open over his chest.

“Are you still resolute on your decision of not coming with me?” Nanami asked, with a tinge of eagerness. Or maybe it was just your imagination.

You pondered for a moment, and knew exactly what the answer to that question was.

“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”

For a second, you caught the faintest glimpse of the person he used to be. Something aching to genuine disappointment.

The longing that flashed through him, unfortunately, was quick to go, as he began buttoning his shirt down, averting his gaze elsewhere.

“Why?”

“Because I’d hate myself for the rest of my life if I did,” you stated, sighing before continuing, “and it’s not because I can’t kill you or because I love you that I don’t despise you. You crossed an uncrossable line.”

He pursed his lips, and almost felt regretful for the path he chose.

Almost, since regret now would come ten years too late.

“You can’t go back. They will know you let me go,” Nanami remarked. Be it from him or from looking around this house, Jujutsu High would surely hold you accountable for this — for willingly letting the curse user and murderer, Nanami Kento, escape their wrath.

“I know that,” you replied, a tad bit more defeated than you expected, “that’s why I’m fleeing to Hokkaido.”

He sighed and looked at you. You held his gaze, feeling a little hint of anxiety at what he seemed to be simmering under the surface.

With a warmer expression — or as warm as he could muster it up to be  —, Nanami spoke again. 

“I truly want you to come with me. You’d be safer. We’d… be by each other’s side.”

For a moment, you faltered, open lips with no sound coming out of them. Blinking yourself back to Earth, you asked, “you mean together?”

Nanami kept silent, but nodded, waiting for your response.

He wasn’t just asking for you to come with him, but to be with him.

You wanted to. You did. Something Nanami never knew was just how much you wanted to follow him when he asked you the same thing, so many years ago.

But even though you wholeheartedly loved him with every minute part of your being, your loyalty lied elsewhere.

Not with him, but with the people he had killed.

Well, at least that was the comfortable lie you were capable of living with.

It would destroy you to realize the loyalty you had for the murderer of the people you loved. 

In the end, even if you weren’t a teenager anymore, you were just as much a hostage to your feelings as you had always been.

The ticking took a long time, but the bomb eventually went off.

With a decade’s old delay.

“I… just can’t. I can’t.”

Nanami reclined himself against the wall over which the bed rested, closing his eyes as he supported the back of his head on it. 

He never told you, but this moment broke his heart all over again.

He felt pathetically small.

Guess we get what we deserve, after all.

“You really do have a taste for penitence,” Nanami noted, his voice barely concealing the bitterness that tainted those words.

You scoffed, getting up on your feet, ready to leave as the first rays of sunshine began bleeding through the thick curtains that covered the bedroom’s window.

“Go to hell.”

He chuckled, a sound you hadn’t heard in a very long time. However, it sounded off-key. Wrong.

Sad.

“We’re already here.” 

At the end of it all, he wasn’t wrong.

You were doomed to always keep leaving each other.

If only the world had been a little kinder.

But kindness, it seemed, wasn’t in the cards for you.

End notes: I’m silently screaming. Oh my, this one took way longer than expected, but I enjoyed the writing process during every step of the way (I mean, if that wasn’t evident already from the fact that I made a playlist for this 😂). I forgot how much I was a sucker for gut wrenching angst. Hope you enjoyed it too! 🦉

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Tag list: @actuallysaiyan @diogodxlot @jadedjane @redlikerozez @voiceless9000

@marvelousfanfictionbitch @kentocalls @ohhheymessa @magical-girl-b @simp-manhwa

@codenamesongbird

[pinkroseblooms]

Boy Toy

Sugar baby!Toji Fushiguro x Sugar mama!f!Reader

Summary: You try to break things off with Toji; needless to say, he does not take it well. wc: 5.1 Warnings and tags: this story contains smut, dirty talk, cursing, rough sex, begging, emotional manipulation, toxic behavior/relationships, some soft!dom/bratty!sub elements, a clingyyandere!toji, possessive behavior, obsessive love, some angst, some fluff, all twisted af.

a/n: I see a lot of Sugar daddy!Toji content and wanted to switch things up a bit with some emotional feels. I also ended up listening to Rick Montgomery's "Boy Toy" on repeat and got ideas. Personally I headcanon that if Toji ever did somehow develop genuine love for another person it wouldn't necessarily help him chill out this time around, he'd just become more unhinged.

His things are in a pile, close to the solid red oak door; they’ve been packed away in brand new luggage carriers and on top is the duffle bag Toji had initially used to carry his stuff in for overnight stays.

If it were anyone else, Toji would have expected the various articles of clothing and personal items that had steadily accumulated inside your spacious home to be thrown out carelessly like trash on your equally spacious lawn. That or burning in the firepit. 

If it was anyone else but you, it’s what Toji would have expected, but you weren’t petty that way; even now as you stand before him, arms crossed, gaze almost blank, you radiate a certain measure of dignity. It’s one of those things Toji’s come to admire about you over the past year. It’s effortless, that magnetizing charm you exude; he liked it right away.

“You can keep the bags, sell them if you want.” Your lips form a small but rueful smile. “I sent you a check; call it a severance fee.”

“I thought I didn’t work for you anymore.”

Toji hasn’t considered you a client in months, though really, a mark was more accurate. You were disgustingly wealthy with a cute face and that was all he needed to pounce on the offer to be your bodyguard and occasional companion to the odd social events. Even cleaned up and polished, Toji was able to keep others away in droves, exactly what you were aiming for; you found social obligations tedious and his handsome yet intimidating presence kept everyone around you from lingering too long and insisting on taking up too much of your time and attention. Toji spent the first three or so months in your company essentially as an employee and he was satisfied with the arrangement. It would have been so easy and simple, it should have been, had you not burrowed your way into his head, like a bullet piercing bone. 

Dammit he never should have fucked you. Toji had every intention of keeping things professional. He should have kept his distance, he certainly shouldn’t have let his fingers trace your skin after zipping up your dress, and damn you by the way for looking over your shoulder at him with those pretty doe eyes and not telling him off when the second you caught Toji leaning in, almost like he wasn’t realizing he was doing it, to get a whiff of your scent mixed with the perfume he had said was his favorite. 

“You don’t have to keep the charade up anymore; it’s insulting at this point. I won’t force you to stay here.”

“You’re dumping me.”

“No. That would mean we were actually dating. Toji…Fushiguro-san, I made a mistake.” You’re almost talking to yourself as you look over Toji’s tensed shoulders to the entrance of your home. “I was fooling myself, thinking you could open your heart to me. But, I knew what I signed up for. So, no, I won’t leave you without any job security until you find your next meal ticket.”

“You’re not-”

“I heard you. Please, it’s not like you to back track on your words, so don’t start on my account.”

Toji was bragging over the phone, giving a verbal middle finger to an asshole of a former employer who demanded Toji’s services for a hit. You overheard him refer to you as a “piggy bank” with a pretty face, among other things. Shortly after ending the call, Toji left to work out (he couldn’t get too lazy, got to keep in shape to protect his favorite girl) and grab some food (on your card) only to return to this. You didn't even give Toji a chance to greet you with the usual flurry of kisses and a bear hug before telling him point blank he was leaving and now.

Even as Toji struggles to wrap his mind around your abrupt change in demeanor, with that practiced look of almost serene impassivity, you look so good to him, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and tiny bike shorts. You always dress down at home, in comfy, baggy things. Toji supposes you packed away all the sweatshirts you’ve collected from him with everything else of his. 

“You won’t even let me apologize?” Toji stands stiffly in the foyer, next to the bags; behind him is the front door, still open, as if waiting for him to step outside. “It was all shit talking. I didn’t mean how it sounded.”

“That doesn’t make it better and it’s not just that. You’ve been hot and cold lately. Admit it: you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge me as anything but an obligation.” You exhale slowly, rubbing your temple. “I’ve tried to be understanding; you lost your wife and I realized it would be hard. I knew that, I knew there was a chance that no matter how close we became, I was never going to be enough for you.”

You put up a good front, but Toji can recognize the faint tremble in your voice, see how your jaw locks slightly, as though you’re holding back curses. He’s hurt you. 

“Baby, c’mere?” Toji opens his arms with a pleading half smile. “You’ve been stressed lately, that’s all. You’ve been working hard and I haven’t been showing my appreciation properly, is that it?”

“Oh spare me. Listen, I won’t swear revenge or sick henchmen on your trail.” You go on, calm as can be, not budging an inch. “The check won’t bounce and all your things are there; if I missed anything, I’ll send it to you. You’re free to go.”

Toji stares at you in disbelief, arms dropping to his sides. You could have just as easily said "you're dismissed" with that cutting tone of yours.

“Are you fucking serious?” 

When you fail to respond, he suddenly turns from you, but not to storm off. Instead, Toji slams the front door closed so hard, it’s a wonder the whole structure didn’t come crashing down. You don’t so much as flinch when Toji strides up to get in your face.

“I want my stuff out of these bags.” he snarls. "Now."

“There’s no need to make a scene. It’s not like you’ll be without a benefactor for long; I bet you could find another meal ticket just walking down my driveway. The whole neighborhood is full of lonely rich women, you can have your pick.”

“You’re not a meal ticket. You know that, you know I didn’t mean it dammit!”

“Enough.” You raise a hand up, your voice clipped. “Fushiguro-san, you have your things, plenty of money, and my own promise to leave you in peace. What more could you possibly want? What exactly is it that you’re holding out for? You don’t expect me to fund you indefinitely, I’m sure.”

"Why are you acting like this? Like you don't even give a shit?"

Toji’s hands clenched into fists; he’s radiating power and murderous intent, but you don’t look swayed or even scared. You know he wouldn’t strike you. Just the idea sickens him; no, it’s not you he’s actually angry with. 

