#I can't believe I even feel sympathy for you

[mnty-bubblegmyum]

why would u even care if I was fucking talking about you at least I minded my own fucking business and tried to move on with ny live

[mad-hunts]

have i ever talked about how barton is genuinely jealous of people who seem happy because he feels so hollow a majority of the time that even when he's 'happy,' he's not really happy? because i just 😭 yeah...

[subconsciousmysteries]

Men are absolutely losing it because women are seeing through their bullshit and I'm here to watch their collective narcissistic meltdown

[kaeyas-beloved]

a moment too late

Characters: Ayato, Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Wriothesley, Zhongli

— your husband doesn't make it to you in time...

CW: ANGST w/ very little to no comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), scars (Diluc), blood (Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Zhongli), death (all except Cyno and Diluc), kidnapping (Cyno), minor Fontaine Act 1 + 4 spoilers (Primordial Sea Water - iykyk), spoilers for Childe’s real name

val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

I don't know if I can take a month of hurting my boys....

Thinking about them not making it in time...

Ayato, who had been in an important meeting.

He'd given strict instructions to all his retainers and the Shuumatsuban to not interrupt under any circumstance. So, when one of the newer helpers knocked on the door, the commissioner was less than pleased. Without letting the young man get a word out, Ayato cuts him off, a sharp smile on his face. "Please, wait outside. I'll deal with the matter after this."

When the retainer tried again, a feeble "but, my lord-!" sputtering over his twisted tongue, the change in Ayato's tone couldn't be missed, and it left no room for interjections.

When a second knock echoed through the room some minutes later, it took everything in the clan head not to sigh out loud in front of all the powerful politicians and businessmen. This time, however, when it was the familiar face of Thoma that stepped in, a scarily straight face as his expression, something shifted in the male. It didn't help that the pyro user didn't stop his advancement toward him, even at the call of his name.

It was like the whole world shattered the moment the blond leaned by his ear, the news that you'd been placed in the nearest hospital plummetting his heart into his stomach.

There's this inner struggle that takes over, the role of a leader and your husband fighting against one another - he can't just leave so abruptly, but he also feels like he might crumble if he isn't by your side in the next ten seconds.

It's the firm hand that's placed on his shoulder that breaks him away from his thoughts. Following the arm he meets the slight smile of Thoma, "I have this handled, my lord. Go, be with them."

He's up and out of the room in an instant, briskly walking in the direction of the hospital. When he gets there he borderline demands the receptionist to tell him your room number, off again the moment she gets the last syllable out. Just as he reaches the curtain separating you from him, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, a doctor steps out.

"Lord Kamisato..." his tone is grave as he blocks the entrance with his body. Despite the obvious attempt to stop the young lord from entering, your husband tries to sidestep him. He's stopped by a simple raise of the hand and he feels a mix of disdain and unsettlement swirl within.

"Please, let me speak with them," Ayato nothing but begs, something he never does. He's known as a negotiator, a logical reasoning man, he doesn't need to beg for what he needs in the political world, but for you, his world, he'd gladly grovel at this man's feet just for you.

The aforementioned man licks his lips, adjusting his clipboard so it rests against his chest, "I'm sorry Mr. Kamisato, but that won't be possible..."

The urgency rises and Ayato moves the doctor out of his way, stepping into your room. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together about what was trying to be said, but your lover can't bring himself to believe it. Not you too.

The moment he's at your bedside he leans close, trying to wear a smile as he places his hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you the exact same way he did that very morning. "My dear... wake up. This is no time for your silly tricks, we have to go home and have dinner together like I promised." His warm hands move up to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your equally warm skin, but when you make no move or noise the reality finally sets in for him.

His broken smile slips and all he can manage is a soft call of your name. Of course, there's still no answer, and Ayato is stuck flipping between the different stages of grief.

What if he'd listened the first time? Let the retainer who initially walked in speak? Would he have gotten a chance to speak with you? To tell you he loves you? To say goodbye properly?

You can't actually be dead, right? There's no way this is happening to him again.

He starts to promise to spend more time with you, he'll take off as much time as you want him to, he'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to go to but couldn't bring yourself to without him, he'll visit the land of Liyue with you - he knows you've been gushing about the scenery and culture recently. He'll do it all and more, you just had to open your eyes again for him.

Silence.

"Damn it all..." he whispered, face twisting in agony. Of course he couldn't have it his way this time. As if his parents weren't enough, the world just had to take you away from him too.

The doctor watches for a moment as one of the most powerful men in Inazuma sheds tear after tear before him, the droplets falling and hitting your lifeless body. As Ayato sinks to his knees before you, the doctor takes this as his cue to step out.

For the next few hours, the hospital is noticeably quieter, no one daring to interrupt a man who's just lost one of the dearest people to him.

For the next few hours, Ayato's tears slowly soak your shirt, his grip on the bedding knuckle white, his sobs muffled by your skin as it slowly grows colder and colder, fighting to commit everything about you to memory.

That night, he could not bring himself to eat dinner, for all he could remember was you, the way you smiled at him and how it was all ripped away from him, never to be seen again.

———

Diluc, whose connections are spread all over the world yet no one could locate you.

It should be impossible. The owner of Dawn Winery only associates himself with competent business partners. So, how could it be that the best of the best from all walks of life and all backgrounds couldn't locate the one person he needed to find?

Tirelessly, the redhead looked for you. Many sleepless nights weighed on him from shouldering so many responsibilities at once. He constantly asked for updates on the investigation and every time the news that there were no advances was just another layer of stress for him. So, of course, the moment the word of your location reached his ears, Diluc was up and out the door, claymore in hand, a fury in his eyes that few have seen only a handful of times.

When he got there, there being some far corner of Starfell Valley on the mountainside, there was no time to process or ask questions. All he knew was that you needed help if you wanted even a chance of making it out alive.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the Abyss Mages that had been holding you hostage, an atrocious act that was no doubt aimed to make The Darknight Hero suffer. However, weaponless and exhausted, the creatures of down under easily caught up to you, surrounding you and throwing you around like a ragdoll. Diluc counted seven - one hydro, two electro, two cryo and two pyro - each using the elements to keep you from running too far.

With a few swift strikes of his enflamed claymore, the cryo and hydro mages disappeared in a cloud of red and black. Of course, they'd be the easiest of the group to get rid of. The last four would be the real challenge.

In between strikes, Diluc managed to get close to you, bending down to your fallen form. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” He did a once over of your body, noting that dirt clung to you and a couple cuts littered your skin. You could barely move too, having the shit kicked out of you.

“Not very far…” you groaned, raising your body slightly off the ground. Your lover nodded, glancing at the enemy before helping you stand.

“That’s alright, just get to that tree over there. I’ll come get you and take you home soon.” Diluc watches for a moment as you nod and begin to make your way over, turning his back to you once you've made decent progress. Taking up his weapon once more, it's a brutal clash of sparks and fire as he lets his adrenaline and rage fuel his every move. Soon, one electro mage goes down, and then the second and then one of the pyro ones until all that stands between him and getting you medical care and a nice bath is a single pyro Abyss Mage.

The demonic creature cackles loudly, a shrill sound that echoes in the silence. As it begins to wave its staff, a shock of recognition strikes Diluc and he glances around, looking for where the fire-breathing faces are going to appear. When he doesn't spot any dread fills his being and he chances a glance towards you, praying to the Archons that what he's thinking isn't about to play out.

The gods weren't in his favour.

Time seems to slow as he watches the triangle of heads surround you; he watches as you slowly turn to face one head-on, your tired eyes widening as you register the situation. Dilcu's only able to catch you turning your face away before he attacks the mage while its guard is down, interrupting its early dance of victory.

The next few minutes are a blur, both for you and your husband. Everything hurts, any slight movement or breath sends shooting pain through your body. When Diluc picks you up off the ground you let out the most heartbreaking cry he's heard and it took everything in him not to just stand there and soothe you.

He mumbled apology after apology, offering words of comfort as he ran as best he could without harming you further. When he made it to the cathedral he was ushered out of the room, every nun available flocking to your side. Despite the overwhelming emotions building in him, Diluc lets you go, waiting with as much patience as he can muster, which isn't a lot at that moment.

It takes about an hour before a sister approaches him, every second that he waited excruciating. She tells him that while your face was unharmed, you having managed to lean out of the way just in time, your upper arm, shoulder and the base of your neck on your left side were burned pretty bad and that scarring was almost guaranteed.

"But are they alive?" is all he asks in return. He cares that you were hurt, but he cares more to know if you'll live to spend another day with him. All the sister can do is nod, informing him that recovery will be slow, but you are alive. She adds right after that while you passed out from everything he was still allowed to enter and sit by your side. So, he does.

The nun didn't lie when she told him that things would be slow. It took several days before you could be discharged, and even when you were the days and nights that followed were filled with more torture than the usual joy.

Your burns would irritate at the slightest things, and you started to doubt your looks, wondering if your husband would still love you by the end when the wounds were all healed. At night you were haunted by nightmares of your time in captivity, and by the face of the abyss spell that burned you. It didn't help that the face was red and fluffy, just like Diluc's hair, leaving you to back away from him every time you woke up from that recurring dream, your mind tricking you that that thing had come back.

And all Diluc could do was hold you close to his chest once you saw that it was just him. He'd rub a warm hand along your back as you sobbed and shivered, quietly blaming himself for not being fast enough - to find you, to defeat the enemy, to get you out of the way of the fight. If he had been, if he succeeded in any of those things, then maybe you wouldn't have to live with this pain and trauma.

You were alive, but at what cost?

———

Childe, who was all the way in Inazuma for a mission.

Your husband left you that fateful day with a tight hug, a promise to come home and a kiss on the lips. As he walked further and further away from you all you could think about was greeting him in the same fashion. Your touch was his favourite thing after all, a reminder that you're there with him and that you love him despite all his wrongdoings.

The day came when Ajax set foot back in his homeland, and the first thing he did was search for you at the dock. When he didn't spot you, he'll admit he was a little disappointed but didn't think much of it. You were most likely just relaxing at home.

Yet, when he walked through the door he couldn’t find you anywhere. “Strange… where could they have gone? Maybe mom and dad’s?”

A quick trip over there reveals nothing however, just the tidbit of information from his mother on how it’s been a couple days since you’ve visited and that you last told them you were needing to chop some firewood.

Now he was not only confused but a sense of dread plagued his chest. Hoping it’s just his normal worrying, Ajax bids farewell to his family and heads back home. Sure enough, he spotted some stacked logs off to the side. What didn’t make sense though was the lack of an axe and the footprints that lead further into the tree line behind your home.

Following the tracks, the male’s eyes widen and his expression falls as the patterns in the snow go from clean prints to frantic clusters, as if you began running. What really injected fear into him though was the barely visible Treasure Hoarder insignia buried in the snow, its gold sheen glistening from the sun.

At this point his feet had a mind of their own as he picked up the pace, his mind running a mile a minute with the scariest thoughts his brain could conjure.

He wasn’t sure if he should've been relieved or frightened when he found you lying in the snow. Either way, he sprinted the rest of the way to you, calling out your name. You were on your side, back to him; you must’ve rolled into the fetal position to stay warm.

And that’s when he noticed it, the pink tint of the usually pure white snow surrounding your fallen form. Panic shoots through him as he rolls you onto your back, his hand recoiling at the state you were in, covering his mouth.

"No..." your cold gaze stares up at the sky, skin lacking the warmth he craves after a long day. Between the folds of your undone coat reveals where most, if not all the blood flowed from, now dry from days passed. With a shaky hand, he moves the cloth aside, surveying the damage.

The cut was deep but didn't hit anything major from the looks of it... you would have bleed out slow and painfully, and the mere idea makes him sick to his stomach. More and more he looks at the damage done to you and the more his blood boils and his heart stutterers. You were innocent, his spouse, his best friend, you had no intimate dealings with Fatui work, so why you?

His eyes narrow back in the direction of the insignia, the sorrow morphing into anger; they were fucking cowards, going after you instead of him. At the sanctuary of your home no less.

Looking back at the body that once housed your soul, he noticed something odd about your hand. It was clasped shut like you were holding onto something.

He starts to pry your fingers open, and for just a moment he can imagine that you're alive, back in the warmth of your home, grasping his scarf in a game of keep away. He'd pull you close, wrapping an arm around you and trapping you to his chest, grasping your wrist and trying to get the red fabric from you. Your husband would laugh merrily, "demanding" that you give him it back or else, to which you'd tell him no, because as long as you had it then he couldn't leave for the day.

When your palm finally opens up is the same moment time really stops and the world doesn't feel real around him. Picking up the small object, Ajax clasps it in his own hands, bringing it close to his chest - his heart - in hopes of feeling just the last bit of you left behind. He won't ever know this, but what he's doing now was exactly what you did in your final hour - you held the tangible promise you made with him close to you, your thoughts filled with him and only him as you took your last breath.

From that day onwards, your wedding ring rests against his collarbone, a string looped through it. He never takes it off, nor does he remove his own ring, because to him, you were the only one fit to take the place at his side in life. He doesn't want anyone else to love him, because no one could ever love or hold him in such high regard like you did.

It was everything or nothing, and you are his everything. Since you're gone, he'll gladly settle for nothing. Anything else and he'd label himself a cheater to your love.

———

Cyno, who prioritized catching the mastermind, lest any more innocents get hurt.

The General Mahamatra trudged back through the desert sands, clouds of dust trailing behind him. His grip was tight against the criminal’s wrists, leaving no room for escape. While part of him was solely focused on the captured mastermind, another part of him was thinking about you and how he's going to make it up to you for neglecting you the last few weeks. How could he ever possibly thank you or repay you for your neverending patience?

Rounding the last rock, Cyno finally makes it back to where he left you, having instructed you to wait there until he returned. You know that it was vital to stay put, so why is it that you've disappeared? Eyes red like the sunset scan the camp, finding that nothing was missing among your personal belongings or supplies.

As he continued to try and piece together the clues, you stood frozen in the shadows, an arm pulling you against a chest, keeping you in place. The hand over your mouth didn't help quell your fear, nor did the warm, rancid breath that tickled your neck.

How hard do you have to stare at the back of your lover's head for him to just turn in your direction!? Apparently very hard, because no matter how much you will a telepathic message his way, he still fails to find you. Tears begin to slide down your face - is this really it? Will this be the end? When he's so close to you? Will he turn and walk in the wrong direction, giving the man holding you time to escape with you in tow?

The looming threat that if you step out of line you risk harming yourself and Cyno plays in your mind, but you also remember nights lying in bed with your husband, whispering reassurance to him that no matter the situation you knew he'd always save you. You had full confidence in his abilities.

Gathering your resolve you take a leap of faith and elbow your captor, biting the hand that impairs your voice. Making a mad dash from the hiding spot, you scream for Cyno, watching as his head whips in your direction.

It all happened so fast after that. One second there's just you, him and the two Eremites and in the next, you're surrounded. The mastermind Cyno had been holding manages to retch his arms free, whistling a tune causing other desert dwellers to pop up from seemingly nowhere. A capture net is being thrown over you, aiming true and trapping you once more. Cyno, now flanked from all sides, can only watch helplessly as two men grasp the ends of the net, dragging you like you're nothing but a sack of goods.

You squirm with all your might, but it does nothing as you're effortlessly tossed in a caravan, screaming and sobbing for your husband. Amidst the scuffle, the leader orders the others to "shut them up" and right after a powder is poured on you, the effects taking seconds to kick in.

You begin to quiet until you slump on your side, and Cyno feels the urgency build even more. He channels all the strength he has into at least breaking through to get to you, but the moment he does the snap of reins echoes out and the cart takes off.

So, he runs, because for once something much for valuable that his life is on the line. Because he can't afford to let the bad guy get away this time.

But a man cannot match the pace of a horse, and it isn't long before his stamina reaches its limit and he stumbles, and you disappear over the horizon.

———

Wriothesley, who believed he could save everyone.

By no means was the warden of the Fortress of Meropide lacking in skills. He's proven time and time again that he's worthy of the title of Duke among the underwater structure, able to shoulder the responsibility of keeping each and every inmate well cared for and as comfortable as possible.

Perhaps that was the reason he's failing now to protect those he really cares for, for you were no inmate, but rather the person he swore to spend the rest of his life with.

He knew that this day would come, but he was still so, so unprepared for it. The damn seal was due to break sooner or later, and it chose today of all days to do so. The evacuation was quick, maybe even quicker than the first one, but there was one difference this time around. Today was also the day that a couple Melusines had come in Monsieur Neuvillette's place, delivering some reports to Wriothesley while also taking this time to speak with Sigewinne.

"Where are they?" The Duke grits his teeth, running through every area he can reach. You weren't far behind, having insisted a second pair of eyes was better than one. When another room turned up empty he slammed his first into the wall, cursing loudly.

You did another look through in the places he missed before sighing, placing a hand on his chest, "We'll find them Wrio. Take a deep breath, please." He stares at you for a moment, doing as you suggested. You offer a small smile, "There aren't many rooms left, they've gotta be here."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, "but we're running out of time."

Just as he says that the building rumbles and shakes, the sound of a pipe bursting in the distance sending fear through your body. All it takes is a shared look for you two to start running again, eyes and ears sharp as you try to catch even the slightest signs of life.

There were only two rooms left to check when you heard a call, not by a Melusine but by a pair of inmates. Turning to look, your stress levels spike.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Wriothesley mutters, surveying the situation the moment you both made it over. One of the inmates was trapped underneath a metal panel, and his buddy wasn’t strong enough to lift it off him on his own.

They plead for help and you can see the cool grey eyes of your lover start to unfocus, a million thoughts passing through his mind. Time is running out, and as he's internally about to lose his cool the sound of your voice brings him back.

Laying a hand on his shoulder you squeeze firmly, "Listen, how about we split up? You deal with this and I go find the Melusines. We'll be faster that way."

His eyes widen at your proposition, and he doesn't even have to think twice about denying, "Now, hold on just a-!"

Another tremor, and you have to harden your tone to get your point across, “We don’t have time Wriothesley, help them and I’ll search the two rooms. When you’re done get them out of here, I won’t be far behind!”

He wants to say no, wants you to get to the surface and he'll take care of the inmate and missing Melusines, but as he looks at the crumbling Fortress he finds himself biting his lips before nodding. "You better stay safe, or else."

You smile, turning and disappearing into the second last room. A quick search proves nothing and when you leave you see your husband beginning to pull out the stuck inmate. You're able to meet gazes for a moment only to break it off, rushing into the last room.

It's easy to spot the brightly coloured blue beings amongst the dreary Fortress walls. "Thank Archons!" You sigh, almost tripping over your feet in your hurry to get them, scooping them up in your arms, "we have to go now you two!"

There's a groan of metal and the clatter of something collapsing in the distance, and it's safe to say you didn't waste time sprinting out of there. As you pass where you last saw your husband, there's a momentary wave of relief at seeing him no longer lingering there. You know then that he's gotten out, and that he's probably waiting anxiously for you.

The thought pushes you to get out faster, jumping over any puddles that have formed or debris. But just because you can jump doesn't mean you can dodge.

One piece then two fell from above, but when you look up dread courses through you upon the realization that a good section of the roof is about to drop. You acted before you could fully think and tossed the two tiny beings in your arms, sprinting just a little faster before leaping yourself. You're glad you managed to throw them out of the collapse zone, but you weren't so lucky, your leg getting trapped from midway to your knee and down under the pile of rubble. All it took was one attempt at tugging your leg out to know it was stuck under there good.