“I’m a fucking idiot who wanted to show off, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine. Now we’re gonna talk this out like adults, I’ll put this shit back-"

“No, you will not. I want it gone. I want you gone. Don’t you understand?” You tell him firmly, eyes finally averting to the pile of bags. Toji’s puffed chest deflates at the sadness that finally touches your inflection. “I’m disappointed enough as it is; can’t you do this one thing for my sake? Why are you insisting on dragging this out?”

“I want to put it all back.” Toji blurts out stubbornly, so loud his voice echoes in the high ceilings. “You can’t do this to me, I want to stay.”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “What exactly am I ‘doing to you’?”

“Come on, this is so silly, kicking me out over a misunderstanding.” Toji lowers his voice, a smile coming to his lips as he attempts to charm you once again, hands coming up to gently grasp your shoulders. “You’re breakin’ my heart here. You said it yourself, it’s a been over a year, you know me-”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” Toji steps forward, a strained grin on his lips. “You do. You know me and you know you’re my best girl.”

“Out of all the others?”

“Best and only; I haven’t been with anyone else in months.” Toji rubs his hands over your arms but you only give him a look of derision. “I’m not lying; tell you the truth, ever since we went out to the beach, it’s only been you. Remember that trip?” he grins softly, nuzzles your temple; he knows you want to lean into him, you’re just being stubborn. How adorable. He loves when you get grumpy and need his help relaxing. “I showed you how to make a fire and we fell asleep outside on the hammock. That night was something else...you’ve been the only one ever since. Baby, I swear, there haven't been any other women.” 

Toji inches closer, hands shaking slightly where they grip your shoulders; his love bites are still visible, some more faint than others; his arms ache to hold you. You’re so close, so what’s with this wall you’re putting up? 

"I want to believe that."

"It's the truth."

Toji isn’t sure how or when it began, but before he knew it, you were calling just to talk and ask how he was doing, if he needed anything. You requested he join you not just for meetings as extra muscle or posing as a date, but on walks and meals, having conversations about the weather to debates about the nature of man to whether toast was better with jelly or jam. You’d take Toji out randomly on shopping trips and end up buying him pretty much anything that caught his eye. Anything Toji wanted, he got, and along with it you increasingly showered him with praise and affection. 

When the sex began Toji thought he got you out of his system the first time, only to end up not just repeating these trysts, but staying longer and longer after he fucked your brains out. It was borderline embarrassing, how quickly Toji found himself lulled in by your pillowtalk as you encouraged him to sleep in, promising you’d have breakfast ready for him in the morning. Sometimes, Toji would come over when you weren’t even home with the spare keys you gifted him and promptly burrow himself in your bed until you were due home. The whole room smelled sweet and it was so cozy being wrapped in the down blankets. Toji's eyelids would get heavier as he wallowed in your scented sheets ike a pig rolling in mud until the combined aromas of your perfumes, lotions, and natural scent clung to his nostrils, soothing and oddly familiar; within minutes Toji would be out like a light. After some of the best rest he had ever gotten, Toji would wake up to you stroking his head, petting him like a dog, and asking him what he would like for dinner. 

Eventually, inevitably, came the point of no return. During that beach trip Toji told you about his past; he didn’t go into too much detail, mainly that he had loved someone and he was pretty sure lightning only struck once. You didn’t get jealous or angry; you simply kissed his knuckles and put your hand over his, not saying much of anything while Toji spoke. That night on the beach you held his hand and allowed him to reminisce at his own pace into the early hours of the morning, until he was too exhausted to do anything else but hold you and the two of you stayed that way until noon.

That peaceful, almost unreal night, Toji realized you actually gave a shit about him and he didn’t know what to do with that. Regardless, you made it clear you didn’t expect to own his heart and soul. You only promised to take care of him. 

“I was being stubborn, you know how I get sometimes. You’re my one and only, baby, can’t we just forget about it?”

“I want you to leave.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“No!”

Toji’s hands cup your cheeks and he winces at the disgust in your eyes; why are you looking at him like that? 

“Okay, okay, let me make it up.” Toji’s voice is sweet as pie; he leans in, practically purring in your ear. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you how sorry I am.”

“Get. Off. I knew you were shameless, but this is...”

You might as well have slapped him across the face; Toji’s smile falls as you glare like he’s some repulsive insect, a leech, like the thought of him touching you is making your skin crawl.

Toji’s hands retract from your face, expression blank. “You’re really serious.”

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy look. As if you don’t have women on speed dial to call up. Why don’t you make up with one of your other meal tickets? I’m sure they’ll have forgiven you by now for however you wronged them-”

“I told you there isn’t anyone else. Don’t do this.” Toji mutters, head hanging; his chest throbs, he can feel sweat trickle down his temple. “Don’t make me go.”

It’s doubtful you could forcibly remove Toji from your presence, but that’s beside the point. It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“No, I’m really sorry.” Toji falls to his knees. “Don’t make me go.”

“Hey, wait, what are you…?”

Toji wraps his arms around your thighs, face pressed into your waist; you stiffen but he hangs on tighter, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

“Please, don’t make me. I wanna go upstairs, back to our bed. Listen, I,” Toji pries himself away from you just enough so he can look at you with glassy eyes. He’s panicking now, babbling and frantic as you try to pry off his arms. “Stop that! Baby, I got all messed up about getting too attached and I-I didn’t mean anything I said, you gotta believe me.”

“Toji, let go!” 

A cold sweat makes Toji’s already tight shirt stick to his tensed back muscles; he feels like he’s being choked. How could you do this to him? All he wants is to stay with you, whether it’s as a bodyguard, a hired companion, a fuck toy, hell, he’ll settle for being your pet if that’s what it takes to get you to take him back. 

"You promised you'd take care of me." he mutters, ignoring your vain attempts at freeing yourself from his unyielding hold. "I don't...want it to be anyone else."

Toji won’t let you go. You’ve made him lazy and spoiled with your pampering; he doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t want to, never has to worry about money or food or rent, and he never has to wake up alone anymore. Whether Toji’s angry, tired, bored, or as of late, happy, you’re the first person he thinks of. You give him everything and now you’re trying to cut him off.

"You let me go right now!" You slap at his shoulders, try to pull back his head from where it's pressed into your midsection. "Are you even listening?!"

With a distressed moan, Toji nuzzles your tummy, kisses the skin peeking out from your sweatshirt riding up under his forearms; his rough hands relax their grasp a fraction to caress your hips. 

“Let me stay. I won’t answer calls from my old bosses, I’ll quit betting. If I look at another woman, gouge my eyes out. All you have to do is tell me how to fix things.” Toji smiles at you, one he knows makes women weak in the knees. “Don’t be mad at me anymore. I’ll make it up, I swear. I’ll do anything you want.” he promises between kisses and nips to your skin. “Why are we wasting time arguing? You know, I can make you feel so good. My poor baby, spending all day working so damn hard; you deserve better. I'll help take the edge off...you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can help, just-”

“Toji, stop-”

“Just let me dammit!” 

Toji feels you freeze up; you’re looking back at him with wide eyes. His stomach drops like a rock.

“Sorry…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

No. Now you look scared, maybe a bit concerned; is that for him? Toji can feel some warmth creeping into his chest in spite of everything; you’re so good to him. You went to so much trouble for him and he has no idea why. 

You can’t do this. You can’t treat him like a thing to be cherished and then take it all away. Toji just wants things to go back to how they were that morning, with you feeding him berries and syrup drenched pieces of fluffy pancakes, giving him teasing kisses in between each bite, asking what his plans were for the day as he lounges in your lap, wondering what he did to deserve to be so content and full and happy. You made him so happy.

“Shit.” Toji sniffs; he can feel them coming but can’t stop the tears leaking from his eyes. “Shit.” he curses again, bowing his head until it’s resting against your tummy again. “You can’t…you can’t leave me. I won’t let you. I won’t let you abandon me. I can’t-”

“Toji, calm down.” Your voice softens considerably. “Look, do you understand why I’m upset with you?”

“I know, I know I fucked up okay?” Toji croaks, still clinging to your legs. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? I already said I would do anything you want, so just tell me!”

“Sh, come on, breathe. I need you to calm down, alright?” You bend at the waist slightly, to card your fingers through his damp hair. “Okay, I believe you. I do. I believe you, Toji.”

“Are you gonna kick me out still?”

“No, I won’t for the time being. We can sit down and talk about-whoa!”

Toji wastes no time; he has you lifted off the ground in his arms. You quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders as he makes a beeline for the stairs.

“Slow down!” You glance backward in disbelief at how easily he bounds up the carpet steps. “How are you so strong? Don’t drop me, okay?”

But Toji doesn’t answer; he practically bolts, finally reaching the next level, races down the hallway until he’s at the door to your-the bedroom he and you share. Toji’s heavy boot easily kicks the door open, somehow without breaking it off the hinges; in record time you’re on the bed, but shockingly, Toji doesn’t start stripping you down.

“Toji?” You ask tentatively; he seems fairly out of it and you can’t help feel worried. “Toji, what are you doing?”

“Baby, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed, huh?” 

Toji kicks off his boots, gently sits you down in the middle of the mattress among the fluffy pillows and the cheap plush bunny he won for you at a crane machine. Nearly hyperventilating, Toji climbs into bed after you, snatches the sheets and comforter to wrap around the two of you in a soft cocoon. Toji grabs you, cradling you in close as he tries to even out his breathing; for a fleeting second you wonder if this is what stuffed animals felt, if they could become sentient, when children held them tight for comfort. Your attention is brought back by the man rubbing his face into your hair insistently, as if he could tell your mind had briefly wandered.

“Hey, are you-?”