"Go," you pointed in the direction of the exit, immediately beginning to dig yourself out. The least you could do was get them to safety. The Melusines however hesitated, looking at each other before looking at you again. You knew they weren't strong enough to lift anything off you, so you repeated the one-word order, adding that you'd be right behind them.

You hear more than you see them run off, and after a minute of struggling you manage to free yourself, continuing towards the exit.

Wriothesley didn't stick around the entrance, instead busying himself with checking on everyone. If he didn't then he'd go mad and rush back in to get you. As he made another round he spotted the two creatures of the sea clutching onto the Iudex, their heads buried in his neck. If they were safe, then you must've made it out too, right?

Wriothesley gives the order to close the Fortress of Meropide off completely, and he watches unaware as he cages you in. It's only by chance that, once he's almost to the surface, he looks out the window of his escape submarine and through one of the windows of the Fortress. The horror sets in.

Even if it's useless, you stumble and limp up to the glass, banging on it, screaming for him. You're not sure what he'd do though, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time, wanted to tell him you love him, that it's not his fault. You stare at him, tears streaming down your face before turning your back to the ocean and sliding down to the ground.

Even if he can't hear you, you whisper out your love for him, how you'd never hold this against him. You pray to the Archons, to the Traveler, to Neuvillette, to Clorinde to watch over him for you.

You eye the rising water, and to make it just a little more bearable you pretend it's the first time you got Wriothesley to go swimming with you. You had dip your toes in first, as a show that the water wouldn't bite. He wasn't scared of the water, and he knew how to swim; he wasn't ashamed of the scars on his body either. No, he refused to go swimming back then because he didn't want to freeze, and it took you and the trust he placed in your word to tell him the water was perfect.

So, you repeat that same action, imagining Wriothesley is right beside you like that day years ago.

From the water pod, your husband watches frozen as you vanish in an instant, continuing to watch as the water rises until it's above the height of the glass. In that single moment, most of the warmth in his heart vanishes along with you.

"You promised you'd be safe... I trusted you..."

It was the first and last time any prisoner would see the almighty Wriothesley cry out, for he swore sometime later that he'd close off his heart and never let anyone get as close as you did. He knows deep down that's not what you'd want, but he knew he could never go through the same pain again and still continue to live.

———

Zhongli, who you were fighting side by side with.

It's always been like that, you and him up in arms against the world. It was like that in the Archon War, in the Cataclysm and any other time someone threatened the safety of the Lord of Geo's territory. You had his back and he had yours, something that only grew stronger as your relationship developed from war buddies to friends then finally to lovers.

It was... naive of you both to think that you'd be able to spend eternity together without issue. You were too blinded by the fact that you were both going to withstand time and he believed that there was no way he'd fail to protect you, not with the strength he possessed.

Your downfall was not due to time or a lack of strength, but rather your own desire to keep the man you love safe from harm.

Zhongli did not see the sword pierce your skin, but he did hear the strangled cry you let out. He felt the fear wash over him, he saw the bloody aftermath as you fell forward into him, no longer able to hold yourself upright.

Instinctively he wraps his arms around you, sinking to the grass with you. Crimson stains his hands and clothes fast as if the wound was his own and he knows right then that your time together is limited.

The pain you feel is searing and with each breath you take you're fighting to keep that air in your lungs long enough to get more. Your husband spoke softly as he stroked your shoulder, "Why did you take the hit for me?"

When you looked up into his warm, amber eyes you knew then that this was the last time he'd hold you, the last time you'd speak with one another. How interesting it is that you both realized at different points that this was the end.

"You..." you cough, body trembling in his hold and Zhongli almost regrets asking you to speak. He just wants to make you comfortable in your last moments, to act as if everything is okay. "You... were going to get hurt."

The man you knew to never weep lets a single tear slide down his face, a light chuckle getting stuck in his throat, "ah, how like you to put me above yourself. I'm the same way with you, so I suppose I can't point fingers, now can I?"

“No… you can’t,” you smile back, but it’s tough to force it through the pain. You cough again and this time a little blood comes up as well.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the seconds tick by. “Morax.”

The former Archon stiffens; you rarely ever call him by his real name unless you're serious about something. "Yes, my dear? What is it?" When he sees you trying to lift your hand to his cheek, Zhongli dips his head, placing his own hand over yours.

Glazed eyes watch as you swallow, stuttering on your own breath, "I'm... I'm very proud of the man you've become compared to the Archon I first met. I'm very proud of the things you've done for Liyue, and I'm grateful for the things you've done for me."

Your eyes droop a little, and he knows your time to depart is near when he sees you rest your head against him more and with the way he has to hold up your hand for it to stay resting on his cheek. He swears he won't let you slip away until you've said your final peace.

"I... I need you to promise me something Morax."

"You know I will always do my best to honour your wishes," he tells you, his grip tightening on your hand. A sudden breeze picks up, blowing his hair in such an elegant way that your face softens, never not amazed by his beauty. Tranquillity washes over you, and it may sound crazy, but the scent the wind brought to you smelt like home, like a simpler time in your life.

All other sounds are drowned out, the wind blowing them far away so he could hear you clearly, "You have to find happiness again... even though I won't be there for you. Can... can you promise me that?"

He pulls you impossibly closer, removing your hand just to place a gentle kiss on your palm before returning it to its place, "I promise." In that moment he feels like he's lied to you, for he believes he'll never truly recover from your death, but that doesn't mean he won't try for you. And as you smile up at him for the last time, Morax feels that he could live with his answer to you.

Much like his friends of old, he knows he'll see you in the little things around the city - a lantern, a blooming flower, a cup of tea, the fires in fireplaces - as if you're watching over him. He'll continue to walk forward as everything passes him by, mingling with the ever-changing people and culture and surrounding himself with friends, because that's what he promised you, and he wants you to see that even when you're not by his side to experience it yourself.

"I'm happy now, see? But I will never be as happy as I was with you"

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

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@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood

[gguk-n]

Replaced (Charles Leclerc x Ferrari Driver!Reader)

Part 1 of Transition

Summary- Being the first and only female driver in Formula One was a huge deal; to be signed by Ferrari was even bigger. Imagine being blind sided by a replacement by Lewis Hamilton in 2025. Even worse; your boyfriend doesn't get it.

Warning- a little angst, established relationship

{Reader's POV}

My world came crashing down when I saw the post on the official Formula One social media. 'Lewis Hamilton to join Ferrari from 2025' How could Fred do this to me? After everything. I've been performing consistently, getting podiums, race wins against a RedBull. What more was I supposed to do? Why wasn't I informed before? My heart was beating against my chest, my eyes burned, my stomach was turning in on it's self. I couldn't help but pace around our house in Monaco. Charles had gone grocery shopping. Did Charles know? Why wouldn't he tell me if he did? How could they announce this when the season hasn't even started? Was I that easily disposable? My phone was blowing up from texts and calls from friends and family. I wanted to cry. Where was Charles when you needed him?

Speak of the devil; he opened the door with a pip in his step and a big smile on his face; he came and hugged me. "I missed you" he mumbled against my neck. My hands hung by my side. I didn't have any feeling left in my limbs. "Did you know?" I stammered, trying to stop the tears. Charles pulled back with confusion on his face. "Know what?" he asked. "That Lewis was replacing me next year" I stated. He was quite; worst of my fears were coming true all together today. "You knew" I breathed out. My voice breaking as I laughed. "My boyfriend knew I was being fired. Can't believe this" I said running a hand through my hair. "How could you do this to me?" I screamed. "Mon bebe, I didn't know for sure. I had heard rumours" He trailed off. "Yet you said nothing, you could've warned me. Maybe...maybe I could've convinced Fred to keep me" I cried. "You don't know what it's like being a woman in Formula One" I shouted with tears running down my face. "Mon Amor" he whispered trying to hug me. I pushed him away; "Don't...Don't you dare touch me. I don't need your fucking sympathy" I stated turning around to start pacing the room. "Everyone's calling and texting me Charles, what am I supposed to tell them? What am I supposed to tell my parents who put everything on the line to make sure I ended up in Formula One" I rambled. "We'll get through this. I'm sure" he began. "You have nothing to get through Charles, while you can still race in red for Ferrari, I've just lost my seat in Formula One. It was difficult getting here as is; now I need to find a way to stay on the track." I exclaimed. "Mon Coeur, we'll find a way. I'm sure other teams are lining up to sign you" he suggested. I laughed dryly, "I almost lost my chance in Formula One until Ferrari signed me a few years ago. I was on my way out; no race wins, no podiums just sheer determination to stick around. And then like the angels sent from above Ferrari signed me. I was over the moon. I won races, I was able to stand on the podium in Ferrari after 4 years in this sport. You know what it meant to me. I've told you everything, I've been the most vulnerable version of myself with you. Yet, you never told me there were talks to replace me" I mourned.

"World's best boyfriend everyone" I taunted while clapping my hands. "Y/N, this is hard for me too" he said trying to come closer. "No Charles, it's hard for me since I've been fired. You are not the one getting axed." I said finally sitting down. Charles walked towards me crouching down to sit on the floor while holding my hands, "We'll find a way. You're so talented anyone would want you. I'm sure" he proposed. I shook my head while I let the tears fall for the first time. I moved my hands up to wipe my tears, "I don't know what more I could've done to make sure that Fred kept me. I don't know what I could've done to stay" I lamented while rubbing my eyes. Charles moved my hands to cup my cheeks; "You can do it" he said while kissing my lips. "I need to regroup." I thought out loud. The cogwheels in my head started to turn. I wasn't letting them kick me out of the sport I gave my whole live to. I was gonna show them who Y/N Y/L/N was. They were gonna miss the day they messed with me. I picked up my phone and called my team to call for a meeting. My manager and mentor was already on it talking to other teams when I told we need to regroup. I could see a couple texts from Fred which I decided to ignore till I was calmer otherwise I would probably commit murder. While on call with my team, I started packing up my stuff. "Where are you going?" Charles asked while following me. "My teams in Maranello, I'm flying today so that we could start planning." I stated. "You can do that on call" he suggested. "No, I can't. I think I'll go mad if I see you right now" I dejectedly stated. "What why?" he questioned. "Charles, you have everything I've always wanted and everything I just lost in a split second. It'll make me hate you and I don't want that. I love you too much to hurt the either of us." I said while zipping up my bag.

"I'll see you when I'm ready, when I know what I'm gonna do" I said while looking at him. I saw tears pool up in his eyes, "Why are you punishing me?" he asked. "I'm not. It's for the best that I get away from here." I commented. "Je t'aime beaucoup" I whispered in Charles's ear while giving him a hug. "Je t'aime aussi" he whispered back pecking my lips. "I'll miss you. Come back soon. You know, I'll always be here." he said with a another peck on the cheek. "I'm yours forever and always" he said while holding my hands. "I know. I just....... need to get over these shitty thoughts." I said while carrying my bag to the door. "I'll drop you to the airport" he suggested. "No Charles, I need to figure this out on my own. Take care" I said. "Why does this feel like you're breaking up with me?" he cried out. "I'm not. I'm always yours but I need to do this. I need to figure some stuff out and I don't want to hurt you along the way." I said while smiling through the tears. "See you on the track, mon tout" I said while walking out of our shared apartment.

[zoe-oneesama]

If its okay to ask what exactly is the issue with Chloe's writing in the show for you? The creators have stated multiple times "there will be no redemption, she's rotten to the core and she's gonna stay that way" and it seems like thats what you want from her. So where exactly do they fumble the bag for you?

Mostly the part where they wasted everyone's time.

They tried to play both sides - kept her as nasty and self centered as always and did nothing to change her, but also make multiple episodes where we're meant to feel sorry for her and the heroine is portrayed as In The Wrong for being too harsh on her. It was annoying.

Like, it was just...tonally confusing at the time. It's totally in character for her to "steal" a Miraculous and not give it back when the rightful owner demands it back, being a thief was never outside of Chloe's wheelhouse. So tell me why they had the heroes give her soft woobie eyes and make excuses for her on the grounds of "you just wanted Mommy to look at you" and frame it like that's correct??????

And then, AND THEN, after wasting everyone's goddamn time trying to pretend they were doing something deep with Chloe, they didn't just double down on her being a two-bit one dimensional mean girl and tried to pretend like they didn't devote multiple episodes to convincing the audience she was more than that, but they wrote her to be even more comically evil as if to drive the knife even deeper! You can't help but read into their motivations, it feels like they're doing it to target certain fans specifically. "Oh you liked Chloe and wanted her to be redeemed? What if we ANTI-REDEEMED HER?! And now she's somehow more evil than our abusive magical terrorist! BWAHAHAHA!" Like?????? The Fuck?????

There's a moment in Season 5's "Collusion" where Bustier brings up the gift Chloe got her at the end of "Zombizou", doing this speech about how she recognized that Chloe was just a fragile teenager looking for love and attention (the EXACT THING that Season 2 spent a multi-episode arc trying to convince their audience of) only for Chloe to snap back that Bustier is using her student's feelings to "blackmail" her in that moment and uses this as grounds to get the woman fired.

And I feel like that really encapsulates the frustration I have at specifically the staff behind Miraculous Ladybug when it comes to Chloe.

Here is Chloe mocking Bustier for reading into what happened in "Zombizou" and instead it feels like the viewer is being mocked. Everyone who thought they were going somewhere with Chloe, everyone who bought what they were selling, everyone who's time was fucking wasted, is being laughed at in this moment.

Look, I never bought into Chloe being redeemed, so my personal annoyance was this dilly-dallying through this random side quest that amounted to nothing, which is a constant in this damn show. But, and I know this might be hard for some to believe, I had deep deep sympathy and empathy for fans who really thought and really wanted for the Battle of the Queens Arc to amount to something. I am so, so angry for them, because every season finds a way to not only stab you all in the back but twist the knife.

So yeah, that's my "issue".

[ihrthoney]

no grave can hold my body down

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, a lil bit of suicidal thoughts but nothing too major

word count: 1.8k

an: this is a more detailed version of this post! please request jason todd fic ideas pls pls pls. sorry if theres any mistakes it’s almost midnight lol

Almost two years had passed since Bruce Wayne came to your door and revealed who he was. Nearly 730 days since your boyfriend "died". Gotham was a city full of awful crimes and even worse people but you've never hated anyone like you hated Batman.

You can understand that he tried, the guilt he must feel probably consumes him and a sick part of you is glad. Not only was your boyfriend killed, with video evidence might you add, but his body was never recovered.

Jason would hate it if you saw the video of the Joker killing him but you needed to know. It was all for naught though, you never buried a body so your brain fully believes he isn't dead.

Whether or not it was the grief of having the love of your life ripped away from you or the feeling in your gut, you know Jason isn't dead. Until there is a body in front of you, you will do anything that you can to find him.

-

It started with swallowing your pride and asking the person you loathed for help.

Bruce obviously refused, he wanted to avoid another young person's death. You caught him by surprise with how you begged for his help, he fully expected you to be mad at him, to threaten him for answers. But no, instead you got on your hands and knees and begged him for help, which somehow made it worse.

For weeks you kept reaching out to him, asking him for any clues or hints, anything at all! He has all the resources a person could ever need, he's known as the greatest detective in the world but he can't find his son?

"I've told you, Jason is... Jason is dead. You saw the video. Get out of Gotham and move on, there is nothing more I can do for you." You didn’t stop there though.

You knew of Nightwing, that he was the robin before Jason. So you reached out to him when he was on patrol. Unlike Bruce, you actually felt bad for asking for help, especially since he was working and was grieving himself.

Even through the domino mask, his face scrunched in sympathy, and as gently as he could he told you he couldn't consciously help you. He couldn't let a civilian rope themself into business they wouldn't be able to walk out of.

Understanding of his reasoning, you started going against the law. You started to sneak into offices at different police stations in Gotham (they were sloppier than you could've ever thought, no wonder people love Batman).

Given Jason's at the time profession, he taught you how to defend yourself. There was never a time you didn't carry a knife on you, but you always left your gun at home. Living in Gotham, it was best to take all and every necessary safety precautions.

Using the very low-level skills you had, you searched places that were abandoned and discarded, anywhere that Joker was ever near in the past few years. A part of you knew that what you were doing was dangerous, that if Batman had found anything he would've done so already.

But you couldn't just go to work and pretend your boyfriend wasn't out there somewhere, alive or not you had to be absolutely sure. If you died trying then so be it, it's better than living in the reality of Jason not coming home.

-

A year went by, 365 days of feeling your sanity drain out of your body. You've been caught a few times by the police for trespassing and once by Batman himself who scolded and lectured you about your activities. He was livid, upset at you willingly putting yourself in danger. You were at a higher risk of dying than he was and yet you go out in nothing but black clothes and a few weapons. He's genuinely shocked you're still alive.

After Bruce catches you, he makes sure to keep tabs on you which prevents you from going out. Even if he's busy, if he sees your tag too far out he will drag you back to your place.

There's a part of you that wants to give up, to actually take his advice and move away. But you know deep down inside nothing will put out the fire of finding Jason. Even if you moved to a different country, you know you would still look for his hair, to listen for his voice in the crowd.

Months of gaslighting yourself that he'll knock on your door and say it's just one big prank, that he was on a big mission far away and couldn't tell you to keep you safe.

Millions of excuses rolled around in your head day and night, work was a blur. Bruce even tried to compensate by offering to pay for your rent, to help you seek medical help like a therapist. You know it would do you good to rest but the guilt of leaving Jason behind was too strong. He's been through so much in his life, you wouldn't dare abandon him.

You still stayed in the apartment you were looking at with Jason, "a safehouse" he called it, you weren't even 18 at the time but you both allowed yourselves to think ahead.

Every piece of furniture you bought it with him in mind, "This would be convenient for him to hide his gear," "He likes this color, plus the blanket is soft so it'll help him sleep." Jason consumed you, call it unhealthy but he was your night in this dark city.

There was a spare bedroom, you were going to originally use it as an office/workspace but instead, it's covered in all the papers you've stolen to find him. The floor, walls and even the door were covered, overlapped, and written on with any possible clue you could've stumbled upon. It's been months since you've been able to add something that wasn't already on there. So instead, you sat in the room and just stared at it, cried, ripped things down, and put them back up with tears streaming down your face. It didn’t help that you would hear Jason’s voice soothing you whenever you cried, reassuring you whenever you were down. You knew it was your subconscious trying to console you but you liked to believe he was really there.

Then there were the hallucinations, they started back when you stumbled upon a hostage situation in an old arcade at the end of Gotham, you swear it was Jason but when the guy looked up at you all you saw was a stranger. You were stuck in the police station for hours, yelled at for stupidly interfering in a dangerous situation. The cops looked at you with annoyance now, you were nothing more than a crazy love-sick girl.

-

Lately, work has been exhausting, learning there was a new robin made your stomach swirl. It was like Batman just moved on, how is that fair? How could he move on while you were stuck chasing dead ends? Why couldn't you just accept his death?

Instead of eating dinner, you let yourself boil in whatever hot water Gotham could provide and scrubbed layers of guilt off of your skin. You put on an old shirt of his, which was horribly faded by how much you wore and washed it then curled up in bed; The bed was too big but you didn't want a smaller one in case he came back.

Usually, you triple check that your windows and doors are bolted shut but for tonight you just trusted your brain. Sometimes, it felt like it would be easier if you didn't wake up anymore, at least when you closed your eyes you could see the Jason you knew and loved.

Tonight was one of those nights where sleep was in and out, so when you felt a hand push back some hair behind your ear, you grabbed the knife under your pillow and lunged forward though there were no sounds of anyone in pain, in fact you heard the knife hit the floor.

"You have to be faster than that, sweetheart."

That voice. You would know that voice anywhere.

You blink your eyes open, slowly revealing the man you love in front of you. Except, he wasn't in front of you. This wasn't the first time he's appeared in front of you, it broke your heart all the same.

The exhaustion creeped up your throat and tears started to slip down your face, "No don't cry baby, it's okay." 'Jason' attempted to reach his hand toward you but you shook your head, backing into the corner of the bed,

"This isn't real. Go away, please. Not tonight."

The ache Jason felt in his chest at the sound of your distress hurt him in a way he's never yet experienced. His poor girl crying, thinking he wasn't real.

"I'm real baby, I promise." He calmly approaches you, kneeling on the bed, a hand reaches out towards you again,

Your head was buried on your knees as you hugged yourself into a ball, "You're not! I haven't found you! This can't be real!"

"Please look at me sweetheart."

You noticed his voice sounded different, deeper, more matured. It caused you to slowly look up, "There you are."

That's when you see him. The scars, the tired look in his eyes, the rage he's hiding behind it; There’s a difference in color in his eyes but they're beautiful all the same. They still look at you with love.

None of your hallucinations were this detailed, to be honest you couldn't imagine what he would look like after the years have passed. So to see this, you knew it was real. (Or some villain was damn good at illusions.)

He was caught off guard as you hugged him tight, he had to swallow down the feeling to pull you off. You were the exception to everything, so for now he could stomach the feeling of being held in place because he (is trying to convince himself) knows it's out of love.

You sobbed in his chest, apologizing over and over and over again, "It's okay baby, take deep breaths please."

Again, you started to shake your head, "It's not okay, I should have found you. I tried to find you, I'm so sorry!"

"I saw the room baby, I know you tried but that wasn't your responsibility." He tried to reason with you, doing what he could to calm you down. It's been years since he's seen you, years since he's dealt with anything normal, his mind is all over the place.

"Don't say that, I love you Jace. I would rather die than stop looking."

Jason tensed at the phrase, after everything it's hard to believe you, to believe any of this but he wanted to see you. He had to.

A hand found its way in your hair, holding you close to his chest, "You did good honey, thank you for trying."

Lifting your head from his chest, you looked into his eyes, "I would do anything for you, I need you to know that."

He can only offer a small smile, he knows you did and there's a small piece of his heart that can rest knowing you didn't forget him, that you still loved him.

He hopes he can learn to love you again, too.

part 2? lmk down below :)

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[schizopositivity]

If people in general can understand that someone watching a horror movie might jump in their chair, have their heart rate go up, and feel nervous, even though there is no actual threat in the room, then why can't they understand the same is true for people experiencing psychosis?

They are similar, you are seeing something that isn't actually real, you may believe it's real or not, but either way you will react as if it were real because your brain can't help it. The difference is the person in psychosis isn't seeing it through the safety of a screen, isn't prepared for it and can't immediately turn it off if they want to.

So why is it so hard for people to understand why people in psychosis will react like they are actually experiencing something? Anyone would jump back if an elephant suddenly appeared in front of them. Or be very nervous if they hear their name called when they are home alone. So why are people in psychosis expected to not react, or stop reacting when someone tells them it isn't real?

It really shows a lack of sympathy from people who haven't experienced psychosis, for them to expect us to not have reactions. We are expected to somehow suppress our brains natural reactions, simply for other people's comfort. This applies even more to people of color and homeless people. We are expected to fit the status quo, even when our brains are experiencing something as real.

I say all this to say, try to consider the experience of people with psychosis if you haven't. Don't gawk at people reacting to something you don't see. Try not to fear the homeless person talking to someone that isn't actually there. Don't make fun of, or judge people for reacting to something they are experiencing, just because you don't experience it.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Can't Leave Me

Pairing: Dark Hawks x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: Seeing a darker side of Keigo has you rethinking your entire relationship. But it’s not like Keigo is planning on letting you go. 

WARNINGS: Murder; Kidnapping. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

His hand rubs comforting circles over the expanse of your back, innumerous apologies being mumbled as he kisses the crown of your head. 

“I should’ve eased you into it. I‘m so sorry, baby.” his tone is apologetic, almost regretful, but you can’t be bothered by that.

Not after what you witnessed. 

The queasiness in your stomach increases, and you swallow hard, closing your eyes in a poor attempt to control both yourself and the wave of nausea that threatens to rise. 

“Next time, I promise I’ll let you know beforehand, ‘kay? No more nasty surprises, I promise.” his cooing has you pushing your palms against the edge of the marble kitchen island, and you take a few stumbling steps backwards.

“I really thought you’d like to see my patriotic work.”

“You…” his golden eyes squint for a second when you dodge his hand from touching your arm, “That man-”

“He’s no one. Just some fucking dirtbag I caught the other day on patrol. No one even cares that he’s gone, if that makes you feel better.”

You look at him in bewilderment, unable to believe his words. Was Keigo - always so sweet and gentleman - trying to convince you that killing people was fine? That it was okay for his basement to have pools of blood and pieces of human limbs?

The pungent smell of fresh blood is still haunting your nose and you scrunch it, remembering the nasty scene your boyfriend presented you. 

When Keigo asked you to come to his house, telling you he had a surprise stored in his basement for you, your mind wandered to the idea of receiving a sweet gift.

Maybe a painting or a bracelet, anything with a romantic meaning. A normal thing. 

But when Keigo took you to his basement, chest inflated with pride at what he called “city scum cleaning” it wasn’t at all what you expected. 

“You’re worrying too much.” he sighs, his wings ruffling behind him. “I’m cleaning the city from the filthy scum, nothing else.”

“They’re human beings, Keigo. You can’t take justice into your own hands, that’s not your job.”

Keigo only shrugs his shoulders, disinterested at your attempt to bring some conscience to him.

“I know this upsetted you, baby, so why don’t we change the subject? How about we start making dinner and then watch a movie? I know you’re excited to see that new action movie, right?”

His proposition makes you feel sick to your stomach for more reasons than one, but the realization that your boyfriend is trying to distract you from the fact that he’s a serial killer is too much.

You need to leave. Immediately. 

But you’re scared. Terrified of becoming Keigo’s new addition to his basement, if he realizes that you’re not on his side. You’re not sure if he loves enough to spare you from such destiny.

You’re not sure of anything anymore. 

You shift the weight from one foot to the other, eyes drifting to the kitchen door. 

“I think…” your voice shakes, and you attempt to clear your throat, “Maybe I should go,  Keigo. I’m not…feeling great.”

His expression drops for a moment, cold anger being replaced with feigned sympathy so quickly that you almost believe you imagined it. 

“Sweet cheeks, if you’re not feeling well, then you can just sleep over.” he takes a minuscule step in your direction, his wings stretching behind him for a moment. Demonstrating their enormous size before he pulls them back.

A not very subtle threat.

“I can prepare a warm bath for you, and then get you in bed with some painkillers. How about that?” 

You shake your head, feeling helpless. 

“No, Keigo, it’s fine, really. I can just go home and-”

“Nonsense. Besides, I don’t like the idea of you all alone in your apartment, especially if you’re feeling sick.” he brushes you off, “I can’t have you puking or passing out when you’re on your own. What kind of boyfriend would that make me, am I right?” 

A few of his feathers gracefully fly in your direction, gently but effectively pushing you forward. 

The conflict inside your mind only fires up, but you’re hardly able to bitterly swallow down all the shabby excuses and useless begging that would only result in angering Keigo. 

Your body bumps against his and Keigo instantly wraps his arm around your waist, replacing the feathers that rejoin his wings. 

He kisses your cheek with an arm tightly gripping your waist, as if he’s waiting for you to bolt and run away. You’d be lying if you say the idea doesn’t seem awfully tempting.

Maybe if he looks away or gets distracted…maybe then  you could take the chance. 

“C’mon, let’s get you a bath, ‘kay? You’re really not looking too good.” 

The melancholic moonlight hits you in the face, seeping through the locked window. Your eyes are wide open, despite the ungodly time of the night. It’s quiet now, aside from the light cricket’s sounds and the occasional car speeding up through the street.

You barely move your head as you glance towards the fluorescent numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table next to you, careful enough to shift as little as you can.

The arm draped across your waist feels like a rope, keeping you bound to Keigo.

But it’s better than the red wing that lays wide open in all of its immense size, acting as a second blanket to your body, caging you to the bed with its oppressive weight. 

Despite your objections of becoming too hot during the night, Keigo still insisted on covering your body with it, shutting you down with a gentle kiss.

He sleeps soundly, his chest a few inches away from your chest, his deep calm breathing hitting your ear and neck. 

You can’t sleep. Your mind is too bothered, too upset to even consider something as futile as sleeping when there are more urgent necessities. Such as escaping this house. 

Keigo fell into a deep slumber a few hours ago while you remained awake, thinking about your next steps. You have to leave the bed, leave the house, leave him. 

But even the last step seems complicated when you can’t even pull yourself out of the bed - out of Keigo’s suffocating embrace. 

You’re frozen with fear, you begrudgingly admit. Scared of accidentally waking Keigo up and in the process, to wake a side of him that you don’t want to see. 

You have to do this.

The first step is to test the waters.

You take a deep breath, slowly shifting your body, your hand gently pushing his arm down and away from you. Nothing happens.

Your heartbeat speeds up as you embrace yourself for the final step. 

Looking down at the impending problem of escaping the red wing, you take the decision to slide underneath it. 

It’s awkward and embarrassing when you weirdly dive underneath the wing, squishing yourself against the bed as you try to touch the feathers as little as you can. They don’t pulse or move, remaining completely still as you make your escape. 

A relieved sigh gets caught in your throat when your feet touch the floor. Just a little more, you think, bending your body to slide down the curve of the bed. 

Premature hope makes your breathe faster. Maybe you can actually get away.

Oh god, you’re actually going to get away. 

Your whole body freezes for a scary moment when Keigo mumbles a few incoherent words, shifting and turning in bed, but thankfully he remains asleep. You can breathe again.

It’s a bit hard to walk in the darkness, only the dim light of the moon helping you guide yourself, as your feet take baby steps and you prod the walls with your hands until you finally find the closet room.

The door creaks slightly as you slowly close it, and you hold your breath for a moment. Nothing happens. 

You open the light, hoping it doesn’t infiltrate through the door’s crack and search the place with your eyes, looking for your clothes. Keigo kept them there before handing you one of his shirts earlier in the night, saying that it would be more comfortable for you to sleep in his clothes than in your outer clothes. 

It’s easy to find your shirt and pants, both of them tucked away in a corner of the room, the evident contrast between Keigo’s expensive clothing and your cheap casual outfit standing out. 

You quickly put them on, looking around for your purse before remembering that you had left it in the kitchen. Fuck. 

You close the light, and silently leave the closet. 

“Babe.” 

Your blood runs cold at the sight of Keigo casually standing in front of you, arms crossed in his chest. There’s no anger  in his face - nor sleepiness, you notice - but there are hints of annoyance. Did he really expect you not to try and run? 

“I’m kinda disappointed, I gotta say.” he shakes his head with a tired sigh. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t do anything stupid tonight. Guess I was wrong.”

“I wasn’t-” your words lose strength, and for a moment, the idea of dashing for the door with all of your speed seems incredibly enticing, “It’s not what you think.”

“Yeah? Pfft, c’mon, you seriously think you’re gonna fool me into believing any crappy excuse? Like I didn’t just catch you trying to sneak off on me?” he clicks his tongue, messy strands of blonde hair falling onto his forehead, “But you know what?”

It’s now. The moment he switches the flip on you and beats you and-

“Let’s continue this tomorrow, alright? It’s late, so how about we sleep on this and in the morning, we’ll talk.” 

You look at him, surprised. Isn’t he gonna drag you by the hair to his basement and beat you? 

Keigo directs you back to the closet, watching as you hesitate to change back into his shirt. 

“That was never gonna work, you know that, right?” he says. “It’s not like you could outrun me. I’m too fast for you, with or without quirk.”

When you get back on the bed, his wing covers you once again and his arm pulls you flush against his chest, suffocating you with his presence.

He kisses the nape of your neck. 

“Sleep tight.”

You wake up startled, mind buzzing with a chilling nightmare. Red blood and sticky viscera follow you even though you rise away from the realm of dreams. 

You breathe in. It was just a dream. 

Distant sounds coming from another room catch your attention and you remain quiet, catching the tiny rays of sunlight that come through the curtains, basking on pacific solitude. 

What are you supposed to do now? Relent and pretend that everything is peachy, to act as if the basement isn’t torture chamber and that your boyfriend isn’t some cold-hearted killer? 

You roll to the side, yelping when your leg gets caught on. 

A chain. 

A soft leather wrapped tightly around your ankle, connecting it to the links of metal that keep you in a short leash. There’s barely any length to it, meaning you won’t even be able to reach the bathroom if you need to. 

This can’t be real. 

You persistently rub your eyes, shaking your head as fear threatens to spill in the shape of a panic attack. 

Keigo wouldn’t do this. He can’t do this. He just can’t. 

Much to your consternation, you don’t wake up. This isn’t some wicked dream, after all. 

“No, no, please, no.” you cry, pulling and tugging on the solid chain with both of your hands. It doesn’t work, despite all the clicking it does. Doesn’t so much as move away from your ankle.

But it does make a shrilling noise and soon Keigo rushes into the room, a worried expression on his face before he understands what you’re doing. 

He plops next to you, firm hands pulling your shaky ones away from the chain, despite you not giving up and you yelp when he uses his strength to expertly twist your wrist, forcing you to let go of the chain.

“Keigo, please, don’t…don’t do this. I promise I won’t run away, I swear!” you plead, snot and tears pathetically dripping down your face as Keigo pulls you into his lap, a large hand securing both of your wrists. 

“Keigo…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything is fine, it’s all okay.” 

It only makes you cry harder. One of his hands rubs your back while the other holds the back of your neck, pushing your face to his chest. 

“C’mon, don’t cry.  You know how awful that makes me feel.” he presses a gentle kiss to your head, rocking your bodies back and forth, comforting you as if you were a child throwing a tantrum.

“You left me no choice. You were gonna leave me, abandon me like I never meant anything to you.” his voice is almost quiet and you know that if you looked up, his face would resemble a kicked puppy.

It almost makes you feel bad until the stupid chain in your ankle clinks, reminding you that Keigo isn’t a good man. 

“But it’s okay now. I know you’re not happy with… our current situation, but you’ll soon see it my way. I’m doing this for you - for us.” 

His arms tightened around your wriggling body, keeping you close to him. 

“I’m not letting anything get between us. Not even you.”

[taeyongdoyoung]

lobos, we cannot stop hunting

summary: the full moon comes and you insist on staying with your best friend despite his valiant warnings to make you run away from him... pairing: werewolf!chan x reader genre: smut, fantasy, best friends to lovers warnings: *takes a deep breath* heat suppressants, hugging, werewolf transformation, kissing, making out, hair-pulling, eating out, begging, fingering, overstimulation, consent is established multiple times, slightly mean dom!chan but overall a sweetheart, praise+degradation, size kink (duh), unprotected sex on the floor, knotting, breeding kink, mating *exhales* author's note: happy halloween, baby stays!!! 🐺 make sure to get some yummy treats and always remember to say the magic words please and thank you 😈 but ESPECIALLY please as the king of the wolves taught us 😉🛐 word count: 1.8k

"It's a full moon tonight," your werewolf best friend Chan says.

"So?" you murmur, not even bothering to look up from your phone. Those F1 reels that keep popping up on your feed are so interesting! "You've got your pills and stuff? You'll be fine, same as always."

"I ran out, actually," Chan scratches the back of his head nervously.

You put down your phone. Sorry, sexy F1 guys, you can wait.

"Can't you get more?" you ask him.

"No, my doctor is out of town. It's his anniversary with his wife and his phone is turned off."

"Goddamnit, Chan, and you tell me that now?" you are immediately worried about your best friend.

Before he started these pills, Chan told you that the full moon was like really bad on him. As in, he was completely out of control and had these...urges that he had to take care of by himself. Basically, he was in a lot of pain. He's been using these pills for the last two years and they've been working miraculously. Chan was pretty much like a human during the usually dangerous for werewolves full moon. Thankfully, his doctor has been very helpful in giving him plenty of these amazing pills.

"I'm sorry...I thought I had one left but I must have miscalculated."

"Chan, I keep telling you to write these stuff down in advance," you shake your head. "What are you going to do tonight?"

"Suffer through it, I guess. I was just giving you a heads-up so you can get out of here...like right about now."

"What? No way I'm leaving you alone!" you argue passionately. "What if you die?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure I won't. But you don't get it, without my pills, I could unwittingly put you in danger. My best chance to make sure I'm not a menace to civilized society is to lock the door and tie myself up or something."

"That sounds horrible!" you cry out, feeling intense sympathy for your best friend. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"You have to!" Chan insists. "I would hate myself if I hurt you."

"You won't!" you keep trying to persuade him. "I trust you more than anyone else in the universe."

Chan shakes his head, still hesitant.

"Please, you should leave before the moon comes up."

Little does he know it has already begun to rise...

"No, I'm not leaving you," you keep saying and wrap your arms around him.

Chan desperately tries to push you away. But it is too late.

As the moon's power grows, so does his. The only thing that prevents you from continuing to embrace him is his oncoming transformation. Your arms fall weakly to your side as you witness the impossible. His generally tender, adorable features quickly turn into sharp, wolflike and kind of intimidating ones, if you have to be honest. But this is your best friend, your Chan, you keep reminding yourself. And all the fear disappears from your body. As you kneel down next to him, you run your hand through his soft fur, trying to pet him.

He initially snarls and tries to scare you off but the more you insist, the more he relaxes under your gentle touch. God, you can't believe he was afraid he'd harm you. He's just...a big puppy.

You can't resist the temptation and you hug him again. He's so fluffy you're gonna die! And then, the unimaginable happens. He fucking purrs! Oh dear, if you had already been having a hard time trying to hide your feelings for your best friend, then seeing him like this would surely be your demise.

Then, unexpectedly, he shifts back to his human form, taking you by surprise. One, because that was faster than you'd expected. Two, because he's entirely naked, but doesn't seem perturbed by it. You try your best to look him in the eyes because uh...you're still not sure where this is going.

"Please, go, I don't think I can control myself any longer," Chan begs.

"Control what?" you're so confused. "I already witnessed you in your wolf form, you seem pretty chill."

"It's not my wolf form you should be scared of," Chan warns darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you don't get out of my sight in the next ten seconds, I'll fuck you until you pass out. And maybe even after that."

Oh? Wait...OH!!!

"Was that supposed to be a threat or a promise?" you quirk your eyebrows at him.

"Hold on, don't tell me you're actually excited by the prospect?" Chan wants to make sure.