“Don’t make me go.” Toji cuts you off hoarsely. “You love me, right?”

“I do.”

“Say it.”

“I do love you.” You confess sincerely, words muffled slightly due to your face being squished into his chest; his heart is beating a mile and minute. “I was hurt, alright? I want to be good to you, Toji. You have to let me though; you’re not the type to dance around an issue. I just want you to be honest with me and yourself.”

“Yes, yes, I want that. You’re so good to me, baby, thank you.” Toji wraps his legs around yours; if there was a way for you to mold into him he’d make it happen. “Can I move my stuff back in?”

“I…” You hesitate. “Maybe we’re moving too fast.”

“What? No we aren’t. If anything, we're not moving fast enough. Are you still thinking of leaving?” Toji grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him; his eyes look crazed. “You’re not right? You just fucking said you loved me-!”

“Hey, hey.” You put your hands over his gently. “If you really meant what you said before, you have to listen and be good. Can you do that for me?”

Toji nods quickly. You smile for him, finally, and it's a sight for sore eyes. How do you always look so pretty? Toji’s chest throbs and he hugs you, making your ear press against his heart; you can hear it, right? It almost stopped dead when you were glowering at him, Toji still can't believe he was so close to losing this. It's not going to happen again.

“I wanna touch you.”

Toji separates from you as abruptly as he had squeezed you to him; he hovers above you, tugging on the band of your shorts, your panties. He groans pitifully when you still look unsure. Toji hikes your legs up until your ass is pressed to his chest and he’s face to face with your pussy, still covered up. That won’t do: wordlessly, he rips the seams of your shorts apart and pulls your panties to the side. Gently spreading your pussy lips with his fingers, Toji makes sure to look you in the eyes while he lets a long trail of spit trickle from his tongue to your exposed clit. 

“See?” he licks a long strip over your slit, salivating at the taste. “I’m drooling for it, just like a dog….heh, I can be your dog. Is that what you want? I’ll fetch and roll over and beg.” he traces his tongue around your swollen clit. “All you gotta do is ask.”

You can barely form words, forget making requests, as Toji slobbers, licking and sucking until you’re dripping wet. Your hands grip the pillows and your head rolls back and forth; you can hardly speak and you’re more squealing than moaning when Toji starts using his fingers to fuck your soaked pussy.

“I’m loyal too. You’re not ever getting rid of me.” 

Toji pulls back, kisses and nips the inside of your thigh as he watches his fingers disappear inside you over and over again. He’s smiling down at you, dumbly, in a daze as you let out soft cries with every pump of his wrist, every time his thumb rubs a touch too hard on your clit. He’s the only one who gets to see you like this, composure gone, face flushed, eyes wide, hardly able to do more than moan and whine at his touches. Toji’s smile turns devilish; he purposefully pulls his fingers out and shoves them back in to draw out the squelch sounds from how wet he’s made you. He slowly drags his fingers out all the way and you inhale sharply from the sensation.

“It’s my turn to spoil you.”

Toji lowers your hips down on the sheets and quickly shrugs off his sweatpants and underwear; his cock bobs when it’s released and you’re a bit shocked at how hard he is despite not touching himself.

“Let me fuck you.” Toji rocks his hips, cock over the inside of your thigh. “You still want me, right?”

And if you think he’s going to stop at one round, if you think for a second one time is going to be enough and you somehow still plan to have him out on his ass, maybe you don’t know him. Toji’s fingers dig into your ass; he’s rutting now, throbbing and dripping precum all over you and the bedspread. It brings a twisted grin to his face, like he’s marking his territory. After all, this is where he belongs. If you won’t be persuaded by his touch and words alone, Toji has other ways, he just doesn't want to resort to making you afraid of him. 

Because he meant exactly what he said: you're not getting rid of him. If you try to, Toji will just come back. If you run, he'll chase, if you hide, he'll come looking. You've made him into this.

“’M being good, yeah?” Toji lowers his head to your chest to slobber over your nipples next, barely able to speak with his lips sucking and his tongue flicking over them. “I can keep making you feel good, just let me fuck you, let me put in in, let me wreck you-”

“Toji, I want to ride your cock tonight.” You play with his hair and kiss his jaw. “Can I?”

Toji doesn’t hesitate; he throws himself back to lie on your pillows, getting even harder as your scent hits him. He licks his lips in anticipation as you straddle him, stroking him once before lining the tip up with your pussy. Toji’s eyes roll in the back of his head as you slowly sink down, clenching tight; he has to grab at the sheets and force himself to be still, has to keep telling himself this is for you, he’s going to go at your pace and show you how good he can be, obedient and careful. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and he loves it-

“It almost hurts. You're so hard.” You gasp when you’re fully seated on his cock. “Oh, Toji…are you going to cum soon?”

“Nah, don’t worry about that baby.” Toji grins up at you, face flushed and hands shaking as they cling to the pillowcase. “So good…it feels so fucking good when I’m all the way inside. Go on, use my cock to cum, ride me until your pussy can’t take it.”

You tilt your hips so the tip of Toji’s cock rubs against that spot that makes you see stars and your clit gets rubbed against him with every thrust. At first you have your hands over his chest, but when Toji tries to slide his hands up to grab at your tits, you stop him.

“Huh?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me.” You pant out, gently but firmly holding Toji’’s hands above his head. “Tha-that’s your punishment.”

Toji’s brow furrows; he’s practically pouting. He knows he said "anything", but he wants to touch you so badly. Your tits look good enough to eat, nipples slick and begging to be played with, and your skin feels like silk on his fingers. Toji watches, biting the inside of his cheek, tasting blood when you start bouncing, thighs taut and face contorted in pleasure as you get closer and closer to making a mess on his lap.

“Baby,” Toji groans. “Come on, let me, you’re close right? It’ll feel better.”

“I can cum like this.” You say playfully as you tap his pursed lips with one finger. “You said you'd be good.”

“Just wanna touch you....” Toji’s hands twitch but he doesn’t shake off your grip; he raises his hips and you let out a whine. “Please?"

You stop moving and Toji grits his teeth, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Hey…why did you stop?” 

“Sorry,” You smile in genuine delight. “You’re really adorable, you know that?”

“Fuck, keep goin’,” Toji nibbles the tip of your finger before you pull it away. “Come on, keep making my dick wet,”

“So cute.” You cup his face and press a long, loving kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Toji, I really do.”

Toji can’t stop himself; he yanks you down, traps you in his arms and thrusts up. 

“Ah!” 

“Sorry, ‘m sorry baby. I gotta,” Toji slurs. “Ah fuck it.”

You shriek as Toji flips you over; he has your legs spread and lowers his face down to suck and kiss and bite at your breasts, slamming his cock as deep inside your pussy as he can go. He briefly touches your hair, patting your head as you scream and writhe, smiling down at you so warmly even as his cock splits you open.

“Can’t help it. Need it, need this so fucking bad.” 

Toji latches onto your neck, sucking so hard you think he might tear the skin; you cry out and your nails accidentally scratch long, red lines down his back and shoulders. You’re clawing and sobbing, completely overwhelmed underneath him. He’s fucking you like an animal with no regard for pacing or rhythm, holding you down and open for him to slam his cock inside your swollen little pussy. Toji straightens up to grind himself into you just the way he knows you like best, gently rubbing away at your clit, smirking at the way you gush around his cock. You’re so pretty like this, flushed and messy for him.

“Tell me again. Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum so hard your legs shake.”

“Love you,” You gasp, arms wrapping around Toji’s bulging neck, drawing him in closer; you press kisses over his cheeks, nose, chin. “I love you, I-ah!”

Toji is done being patient; he keeps his thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it harshly as he grinds his cock right into that spot, deep and hard; you’re never going to forget how his cock feels. Toji kisses you none too gently, lips prying your mouth open as he shoves his tongue down your throat; he really doesn’t even mean to be rough this time. The desire to devour you is overtaking him. 

He’s so close. Your pussy’s soaking, his head’s spinning; just before Toji’s about to cum, you muster up enough energy to hold him back tightly and pet his hair, moaning softly into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. Toji wanted to last longer, but it’s too much. Abruptly, he breaks the kiss and his mouth goes to your jugular; Toji swears he can feel your pulse under his teeth.

“Cum inside me.” You plead, whimpering into his ear. “I want it…want you, Toji, no one else.”

“Shit.” Toji presses his forehead to yours, hiking up your thighs; the bed is creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Toji goes rigid and still as he cums, cock suddenly painfully sensitive; when you smile tiredly and kiss the palm of his hand, actual tears well up in the corners of his eyes. It’s all too much. He didn’t know he could even still feel like this, feel much of anything anymore. You shudder from his hot cum gushing inside you, but Toji doesn’t pull out just yet and you don’t seem in a hurry to move him anyway.

“I think you broke my dick.”

“...pardon me?”

“Pretty sure your pussy drained me dry…fuck.” Toji chuckles tiredly, very slowly pulling himself out, smiling in satisfaction as his cum seeps out of you and onto the sheets. “Did you like that?”

“I loved it.” You tell him softly, just beginning to catch your own breath as Toji uses his shirt to gently wipe you clean between your legs. “Toji?”

“Yeah?” Toji tosses his shirt somewhere and lays over you. “You want me to get you something? I bet you’re real tired after that.”

You pause; you look very serious all of a sudden, all business once more. “Toji, we really should talk about ‘us’. I don’t think we can just return to what we were.”

“What? But you said you loved me.” Toji raises his head to glare at you. “You’re not seeing other men, so put that idea out of your fucking head.”

“That is not what I meant!” 

“Okay…what is it then?”