"I mean...don't threaten me with a good time," you shrug calmly.

Chan kneels next to you, grabbing your hands tightly.

"I'm serious right now, don't play with me."

"What makes you think I'm not serious? I trust you, I want you, I lo- Uh, I like you a lot, whatever you do, that won't change," you mentally curse yourself for almost saying the big L-word. You hope he didn't catch that.

Judging from Chan's expression, he seems pretty satisfied with your statement.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," he whispers and kisses you harshly, biting your lips and making a mess.

Your mouths are linked by an unending streak of saliva, but honestly you couldn't care less as he claims you, pushing his tongue deeper down your throat, gripping your hair with his fingers for better access. You are already melting. You spoke too soon. You are definitely not ready for this. But you wouldn't be able to make him stop, even if you wanted to.

"Last chance," Chan breaks the kiss to give you the opportunity to back out. To get out of here while you still can.

"Do your worst," you challenge him recklessly and he kisses you again, even harder than before if that is possible.

You know that your best friend, despite his shy and cute demeanour, is physically stronger and bigger than you, but seeing him like this, completely losing control is such a thrill you make sure to commit the picture to memory as vividly as you can.

Chan takes off your clothes in a hurry and just like a hungry wolf, attacks your pussy. And starts devouring it as if it's his last meal on Earth. He doesn't even make the effort to get to the couch, which is so close. He just takes you right there, on the floor. You shake uncontrollably, but he grips your thighs to stop you from moving.

"Please, please, please," you keep repeating even though you have no idea what you're asking for. For him to keep going? For him to stop? You don't know anymore.

"I like it when you beg," Chan smirks against your folds and dives back in, swimming in your water.

It doesn't take you long to burst, completely letting go for him.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he praises you, not giving you time to recover and tracing circles around your entrance with his big fingers.

"No, you," you whisper weakly, trying to make him slow down by pushing his hand away. Needless to say, your efforts are in vain. "I'm s-sensitive."

Chan laughs cruelly.

"You can take it," his words are meant to be reassuring but they're not, as he sticks his finger inside of you.

It's just one but it's already so thick you are beginning to lose your mind.

"C-chan, p-please," you cry for him.

"What is it, sweetheart? You want another?" he mocks your lack of coherence and adds a second finger without waiting for your approval.

"N-no, I c-can't," you shake your head desperately.

"Yes, you can," Chan seems fully convinced, adding a third finger. "You're so tiny, gotta stretch you up real good to be able to take my cock next. Don't you want that, babygirl?"

"Yes, I want it," you are quick to agree and do your best to relax for his big fingers.

"Gonna let me take this sweet pussy with my wolf cock? Claim you as mine? Give you my pups?" he asks gently, his unrestrained actions in complete contrast with his sweet words.

"Yes, yes! Gonna let you breed me like the stupid bitch I am," you answer, degrading yourself in the process.

"That's what I like to hear, darling," Chan praises you and makes you come again on his fingers.

You are almost about to pass out. But somehow you manage to hold on for the next part. You want to feel it. Every second of it.

"Are you sure?" he asks once again, melting your heart.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reaffirm your belief in him.

Chan doesn't wait for a second offer and slides his cock inside of you. Fucking hell, if you thought his fingers were pretty huge, his manhood is on a whole different level. You try to adjust to his monstrous size and focus on his beautiful eyes instead. He's still your Chan, your sweet-

"Fuck, your pussy's so small, gonna rip you in half," Chan grunts loudly.

Okay, not so sweet after all.

"Please, don't. Or do, it's fine by me," you attempt to make a joke.

He laughs and kisses you again, going in deeper. You wrap your hands around his neck in a tremendous effort to ground you, help you remain conscious through it all.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Chan keeps talking meanly. "Want me to ruin that tiny pussy of yours?"

"Yes, yes, I want it all," you repeat mindlessly, not caring about the consequences anymore.

Then, as if by some miracle, you feel his cock growing even more while inside of you. Is that even possible? You thought it was just a myth.

Luckily, you're wetter than ever and your pussy easily swallows his knot.

"Gonna fuck you full of my cum, make you my mate, is that okay?" Chan wants to be sure.

"It's okay, Chan, I'll be your mate," you promise, not even sure what that means. But whatever it is, you're fine with it, as long as it's with Chan...

Then, he releases his wolf seed inside of your pussy, making you feel so full, so warm, so complete.

"Take it, baby, I know you can," he reassures you and you do your best to accept his overflowing victory.

It is a total mystery how you still haven't passed out. But you're grateful for it. You'd like to treasure this moment forever.

"I don't think I'll be able to let go of you anytime soon," Chan chuckles softly, still inside of you.

"That's alright, I think I can get used to this," you respond happily, kissing him again.

"Great. 'Cause I don't plan to ever stop hunting you, my sweet little prey," Chan vows.

"I am but a willing victim to whatever it is the full moon did to you," you smile contentedly.

"And if it's not just the full moon?" Chan asks, biting your earlobe playfully with his sharp teeth. "What if I want to have my way with you every night?"

"Who needs sleep anyways?"

The End

[cherrylovelycherry]

ratio angst ratio angst ratio angst x female reader pretty pretty please

.note. you asked for it and here it is! (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat."

Fiancé

pairing. dr ratio x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, arguments, ratio being a jerk, some comfort, mentions of loss/miscarriage, more angst synopsis. you love your fiancé after all, right?… right? full menu

Of course another day you both are bickering...again.

He was reading some boring books about a topic he's interested in when he noticed you walking near him, and as usual his eyes are already trained on you, but he just continues reading, acting as if he's not even noticing you right at that moment.

Yet his mind is slowly shifting its attention towards you, and of course he can't deny how annoyed he feels because of the fact that you both just had another stupid argument, and because of his proud and fucking logical personality of his, he just couldn't bring himself to approach you or say anything after what he said to you.

And his stoic face just remains unreadable at that moment, continuing to read his book but his mind is now elsewhere and thinking of.. you. Or at least is what you want to think.

After taking a good look at you, he spoke.

"Did you needed something?"

The question came out in an indifferent tone to him, as if he doesn't even care and is just asking you just because he felt like it. His eyes still on the book.

He heard you let out a deep huff, which makes him internally roll his eyes.

He heard you mumbling something under your breath, which didn't go unnoticed by him, and he finally put down the book on his lap, lifting his gaze up so he can look at you now.

"What was that? Care to speak up?"

He questioned in a cold tone, his eyes not leaving yours, watching how your expression changed immediately as soon as his gaze is now on you. He patiently waited for your next words, and all that he can think about was how you two just had a trivial argument and here you are again, just.. bicker like you always do.

"Could you prepare me something to eat?" You dared to speak, raising your voice a little more.

He was always the one who cooked, but not because you don't know how to cook, or well, you know the basics, almost little, it was because you are afraid of fire.

It wasn't even a surprise to him on how you're acting right now.

He rolled his eyes at you.

"No."

He replied shortly, his tone blunt and cold. He then picked the book up and resumed his reading, acting as if he could care less about your presence right at the moment.

If you wanted to eat anything, you'd have to make it yourself. He was not going to give in that easily.

Your heart sank at his cold response.

You couldn't believe how unreasonable he was being.

"Please. I'm hungry." You tried again, not in a demanding voice, but in a pleading one, hoping that he would give in, but knowing him, he probably won't.

He let out a sigh, as if your plea had annoyed him more than it should. He closed the book and put it away from his lap, his eyes now looking up at you.

"If you're hungry, you should learn how to fix yourself something to eat." He said in a cold tone.

Your face fell at his response.

You just wanted a meal, just a little bit of kindness.

"But I don't know how."

You mumbled quietly, your head hanging low.

"It's time you learn. Or just starve. I don't care."

His tone was firm, showing no sign of sympathy or empathy towards you and your situation.

Your heart clenches at his words.

You could feel your heart tightening in your chest, feeling as if you can't breathe for a moment.

Collecting your little dignity left at the time, you went to another part of the department. Just come back a few minutes later.

You slowly approached where he was sitting, now checking his phone.

And just as you opened your mouth to say something, he spoke first.

"I'm busy,"

"Please, Veritas."

You said in a pleading voice, hoping that he'd at least show a little bit of mercy.

But of course, he just shook his head and looked at you with a cold, emotionless gaze.

"And I told you, no. Stop being so dependent."

"But-" You were about to protest.

He was being cold again.

"No buts. My answer is final." He retorted in a stern tone, interrupting you once again before you could even say anything more.

Of course he'd be like this.

Your heart sank. You felt the lump on your throat forming.

"You need to learn to be independent and stop depending on me for every damn thing. It's not my job to feed you. You're not a child anymore."

He said, his tone cold and firm.

You sighed again and left the living room, just to go to your shared room.

You thought for a few more minutes, it wasn't the best idea, but you were really hungry. So you grabbed your cell phone and opened the fast meals home app.

You were choosing a good choice of the big variety.

As you were on the bed, choosing, you heard footsteps approaching the room, and soon enough the door opened slowly.

There, you saw your boyfriend leaning against the frame, looking at you. He had a bored expression on his face.

"What are you doing?"

Damn, he even followed you to the room?

You hesitated for a moment, you didn't want him to question you right now.

But you knew you had no choice, he already found out.

"Ordering food," you muttered quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He was silently studying your face for a moment, his eyes scanning your expression and body language, and for some reasons, he looked a bit annoyed.

He approached the bed and skillfully removed your phone from your hands

"It's a bad way to spend our money," he said.

"Go, cook you something," he added, as he left the room, with your phone.

You felt your heart sink deeper again. That hurt.

He wasn't being caring, he didn't even care about you. He was being rude and cold as usual, just when you expected him to show a little understanding, even just a little bit.

You bit your lower lip.

Of course, he wasn't going to allow you to order food. You should've known better.

He knew you had a hard time being in the kitchen, and he still has the audacity to do this.

You sat there for a long time, before finally deciding to get up and go to the kitchen. You wanted to prove to him that you could do it, that you weren't incompetent.

You entered the kitchen with a heavy heart.

As you look around the kitchen, you were slightly overwhelmed with the task at hand. You were unsure of what to make, and you felt your stomach rumble with hunger.

You wanted to cry in frustration.

You opened the fridge, looking for anything that was easy enough for you to make. But the more time you spent looking, the more intimidated you felt.

As your eyes scanned the various ingredients, you let out a deep sigh. You had no idea what to do.

For once, you just wish he could've helped you, or at least not be such a cold jackass when you needed him to.

You took longer than you expected, even having to clean up the big mess you had done in the kitchen.

With a knot in your chest and throat, you walked to the table with the plate in your hand.

It was the most horrible thing you've ever seen and done.

It didn't even look like food, much less edible.

But you had no choice.

You sat at the table, while you ate what you had prepared.

You couldn't help but feel ridiculous.

Your blurred view made it almost impossible to see what was on the plate, while you occasionally felt your salty tears while taking bites of food.

Was this his way of punishing you for the fight you two had?

As you ate, your mind drifted to the moment you and him had argued.

You knew it was a stupid fight, over something silly as always. You both always argued over small things, and it always ended with him being cold and aloof, and you feeling frustrated and upset.

You wondered if you two would ever be able to go back to how you were in the beginning.

The days when he was sweeter and more affectionate, the days when arguments were rare, and the days when you felt truly loved and appreciated by him.

You were deep in your thoughts when you heard a phone ringing, bringing you back to reality.

It was coming from the living room, probably his.

But as you were about to get up, you heard your boyfriend walking towards the kitchen instead.

He was holding his phone in his hand, and he looked slightly surprised when he saw you.

He approached the table and sat in the chair opposite you.

He leaned his elbows on the table, still holding the phone, and he gave you a strange look.

The expression on his face was unreadable to you.

His reddish eyes scanned you, taking in how you looked.

You must look awful right now.

You are still crying, your eyes were probably red and swollen, and you were sure your face was a mess.

He didn't say anything at first. He just looked at you, his gaze flickering from your face to the plate in front of you.

You could tell he noticed the mess you had made in the kitchen, probably because you can't cook properly, a fact that he's well aware of.

He still wasn't saying anything.

His eyes still on you.

You felt his gaze, you could feel it burning through you.

Eventually, he broke the silence that was hanging in the air.

"You tried cooking, huh?" He said in a low, unreadable tone.

His tone was neutral, but you could sense a hint of something in it, but you couldn't quite tell if it was surprise, mocking, or something else.

You nodded in response, still trying to hold back your tears.

There was another moments of silence, as his eyes never left your face.

You were going to eat another bite of the raw, burnt food on your plate, but before you could, Ratio got up from his seat, grabbing your plate and fork and taking it to the kitchen.

When he did that, you didn't even look at him, you just looked at the table.

You were biting your lip so that the sobs wouldn't come out of your mouth.

'How humiliating,' you thought.

You stayed silently in your seat, hearing Ratio move around in the kitchen.

You were going to get up from the chair, it was already a few minutes and at least you wanted to go to your room.

But before you could get up from the table, he walked back into the kitchen and placed a plate of food in front of you.

You could smell the good food from the plate he had put in front of you.

His expression was not one of indifference as it often was, but there was something else.

You knew how to recognize that expression.

He didn't say anything, but the way he looked at you, it was different. There was a hint of guilt in his eyes. He looked almost hesitant.

He sat on the chair next to you.

"Eat, don't cry anymore," he said, while with one of his thumbs he wiped your wet cheek.

His gesture had surprised you.

You didn't expect him to be so sweet, especially since he had been so cold just a few moments earlier.

His hand lingered on your cheek for a few moments, but then he moved his hand away, still looking at you.

You nodded, swallowing a sob.

You loved your fiancé.

Fuck.

You two just had an argument in the middle of the street.

Why did this always happen?

It was a shameful thing to feel the glances of strangers walking near where you were.

You were both arguing loudly in the middle of the street, and passers-by couldn't help but look at you with surprise or annoyance.

They could probably feel the tension between you two.

Ratio had his usual expressionless expression on his face, while you were gesticulating and getting more and more frustrated.

"I don't understand why you can't just-!"

"I've told you time and time again-!"

You both were interrupting each other and not letting each other finish.

You could feel the eyes of the passers-by on you, some even stopped to watch the scene.

You were sure that you both looked like a couple of idiots fighting in the middle of the street.

"I don't care!"

You raised your voice and crossed your arms.

Ratio looked at you with irritation, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Stop being so stubborn."

He replied, his tone firm and cold.

"I'm not being stubborn, you just won't listen to me!"

You protested.

After one more exchange of words, you and he remained silent.

The cold air grazed your face.

The silence between you was deafening.

It felt like hours since either of you spoke, the only sound between you was the soft hum of the air.

Your heart was racing, you could hear your own breathing.

He was just staring directly at you, his unreadable expression.

You didn't want to say anything, but you were forced to do it, because you two still couldn't go home.

"We need to buy groceries," you said, without gesticulating the words too much.

Ratio clenched his jaw slightly, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, he started walking, passing by you without saying a word.

You sighed, following him closely.

The atmosphere between you remained tense and silent as you both walked to the nearby store.

The walk to the store was uncomfortable and silent.

You two just walk side by side, not saying anything or making eye contact.

But you felt his presence next to you.

He had his hands in his pockets, and he look straight ahead, his expression impassive.

As you two approached the store, you suddenly felt his hand brush against yours.

His touch was fleeting, and it was almost like it was an accident.

You were surprised by the touch, but you didn't pull away.

For a brief moment, his fingers gently grazed the back of your hand, and you felt a slight shiver run down your spine.

But as soon as it happened, he quickly withdrew his hand, putting it back in his pocket. He didn't look at you, his face completely impassive.

You felt a bit confused by his sudden gesture.

You glimpse at him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he had done it intentionally or if it had been an accident.

His expression was still the same.

You were so damn weak for him.

When you two got to the grocery store, you started grabbing some products.

You both were silent, still not speaking as you moved around the store.

You tried to focus on shopping and not on the tension between you two.

As you walked together down one of the aisles, he suddenly spoke.

"We're out of coffee mix," he said in a low, cold tone.

You looked at him, noticing the way his eyes glanced at you for a moment.

That was the first thing he'd said since the argument.

You thought for a moment before answering.

"Yeah, I know," you replied quietly.

There was a noticeable lack of warmth and affection in your tone.

The air between you was still tense, the argument still unresolved and both of you still upset with each other.

As you two walked past the coffee aisle, you noticed how his eyes shifted to the small coffee packets.

He looked at them for a moment, a flicker of thought in his eyes.

For your part, you took a brand of coffee that you liked before you did the action of placing it in the shopping cart.

However, before you could put the coffee mix into the cart, Ratio snatched it from your hand.

He look at the packaging of the item for a moment, his eyes scanning the label.

"This one is too sweet," he said, still holding the packet in his hand.

You couldn't help rolling your eyes.

"I like it," you said in a defiant tone.

He ignored your reply and put the packet back on the shelf.

Instead, he recorded another packet from the shelf that was next to it.

It was a darker, stronger-looking mix than the one you wanted.

"This one is better," he said bluntly.

You grabbed another packet of the shelf by putting it in the shopping cart.

"We agreed that we were going to take turns for the brand," you said, trying to close the issue.

Ratio glanced at the packet you had put in the cart, and he frowned.

He grabbed it from the cart and put it back on the shelf.

"If I hadn't made you remember that we're out of coffee, you wouldn't care," he said, placing the instant coffee brand he liked in the cart.

You felt a sense of irritation rise up in you.

Why couldn't he accept your option when it was your turn to choose?

"Veritas, it's my turn to choose," you said firmly. "You should respect that."

Ratio just looked at you with a cold expression, as he put another packet of that coffee mix in the cart.

"I'm not going to waste money on a bad product," he said bluntly.

'He's behaving like this just because of the argument?', you thought.

You were starting to become frustrated with the whole situation.

First the unresolved argument in the middle of the street, and now he was acting like an annoying child just because he didn't like your coffee choice.

"You're behaving like a child," you said, looking straight at him.

His eyes met yours, and there was a hint of irritation in his expression.

"I'm not the one being ridiculous right now," he replied, his tone cold.

You took your hand to the bridge of your nose, sighing exasperately.

"You know what? Fine, choose that one."

Then you put the brand of coffee you liked inside the cart. "I'm going to pay for this with my money," you said, as you closed the conversation.

You knew it was a waste to buy two different brands of coffee, but you weren't going to fall behind on this.

Ratio looked annoyed by your stubbornness, but he didn't say anything.

You both walked in silence down the aisle looking for the remaining items.

The tension between you two was still palpable, and the air felt thick.

You glimpse at him from the corner of your eye, noticing how he was avoiding looking at you directly.

He looked slightly irked, his jaw clenched slightly.

You felt a bit annoyed seeing his expression, but you wouldn't say anything about it.

He had started all this.

Once you two finished shopping, you left the grocery store, handing out the bags to load, as you had never been a fan of seeing him carry all the shopping bags.

To great luck you had, it had started to rain.

As you stepped out of the store, you immediately felt the cold, damp air on your skin.

You shivered slightly, feeling the raindrops hit your face.

You look up at the sky, the rain falling harder now.

'This is just great,' you thought, feeling a mixture of annoyance and disappointment.

Ratio was by your side, looking equally as annoyed.

"Just perfect," he muttered, his voice low.

You both had to go back to the store so you could buy a simple umbrella.

Having the umbrella already, you started walking next to him.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been so obsessed with that coffee mix," you said, looking at him with a slight edge in your voice.

Ratio just gave you a look, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's not my fault you have such terrible taste in coffee," he replied.

You didn't answer, you just rolled your eyes.

You were going to keep walking, but your sight stopped in your shoes, your laces were untied, so you had to stop.

Once you knelt down so you could tie your shoes, you had to leave the shopping bags on the floor for a moment.

As you began to barely grab your shoe laces, you felt the rain start to wet you again.

You quickly raised your head, watching Ratio, who was carrying the umbrella, continue walking.

Oh, you really thought he would stop.

"Hey!" you called out to him.

Ratio seemed to realize that you had stopped and he stopped walking.

He turned around and looked at you, an impatient expression on his face.

"What," he said, his tone cold.

You gave him an annoyed look.

"You didn't notice that I had stopped," you replied.

Ratio rolled his eyes, an almost unnoticeable gesture, but you caught it.

"I thought you would catch up," he replied, his voice still cold.

"Well, I can't tie my shoes and run at the same time," You muttered.

With nothing else to add, he turned around and continued walking.

You haven't noticed that yet.

But once you've finished tying your shoe laces, you got up from the ground, grabbing the shopping bags you left on the floor.

You saw him much further away, almost a block away from where you were.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized that Ratio leave you behind.

You stayed there for a while, watching him walk, not even turning a little bit towards where you had stayed.

It was you and the heavy rain falling on you.

What a ridiculous thing. Again.

At least it would have been a nice time if you just liked the rain, but you didn't. You didn't like the rain, especially because you got sick easily.

And he knew that perfectly well.

You swallowed hard, before you started walking, without running or rushing your way to reach it.

'Idiot,' you thought.

You walked behind at a distance, keeping your head down.

Your clothes were already very damp, and you felt cold shiver run through your body.

The rain continued to fall heavily, making you feel more and more uncomfortable.

You shouted your teeth in irritation, frustrated that he had just left you behind like that.

He knew how much you disliked the rain, and yet he didn't care about it.

And why? Because you two had, again, an argument.

By the time you got to the apartment you shared with him, it took you a little bit to put the key in the lock, as your hands were shaking a little bit because of the cold.

Once you got in, you saw the bags he had on the table.

Oh, of course, he had arrived before you.

You walked inside, feeling your clothes sticking to your skin, drenched in rain.

You felt cold and tired, but you were too annoyed to do anything about it.

As you placed the bags in the table, you heard a noise coming from the bedroom. Probably Ratio who was changing clothes.

You didn't want to think about him right now, you just wanted go take a hot shower.

You started taking off your clothes, discarding them on the floor.

You then entered the bathroom, closing the door, and turned on the hot water on the shower.

The hot water streamed down on your body, warming you.

You stood under the water for a long moment, trying to warm yourself up, when you felt the door of the bathroom open.

Ratio stepped into the bathroom silently, taking off his clothes.

He walked over to the shower, opening the door, the hot water spraying on both of you.

You felt him behind you, his presence close to yours.

None of you said anything for a long moment.

The only sound was the water falling on your skin and the floor of the shower.

He was so close to you, physically but also so far away from you mentally. His chest just a few inches away from your back.

He put his hands on your waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your skin.

You felt a shiver run through your body, but not because of the cold.

His touch was slow, almost gentle.

But you moved, making his touch fade away.

Ratio noticed your movement, and he withdrew his hands from your waist.

You started washing your hair, ignoring the tension between you two.

He stayed there, just watching you, his gaze fixed on you.

You could feel his eyes on you as you washed your hair and body.

There was a tense moment of silence, as none of you spoke.

You didn't even look back at him, you didn't want to see his face.

The only sound was the water hitting your skin and the floor of the shower.

Until he spoke again.

"Do you want me to help you?" His voice came out calm, almost soft.

The question caught you a little bit on guard.

You didn't expect him to say that.

You remained still for a moment before answering.

"No, I can do it myself," you replied dryly.

You continued washing your hair, trying to ignore his presence behind you.

Ratio moved closer to you, standing right behind you.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his naked body just a few inches from yours.

He brought his hand to your hair, starting to massage the shampoo into your scalp.

His movements were gentle, almost tender.

Fuck. No matter how much you wanted to refuse his touch, you couldn't.

You were weak.

You felt his fingers massaging your scalp gently, and you involuntarily leaned back slightly into his touch.

This whole situation was messing with your head.

Here you were, showering with your boyfriend, with whom you had just had a pretty heated argument, and he was giving you such soft, tender touch.

You could almost forget your annoyance and anger at him. Almost.

Still, you stayed silent, not saying anything.

So as not to keep getting lost in his caresses, you finished washing yourself and left the shower.

Your feet wet the bathroom floor, as you walked into the bathtub, which you had filled with hot water.

You let yourself be immersed in the water, feeling your body relax.

Ratio finished washing his hair and body, and stepped out of the shower.

He turned off the water, recording a towel to dry himself.

He glanced at you in the bathtub, his eyes roaming over your water body.

He approached you.

He didn't say anything, but he looked at you, as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

"Can I go in too?" He dared to ask.

You looked at him, meeting his gaze.

His wet hair was falling over his green eyes, his face slightly flushed from the hot water.

You ended up nodding, not knowing where to move for, because you didn't know which side he wanted to sit on.

Ratio entered the tub quietly, moving to the opposite side of you.

You both stared at each other in silence, not knowing what to say.

There was a tension in the air, and the atmosphere felt so heavy.

You watched each other, your gazes locked together.

Then Ratio spoke.

"Come here" He said.

You flinched a little from his words, a bit surprised.

But his voice was gentle and almost tender, his eyes almost begging you to go near him.

You had tried to stay indifferent, but Ratio knew exactly what to say to get through to you.

Although at first you were reluctant, you ended up moving to his side of the bathtub.

You sat between his legs.

Ratio wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You felt his chest against your back.

His touch was light, almost reverently. His large hand moved over your stomach, tracing small circles over your skin.

He stayed silent, as if he were just enjoying the moment, having you in his arms.

You allowed yourself to lean on his chest, closing your eyes.

You sat there in silence, feeling Ratio's touch gently caress your stomach.

It was almost surreal, the way he was acting. As if the argument from before had been erased.

You began to relax into his arms, feeling the warm water of the tub, and his gentle caresses.

No words were spoken between you two, just the subtle sound of water.

His touch was almost soothing, and you felt the tension slowly slipping away.

You were definitely weak. And all because you loved your fiancé.

You had been patient, waiting every time he told you to wait.

There was something you had to tell him about, something that would change your life and his.

But as always, you had to be 'patient.'

You both were laying in the bed, in the dark silence of the night.

Ratio was asleep, while you laid there, wide awake.

You couldn't sleep, your mind filled with thoughts.

You had kept the information to yourself just because he had told you to wait patiently.

But you couldn't wait any longer. You had to tell him.

So you turned around, moving closer to him.

"Ratio." You called out his name in a low voice.

He stirred slightly at the sound of his name, his sleep disturbed.

He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the darkness.

Then he looked at you, his gaze a bit sleepy.

"What…?" He mumbled, his voice groggy with sleep.

You could tell he was a bit irritated at the fact that you had woken him up, but you tried to ignore his expression.

"I need to talk to you," you said, your voice low but firm.

Ratio groaned, but he sat up on the bed, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Can this wait until tomorrow?" He said, clearly still tired.

You shook your head, your eyes fixed on his face.

"No, it can't wait until tomorrow," you insisted.

Ratio sighed, clearly irritated that you were interrupting his sleep.

"Honey, yes, you can wait until tomorrow," he said, settling back in bed.

"I have to work in the morning,"

And yes, the same thing happened in the afternoon and at night. You even tried again after a few days, but the same thing happened.

But you assumed it was okay, because you tried to be understanding. You'd have time to tell him later.

You hated fighting, especially if it was about being inside the car.

There were always the grave silences.

It was horrible.

The whole situation was horrific in itself.

You remember the last time you argue, you were also shopping.

You were putting things inside the car, and once you and he finished doing it, Ratio headed to the driver's seat.

You were going to sit in the back seat, as you were too uncomfortable to sit in the co-pilot seat.

But just as you had opened the door, you closed it, because it was a call from work.

"Yes, I know, I left the reports in the first drawer… No, on the one on the left," you started talking, walking a few steps away from the car.

It took you almost five minutes to realize that the car was no longer behind you.

Actually, you wouldn't have noticed that he left, because you only did it when you turned around.

"Ah, yes, forgive me… right, okay, I'll call you in a while," you spoke, in a low voice, almost necessarily.

And you hung up the call, now looking at the empty place in the parking lot.

The car was gone. Ratio was gone.

You felt the heart stop in your chest.

You just stood there in the middle of the parking lot, alone.

You almost couldn't believe that he had done that yet again.

Leaving you behind after an argument. Again.

That day you had to walk home, not because it was dramatic, but because your bag had been left in the back seat of the car. You thought about ordering a taxi, but they still didn't deposit your payment.

When you got home, he wasn't there yet, which was strange to you.

After a few minutes, he walked into the apartment and seeing you on the couch, he came quickly and hugged you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice low.

Ratio held you tightly, burying his face in your hair.

You could feel his arms around you, holding you close, as if he was trying to keep you there.

What had really happened, is that when you closed the car door, he believed you were inside too. And because he was upset at the time, he didn't bother to see you through the rear-view mirror of the car.

And by the time he noticed and went back to the parking lot, you weren't there anymore.

You grabbed your seatbelt on you with one hand, touching and feeling the material under your fingertips.

"Why can't you be more responsible?"

He questioned.

His voice was cold and he looked annoyed, and there was no need to add that he was pissed.

"Can't I go to a party in peace without you lecturing me?"

You counterattacked him, returning the same hostility.

He let out a scoff, while making sure to concentrate on driving.

"You don't even know how to behave, or how to take care of yourself."

He shot you an accusatory glare.

You clenched your jaw tightly, barely containing your anger.

"I'm not a child, you know I can take care of myself just fine," you retorted through gritted teeth.

Ratio rolled his eyes, as if your statement was nothing but a foolish one.

"Please," he said, his tone mocking. "It's painfully obvious that you can't."

"Not like I need you to babysit me," you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ratio shot you an annoyed look before refocusing his gaze on the road.

"Obviously you do, considering the ridiculous decisions you make," he retorted, his voice filled with irritation.

You bristled at his comment, feeling your anger rise up.

"I don't need your constant lectures to know how to make decisions. I can manage my life just fine without your approval."

Ratio huffed, clearly not accepting your defiance.

"Clearly not, since you insist on continuing to act childish and irresponsible."

You wanted to snap back and tell him to mind his own business, but you held your tongue.

The ride continued in an icy silence, the tension in the car almost palpable.

Ratio kept his eyes fixed on the road, his face set in a stern expression.

You could feel his annoyance radiating off of him, but you refused to back down.

"Can't you just lighten up for once?" You finally broke the silence, letting your frustration show.

Ratio didn't look at you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"I would if I didn't have to deal with your foolishness every damn day."

The words stung, and your anger flared up anew.

"Oh, so it's my fault that you're always in such a rotten mood, huh?" You said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ratio let out a scoff, his patience clearly thinning.

"Perhaps if you acted like a proper adult, I wouldn't be so stressed all the time."

"I am acting like a proper adult," You snapped back, your temper starting to get the better of you.

Ratio gritted his teeth, his annoyance becoming more evident.

"And what, you want a pat on the back for that?" You clenched your fists, your irritation reaching new levels.

"Maybe I do. Maybe I deserve a bit of credit instead of getting lectured all the time."

Ratio huffed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Credit for what, exactly? Reckless behavior and lacking common sense?"

"Shut up, Veritas," You let go, with the feelings blossoming.

At those words, his irritation transforming into anger.

The air in the car became tense as the silence grew heavy.

"Excuse me?" He finally spoke his voice dropping an octave.

You knew you had crossed a line.

"I said shut up," you repeated.

"I can take care of myself and I know how to behave like a damn adult,"

Ratio abruptly pulled the car into the side of the road, parking the vehicle.

He turned to you.

"You truly think you're so capable, don't you?"

You met his gaze directly.

"I know I am," you retorted, your voice cold.

His gaze turned away from yours, looking forward.

"If that so then," you heard him mutter. But before you could answer that, you spoke again, this time in a tone of voice that you could understand clearly.

"Get out of the car,"

Your eyes widened in shock.

"What?"

You were taken aback by his words, not expecting him to say such a thing.

Ratio repeated his command, his voice firm.

"I said get out of the car. Now."

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing.

"But—"

"But nothing. Get out," Ratio cut you off, not allowing any further arguments.

His tone left no room for discussion.

"You can't be serious," you said, your voice shaking slightly.

But Ratio's expression was resolute.

"I am. Get out of the damn car."

You stared at him for a moment, feeling a wave of fear and anger mixed together.

The night air was cool, and the lack of streetlights made the deserted road feel even more isolated.

You instinctively brought a hand to your belly.

Then, you unbuckled your seatbelt with trembling hands.

Without saying a word, you opened the car door.

"Fine," you muttered, getting out of the car.

As you stood outside the vehicle, the cold wind hit you like a slap.

You looked back at Ratio, who was still seated inside, his expression unreadable.

"You said you can take care of yourself, right? So prove it." He said.

His words felt like a punch in the gut.

You looked around, noticing how deserted the area was.

You turned back to him, a mixture of anger and fear in your eyes.

"You can't seriously expect me to—" you started, but Ratio cut you off.

"You said you were an adult. Act like one."

And without waiting for an answer from you, he just started the engine, leaving you there.

The sound of the car engine growing fainter as it pulled away was like a dagger to your heart.

You were suddenly hit with the harsh realization of the situation.

You were alone in the middle of nowhere, with no other cars in sight.

The fear and anger you had felt earlier turned into a mix of anxiety and desperation.

You looked around, trying to figure out what to do next.

Again, your hand was directed at your belly.

You were scared for your safety.

Not to mention that the sudden, strong desire to cry was catching you.

You couldn't believe that Ratio had actually left you there, in the middle of nowhere.

You looked back at the road, silently hoping that Ratio would come back and tell you it was just a sick joke.

But deep down, you knew that wasn't the case.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly brushed them away, trying to hold them back.

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself.

While you were holding your hand in the same position as before, your thumb moved slightly, gently stroking the zone.

"It's okay," you said.

You didn't know how you did it, but you did, you were able to get to the apartment.

You had to walk a few blocks, because there was literally nobody in that area of the city.

That until you finally managed to order a taxi.

You're still somewhat anxious, because you really were lucky, those kinds of situations never go well.

You knocked on it and waited for a couple of seconds, until finally, the door opened, revealing Ratio with an irritated expression.

"You came back."

He said, his voice flat.

You didn't respond.

Instead, you pushed past him and entered the apartment, your heart was still racing.

You walked past him silently, but he closed the door behind you, then followed you.

The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the air conditioner.

With quick steps, you went to the main bathroom.

You closed the door behind you, leaning on the door as you felt like you were going to fall to the ground and cry.

You leaned against the cold surface, trying to catch your breath and calm the beating of your chest.

Tears filled your eyes once again, but this time you didn't hold back.

You didn't make any noise, but the tears were falling silently and unstoppably. Your throat burned.

He had left you alone on a deserted road, in the middle of nowhere, and for what?

To provide a point?

To teach you a lesson?

It was unfair, it was cruel, and it was hurtful.

You couldn't hold it in any longer, the tension and fear releasing themselves in shaky sobs.

You wished you had someone to be with you, to hug you. To love you.

Not even just a few moments later, there was a knock on the door.

The knocking made you freeze for a moment, as the sound cut through the quiet of the bathroom.

Ratio's voice came through the door.

"Are you okay in there?"

You quickly wiped your tears, not wanting him to see and hear you so vulnerable, even if he was the cause.

"Yeah," you said through the door, your voice strained and hoarse.

There was a long pause, and you could sense him hesitating on the other side of the door.

Finally, he spoke again.

"Can I come in?"

"No," You said, without letting your voice betray you.

Another pause, and you waited for him to argue.

But he didn't.

Instead, you heard his sigh from behind the door.

"Okay. But please come out when you're ready. We need to talk."

Without another word, he walked away from the bathroom door.

You listened to his footsteps retreating to the living room.

After a few minutes, you splashed your face with cold water, taking a few deep breaths before exiting the bathroom.

You walked to the living room, where you found Ratio sitting on the couch, his expression unreadable.

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for him to start talking.

Ratio gestured to the seat next to him, inviting you to sit down.

You hesitantly sat down next to him, keeping a distance.

The silence between you was charged with tension.

Ratio seemed to be struggling to find the right words, and every passing moment felt like an eternity.

Finally, he spoke, his voice serious.

"I just want to make it clear that I didn't mean any harm to you," he started.

You didn't respond, still feeling the hurt from his actions earlier.

Even though you were supposed to talk, you didn't want to.

You just wanted to rest, so you could relax a little bit.

Ratio could sense your lack of enthusiasm, but he pressed on.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

"Listen… I know that what I did was wrong, but-" he tried to speak, but you interrupted him with a look.

"No, no buts," you said, your voice firm.

"You left me there, on a deserted road, in the middle of nowhere. Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

Ratio wonced, clearly not expecting you to speak so directly.

You saw him open his mouth to say something else, but you spoke first.

"I want to sleep now," you said, so he understood you didn't want to have this conversation now.

Ratio's expression shifted.

But he didn't argue.

Instead, he nodded slowly, acknowledging your wish to end the conversation.

"Alright," he said softly.

You got up from the couch, walking to bedroom.

It might sound childish and all, but you didn't really want to share the bed with him.

So you grabbed your pillow and a blanket, as you left the bedroom.

You walked back into the living room, finding Ratio still sitting on the couch.

He watched as you made yourself a makeshift bed on the other couch with the pillow and blanket.

His eyes betrayed curiosity and confusion, but he didn't say anything.

You settled down on the makeshift bed, turning your back to him, signaling that you wanted to be alone.

Ratio stared at you for a moment longer, a mix of emotions etched on his face.

He seemed like he wanted to say something, but ultimately, he simply sighed again and returned his gaze forward.

He didn't try to persuade you to return to the bedroom.

You heard his footsteps away from the living room, which you mentally thanked.

You tried to sleep, settling on the couch.

The events of the day replayed on a loop in your mind, especially Ratio leaving you there.

You tried to push the thoughts away, but you couldn't.

Is that really the man you'd marry?

At this point, you didn't know if you loved your fiancé as much as before.

Three weeks had passed, and the events of that night had created an invisible barrier between you and Ratio.

There was constant tension in the air, and you often felt like you were tip-toeing around each other's emotions.

You continued to sleep on the couch in the living room, refusing to return to the shared bedroom.

Ever since the fight, you had been acting a bit distant with him.

Ratio hadn't apologed directly for the incident, but you knew he was sorry.

However, you could also see he didn't really know how to deal with the situation, so he mostly tried to avoid discussing it.

So Ratio seemed to be trying to mend things, offering small gestures such as bringing you coffee or suggesting you watch a movie together.

But you were still hurt, most of the time you flatly denies or just not taking the things he brought you.

Today, you were sitting on the couch, reading a book.