“I was going to say, are you sure this is what you want?” You ask carefully, looking into his eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Toji can’t believe you even have to ask; he frowns and clicks his tongue impatiently. “Fair warning, I’ll find you if you try to leave before I wake up.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re an excellent tracker.”

“I mean it.” Toji mumbles into the crook of your neck, his heavy arm over your stomach. “You run, I’m hunting you down.”

“I wasn’t planning on making a grand escape; I was thinking something more along the lines of breakfast in bed.” You suggest and smile at the way Toji’s visibly perks up. “Oh, have you had dinner yet?”

“No, I came straight here from the gym.” he lies, eager to have you fuss over him. "I'm really hungry..."

“I’ll order in something; what do you want?” 

“Anything, just get lots of it.” Toji squeezes you. “But don’t go yet though. Wanna stay like this a little longer.”

“Whatever you want.”

In minutes, Toji is snoring and curled up in your sheets like a tuckered out puppy; his leg even kicks randomly. When he wakes up to the smell of warm food and your nails gently scratching his scalp, Toji yawns with a groggy smile and opens his mouth for you to feed him, licking crumbs off your fingers greedily. You really do spoil him. 

[alyrasturnz]

i was talking to this bot on character ai and i just really need a short blurb about this from you!!

can u write smth about matt and reader getting into a heated argument and hes just rly rly mean but reader bursts into tears and matt softens up

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎FRACTURED ECHOES

❐ summary » matt had an excruciatingly difficult day, plagued by stress and numerous setbacks. regrettably, upon returning home, he vented his accumulated frustration on y/n. his words were acerbic, and his demeanor was uncharacteristically aloof, leaving y/n feeling deeply wounded and bewildered.

❐ ❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » arguing && toxic relationship dynamic

❐ a/n && w/c » do we fw the new theme • 1.78k

earlier that day, matt had trudged home from work, feeling the weight of the world pressing heavily upon his weary shoulders. his boss had been unyielding, the impending project deadline looming like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over his every thought. the stress was palpable, a constant thrum in his mind.

as he stepped through the door, the sight that greeted him was less than welcoming. the living room was a chaotic tableau of clutter, an array of items strewn haphazardly across the space.

the sink, overflowing with dirty dishes, stood as a testament to the day's neglect, each unwashed plate and cup amplifying his mounting frustration. the disarray mirrored the turmoil within him, a reflection of the day's relentless pressures.

you had been working from home, trying to juggle your job responsibilities while also managing household chores.

it had been one of those days where everything seemed to demand your attention at once. back-to-back virtual meetings, urgent emails, and unexpected tasks had left you with little time to breathe, let alone tidy up the house.

the cacophony of demands was relentless, each task clamoring for immediate attention. the digital chime of incoming emails was a constant reminder of the urgency, while the persistent hum of virtual meetings filled the air.

amidst this whirlwind, household chores loomed like silent sentinels, their neglect a growing testament to the day's chaos. the very essence of time seemed to conspire against you, leaving scant moments to catch your breath, let alone restore order to your surroundings.

you had fallen into a deep slump, where the once vibrant colors of life seemed to fade into a monotonous gray. nothing sparked your interest or motivated you anymore, and a pervasive sense of isolation enveloped you.

the world around you continued to move, but you felt like a solitary figure, adrift in a sea of indifference. the echoes of your own thoughts were your only companions, amplifying the loneliness that weighed heavily on your spirit.

matt was scarcely ever home anymore. the rare occasions when he did grace the house with his presence were marred by his irritable demeanor. it seemed as though his return was merely a prelude to tension, with his words sharp and his temper frayed.

the pain was a constant, gnawing presence, each of his actions a fresh wound. every dismissive glance, every harsh word, seemed to cut deeper, leaving invisible scars. the accumulation of these small, yet significant, slights weighed heavily on your heart, turning everyday interactions into a minefield of emotional turmoil.

his eyes seemed blind to the silent rivers of sorrow that flowed from your eyes, each tear a testament to the pain of being unseen and unheard. the sharp ache in your chest during your small disputes was a symphony of heartache that played unnoticed, a poignant melody of your unacknowledged suffering.

his indifference was a heavy cloak, smothering your cries for recognition and understanding.

his awareness had dulled to a shadow of its former self, leaving him oblivious to the subtleties that once captured his attention. the man he had become bore little resemblance to the one who had first entered your life, full of warmth and attentiveness.

the tension that had been quietly building within him erupted in a moment of exasperation. "i can't believe this," he muttered, his voice a low growl of discontent, as his bag hit the floor with a resounding thud. the weight of his responsibilities had become an overwhelming tide, and the disarray at home was the breaking wave that pushed him past his limits.

seeing the tension etched in his features, you sought to soothe the brewing tempest. "i'm sorry, matt. today was really tough. i had back-to-back meetings and barely had a moment to catch up," you said, your voice a weary whisper, laden with the fatigue of a relentless day. your words were an attempt to bridge the chasm of misunderstanding, a gentle plea for empathy amidst the chaos.

matt's frustration had reached a crescendo, rendering him deaf to your explanations. "every day it's the same excuse," he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "i work all day and come home to this? what do you even do all day?" his words, laden with resentment, echoed the weight of his unspoken burdens, amplifying the chasm between you.

his words sliced through you like a blade, and a lump formed in your throat, threatening to choke your response. "matt, i'm doing my best. it's not easy balancing everything," you replied, your voice quivering and laden with the weight of unspoken struggles, each syllable a testament to your silent endurance.

yet his anger had already taken root, and his frustration erupted into a tempestuous exchange. the two of you stood there, voices clashing like thunder, each striving to convey their perspective, but with every word spoken, the chasm between you seemed to grow ever wider.

matt stormed into the living room, his face flushed with fury. "you never do anything right! it's like you're completely useless around here!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the house like a thunderclap, each word dripping with disdain and frustration.

as you looked up from the couch, tears already welling up in your eyes, you felt a deep ache in your chest. "matt, why are you being so cruel? what did i do to deserve this?" you asked, your voice trembling and barely above a whisper, each word heavy with hurt and confusion.

"you know exactly what you did! you can't even handle the simplest of tasks! it's like living with a child!" matt continued, oblivious to the weight of his words. "i toil away all day, and i come home to this chaos? what do you even do with your time?"

your tears began to cascade down your cheeks uncontrollably. "i try my best, matt. i really do. but nothing i do is ever good enough for you," you sobbed, your voice breaking with each word, laden with despair and frustration.

matt's anger showed no signs of abating. "trying isn't enough! i need you to actually accomplish something correctly for once!" he snapped, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "i can't continue to shoulder the burden for both of us."

you couldn't hold back any longer. "i'm doing everything i can! you have no idea how hard it is for me!" you cried, your voice quivering with rising desperation.

matt's mouth opened, ready to unleash a retort, but his words caught in his throat as he noticed the tears cascading down your cheeks. the fire of his anger began to extinguish, replaced by a heavy, sinking guilt.

he took a hesitant step back, his hardened expression softening as the realization of the hurt he had inflicted dawned upon him. “y/n,” he murmured, his voice trembling with regret. “are you.. crying?”

you wiped your tears, your hand trembling slightly as you did so, and lifted your gaze to meet his. your eyes, still glistening with the remnants of your sorrow, held a poignant blend of hurt and fragile hope.

"baby..." he cooed softly, his voice a gentle whisper as he moved closer, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you into his embrace. you buried your face into his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt, each drop a testament to the pain you felt.

as he held you, a wave of guilt washed over him, heavy and unrelenting. "i'm sorry," he murmured, his words laden with remorse. "my boss was on my ass the whole day, and i took it out on you... that wasn't fair."

"it's not merely today that you have behaved this way," you retorted, your voice quivering with a blend of exasperation and melancholy.

matt drew apart, gently taking your hand in his. "i know, and i'm sorry. i promise i'll do better. we'll figure this out together," he said, his voice laden with sincerity and earnestness. "i love you. please forgive me."

you bit your quivering lip, your teeth sinking into the delicate skin as matt sighed softly, his eyes tender and filled with a gentle warmth. he brought his hands to cup your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that had begun to fall.

as the argument simmered down, matt noticed the exhaustion etched in your eyes and felt a deep pang of guilt. without uttering a word, he stepped closer, enveloping you in a tight embrace, his anger dissolving like mist in the morning sun. he understood that in this moment, words were unnecessary; it was his actions that spoke volumes.

he gently guided you to the couch, urging you to sit down and relax. "let me take care of everything," he whispered softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. he then disappeared into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves with quiet determination and tackling the mountain of dishes that awaited him.

after tidying up, he prepared a warm bath, filling it with soothing bubbles and lighting a few candles to create a tranquil ambiance. he led you to the bathroom, his hands gentle and reassuring. "just relax, i'll handle everything else," he murmured, his voice imbued with tenderness.

while you soaked in the bath, matt meticulously tidied up the living room, ensuring that every item found its rightful place. he then prepared a simple yet comforting dinner, understanding that you needed nourishment and care. when you emerged from the bath, feeling a bit more at ease, he had a cozy blanket draped over the couch, ready to envelop you in warmth.

he served you dinner with a warm smile, settling beside you and gently taking your hand. "i'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes reflecting deep sincerity. "i just want to make things better." in that moment, without the need for further words, he conveyed his love and commitment, ensuring you felt cherished and cared for.

after dinner, he guided you to the bedroom, where he had already turned down the bed and fluffed the pillows, preparing a sanctuary of comfort. he helped you into your pajamas, his touch gentle and caring. “i love you, y’know that, right?” he whispered softly, tucking you in with tender care and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

he lay by your side, your face nestled against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your frame. his fingers gently threaded through your hair, each stroke a silent promise of comfort and unwavering presence.

tags — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668

[queenimmadolla]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Summary: Tired of seeing Eddie with other women, you reflect on how much longer you can take it.