Ratio was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for both of you.

You could hear him moving around, the sounds of pots and pans clanking together.

It was a Saturday night, and neither of you had work tomorrow.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Ratio walked into the living room, holding two plates of food.

He placed one in front of you, while he sat down in the chair next to the couch.

Both of you started to eat in silence.

The lack of conversation was becoming awkward. The only sounds were the clinking of forks against the plates.

Ratio tried to start a conversation, clearing his throat.

"How was the book you're reading?" He asked, attempting to engage you.

You looked up from your plate, making eye contact with him for the first time that evening.

"It's… fine," you responded, keeping your voice neutral.

Ratio nodded, struggling to find something else to say.

The silence returned, and the air thickened with tension.

Ratio tried once more.

"Listen… I've been thinking a lot about what happened and-"

You cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Don't," you said, your voice firm.

Ratio blinked, surprised at your interruption.

"But-"

"I said don't," you repeated, looking back down at your plate.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Ratio closed his mouth, clearly taken aback by your response.

He set his fork down, and you could see the frustration in his expression.

"How long are you going to keep ignoring the issue?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes.

You knew where he was going with this conversation.

"…You're not even giving me a chance to explain," Ratio said, his frustration growing.

"Yeah, because I don't want to hear it," you retorted, your tone becoming harsher.

"You're being completely unfair, you know that?" He said, his voice rising.

"You're just acting like a goddamn child."

"How long are you gonna keep holding this over my head?" You said.

You dropped the fork on the plate half empty.

Ratio let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you really want to carry this resentment forever?"

He leaned back in his chair, looking straight at you. "I'm sorry for what happened, okay? I already said it. What more do you want from me?"

You clenched your jaw, irritation building up inside of you.

"You're sorry?" You repeated back in a mocking tone.

Ratio slammed his own plate down on the coffee table, clearly losing his temper.

"I'm trying to fix this, but you won't even give me a chance!"

"Fix this?" You shot back, leaning forward on the couch. "You're the one who screwed up in the first place!"

"I know that," Ratio said through gritted teeth.

"And I apologized, didn't I?"

You stood up from the couch, your body filled with frustration.

"A very nice behavior of yours to be sorry!," you stated.

Ratio stood up from his chair too, his hands clenching into fists.

"Fine, I'll say it again. I'm sorry for what I did."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

"I shouldn't have left you there alone. It was wrong of me. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was angry, and I took it out on you."

You stared at him.

"Oh, then you never think clearly?" You asked, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

"I said I was sorry!" Ratio exclaimed, his voice rising again.

"What more do you want from me? For me to grovel at your feet?"

You could see the anger and frustration in his eyes.

"Maybe some actual remorse and not just hollow apologies would be nice," you shot back.

Ratio's jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to you.

"You know what? I tried to be civil about this, but you're just acting like a spoiled brat. You're constantly playing the victim and never accepting any responsibility for your own actions."

You flinched at his words, feeling a pang of hurt in your chest.

"My own actions?" You echoed, your voice wavering.

"You're the one who put me in that situation in the first place. I was scared half to death, wondering if I was left to die there. And now, you have the audacity to pin all the blame on me?" Without even realizing it, you had started shouting.

You also approached him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" You spit, with one finger you pushed his chest as you spoke.

Ratio stumbled back a little, clearly not expecting your physical response.

He grabbed your wrist, holding it tightly. His grip was firm and bruising.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, or I-"

He stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes locking with yours.

The tension in the room was palpable.

You didn't back down, staring back at him defiantly.

You moved your arm backwards, causing it to release your wrist.

"You don't give a lot of fear," you let go.

"All the time, every time we fight, you didn't fail once," you started, as you held the wrist you'd grabbed before.

"You were always looking for something to make me feel bad. Were you punishing me? Or what the fuck was all that, Veritas?"

Ratio took a step back, his anger now mixed with shock at your words.

"Is that what you thought?" He asked, his voice taking on a bitter tone. "You thought I was punishing you? That I was trying to make you feel bad?"

You made a grimace.

"Oh, do you want me to remind you ones of the latest?" You asked, without waiting for an answer from him.

"You leave me in the parking lot, you refuse to make me food when you know I can't, I can never tell you something important, you threw me out of the car in the middle of nowhere," you continued.

"And what a coincidence, right? It's always after we argue!"

Ratio's expression darkened as you listed off the incidents.

He seemed to be struggling with his own anger and trying to find the right words.

"Those were all mistakes, accidents," he said through gritted teeth.

"You make it sound like I did it on purpose."

You laughed bitterly.

"Accident?" You repeated, shaking your head.

"Then you're just careless, that's it? You just keep making these accidents, and I'm supposed to pretend it's all fine?"

Ratio winced, clearly feeling the weight of your words.

"I didn't say it was fine," he replied defensively.

You could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Yes, I made mistakes, and I hurt you. But I'm trying to apologize and fix things, and you're just wallowing in self-pity and refusing to give me a chance!"

You were taken aback by his tone.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Self-pity?" You repeated, feeling a sense of anger boiling within you.

"You're the one who's in denial here! You keep pretending like it's all my fault."

You stepped closer to him, your voice raising.

"You're trying to shift the blame on me instead of acknowledging your own actions!"

You were going to continue, but you felt something strange in your belly, which made you remember.

"I was so excited to tell you something I imagined would change our lives!" You started.

"And what did you say? 'No, not now, tomorrow'"

"You had me with that for weeks!"

Ratio's eyes widened at your words, his jaw clenched tightly.

"So that's what this is about?" He retorted, his voice bitter. "You got mad at me just because I didn't want to talk right that moment?"

He took a step closer to you, his figure towering over you.

"I was tired and stressed, and you were pestering me with something so trivial."

You felt a pang of hurt hearing him call your news trivial.

"Trivial?!!" You exclaimed, your eyes brimming with tears.

"I didn't think you'd be this self-centered, Veritas," You said, your voice wavering.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"I can't believe I'm going to marry such a person,"

Ratio's expression flickered for a moment.

"You're seriously questioning our relationship because of these stupid fights?" He said, his voice rising in frustration. "Are you that eager to give up on us?"

He ran a hand through his hair, looking at you with a mixture of anger and desperation.

Seeing that you didn't respond, he felt like he was on the edge of a cliff.

"If that's what you want, go ahead!"

"I don't want to marry someone like you either," Now he was talking to try to defend his frustrating desire to cry that he had.

His words stung like a blade.

"Fine then!" you said, your voice shaking.

You held back tears, determined to maintain your composure.

"Maybe we shouldn't get—"

"Maybe we shouldn't get married at all?"

Ratio finished your sentence, his voice trembling slightly.

He clenched his jaw, trying to hide the turmoil of emotions inside him.

"Go on then," he said, "Say it."

You took a deep breath, trying to control the lump in your throat.

The room was filled with the weight of your words, and a suffocating silence fell between you two.

"Maybe we shouldn't—" You repeated it, but before you could complete the phrase, a stabbing pain was centered on your belly.

You immediately took your hand there, letting out a slight scream.

Ratio immediately reacted to your cry.

He was started by the sound you made, and any remaining anger in his eyes faded to concern.

You saw him coming up and talking to you, but you didn't hear him.

With fear and pain you brought your eyes down feeling blood go through your legs.

Now the tears that hadn't fallen before, were deliberately starting to fall down your face.

You couldn't even tell him that you were pregnant, because probably after this, you're no longer pregnant.

Ratio's eyes widened in shock and horror as he realized the situation.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you, guiding you to sit on the couch.

Panic and fear overwhelmed him as he saw the blood staining your trousers and the tears streaming down your face.

His hands trembled as he took out his phone, dialing a number with shaky fingers.

You looked up for a moment, it was as if your ears had been covered for a moment.

At any other moment you could have made fun of him, because after all he was entering the panic, when you were sure that he had witnessed many cases like this, because after all, he was a doctor.

You saw him talking on the phone as he started running around the apartment, grabbing the car keys.

You wish you could have laughed at that moment.

Ratio was now in a state of complete panic, but he had to maintain some composure to take care of you.

He ended the call with the emergency services, quickly returning to your side.

His hands trembled as he tried to reassure you, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated again and again, trying to calm both you and himself. After all, those were the only words you came to understand at that blurry moment.

You didn't know what you would do now, you didn't know what he would do now.

The only thing you knew at the time was that after this, you would hate your fiancé.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify or feed into ai

[authorhjk1]

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Some of eunha black dress, feel free to pick any, she looks amazing

Black

(Eunha X Male Reader)

You kiss Eunha's neck, while listening to Umji. The latter is currently working on making dinner, while Eunha is struggling not to whine and complain.

She deserves this punishment. You didn't expect her to be such a naughty girl, but Umji caught her in the act and told you all about it, with a satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Are you already done cutting that?"

You motion towards the vegetables, which Umji put to the side as she is now turning on the stove.

"I am."

Umji turns around, her eyes focused on Eunha's face.

"I like it thick."

Her whispered words make the poor girl let out a small mewl. Your left hand keeps holding onto her chest, giving her tits occasional squeezes through the black fabric. Your right is lying on her center, giving her exposed clit some lazy rubs.

But the most agonizing part for Eunha is your dick. She can feel it between her thighs. Your slow, shallow thrusts have her dripping wet. But you aren't fucking her pussy. No. This is her punishment. And her thighs definitely rival her pussy in tightness and smoothness. Especially when her slick is slightly lubricating her skin.

Another playful bite of yours makes Eunha gasp. Umji chuckles with an evil glint in her eyes. You feel how her full thighs squeeze your cock. Your thrusting makes your own toes curl. But you would never admit to Eunha how great her thighs feel. If you would, she would start wearing skirts and shorts that would expose them completely. Even in public.

For a moment, you like the idea. Always having a full view of her legs would definitely improve your day to day life. But then again, you'd have the urge to squeeze and dig your fingers into them 24/7. Or you would fuck them, whenever you want. Which brings us back to the here and now.

You kiss Eunha's neck, while watching Umji. The latter has just dumped the noodles into the pot with the boiling water in it.

"O-Oppa, please..."

Her desperate whine makes you smile.

"Umji told me how much you love watching us. I can't believe you actually hid a camera in her room, just so you can touch yourself, while I make her my toy."

"Oppa... I-I will be a good toy too. Pretty please?"

Despite Umji's back facing you, you can guess where her free hand has gone, while the other is holding onto the pot. You give one of Eunha's mounds a rougher squeeze, which makes her gasp.

"I still can't believe you spied on us."

You raise your hips a little. Your next thrust penetrates the gap between her thighs dangerously close to her pussy. Her hitched breath shows you that she is very aware of what you just did.

"J-Just because I love you so much, oppa."

"Do you really?"

With her back turned towards you, you can't see her face, but Eunha nods.

"Yes. I just wish you'd use me more."

Her desperate, almost hurt tone, gives you a slight feeling of sympathy. She is right. You've been hanging out with the others quite often recently.

"Alright then. The two of us will spend some alone time after dinner."

A happy squeal makes Umji turn around.

"But oppa! I want you too."

You let out a sigh. Sometimes, this is harder than it looks. So you should focus on the task at hand for now.

"We will arrange something later."

With that, you take a hold of Eunha's waist with both hands. You see her placing her own on the surface of the counter she is staying behind. Your thrusts between her thighs become faster. Harder. You've had enough for now anyway. The slow stuff isn't for you at all.

Soon, you're actually fucking her thighs. You make her body rock back and forth. Her pussy keeps her thighs lubricated, her juices steadily flowing down in small streams. The clapping of your hips against her ass fills the room, drowning out the boiling water.

Umji hass given up on cooking dinner. She is watching you using Eunha's thighs for your own pleasure, while shamelessly playing with herself underneath her skirt.

"Damn, Eunha. I'd love to fuck these all day."

You growl into her ear, your fingers now digging into them at the front. Eunha whines. This is way too much torture for her. How could she take this? Your cock almost grazing her lips, but not plunging into her needy cunt?

"C-Can you....just the tip?"

Her desperate tone and that pathetic question makes you laugh at her. You give her cheek a kiss.

"Later. This is still punishment."

But you know that this punishment won't be going on for much longer. Eunha's thighs are just in a league of their own.

"I'm gonna cum, Eunha."

You whisper into her ear, making her shudder.

"Yes please, oppa. Use me as a canvas. Please. My thighs..."

Her eyes are closing as Eunha feels your thrusts becoming harsher and faster. She feels your cock throbbing between her legs.

And then, you stop right between them. Right underneath her center.

"Fuck."

Another growl into her ear makes her gasp as your cum paints her thighs. Her smooth skin is now all sticky as you keep thrusting between the gap of her thighs. You go slow again, riding out your orgasm. Your bodyweight presses her small body against the counter.

"Thank you for punishing me, oppa."

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt4) | Leah Williamson

You and Leah finally met up again, nerves and laughter mixing as you both tried to hide how excited you were. warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 pt5 my masterlist

Leah had been glued to her phone all morning and part of the afternoon. She’d gotten used to it over the past few days, anxiously waiting for a message or call from you. The last interaction had been the previous night, when Leah tried calling you a couple of times after hearing about your elimination at Berlin. She hadn't been successful; you had rejected all the calls. Even though you were a bit calmer by then,  you didn't want to feel or hear Leah's sympathy. Not yet.

At least you left her a goodnight message, saying you were trying to process the tough day you'd had. But that wasn’t enough for Leah. She needed more than a brief text; she wanted to hear your voice, to know you were really okay. The waiting and worrying were driving her crazy, and she kept checking her phone, hoping for a sign that you were ready to talk.

At least the photo shoot that morning had kept Leah busy for a couple of hours, providing a brief distraction from her constant worry. But she knew that once she got home, she'd be checking her phone again, hoping to hear from you.

She had just said goodbye to her staff and was about to get in her car when her phone started buzzing. Without even checking to see if it was you, she quickly got into the car and felt a wave of relief when she saw your name pop up in her notifications. 

Her relief turned to confusion when she opened the message and saw a picture of the front of Emirates Stadium.

"This is the famous home of London's biggest club?"

"I asked a guy and he said I was wrong, that I should go west."

"Isn't this Stamford Bridge?"

Leah bit her lip to keep from smiling. She was getting more and more used to your quirky sense of humor and sarcastic comments.

"You're into comedy now?" Leah quickly typed into her phone, not yet getting what was going on.

"You wish."

Before Leah could respond, another photo popped up, immediately followed by a message.

"Do you think if I ask for it they'll give it to me?" The picture showed a huge banner with Leah's face on it.

"I'm a big fan."

That's when it hit her. Were you really in London? Already? You were just playing in a tournament in Germany yesterday.

Leah looked out the window of her car, seeing the same sky that was starting to darken, just like in the photo you had sent.

"What the hell? You're here?"

Leah couldn't hold back her excitement. Without waiting for your reply, she dialed your number. Without waiting for your reply, she called you. As the phone rang, she started her car and plugged in her phone.

"Hello?" Leah could hear the smile in your voice.

"I can't believe it," Leah said, nervously running a hand through her hair.

"What? That I'm your fan?"

"I already knew that," Leah replied, pulling out of the parking lot. "Stay where you are, I'm like twenty minutes away."

"Make it fifteen."

Leah became a bundle of nerves as soon as she got out of her car. This was only the second time you’d be seeing each other in person, and the first time alone. She walked around for a while, until she finally spotted you taking pictures. Feeling awkward and unsure of how to approach, she was glad your back was turned. 

Leah opened her mouth to say your name, but nothing came out

This time was different from the first. You knew each other now, had chatted about all sorts of things, and shared some nice moments over video calls. You weren’t strangers anymore.

Meanwhile, you were completely unaware of Leah behind you, busy taking pictures. Satisfied with your shots, you stepped back and bumped into someone. You turned quickly, ready to apologize (or snap if it was some weirdo). But like Leah, you were left speechless.

Neither of you said anything at first, the tension thick in the air. Leah’s nervous smile matched yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

Leah thought your laughter was even more contagious in person than over the phone, and she immediately started laughing too.

"What are you doing standing there like a stalker?" you asked once you both calmed down a bit.

"Actually, by standing here I'm protecting you from any stalkers."

"Woah, how gentlemanly of you," you said with a grin.

"Yeah, I know," Leah replied, flashing a smile. She held your gaze, looking down at you since you were only slightly shorter than her.

"Don't look at me like that," you said, laughing nervously again and giving her a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"I’m making you nervous?" Leah asked, genuinely curious. She had seen you go through other emotions before, but had never seen you nervous. The two of you had shared so many video calls, but this was different.

"Yes," you admitted, shoving your hands into your pockets. You glanced around and wrinkled your nose. "This is your place... it's a little intimidating, realizing how big you are here and what your image represents. I hadn't really taken it all in until now."

Leah tilted her head slightly, trying to understand. "What do you mean?"

"You," you said, looking back at her. "You're not just Leah to everyone here. You're a big deal. Talking to you has been... Well, like I’m just talking to Leah. But now that I'm here, seeing everything with your face in it, it's like, 'Whoa, this is who I've been staying up all week chatting with.'"

Leah felt a warmth in her chest at your words. She never thought of herself that way.

"I don't think it's anything to make a big deal about," Leah replied, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

"Of course not, Captain Williamson," you retorted, rolling your eyes. Leah's body trembled slightly at your playful jab.

"Well, you're a big deal to me too, you know. And right now, I’m just Leah." Leah continued.  "I've seen your face on giant billboards too, you know."

You were about to respond, but Leah turned to you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Where are you staying?"

"Ah," you chuckled, noticing the not-so-subtle change in topic. "I have a room booked at one of the downtown hotels."

"Are you with your team?"

"No, we're taking a few days off," you said, avoiding mention of yesterday's dressing room incident, which had caused the current situation. Nor did you want to bring up your recent appointment with your therapist a couple of hours ago.

"So I assume you messaged me because you got lost and don't know how to get back to your hotel?" Leah asked, heading back towards where she had parked her car.

"Actually, yes," you lied. You knew your way around London, but Leah didn't need to know that. "I just didn't feel like going straight back to the hotel, so I've been wandering around all afternoon."

"And you still don't want to go back?"

"I just don't want to be alone."

"Can I suggest something?"

You smiled at Leah's offer.

The drive to Leah's house was quiet, mostly because halfway there you had drifted off to sleep. It had been a long day, or rather, two long days: the morning flight, the session with your psychologist, the extensive walk around town, and everything that had transpired the day before. It was a lot to handle in such a short span of time.

Leah's car smelled like her, a comforting scent that started to ease your stress. She knew when to stay silent, creating a soothing vibe that made relaxation inevitable.

As you slept, however, Leah couldn't shake a bit of guilt. Maybe you just needed to rest, and here she was, possibly dragging you along to plans that might not even interest you.

When you woke up after she parked outside her house, Leah turned to you with a gentle concern in her eyes.

"Are you awake now?" she asked softly. "I can drop you back at your hotel if you'd rather."  she offered, still buckled into her seatbelt, confident that you'd want to leave.

"What?" you mumbled, sitting up straight and blinking to clear the sleep from your eyes. 

"You look exhausted, Y/n," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of worry. Her gaze was gentle, trying to read the emotions behind your tired face.

"I'm just exhausted, but I know I won't feel any better alone in that hotel, believe me," you said, trying to reassure her and convince her it wasn't a bad idea.

Leah's concern deepened as she took in your tired demeanor. After a few moments of contemplation, she took a deep breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt. 

"Well, let's go then," she said softly, her voice carrying a touch of warmth.

Leah's home wrapped around you with a scent even more intense than the scent of her car. The place had a cozy charm.

"I wasn't expecting a guest, so if you find anything strange, just ignore it, please," Leah chuckled nervously as she led the way inside.

"It's lovely," you grinned, following her inside. It was fascinating to explore the place you had only seen through a screen before.

"Thank you," Leah said, heading towards her kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you'd be at Leah Williamson's house, sitting down to a hearty meal of potato smiley faces and chicken nuggets, you would have probably raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Is this your idea of gourmet food?" you chuckled, eyeing your plate—it looked straight out of a children's menu.

"Absolutely," Leah said with a grin, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine. "I did promise to treat you, after all." 

The cozy kitchen and Leah's relaxed demeanor made you feel at ease.

"Well, you basically dragged me along."

"Hey, don't put it like that," said Leah pouting. "I gave you the option of taking you back to your hotel."

"I'm just messing with you, Leah," you said with a laugh, gently taking the bottle of wine from her hands to pour the glasses. "But seriously, this dinner is going to be a memory I'll cherish."

"I feel like you're making fun of me," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"No, I'm serious," you replied warmly. "It's actually kind of sweet. I've never had this before."

"I just had to toss the potatoes on a tray, you know?" she said, chuckling softly, brushing off any praise.

"Come on, just take the compliment, Leah."

Leah chuckled softly and settled into the chair across from you, taking a bite of a potato with a thoughtful expression."So... Can I ask why you're here?"

"You invited me," you replied casually, flashing a grin.

"I'm not talking about that..."

"Ah," you replied casually, popping a nugget into your mouth. "I just had a bit of a breakdown... they're making me take these days off now, which I'm actually enjoying a lot," you admitted, locking eyes with Leah. "I've been in therapy the whole year, having regular sessions, but it's been weeks since I last talked to my therapist. Well, until today.”

"And? How did your session go?"

“Well… I’m definitely drained, that’s for sure,” you admitted with a sigh, setting down your glass of wine. “We talked a lot about managing stress and pressure, trying to find new ways to cope.”

Leah nodded sympathetically, her gaze steady on you. "It sounds tough."

"Yeah, it is," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But I think I'm making progress. It's just taking time, but I'm starting to figure out how to handle all the pressure"

"I'm glad you're taking care of yourself, it's important. You can talk to me too, I also know what it's like to live surrounded by pressure constantly. Maybe it’s not the same but-”

“It is,” you said with a smile, gratefully at her gesture. "Thanks, Leah. It means a lot.”

After finishing, you both moved the talk to the couch, ready to open another bottle of wine.

"You know what?” you said, sinking into the cushions and stretching out your legs comfortably “I'd love to watch you play football sometime."

Leah chuckled, settling beside you and pouring wine into glasses. "Really? You think I'd impress you on the field?"

"You never know," you teased, nudging her playfully. "It would be fun to see another side of you."

"I thought you'd rather watch Chelsea," Leah said with a mischievous grin, her feet up on the couch, almost brushing against yours.

Both of you were clearly enjoying the evening, the warmth of the wine adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

"I can always watch you when you're playing against Chelsea," you replied with a playful smirk.

Leah fell silent for a moment, her gaze drifting away before she asked softly, "And who would you support?"

"Don't you remember I'm your biggest fan?" you replied with a smile, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "Of course, I'd support you. I mean it, I'd love to see you out there on the field, doing what you love”

Leah's cheeks flushed again, a mix of embarrassment and something warmer she couldn't quite name. She hoped you would attribute it to the wine rather than your words.

"My head is starting to hurt," Leah murmured, her words slightly rushed as she tried to distract herself. "Would you mind staying here? But if you want I can call a-"

"Of course not," you reassured her with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. You leaned back, already feeling a bit dizzy from the wine's effects. "Or am I not allowed to stay?" you teased with a playful smile.

You were beginning to enjoy how flustered Leah was getting, it was adorable that she didn't seem to realize her feelings might be mutual. Unless you were completely misreading all her signals, there was a palpable tension between you.

"I'll get the guest room ready for you then," Leah said softly,a slight stumble in her step as she headed towards the room.

The next morning, Leah woke to the sound of your phone ringing from the other room. Rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep, she tiptoed barefoot out of her own bedroom and quietly made her way across the hallway to the guest room. Pushing the door open gently, Leah's heart fluttered as she found you under the covers, peacefully asleep.

Leah glanced at the screen and recognized your coach's name flashing on your phone.

"Y/n," she whispered in a hushed tone, gently shaking your shoulder to wake you. "Your phone," she urged, giving you a firmer shake this time.

The ringing stopped just as your eyes blinked open, adjusting slowly to the morning light.

"Huh?" you said, a little disoriented by the strange room. You turned towards Leah, her face soft and concerned. It took you a few seconds to remember why you were there. "Leah- Good morning" you said quickly, a little embarrassed, straightening up in bed. 

"Your phone," Leah repeated, her voice soft as she tried to get your attention, but you were too distracted. Now fully awake, you couldn't help but notice Leah standing there in just sweatpants and a bra

Leah looked a little puzzled as your mouth hung open and your eyes slowly trailed down from her face to the rest of her body. It was then that she realized she hadn't bothered to put on a shirt before waking you up.

"Good morning," you repeated quickly, pulling your gaze away with a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"I wouldn't mind waking up like this more often," you thought to yourself, a slight grin tugging at your lips.

"I'm sorry," Leah apologized, unsure exactly what she was apologizing for. "Your phone was ringing, and you just wouldn't wake up."

"I'm a heavy sleeper," you mumbled, rubbing your face sleepily. The thought of staying in bed longer was tempting.

"Maybe it was important. You should check... while I get breakfast ready," Leah suggested before stepping out of the room.

When you entered the kitchen, you couldn't help but pout slightly upon seeing Leah now wearing a shirt. She stood at the stove, her back turned as she hummed a soft tune. 

You couldn't resist the urge to approach her quietly, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and affection. You tiptoed closer and gently rested your chin on her shoulder.

"What are you cooking?" you whispered softly, surprised by how calmly Leah received your presence.

"An omelet," Leah replied, her attention fully on not burning the omelet. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah, it smells good," you replied.

You fell silent again as Leah flipped the omelet. 

"You smell good," she said casually, her attention still on the pan, showing no sign of embarrassment.

"I haven't showered yet," you blurted out, feeling yourself blush. It was nice to hear such words, even in that context.

"You ruined the moment," Leah teased, a smile playing on her lips as she shook her head and gently nudged you away. "Go sit down." 

Leah carefully slid the omelet onto your plate and set it down beside a steaming cup of coffee. She then placed the same in her plate and took a seat next to you.

"Is it alright that I made you coffee?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"If you're trying to keep me awake, it's exactly what I need," you murmured, taking a sip from the cup. "Delicious," you said with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the warmth spreading down your throat.

Leah smiled warmly as she picked up her fork and began to eat.

"What time do you have to leave?" she asked casually, glancing at you with curiosity.

"Are you kicking me out already?" you countered with a playful grin spreading across your face. Leah rolled her eyes playfully.

"That was your coach calling, I guess he wants you back already," she clarified with a hint of worry.

"No, I think Lucas is having the time of his life with these days off," you commented, relishing the taste of the omelet. "Damn, this is good. I didn't know you could cook," you exclaimed, taking another enthusiastic bite.

"It's just eggs," Leah shrugged.

"Well, it's the best omelet I've ever had," you praised sincerely.

"You're such a smooth talker," Leah laughed, her laughter filling the room. Her joyful demeanor was starting to win you over more and more.

"It's my talent," you joked, finishing off the last bite of the omelet. "Anyway, Lucas just wanted to check in, make sure everything's cool and that I didn't do anything too risky that could affect me physically with the tournament coming up."

"Sounds reasonable," Leah nodded thoughtfully, cutting half of her omelet and adding it to your plate. She had a feeling you enjoyed it, maybe because omelets weren't something you ate often.

"I'm so happy," you said, savoring every bite. "Remind me to have this every day when I'm away."

“So, what are you up to today?" Leah asked, curious about your plans.

"Uh," you mumbled as you wiped your lips with a napkin. "I actually wanted to learn something new, since I'm now banned from going near a tennis racket,"  you added quietly.

"What do you want to learn?" asked Leah curiously, setting down her coffee cup.

"Teach me how to play football!" you exclaimed with an excited smile, leaning forward eagerly.

"What?" Leah asked, caught off guard and nearly choking on her coffee.

"Yeah! I want to learn. I'm pretty sure I can't even kick a ball properly—oh! oh! Teach me how to head it. I've always wanted to try," you continued enthusiastically.

Leah shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "But you said your coach didn't want you doing risky things."

"Come on, Leah, it's football.” your eyes sparkling with determination “How dangerous could it be?"

"Ouch! Red! Yellow! Foul! Foul!" you groaned dramatically from the ground, clutching your ankle.

Leah folded her arms, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she looked down at you. "I barely touched you," she said, kicking the ball back and forth with her foot.

She had effortlessly taken the ball from you, causing you to lose your balance and tumble to the ground.

Leah started out playing gently with you, almost as if she were playing with a child, letting you have your way. However, as she heard your teasing comments about how easy it was, her competitive spirit kicked in.

"Another goal," she declared triumphantly, kicking the ball into the small goal set up in her backyard. "What's the score now, like 10-2?" she asked with a playful smirk, hands on her hips, looking down at you still sprawled on the ground.

You groaned, realizing she wasn't holding back anymore. Her playful demeanor had shifted into full-on competition, and you were loving every minute of it.

"Call an ambulance," you groaned, your voice strained with pain, eyes tightly shut.

Leah's heart skipped a beat as worry flooded her. You seemed genuinely hurt, and she felt a pang of guilt for possibly causing it. She hurried over, her mind racing with concern, and knelt down beside you on the grass.

"Where does it hurt?" Leah asked, her hand gently touching yours. You opened your eyes and looked at her, seeing the worry in her expression.

"It's just... here," you said, then quickly pounced on her, effortlessly knocking her down. "Gotcha, Williamson," you teased with a grin, enjoying Leah's confused expression.

It took Leah a moment to process what had happened. Suddenly, she found herself lying on her back on the grass with you sitting on her abdomen, legs straddling her, in a playful and unexpected turn of events.

"Damn, Y/n, you scared me," Leah said, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"You'll need a lot more to break me down," you replied proudly, unaware of Leah's hands sneaking closer to your body. Suddenly, tickles sent waves of laughter through you. "Leah! No! Stop!" you managed to protest between laughs, attempting to fend off her tickling hands but finding it hard to resist in your laughter-filled state.

"It's the least you deserve!" Leah exclaimed, her smile mischievous. "You nearly scared me to death!" She took advantage of your moment of weakness to flip you over, switching positions. Now, it was your back against the grass with Leah sitting on top of you. 

Before you could react, Leah swiftly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, securing them to the ground. Her eyes sparkling with a hint of playful affection.

Both of you were breathing heavily,cheeks flushed from all the laughter and movement of the past few minutes. Leah let out a sigh, and you felt a surge of anticipation as her face moved closer to yours. Your heart raced with anticipation, thinking she might kiss you. But instead, you felt Leah's forehead gently rest against yours.

"Don't play with me like that," she whispered softly.

You froze as her breath tickled your lips, her nose brushing against yours, and her perfume surrounding you. The gentle brush of her nose against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

"Leah..." you murmured, feeling her grip on your wrists tighten at the sound of her name.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," she whispered, pulling back slightly from your forehead but not releasing her hold.

Your eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken feelings. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, a shiver running through you as you felt Leah's gaze fixed on your lips.

"Do you mind if I..." she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was the moment you had been secretly yearning for. It was the confirmation of the deep feelings stirring within you every time Leah crossed your mind. All you wanted and needed was to feel her lips against yours.

"Leah," you said impatiently, nodding eagerly as your head moved up and down a few inches.

Leah took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on yours, filled with a mixture of hesitation and longing as she leaned in closer. 

You felt her lips brush against yours, the brief contact sending a thrill through you. But just as the kiss was about to deepen, the doorbell rang.

In the blink of an eye, Leah pulled away, releasing your hands and creating an abrupt distance between you. 

"Fuck," you muttered, frustration and desire mixing in your voice, as you were left alone in the backyard with your heart racing.

[sorcerersseestars]

love sweet, taste bitter

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

To you, Gojo Satoru is your silly, loving boyfriend. But Gojo Satoru is also the strongest sorcerer in the world, and that comes with its risks—for both you and him. When his Infinity fails to activate, your mission takes a turn for the worse.

Aka one of you gets hurt, and the other has to bear it.

Warnings: injuries and violence, a gun is used, blood loss, hidden inventory arc spoilers, fight btwn Gojo and reader, reader implied to be shorter/smaller than Gojo, slightly suggestive (not rlly), lowkey a lot of kissing tho??, bad communication skills, emotional whiplash bc gojo doesn't know what to do w his feelings

Word count: 9.2k

*Gojo and reader are in their early 20s

"Cursed technique reversal: red,” Gojo calls out casually, lazily flicking his right index finger at his target.

The curse—hardly an intelligent one, far from being special-grade—stares at the brilliant light with bulging eyes. It's a deer in the headlights, transfixed by Gojo’s power and paralyzed with fear. You can only imagine how that would feel.

You tear your eyes away from the sight of the curse disintegrating into nothing. It's not as gruesome as most curse exorcisms, considering the potency of Gojo’s attacks, but the curse’s expression fading into nothingness still makes your skin crawl. You almost pity the horrible creature.

In comparison to the macabre scene you just witnessed, Gojo's enthusiastic noise of approval nearly gives you whiplash.

"Another job well done by yours truly!" Gojo grins, giving you two thumbs up. "Now let's hurry before that new boba place closes. You said you really wanted to try it, right?"

It takes you a moment to respond, your mind still processing how insanely fast your boyfriend was able to eradicate a threat that would have taken you both a good strategy and a fair bit of time to exorcise. It took practically no effort for Gojo to eliminate, and you know that he fears no curse. For you, fear grips you each time you face off with a curse, no matter how big or small. It doesn't feel fair.

Your fingers curl into a fist as you struggle with your emotions, frustrated with yourself. When you look to him, beyond his shades and into his powerful eyes, something akin to envy pulls at your gut. It makes you feel sick—you're viewing him in the way everybody else sees him. But when he walks toward you, smiling so wide that he looks goofy, your thoughts of his abilities melt away and are replaced by an affection so strong that your chest hurts.

His eyes are so beautiful, their perpetual sparkle even visible from under the dark film of his shades. His cheeks are tinged pink from your constant gaze on him, and it still amazes you that you have the ability to make him fluster at all. His lips are stretched into a toothy grin, his eyes crinkling along in genuine happiness. Your stunning boyfriend that you still can't believe ever gained an interest in plain old you.

That's right. To you, he's not the Honored One, he's not Gojo Satoru. He's just your boyfriend, just your Satoru. Just your boyfriend who is obsessed with anything sweet.

You roll your eyes lightly, a small chuckle bubbling up in your throat, “You mean, the place you've been begging to go to all week?"

He walks to your side, sighing loudly as he approaches. His deft fingers subtly adjust his sunglasses, pulling them down in an attempt to garner your sympathy. The expression on his face is priceless—the strongest sorcerer in the world is pouting because you insinuated you might not want milk tea.

"Don't be so mean, sweets!” He whines. "You said you wanted to try it out, too.”

“Hm, did I now?” You say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I don’t recall.”

He steps closer, towering over your smaller form. When you dwell on that thought, you suppose you should be scared. You see him brutally destroy curses, leaving no trace of their existence behind. He could do that to you, if you wanted to.

Even knowing that, you aren’t scared.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel his strength through the solid grip he has on you—his arms lovingly cage you in.

Even though he’s done this many times before, your breath still catches in your throat, and your heart races at the proximity.

“C'mon, l know you've been craving brown sugar boba all week... And they even have that tiramisu flavor you go crazy for…”

He nuzzles in close to your neck, warm breath fanning down your nape. When he's this close, you can't resist anything—and he knows it, too.

You sigh as if he's ruffled your feathers, but you can't help but let the chuckle you’ve been holding in escape past your upturned lips.

“Do they have cheese foam?" You hum.

You yelp as his fingers dig into your side—and then your entire body is wracked with heaving, boisterous laughter.

"What a silly question. Of course they do! Only the amateurs lack the essential toppings,” He shakes his head playfully. “Any more funny business out of you, and you'll get punished again."

You twist around in his grasp to face him. Your hand reaches up to ease his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, putting his vibrant blue eyes and pale lashes on display.

“You're so pretty it's unfair,” You pout. "Leave some for the rest of us."

"And yet everyone's always trying to steal you away from me," He counters.

"Says the head-turner," You say with a smile full of your adoration for him. “Haven't you noticed that the rest of the population—myself included—never has all eyes on them when entering a room?"

He shrugs, “How would I know? You think my eyes are on anyone else once I see you?"

The insinuation has heat and electricity coursing through your entire body. He wears a smirk as if he can feel the flames licking your skin. You lower your gaze, suddenly shy.

A warm hand cups your check, gently nudging your face close to his. Your eyes instinctively flit up to his, drinking him in.

His eyes are bright behind his shades. You laugh softly when his shades fully slide down to the edge of his nose as he lowers his head to yours.

“Makin’ fun of me, babycakes?” He pretends to pout, but his tone is playful and warm.

“Maybe,” You tease. “I mean, you are freakishly tall and have glow in the dark eyes. And you call me all sorts of weird names.”

“You–!” He gasps. “You are such a rascal, y’know that? A fiend, even!”

“Mmm,” You hum, humoring him. “Well, would such a fiend as myself do…this?”

You lean in, savoring the warmth of his hands on you. His skin, smooth from its lack of wear due to his Infinity, skates across your skin effortlessly. Your lips are about to touch his, only inches away from bliss, when you both are caught off guard.

There’s a loud bang. So loud, in fact, that your ears ring as soon as the sound waves hit your eardrums. You stagger back from Gojo, crouching down and immediately covering your ears with your hands. You look up at your boyfriend, expecting to exchange confused glances, and are not prepared in the slightest for the scene in front of you.

His eyes are blown wide, shades now missing. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead and all color has drained from his face. His expression quickly crumples, lips parting and yet no sound escapes him.

A shudder runs through you—something is very wrong.

Then his shaky hands begin to move, and he quickly clutches his side. Right under his ribs, a stream of blood begins to run down his body, escaping between his fingers. You watch in horror as it pours down at an alarming rate, and you begin to put the pieces together.

Satoru has been shot.

His name leaves your mouth in a panicked howl and then you can't speak anymore, as if all the air has escaped from your lungs. Your mind is ripped back to when Toji Fushiguro sliced Gojo to shreds in front of you. His blood splattering everywhere while you watched on in horror, immobilized and completely useless, not able to do anything but watch the terrors unfold. Not again, not again, it can’t happen again, is what replays through your mind.

You have no more time to linger on that chilling memory. More pops sound through the air, deafening you and spiking fear in the blood that rushes through your veins. It can't happen again. You can't see him like that again.