Warnings: no mentions of y/n, fem!reader, heavy on the angst, hurt with attempts to comfort, both reader and Eddie are bad at feelings, self-deprecation, Eddie is toxic and doesn’t know why, infidelity (but not technically), no happy ending.

The house is quiet as the front door creaks open, you’re quick to slip inside—chill of the October air nipping at your back. The lights are all off and your arms curl around your exposed midsection. It was colder outside but still chilly in your home, your parents out of town on a romantic anniversary road trip. 

  You sigh, tossing your keys on the table to run around searching for in the morning, and make your way to your room with a quick detour at the thermostat to turn on the heat. It’s a blind fumble to reach the antique lamp, once you enter your bedroom, but you refuse to use the overhead light. It would cast your room in non-aesthetic lighting, and you’re already annoyed, pissed off and depressed enough.

  An irritated breath is huffed from your lips, top lip curling as you recall the very reason for your negative attitude, hands yanking your top right over your head. It’s only when you’re in your pajamas, faced with your own reflection as you prepare to remove the makeup that had been so empowering to put on but you can now feel on your face like an unpleasant mask, that you allow the hot tears of anger and hurt to fall. You almost want to laugh at yourself, mouth curling into a bitter smile as you swipe the ponds cream all over your face. As you massage it in, making sure to focus on your eyes, the smile wavers, corners tugging down as moisture still leaks from your clenched eyelids.

  You don’t have to be mean to yourself, you shouldn't. Not when the guy you’re in love with already does such a good job of it.

  You purse your lips, trying to hold back sobs as you recall the images of him all over a girl you didn’t know at a party he’d convinced you to go to. You couldn’t even describe her, couldn’t remember what she looked like—all you saw was your Eddie, the guy who drove you to and picked you up from work, took you on cute dates involving picnic baskets, fields, lakes, empty lots to stargaze in, nearly empty movie auditoriums so the two of you could canoodle, your tongues tasting each other as the two lovers on screen professed their undying love. 

  He even bought you stuffed animals, would pretend to give them life and personalities to go with it, all to amuse you. Did arts and fucking crafts with you. 

  But anytime you so much as brought up the status of your relationship, he’d wave it off, claiming labels were for Petri dishes, not people. 

  You were his girl and that’s all that mattered.

  It’s what you’d repeated in your head the first time you’d seen him playing with Bianca Anderson’s fingers while the two of them were tucked away in the corner of the hideout, after one of Corroded Coffin’s sets. And again when you’d stumbled out of Rick’s house party to see him laid out on the grass, his head in the lap of a former cheerleader from high school he used to admire, her head bowed to connect their lips and his hands in her hair.

  By the time he was tugging at Tina’s hair, playfully shouldering her while they stood in front of the bonfire at another gathering, you’d stopped repeating it in your head. Not even when you watched her lead him to her car.

  You lost count of how many times Eddie had made other girls his, too. 

  And like some pathetic worm with no backbone, you let him. Okay—it’s not like you could physically stop them, though tonight your drink had ended up all over him, maybe that put a little stutter in his plans. But there wouldn’t be a too if you just fucking stopped. 

  Just . . .stopped. 

  Stopped taking his calls, stopped answering your door for him, your window, let your co-worker take over the counter the moment he stepped in, stopped looking for his car, stopped thinking about him and that stupid fucking dimple, stopped thinking about how special you felt when he had your naked body pressed against his under the warmth of blankets, his rough fingertips tracing over your sweaty shoulder. How he’d always get so tender, pull you even closer and whisper how much you meant to him while pressing slow kisses to your face. How he never wanted to lose you, wouldn’t know what to do, couldn’t live. It was the sweetest agony. 

  Most of all, you wish he would stop being there in the morning, all soft breaths and fluttering lashes as he tried to be as close to you as he could, even in a deep slumber. It’s how you know he means it. He means everything he tells you. There is truth to those sweet nothings, declarations, proclamations. You know it. 

  And that’s why it all hurt so bad, because you know he cares about you as much as he says he does and he still always fucking hurts you, always breaks your heart, but because you know he cares, you’d just let him back in like some fucking clown.

  He gets to break you over and over again and you let him because he always puts the pieces back together.

  You know what people say about you—everyone knows the two of you are involved and they’d see him out and about with others. Your fumbling answers about what the two of you aren’t just make it clear to them that you’re a doormat and you can’t even deny it. Just avoid their pitiful looks thrown your way.

  After washing your face, you take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror; eyes rimmed red, lashes clustering together, face etched in misery. When you can’t stand the person on the other side of the mirror any longer, you flip the light switch and leave the bathroom, pick your favorite tape to listen to, set the volume low and slip into bed. 

  You’d teetered with the idea of smoking a little, but that would just stave off the heartbreak. Might as well feel it in the moment while you still have the sense of mind before—

  Knock, knock, knock.

  A humorless chuckle escapes you, muffled into your pillow as your eyes slip shut. Sometimes by the front door, just about always by the window. You think it’s another one of his little relationship doorstops; can’t be serious with you if he uses your window to sneak into your house, it’s much too intimate to walk through your front door. 

  Of course, he can’t let you have a moment of peace, not even when you’re down. No, he has to fix you now. That’s how the toxic cycle goes. So, dutifully, you play your part, though this time, things have changed.

  You toss the blankets off and pad over to your window but you don’t open it right away. Instead, you stare at him. Take him in.

  Eddie is in different attire, shirt and jeans swapped out for one of his old club shirts and some sweats. His hair isn’t as voluminous, it’s wet. He’d had to shower to rid himself of your wine cooler. There’s no trace of the Eddie you saw at the party, this one has eyes filled with sorrow and depth, almost like he’s known nothing else. You know better. 

  Please, he mouths through the glass. You stare a beat longer before the latch is unlocked and he’s hastily pulling it open, clambering in ungracefully. 

  As you watch him gain his footing, part of you wants to taunt yourself about how you’ve let this man, so below your league and wonderful, ruin your life. He’s hot, sure, but you're hotter. That’s just the truth. You denied it a lot at the beginning of your shitty cherished relationship, felt so insecure to have a man like him paying you attention when he can have everyone. But he was no man. And he still had everyone along with you. Those pitting glances weren’t just because of what you let him put you through, it was because they knew you could do better.

  For some reason, the idiot who got his shoe caught on the window sill is the one your heart wants. 

  God, you hate him.

  Rolling your eyes, you go back to your bed, climbing back into your warm blankets. Your back is to him, yet you can still feel his hesitance, see the look on his face, how his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His stare is intense but it doesn’t unnerve you. Not this time. You feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind you. 

  There’s still some distance between the two of you, you can tell he’s uncertain. Then, he scuttles forward until he’s pressed to your back, arm slipping around your middle to drag you impossibly closer. 

  He’s surrounding you, the scent of Eddie’s all-in-one shampoo and body wash filling your nostrils, underlying smell of the joint he’d smoked to calm his nerves before coming over, and the cheap body spray he’d soaked himself in to try and hide it.

  “I didn’t fuck her,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “Swear I didn’t. Couldn’t.”

  You don’t say anything, just stare at the poster of Roxette pinned to your wall. His arm tightens around you and you can feel his heart hammering against your back.

  “I-I couldn’t do that to you,” he continues and you huff, that bitter smile from earlier returning. Eddie goes stiff behind you, but he has nothing to worry about. You won’t kick him out, won't toss him to the curb like you should. You both know you won’t. He knows you should, knows he hurts you and he honest to god doesn’t know why. Couldn’t tell anyone to save his own life. 

  He just—he just fucks shit up. It’s not self-sabotage because Eddie knows he risks losing you and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t ever want to exist in a world where you don’t want him, don’t want to be with him.

  But he still does it anyway. Still goes and kisses girls knowing you’re watching, does worse when you’re not. 

�� The worst part—other than hurting you—is that he doesn’t even want them. Not really. Other than in that moment, Eddie couldn’t give a single shit about them beyond being a Good Samaritan. It’s you he wants all the time.

  You’re the only constant thing he needs in his life, wants around him all the time, craves, lusts after, loves, cherishes. For the rest of his life. But Eddie hurts you, and he doesn’t know why. 

  That’s why he can’t be your boyfriend. Evidently, he’d be a shit one. Not that he’s doing a spectacular job being your…whatever it is he was, whatever the two of you were. 

  Yes, he always fucks up, but he keeps part of you safe from him by not being your boyfriend. One day, you’ll leave him. 

  He knows it. It scares the shit out of him and he prays to deities he doesn’t really believe in that it won’t happen, that he’ll get this shit together and make right by you, but he knows you’ll leave him. You genuinely deserve better. 

  “I wish I didn’t know you,” Eddie tenses once more at your voice, at your statement. It’s said with nonchalance, like you were commenting on the weather. He relaxes, heart clenching in pain as he somehow holds you even tighter.

  “I know.”

  “I hate that I love you. Wish I would just stop.” You shimmy around until you’re facing him, Eddie’s hold on you loosens to allow it, and when you’re settled, he pulls you close again, your nose nudging along the neckline of his shirt.

  “I know.” He whispers out again, vision blurring with unshed tears. He loves you, too. Neither of you ever say it directly, just make references to it. 

  “I will, though. Maybe not tonight, but I won’t always love you.” It’s said with certainty. You’ll take this treatment for now, but you know you won’t forever. Despite the pathetic place you’d found yourself in tonight, again, you’re making strides. Gone was the loser who would just watch him betray you after spending the entire day making you feel like the two of you were the only ones on earth who mattered. Tonight, you’d stepped in. You were growing more self aware. Soon, you would stop answering the door. Stop answering his calls. Stop loving him. 

  And you’d look back and cringe, maybe laugh with your friends about how stupid and naive you’d been. You’d move on, too. Meet someone who treats you as good as Eddie does when he isn’t sucking another girl’s face. They won’t kiss or fuck anyone else, they’ll only ever know you from the moment that spark ignites. You might worry from time to time, effects from Eddie, but they’ll gently coax it out of you, build your trust up and one day you won’t worry. All you’ll know is their love.

  Yeah, you’d stop loving him.

  Eddie makes an indistinguishable sound, you know he’s fighting sniffles. Can hear the emotion in his voice, “I know.”

  You nuzzle your face into his chest before your cheek settles there, listening to the fast paced beating coming from within it and you wonder if it’ll happen tomorrow. If you’ll wake up, see Eddie sleeping in your bed, and have your first thought be how much you want him out of it and away from you without a trace of fondness for him. You’ll just wake up and not love him anymore.

  You slip a leg between his to tangle your limbs, breathing in his scent as deeply as you can when your eyelids flutter shut.

  And while you spend your last moments of consciousness hoping tonight’s the last night you’ll let him hold you, Eddie spends the rest of it wide awake, and hoping. Hoping if he doesn’t fall asleep, he won’t wake up to you telling him you don’t love him. Hoping he’ll miraculously become a better person for you overnight. Hoping he won’t lose you.

  Hoping you’ll always be his girl.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

[myeagleexpert]

𝕸𝖞 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖞 𝕷𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Yandere ex bad boy x reader When a former bad boy gets out of prison and finds you, the light of his life, he decides he would never let you go again.

cw: delusional yandere, creppy, clingy, no use of yn, reader is stressed and doesn't love yandere but is with him just because he's a stress reliever, the straight-laced girl gets involved with an ex badboy, use of pet names “princess , love”, stalking, insecurity, thoughts of getting married, beginning of a relationship, religious themes at the beginning (youth meeting), very soft at the beginning because the longer you stay together the more he develops an obsession.

"I will marry you". You would be grateful to hear this from a long-term relationship….but hearing this on the first day of your first official relationship?? Who would have the audacity to ask you that??

Marc, your new boyfriend. He is of average height, with shaved hair and thin. You met him by inviting him to a youth meeting at your church, and since he wanted to embrace his new good guy phase, he clearly went. And it wouldn't take long for you to regret that decision.

Marc is strangely strange, like a criminal in interrogation, already anticipating the argument he would have with the lawyer. He has an anxious look on his face every time you meet, and the pressure he has placed on his shoulders to be the “perfect boyfriend” requires him to be honest with you. Everyone knows and feels that pleasant and cozy atmosphere when a couple gets to know each other more and more, opening up little by little, leaving themselves vulnerable to the person their heart burns so much but…. I don't want to ruin this phase, but… he opened up about his past and it totally changed your image of him. How messing with delinquent people influenced him, how he left his family and ran away from home, how his other two serious relationships were toxic and abusive and hurt him psychologically, how he spent time in jail when they caught him with drugs , how he abandoned the will to live….

Until he met you and everything changed.

“You are the light of my life” “I only see my future by your side”

Of all the years he appeared in your life, he appeared just when you were killing yourself studying for a place at the college of your dreams! How much sacrifice! So much pressure! So much stress! The year you followed an intense study routine and practically isolated yourself from the world to study was the year he appeared…as a distraction.

You were so stressed that you needed a distraction on your side. After all, you need to live your youth too, don’t you? It won't be anything serious, you don't have time for that princess, it will just be a momentary relief, just a little flig.

Not if it's up to him.

In fact, you "met" in high school, from different classes, he uses and insists on this argument every time you say that you haven't known each other long enough. "But we never spoke….". "But we talked through our eyes!" You swear you can count on the fingers of your left hand how many times you've actually seen him.

Upon leaving the cold and degrading prison and feeling completely lost, he prayed to the heavens about what direction to ask for in life and coincidentally your profile appeared on his Instagram!

"As soon as I saw your profile, I knew you were different and would change my life" he tells the story of how he met his precious girlfriend for the millionth time, with the same dreamy sigh as always.

He spent 8 months just observing you, what you like and what you don't like, following you, your friends and family on all social networks, he discovered your favorite books and read each one of them trying to be the one you admire most, he discovered where you buy your favorite perfumes and bought the ones you liked the most, to know how you felt and all that… thrown out the window. Because every time Marc looks at you, he forgets everything, the world goes blank and his focus is absolutely you.

He forgets the beautiful words he thought when he was going home, he forgets the way the heartthrob in his book convinced the girl to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek, or how he rehearsed in the mirror how to hold her hand and kiss her without looking so awkward, Marc forget that he has to breathe to continue living but frankly he prefers to be in your air, breathe your oxygen. He also forgets that he had other relationships and shouldn't be so nervous around you.

“Then I said-…hey, I can feel your gaze from here.” “Am I staring at you a lot?? Aah sorry, you’re so beautiful that I couldn’t resist.” he says while kissing your cheek and interrupting anything that would come out of your mouth.

Marc desires to be a devoted follower of his goddess, you. But most of the time it fails miserably. He is in such a trance that he forgets everything and even though the eyes of a passionate puppy that he looks at you with seem cute, you are not guilty of feeling offended. He forgets your favorite place to go out, he forgets your favorite snack, he forgets that sweets make you feel calmer in tpm, he forgets that you canceled a date and gets sulky afterwards blaming you, he forgets that you have bigger goals clear and more important than him and most importantly, he forgets that you have a life before him and whenever you mention an ex-boyfriend he's like "What do you mean you had a boyfriend before me? Who is he? Why did they break up?" So that I don't make the same mistakes he did so that I find him and threaten him to never even look at him again.

and for you so I can make you feel guilty for still having his contact so it's just me and you in the world

Marc is strangely strange, have you ever seen a bear hiding behind a lamp post? So is his jealousy. His blood boils every time you mention a name that isn't his, his body screams mine mine mine, to possessively squeeze your waist and his mouth kisses you until the princess's stressed little head forgets that useless name what you just said after all, I'm the one next to you and I bet he can't make you feel good like I do but…. he hides it well, sometimes, when he forces it. But it's so fking hard to disguise it!

"I met a friend of mine today" "Friend, what friend? A man?" "Then he said- "But wait, love - sorry to interrupt you - since when and where have you known him?" Wasn't this friend of yours on his list where he came from? "I met him in my first year of high school, love, he moved away after that, and I met him again now" " And you hugged him? "Of course, like I do with everyone-" "whyyyyyy?" “Marc he’s my friend and-” “And do you remember his name?”- He asked something simple but that had a strong and heavy meaning behind it.

the name. the name is something so simple but so important, isn’t it?

In a random dawn, he realized that the little princess didn't remember people's names very well and when asked, you replied “They're not important to me, just some extras interacting with me” and while you sleepy laughed at theory made on the spot, his heart squeezed as he remembered that you often forgot his name too.

I'm not so important that you remember my name?

In a random dawn, you told him that you had had other relationships before him, but you never felt anything for them, so you ended it and left and forgot about them. Others, which were hidden and you did crazy things in love for them, regretted them and never saw them again. And that he was your first official boyfriend, the first you took home, the first you took to meet your parents and family, the first you took to your hiding place in the house. He. But as quickly as pride filled his heart, his mind fed the uncertainties and insecurities that keep him awake at night.

Would you live love adventures with him too? Would you regret loving him? Do you have feelings for him or is it a one-sided relationship? Would you forget about him? Would you trade it for one night? Would you… leave?

Marc is so strangely strange that he sometimes blurts out strange and chilling phrases every time you try to subtly open his eyes about the relationship, and in his head they are sweet and romantic, passionate and sincere declarations always sealing the promise with kisses and hugs that are increasingly hard and possessive, but they are red signs in your eyes that something is wrong.

“I don’t know if I could handle that either.” You said as you casually gossiped about a breakup between a couple you saw on the internet, without realizing it Marc's eyes darkened when he heard the word breakup "Listen, if we broke up I…"

"Baby, you know that if it's up to me, we'll never breakup, right?" With a determined look, Marc pulled you onto his lap

"Of course, dear, but if what you did…"

"I would come to your house, take you and lock you away from the world. Because if that's the case, you would never leave me."

"Whoa boy, a little bird wasn't meant to be trapped." When you felt the sincerity of Marc's words, you tried to leave your dear boyfriend's lap, demonstrating that you were serious about the matter, this fact did not go unnoticed by him as he smiled at you and with hearts in his eyes, he kissed you madly until you was breathless and again and again and again….he put you in a bridal carry position, pressing you against his chest with such force that it left you sore

"So i cut the bird's wings and we stay together, love, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. We will never break up, remember what I told you? Let's get married, my beautiful darling."

[youraverageaemondsimp]

DILF!Aemond Targaryern, DILF!Aegon ii Targaryen x Reader (Separate) // HEADCANONS/DRABBLE.

WARNINGS: slight smut, mdni, afab!reader, age gap, breeding kink (aemond), p in v sex (aemond), unprotected sex (aemond), cunnilingus (aegon), oral f receiving (aegon), + not proof read.

(this is technically not a full blown hcs but neither is it a full drabble, so that's why I added both in the title)

WC: 1.3k total (aemond + aegon parts)

Aemond Targaryen !!

You knew that you definitely needed an older guy after your immature and toxic break up with the guy around your age, who treated you with almost no value.

But what you didn't expect was to catch the eye of your dad's boss during an event you had attended with him, he was in his early thirties with 2 children with his former divorced wife, Floris Baratheon.

Your relationship began quite formally at first, with him being a complete gentleman, asking you about your educational background, what job you were doing and he had asked for your number ‘just in case’ you need a job if you lose the current one, it felt more like a job offer than a normal conversation.

Until he began to text you good mornings, ask you about your day — at first he would do just that, and leave a smiley emoji after your response, but as time passed on, and you felt more comfortable around each other, he began to share a few personal things.

He had opened up about his divorce with his wife, how it affected him and the kids, — oh the kids, he would share pictures of them when he would be the one spending time with him, he had told you that he was fighting for full custody since Floris was basically neglecting them when they're spending time with her, and you wished him luck.

Soon you both begin to meet up, go on dates, he was stoic, with no expression on his face so it was hard to read through him, but eventually you'd learn to decipher his micro expressions.

You couldn't ignore the way he made you feel anymore, and you made it official, your dad was shocked and angry thinking Aemond had abused his power to get to you but once you explained everything, he calmed down.

You moved out of your apartment into his house, he had given you heads up about the kids that they're hard to handle and dont welcome strangers that easily, but you had told him that you'll manage everything.

And eventually you got along with the kids, and everything in life seemed to be moving fast from there onwards, Aemond got full custody of the kids after proving the neglect they were facing from the mother's side. Which you congratulate him about.

He would often stare at you when you'd play with the kids, he couldn't help but have the thought of your stomach swollen with his child, he'd eventually confess to you about it during your intimate moments.

“Oh fuck— yes right there!” You throw your head back against the pillows as Aemond thrusts into at full force, his desperate hands grabbing any flesh he could find, giving it a tight squeeze. You moaned as you peaked, as his tip repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

“I'm coming.” He grunts, “Jeez— I want to finish inside you so bad, watch you grow round with my child– fuck— I can only imagine the sight.” His words made you feel warm on the inside, and when he went to pull out, you locked your legs around his waist, to which he was surprised by, “Do it inside me then.” You say seductively and he immediately begins to thrust rapidly, he finishes inside you with a moan, painting your walls white before he pulls out, watching intently as his seed drips out of your cunt.

“Mhm, I think Aerys and Rhaegal would love to have a little sister.” He says as he plops down next to you, pulling you into his arms, “I think they would.” You reaffirm, rubbing your thighs together, feeling even more turned on as his seed sticks to your thighs.

“We should definitely make sure it takes.” You tell him, implying at a second round and he smirks knowingly.

Aegon ii Targaryen !!

You met him in a club you went to when you tried to destress because of your exams. He immediately took a liking to you, at first you had guessed that he'd be around your age, so imagine your surprise when you found out that he was in his mid thirties.

He laughed when you told him about it, he was extremely outgoing, in fact, too outgoing and so much of an extrovert.

You both immediately clicked, enjoying each other's company and finally exchanged numbers. He had drunk too much and eventually overshared everything about how his wife passed away in childbirth, leaving him with a child who he is working hard to raise.

“I try my best to raise him, but it gets too tiring. You know, I had hired a nanny, but I wish I could just quit my job and spend more time with him.” He shares, “Where do you work?” You ask curiously, “Hightower Co.” and your eyes widen at that, “Isn't that a really difficult place to get into? Their employee selection rate is super low, and I heard their manager is quite picky.” you shrug and he chuckles, “Well I guess I am indeed picky sometimes.”

“what.”

You apologised immediately after feeling embarrassed, he had revealed that his grandfather owns the company and basically wants his family members to run and manage it, though it screams nepotism, most of the hightowers and their extended family are extremely good at their ages, there were only a few select non-family members that were able to make to a non-basic worker status.

Things ended awkwardly after that, but nonetheless, you both communicated with each other from time to time, he would send you cute pictures and videos of himself and his son doing random stuff, or just bonding which warmed your heart.

After a month of talking, you both decide to get into a relationship, you knew it was quick, but you couldn't help it when you got along so well, he would often bring his child on the dates with you, which you didn't mind, but rather had more fun cause this would allow you to go non-romantic dates which are rather comforting.

If there was one thing which you didn't expect of Aegon ; was his sexual appetite, which he had a lot of, you were surprised by how much stamina he has, and how he's willing to go more than 3 rounds at a time, it sometimes exhausted you because you'd be too overstimulated to even continue.

You still remember how he had fingered you whilst at the family dinner under the table while maintaining a conversation with his grandfather, you tried so hard to not make a noise. He eventually finished what he started in his bedroom.

His favourite thing to do is eat you out, he loves the expressions and noises you make and how messy it would be afterwards.

“Aegon— ahh— hmm pls–” You blabber out incoherent noises whilst you grip his hair, pushing his face further into your cunt which he takes in obediently, lapping his tongue up and down and suckling on your clit as if his life depended on it.

The whimpers and noises you let out only motivated him further to continue his ministrations, he dipped down further while his tongue pushes past the folds of your cunt before entering it, the angle caused his nose to be pressed into your clit, nudging against it while Aegon greedily ate you out.

He pushed his tongue in and out before he licked a long strip up to your clit and once again, latched himself onto it, you moaned when you felt his teeth slightly graze against it.

He sucked on your clit which caused you to peak while holding his face tightly against your cunt, your vision went white at the intensity of the orgasm and your body trembled as you calmed down.

Yet Aegon did not stop, you pulled his hair in an effort to pull away, but he grabbed your hand and held it away while he continued to devour you, you whimpered as the overstimulation hit you, trying to wriggle away from his face yet he still didn't budge and continued sucking, nibbling and biting your clit.

After all, he had no intentions of stopping until you were a mess.

[ode2rin]

MAKE YOU MINE .ೃ

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. best friends to lovers | pining | light angst to fluff

content/warnings. 3.1k+ wc | reader is in a toxic relationship with their boyfriend (not rin lmao the bf is unnamed) | characters are aged up to 18 ! | blue lock happened much much later here | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | minimal proofread

in which: rin was never ready, so he watches you go with your boyfriend, wishfully thinking it was him instead.

💭 thank you for the request @/saetorinrin (unaffectionate)!

best friends are supposed to knock some sense into you, that's what they're for. 

fortunately for you, your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, has always been quite good at it. right now, you're hoping he'll at least be kind while doing so.

“i don't know why you keep on going back to him. he looks like a fucking bull reincarnate, and he treats you like what? yeah, like a pup he dogs around.” 

that’s wishful thinking, though. none of rin's words are known for their kindness.

you've known since a tender age of ten that both itoshi brothers have a knack for colorful insults — or rather, they insist it's a form of descriptive artistry. moments like these make you wish you could smack your younger self for befriending your teal-eyed neighbors. you really should have avoided them like the plague from the very first glare they shot your way.

if you did, you wouldn't find yourself sitting on a swing in the park near both of your houses, while rin spends the past few minutes expressing his displeasure about you getting back with your ex.

but what’s done is done. growing up with them wasn't all bad, except for that messy fiasco between sae and rin that left you caught in the middle, trying to mend their broken bond.

in the end, you chose rin’s side. for what reason? that's a reminiscence best saved for another day.

right now, your priority lies in letting rin hear a piece of your mind for his way of describing your ex — or boyfriend? actually, you're not sure anymore.

“you’re being mean, rin.”

“and you’re being stupid, y/n.”

“you won’t get it.”

“won’t get what? that you’re being treated like absolute shit?”

that’s it. he pushed enough buttons now. you stood up from the swing to face the 6-foot tall man in front of you. 

“you won't get it because you’ve never loved anyone before! and you sure as hell have never been fucking loved!”

rin, before this moment, was sure he's accustomed to pain. 

but now, he realized he wasn't.

realizing what you've just said to your best friend, your eyes widen, and you immediately reach out to touch his arm, frustration turning into regret. you didn't mean that — god, you really didn't.

“rin, i... i didn't mean—”

“save it.”

you were right about the latter. but the former? rin wants nothing but to let you know otherwise. if only you goddamn knew. but that's just it for rin too — wishful thinking.

because you're not done loving your boyfriend, and he knows he's merely using that as an excuse. if honesty were to intervene, he wouldn't be ready to let you know.

how many years does one need to be ready to confess to their best friend of more than a decade anyway? he doesn't want to find out.

rin heard your whispered apology, and his heart sank. he watched as you lowered your gaze to the grass beneath your feet, the weight of regret palpable in the air.

“come on, it’s getting dark. let’s go home,” he suggested, voice tinged with concern.

“actually, he’s picking me up here. mom knows already.”

of course. of course, he's picking you up blocks away from your house. is that how things work now? if it were up to rin, he'd personally ask your mom to take you out on a monday evening. you know, like a respectful person would do?

yet again. if it was him. another wishful thinking.

“where the hell is he, then? i am not leaving you here,” rin stated, his frustration once again seeping through his words.

“he's just a little late —”

“or ditching you again?” 

“rin, please. just leave. i don't want to start again,” you pleaded, the exhaustion evident in your voice.

“fine.”

every step rin took away from you felt like chains dragging along, pulling him back with reluctance and impending regret. but he knew he had to leave. 

he didn't have a place to stay here, not in this park, and certainly not in your heart.

it had been a week since you got back together with your ex, and in that time, rin hadn't uttered a single word to you. his silence was a constant presence, weighing heavily on the air between you. in the past, you found solace in his silence, finding comfort in the unspoken understanding that existed between you. but now, it felt suffocating, as if every attempt to say his name would only add to the tension.

you didn't blame rin for giving you the silent treatment. after all, the hurtful words you had spoken had cut deep.

rin had been harsh, yes, but you knew it came from a place of concern. he was your best friend, and looking out for each other was what you do. deep down, you couldn't deny that there was some truth in what he had said about your boyfriend. there had been moments when he treated you poorly, but that was normal, right? every relationship had its ups and downs, and this was just one of them. and perhaps, in rin's eyes, you were being stupid, but when weren't you, in his opinion?

still, you should have known better. you shouldn't have said what you did. not when you know yourself that he’s been loved. even if it was hidden and unspoken, it still counted, didn't it?

but despite the silent treatment, rin never failed to walk you home. even when he was wearing his sweaty jersey after a rigorous practice, he would be there outside your classroom, waiting for you. walking behind you, not saying a word, but his presence was felt. occasionally, he would walk beside you, especially when you were about to reach the busy side of the neighborhood.

every single day of the past week, he had walked you home.

and even back then starting from the days of school, rin never lets you walk alone in the dark.

today, however, you had to tell him that you wouldn't be walking with him. you had a date with your boyfriend, and he was waiting for you outside the school.

grabbing your bag and heading towards the door, you caught a glimpse of rin's duffel bag and his back. he was waiting for you again. rushing over to him, you spoke up.

“rin, i won’t be able to walk with you today. we’re going out. he’s waiting for me outside.”

rin simply looked at you, then nodded. he turned his back to you, but you could swear there was something he wanted to say.

that was the thing with itoshi rin. he never spoke when you needed him to.

rin was right. he had always been right. and you, well, you were just fucking stupid.

as you reminisced about the earlier screaming match with your now ex-boyfriend, tears threatened to well up in your eyes.

i’m such a fucking idiot.

you had known deep down that you had settled, but you never expected him to stoop so low. part of you wanted to say good riddance, but the truth was that time spent with a person would always leave a mark, whether you wanted it or not.

it was past 9 pm, and that prick had the audacity to drop you four blocks away from your own house. you wanted to scream at him, to demand basic human decency, to drop you off at your doorstep. but another part of you, fueled by the remnants of pride, refused to beg for the bare minimum again. so, despite your nervousness about walking alone in the dark, you slammed the car door in his face and decided to walk the rest of the way on your own.

it had only been five minutes of walking when you felt the first raindrops fall on your forehead. the realization of what was about to happen made you want to scream at whoever was watching from above. how dare they make you this unlucky?

great. just great.

the drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown rain, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. a few blocks ahead, you spotted the park where you and rin used to hang out. 

even in your darkest times, he’s still in your mind. it’s funny as it is ironic.

if only you had stayed content with loving your best friend from afar, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this hurt, right? 

maybe you wouldn't have ended up looking for love in all the wrong places when the only place you truly wanted it to blossom had been right beside you all along.

exactly ten minutes before rin’s usual bedtime, his phone rang, your name shown on the screen. and for some reason, he could feel his heart leap out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

something was wrong.

without wasting a second, rin answered your call on the second ring.

“hello?” he said, anticipation heavy on his heart. he needed to hear your voice.

but anticipation was immediately replaced by seething anger and heightened worry as he heard your sniffs on the other end of the line.

“where are you?” 

“rin... i know you're mad at me, but i didn't know who else to call–”

“it's raining. where the hell are you?” rin's voice grew heavy with indescribable anger, each word dripping with his overwhelming emotions.

“he dropped me off near the school, but i'm here by the park now. i–”

"stay where you are. i'm coming. don't end the call. i need to know you're safe." or else i will fucking lose it. 

it’s these times that rin was glad he’s an athlete. within five minutes, he arrived at the park, his strides quick and determined. he would have reached you even faster if it weren't for the umbrella he was holding and the sound of your sniffs and sobs on the other end of the line, causing his heart to sink and his steps to falter.

he doesn't even let a goddamn mosquito come close to you, but that asshole had the audacity to make you cry? how dare he.

the rain had lessened compared to its earlier downpour, it was now more of a drizzle. but if you had been here before calling him, that meant you had been standing under the rain for almost an hour. with that realization, rin thinks your ex should watch his back from now on; he would never know when a ball might come flying straight at him — accidentally, of course.

as rin reached the park, his eyes scanned the area, searching desperately for you. and there, in one of the benches, he saw you. your head was tucked into your knees, one hand hugging them tightly while the other clutched the phone to your ear.

he swore, he fucking swore, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of you.

ever since you entered rin's life, you taught him a lot of things. you taught him everything about how life was better when you had someone to lean on. 

but most of all, everything rin knew about love, he knew from you. 

and when he realized he loved you but couldn't let you know, the love he knew became intertwined with all the pain he learned.

this is hurting him. you, you were hurting him.

maybe you were right all along.

“you're right, y/n,” rin whispered into the phone, his voice barely audible as he stood a few feet away from you, the umbrella slipping from his grasp. he still had his phone pressed to his ear.

rin couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heartbeat and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

how many damn years does it take to work up the courage to spill your guts to your best friend of more than a decade? rin found out that sometimes, all it takes is one look at them in pain to make you throw caution to the wind. screw all the timing and planning.

“rin…” you called out, looking around to locate him.

locked in a gaze, time seemed to stand still as rin's eyes traced the contours of your face. your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked from the rain, revealed what you had endured. your drenched clothes and disheveled hair painted a picture of you running around in this rain. he couldn't help but think that you looked like a wounded soul, stripped of your own heart.

“you're right,” he repeated once more, and he was certain you could hear him, judging by the look of confusion on your face.

it wasn't a “now or never” moment for rin. 

it was a now or never love another soul ever again moment. because to rin, it will always be you and him in the end. and that’s no wishful thinking, but a promise he made to himself.

there will be no after you, but just you. that was it for itoshi rin. 

so he has to let you know. the hell with what happens next.

“about last week, you’re right about that. i would never get it,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “i would never get how someone could ever treat you this bad by someone who claims to love you. because i have loved you since we were kids, and i would rather die than leave you out here alone in the pouring rain.”

if this was what you called love, then maybe you taught him wrong. 

rin could see how your eyes widened at what he said. and right then and there, he prepared himself for the worst.

it’s happening.

rin ended the call. he couldn't bear to hear your immediate response, fearing the rejection he had long braced himself for. with the umbrella in hand, he made his way towards you, his eyes focused on the wet ground, avoiding direct contact with your gaze.

you can reject him later. he needs to get you home first.

“come on, let’s go,” was the only thing rin said. he placed the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain while he stood exposed, allowing the droplets to soak him further.

you gazed up at him, seeking his eyes, “can you look at me, rin?” 

and see the look of pity in your eyes? even at these moments, you’re cruel to him. 

“i don’t want to.”

undeterred, you persisted, “why?”

because i’m about to lose you.

“i made peace with it a long time ago,” rin admitted, “let's just go. you're going to get sick.”

“say it again.”

your gaze held unwavering, demanding more from him. there was a longing in your eyes, a hunger for honesty. you craved his words, his confession – you need rin to speak now or else you will never know peace.

“no.”

“then i’m not going anywhere. say it agai —”

“fine! i have loved you since we were kids and i have loved you ever since i'm yet to even know what it was i was feeling for you! now, please, let’s go!”

silence enveloped the park. but rin could hear his own heart beating in rhythm with the soft pitt patts of the rain.

this was it then? twelve damn years. all those years, now dissipating like raindrops lost in the drain.

the rain continued to pour, serving as a backdrop to the delicate dance of emotions unfolding between you. each droplet seemed to echo the passage of time, washing away the years of looking at you in a lovelorn gaze.

rin knew where this was headed. he may not have watched many romance movies, but confessions like these – he had seen them before. this was yet another addition to the countless stories of shattered dreams lost to the rain.

but then as fate would have it, it will always intervene.

and so, as if a radiant sun had broken through the stormy clouds, a smile bloomed on your face, casting away the shadows of doubt in rin's mind.

“i’ve been waiting for those words my whole life, itoshi rin.”

rainbows really do appear after the pouring rain.

but only for a fleeting grace of moment in the sky.

“but i can’t, rin. not now. i’m too hurt to love you freely.”

the confession escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of past heartbreak and lingering pain. and to rin, it felt as if the rainbows had faded, leaving behind a somber reminder of the scars etched deep within.

it would be a lie not to admit that he was disheartened, but nonetheless, rin understood. 

but rin was no saint; he can be selfish. he wants to be selfish for you. so there he knelt, bringing himself eye to eye with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. 

“i’ll wait. i can wait,” it’s not a lie that the younger itoshi had a penchant for being selfish as he is selfless. 

but he has waited for you for as long as he has learned to kick a ball. so what's a little more?

“are you sure?” the question escaped your lips, a plea for reassurance.

if it means it’s you and him in the end after all, then he’s nothing but definite.

rin's hands on your cheeks tightened gently, his voice a gentle murmur that danced along the edges of your heart, “take all the time you need. by the time you're done, i'll make sure to make you mine.”

the raindrops, cascading around you like tears from the heavens, seemed to pause in reverence as rin's words hung in the air.

as the rain began to subside, rin leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. your eyes closed, feeling his breath mingling with yours, you hear him softly sighed against your lips.

“i’ll treat you so good, y/n. so good. fuck, you have no idea.”

sure, you’re the first person itoshi rin has ever loved. but he can show you. better than your shitty ex ever could.

if there’s anyone who can most definitely show you what love was truly like, it will be him.

for a few precious moments, time seemed to stand still as both of you remained in that intimate embrace, rin's hands tenderly cradling your face, and your gaze locked in the depths of his teal eyes.

“let’s go home?” rin asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“only if you’ll walk with me.”

rin's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at your hushed response. he reached out, extending his hand toward you, a silent invitation. “i've been doing that for the past years.”

and he’ll continue to do it. 

few years from now, he will make sure he’s the man you’re walking with. be that on the way home, or down the aisle.

because to itoshi rin, it will always be you and him.

note. no thoughts, just pure vibes here. just kidding! here's the first request in my milestone event, and i enjoyed writing this despite it being shitty as an outcome. thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event