You immediately throw yourself at your boyfriend, desperately trying to shield him with your body, even though it’s nearly impossible with how tall he is. You shove him down, attempting to cut down his frame to meet yours so that you can cover him, and notice something odd. You can still feel his warmth—your skin brushes against his, when it shouldn’t. Not right now, it shouldn’t.

You move to the side with quick steps and try to pull him along with you, but are unable to. Your heart sinks. He’s completely dead weight. You’re strong in your own regard, but there’s no way you can pick him up and take off with him.

"Satoru, please! C'mon, we have to go, we need to. Please," You plead with him, gripping him so tightly that your hands ache. When he doesn't respond, you start to shake him, trying to get any reaction out of him, but to no avail.

He’s in shock. It’s obvious with his lack of reaction, with how he lets himself be man handled under your body. He prides himself in his ability to protect those around him—he wouldn’t just let you put yourself in the line of fire if he was in his right mind. You know fully well that Gojo could eliminate the shooter in mere moments if he assumed his normal calm and nonchalance—but, unfortunately, his mind is in a freeze state. The bare skin under your fingertips is evidence of this, which only exacerbates your rising panic.

“Your Infinity!” You shout, your voice raw from panic. “Satoru, your Infinity! You need to turn it on! Now!”

Still grasping Satoru tightly, you endure the next round that is emptied into the space next to you—a bullet whistles by your ear, too close for comfort. Gojo’s breathing is ragged, his eyes staring into nothing and appearing so far away at the same time.

You duck down to his eye level and grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Satoru, please! Snap out of it! Please!”

For a few seconds, his gaze locks with yours. His eyes, usually such a vivid blue, are darkened by how large his pupils are. You plead with him, unable to keep your terrified tears at bay.

Then you’re slightly bumped back, now pressing against what feels like a wall, and your body becomes weak with relief. He finally activated his Infinity.

But you're not out of danger yet. Your brain scrambles as you try to figure out how to get out of this while your boyfriend is evidently in shock.

You dare a glance back, eyes scouring the landscape, and immediately curse. As you suspected, you are most definitely being sniped. The enemy has the advantage of higher ground and generous foliage for coverage, while you and Satoru are exposed out in the open clearing below. If you had more time and brain power, you could triangulate their location, but that's just not possible right now.

Even if you were able to surmise their location, you don't even think you can fight back right now, not with how exposed your position is and with how vulnerable Gojo is in this state. And if you can't fight, then you have to flee.

Projectile weapons are ineffective against a moving target—this simple knowledge is what sways your decision. Even though it didn’t work before, you grab Satoru, still trying to keep him low, and begin to run. You breathe a little easier when he moves along with you.

More shots whizz past you, but you keep going, pumping your legs as fast as you can while making sure to be the rear guard. It’s obvious that they’re targeting Gojo—if they hit you, it would merely be collateral damage. The bullseye is on Gojo’s back, not yours.

You don’t stop running until you hit the tree line, and even then you hurriedly usher Gojo behind a stocky trunk many meters back. Before you can catch your breath, you're ripping off your jacket with haste. Quickly realizing that the material is not ideal for the job you intend it for, you quickly tear your shirt from your body. It’s sweaty from all your activity, but it’ll have to do.

You brush away Gojo’s hands, firmly pressing the cloth to his wound. You practically collapse onto your boyfriend as you apply firm pressure, your forehead dipping down to rest on his shoulder. You're wracking your brain for what to do next when Gojo gently pushes you back, places his hands on yours, and shakes his head.

You can't help but think the worst. What does that mean? Is it like that time? Am I too late again?

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but y-you're bleeding so much that I have to. Fuck, I’m really sorry for making you run, I’m sure that made it worse, but we just had to get away from whoever was shooting, oh god, how badly did they get you, fuck, this is my fault–”

You don’t realize you’re rambling until he cuts you off. You don't realize you're crying until he brushes the tears away.

“Hey. Stop, sweets. I’m fine, it already stopped bleeding.”

“What? But that can’t be, you were literally shot–”

He raises his shirt, revealing a pink layer of new skin.

He offers you a weak smile, but something is off about it. “Reverse cursed technique, remember? Nobody’s gonna take me down that easily.”

You release a big breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The weight on your shoulders finally eases as you look over his new layer of skin.

“Oh fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay,” You sniffle, leaning in quickly for a hug. “I–mmph!”

You stumble back a step, blinking in surprise. This has never happened before—you hit his invisible barrier.

His eyes widen. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

“No, no, it’s okay!” You wave your hands, trying to dispel his apology. You feel flustered and stiff, awkwardness seeping into your mannerisms. “It’s good that it’s on now.”

It’s then that the disturbing thought hits you. Maybe he should always have his Infinity on. Maybe you’re endangering him.

Gojo holds out his arms for you, now inviting you in. You pause, your thoughts echoing through your head. You take a beat too long—you know he senses your momentary hesitation, and how slowly and gingerly you come into his arms doesn't feel right.

“You okay? Did you get hit?” He asks, squeezing you tightly in his arms. “Fuck, please tell me you didn’t.”

With your head pressed to his chest, you can hear how rapidly his heart beats. He’s scared. He’s scared for you, even though he was the one who got hurt.

His hands run over you, checking for any injuries. You pull yourself out of his embrace gently to still his hands.

You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. But you…you got hurt, Satoru. They shot you.”

And it’s absolutely your fault. If you hadn’t been touching him, this never would have happened. He let his guard down because of you.

“I’m alright now, sweets,” He reassures you, but his tone is again tinged with a strange emotion you can’t put your finger on. “Promise.”

“But–!” You exclaim, about to spill out all of your guilty feelings. The words don’t come, though, stopped by another fear. Will he also realize it’s your fault and get rid of you? Will he realize he doesn’t need you?

“Here,” He says, unballing your shirt and placing it in your hands. “This is proof that I’m fine. Your shirt’s..."

He inspects it funnily, scrunching up his eyebrows and staring at it intently, making a show of it to make you laugh. "...pretty clean and ready to be worn again. Well, unless you don’t want to…can’t say I wouldn’t mind you not putting it back on…there is a little speck of blood on it, after all...”

He smiles at you, a true grin that manages to lift up your weary heart. You burst out laughing, and swat his arm before you hurriedly take it from his hands.

“Satoru! We almost just died and you—” You still can’t contain your laughter, but it stops abruptly once you feel a large wet patch on your shirt. When you pull your hand back, your fingers are stained red with a surprising amount of blood.

“I swear it closed up before you…” He frowns, trailing off. His face turns serious for a moment, but then you touch his cheek with your clean hand and give him a quick peck.

You shrug, “It’s okay. No biggie.”

Face still close to yours, he chases your lips as you pull away from the peck. He kisses you deeply, catching you by surprise and forcing you to hold onto him for support.

"Satoru! I'm gonna get you all bloody with this hand..." You softly protest.

"Don't care," He murmurs quickly, leaning in again and kissing like you don't need to breathe. "It's mine anyway. Just like you."

"Mmph—Satoru—but you need to get looked at properly," You manage to say. "We have to go."

He reluctantly lets you slip out of his arms, sighing as he straightens to his full height.

He groans loudly, frowning at you, "Party pooper!"

"Yeah, yeah, get yourself ready," You fold your arms, acting like you didn't just immensely enjoy that.

He raises an eyebrow at you and smirks as his eyes scan your body.

"What?" You ask petulantly.

He sounds more excited than you’d like, “So…no more shirt?”

You sigh, exasperated, and quickly smooth the shirt back over your body. He laughs and wraps himself around your smaller form, squishing you back against his chest. You relax against him, digging your nose into him, taking in his comforting scent. You both are silent for a few moments, soaking up each other's presence.

“That was scary,” You whisper.

Gojo sighs, “It was pathetic, that’s what it was.”

You snap your head up to look at him. “Hey. What are you saying?”

He shakes his head, looking frustrated. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just…let’s just head back.”

“Satoru…” You start with a warning tone.

“Don’t wanna talk about it right now,” He says flatly. “Besides, we should go back and see Shoko just in case. I want you to get looked over, too."

You want to question him further, but hold your tongue. You know better than to press him when he’s like this.

“Huh? Why’s that?” You simply ask instead, genuinely confused.

He frowns as he looks at your head, scrutinizing it as if something was wrong. Before you can question him, he forms a fist and–

Knock, knock.

“You think it’s in there?” He asks seriously. “Sounds pretty hollow.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief at the absolute disrespect. There’s no way he just knocked on your skull to check if your brain is still in your head.

“GOJO SATORU! Are you- are you implying I don’t have a BRAIN?!” You screech, taking hold of his sorcerer jacket to jostle him around. “Do you have a death wish?!”

He laughs, then uses the same fist to roughly rub your scalp. He even gave you a fucking noogie!!

“That’s it! Take me to Shoko.” You pout, crossing your arms and turning around so your back faces Gojo.

“Aww, sweets, you want a second opinion?” He coos, moving forward to wrap his arms around you from behind. “I’m sure she’ll be able to confirm it…”

“Ugh!”

"...with how willingly you throw yourself into danger."

You stop smiling. "What?"

He's not smiling either, and its absence looks strange on his face. His gaze is almost cold. "Don't do that again."

There are no words that come to your mind, but you wish you could protest and justify your actions and convince him that it was necessary. Instead, you stand there dumbly, transfixed by his cold aura.

Then he smiles sweetly again, as if that hadn't just happened. "Let's go, shall we?"

Shoko sighs loudly at your arrival. "What was it this time?"

"Actually, we're not sure," You admit, looking to Gojo to see if he has any possible answers. When he says nothing, you continue, "We didn't see what—or rather who–it was. 'Must have been a cursed user."

"Even Mr. Six Eyes didn't see them?" Shoko asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's hard to believe. And here I was always thinking he should leave some eyes for the rest of us."

She looks to Gojo teasingly, but he doesn't take the bait. Shoko looks to you with a questioning gaze that says something like—what's up with him?

"It's complicated..." You supply vaguely.

"Well, whoever it was must be bad news," She says. "How did they get Gojo if you couldn't see them?"

"They had guns," You explain. "It was a sniper...or a few snipers, I'm not sure if it was just one or if there was another one too. Their aim wasn't the best, but they got Satoru one time...they shot a few rounds at us, but I guess they got lucky with that shot."

You can't look at him. If you look at him, you'll see his skin pale and washed out from the blood dripping down his abdomen. You'll see his body lacerated and unrecognizable from Toji's ruthless assault. You are always useless, hopelessly useless.

You look at your feet instead and ignore the sour taste of bile in your mouth.

Gojo's cocky snicker brings you back to attention, "They were pretty terrible. They only got one hit, but they should have known better. As if that loser shit would work against me."

Shoko's eyes are on you again, and you know why. Gojo doesn't normally get injured. And by someone with nothing more than a gun? How could he even get hit with Infinity?

Even if you were speaking, you're not sure you would have the strength to tell her. It's my fault he didn't have his Infinity on, is the answer that resonates painfully in your chest. The guilt threatens to consume you whole, but you push it down.

"Everything is 'loser shit' to you with RCT," Shoko decides on. "But I have to say I'm just a little surprised you got hit."

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm all good now," Gojo says dismissively.

"Let me see at least," Shoko rolls her eyes. "Aren't you here to see me for my medical expertise or what?"

"What, we can't see our dear friend otherwise?" You tease with a pout. "You wound me, Shoko."

"That wouldn't be ethical of me,” Shoko plays along, then turns back to doctor mode once she starts getting her supplies ready. "Did you get hurt too?"

“No, just Satoru,” You say with a shake of your head. “You don’t have to check me over.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “I’ll come back to you.”

“Huh? But Shoko…” You trail off, seeing she has already begun inspecting Gojo.

“I’m all good,” Gojo rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t have quite the usual touch of playfulness it usually does. “C’mon, Shoko, don’t waste your time on this. We both know I can’t really get hurt.”

He winks at you, and you smile in return. That almost makes you feel better—he’s being more like himself.

“Uh-huh, but they certainly won’t let me rest until I do a proper check-up,” Shoko says. “You’ve got a persistent one, did ya know?”

He only chuckles at that, giving her some peace to look him over and prod him here or there.

“Well, you’re all good, as expected. It doesn’t seem like there’s any soreness, which is a good sign.”

“My RCT isn’t just for show!” Gojo says proudly. “Works just as good as yours, Shoko.”

She rolls her eyes, “Uh huh. Now, let’s get on to your ‘sweets’.”

You stick your tongue out at her, blushing, “Shoko, I have a name!”

“Not in these parts,” She teases easily, waggling her eyebrows at you. “Alright, just sit up straight for me now. Just gonna prod you a bit, okay?”

You nod, unworried as you let her hands inspect you. You relax and are about to crack a joke about getting a free massage from bestie Shoko, but you find yourself writhing in pain instead. You definitely didn’t expect yourself to wince—and yet you find yourself doing so, hissing out in pain as a stinging suddenly surfaces on your back.

Gojo sits up in alarm at your reaction and quickly jumps up from his cot, making his way over to you and Shoko. “What’s wrong?”

He’s practically hovering over you before Shoko shoos him away with a wave of her hand, motioning for him to let her do her job. He keeps away, but his gaze is trained on the spot her hand is touching.

She lifts your shirt fully, carefully inspecting the wound. It’s bleeding steadily, yet neither of you even noticed it before this moment.

“You got hit?” Gojo practically mewls. He’s never sounded this small and weak before. “But you were—I thought you were fine..."

Now it makes sense why your hand was tinged red when you pulled your hand back from the shirt earlier. It wasn't from Satoru's wound at all—it's your blood.

When you turn to Satoru, you look into a mirror. You know that's how you must have looked earlier when you looked at his bullet wound in horror.

“You probably didn’t feel it because of the adrenaline," You hear Shoko telling you. "It appears to be a graze, but it got you pretty good. There’s no bullet or shrapnel, which might be why you didn’t feel it in the moment.”

You feel embarrassed for some reason. “I seriously didn’t feel anything…it’s fine, then, right?”

Satoru is pale again. Emotions swirl in his agitated eyes—you can’t quite decipher them, since they cycle so fast, but he looks…haunted.

But he shouldn't, not when everything boils down to being your fault.

You immediately turn your attention to Satoru, becoming apprehensive about the look in his eyes. You smile at him softly, eyes crinkling along with your lips, trying to signal that you’re really okay, that there’s nothing to worry about.

But you don’t see the pool of blood steadily growing behind you, Satoru does.

“I’m okay, Satoru,” You smile, but it falters when Shoko presses gauze against your wound.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Shoko sighs. “Lay on your stomach and try not to move too much. I'm going to wrap you, okay? I need to grab some things, but I’ll be right back.”

"Okay..." You accept softly, still surprised by this turn of events.

You obey Shoko's orders and begin to lower yourself onto the hospital bed. You grit your teeth when the skin on your back stretches, irritating your newly discovered wound. You blink once and suddenly he's by your side, holding you steady and angling you so your back doesn't have movement while he gently lays you down.

"Thanks," You say. "I'm fine though, Satoru, really..."

“You don’t see yourself,” He speaks lowly, quietly. “Worry about yourself some.”

You’re left reeling at his words—more so by how he says them. His voice is so weak, uncharacteristically soft and completely candid.

“I’m fine,” You insist, shaking your head. “I didn’t even feel it. It can’t be so bad then, can it?”

You don’t miss the way Gojo’s jaw sets. He didn’t like that response. You see something you don't understand in his eyes, a flash of a strong emotion you didn’t anticipate. You avert your gaze, but it’s burned into the back of your eyes.

The click of Shoko’s heels alerts you of her return. Gojo watches his old friend carefully, taking in her furrowed brow and the way her eyes jump between your wound and her supplies, analyzing. She seems confused, as if she underestimated the severity of your wound. His hands curls into fists, watching your blood drip over the edge of the bed and dropping messily onto the ground below.

Shoko pulls her gloves on swiftly, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and preparing it for application.

“Sit tight, my friend,” Shoko tells you with a deep exhale. “I gotta get started on this. First I’m going to sterilize it, then you’re going to need stitches. I’m sorry to say we won’t have the luxury of time to sedate you for that.”

You gulp. Your pain tolerance is okay, but you really hate the feeling of anticipating pain. Knowing something will hurt is infinitely more scary to you than getting injured in battle, when your adrenaline is high and it just happens without warning.

You reach your hand out hesitantly, feeling silly for needing comfort just for a few stitches, and are surprised by the immediate grasp on your hand. It’s tight but not uncomfortable; it’s warm and it grounds you.

You grit your teeth and try to limit your whimpers of pain as she treats your wound. You can’t stop yourself from squirming when the needles pulls at your skin again and again, even when she places a heavy hand on your back to hold you in place. All throughout, Gojo’s hand squeezes yours, carrying you through this uncomfortable ordeal.

When it’s finally over, you feel exhausted.

“You did great,” Shoko praises you. “Your wound should be all good for now.”

You let out a small chuckle of relief, almost giddy to be done with the dreaded stitches. You sit up and slide off the bed, wanting to get back on your feet to feel some normalcy, to convince yourself you’re fine.

You truly felt nothing before, but it must be catching up to you now. Your knees threaten to buckle under you as dizziness overtakes you—you wobble on your two feet.

Both Shoko and Gojo rush to you, each taking a side to support you.

“You lost a considerable amount of blood,” Shoko warns in her doctorly tone. “Slow down and take it easy from now on.”

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head, “I’m good! Just stood up a bit too fast.”

Shoko releases your arm, but Gojo doesn’t let go. He holds you steady, even pulling you toward him, supporting the majority of your weight.

“I can stand, y’know…” You laugh softly, finding his overprotective actions a bit amusing. But all the humor drains from the situation when you meet his gaze.

You see it in his eyes again, a dark flicker that almost makes you nervous. Before you can muster the courage to question him about it, Shoko interrupts your silent musings.

“Listen closely. I know you like to be up and about, as you just demonstrated, but I want you to limit your movement as to not disturb your stitches. A little walking should be fine, but do not exert yourself. No exercising or training for the next few days. Come see me in three days so I can clear you—if it’s looking good—for activity.”

You resist a sigh, settling on a playful roll of your eyes. “Yes, mom.”

She smirks, “Good. Now get out of here, you two, before I get your couples cooties.”

“Har, har, har,” You pretend to laugh, before sticking your tongue out at her. “Very funny, Shoko.”

It strikes you that Gojo has been unusually quiet, not joining in on your mutual jokes. When you spare a glance, you observe that his facial expression is neutral, if a bit strained. No smile, no cocky smirk. That’s uncommon.

You look at Shoko, exchanging more unspoken words with a few blinks. That confirms it—he’s acting strange.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but he know he won’t tell you here.

“Ready to go?” You ask instead.

“Ready as ever,” He tries a half smile. It’s not very convincing.

You nod and lean into him, angling your head to smile up at him. Your smile is innocent and sweet. His chest squeezes at the sight, full of a jumble of emotions. He doesn’t reveal any of them; he absently plays with a strand of your hair instead.

As you look up at him, closely examining his soulful eyes for any traces of the emotion from earlier, to see if it still lingered. But the intense emotion is gone, replaced by an even and controlled gaze, leaving you to only wonder at the clear flash of anger you saw earlier in his bright eyes.

When you come back home, Gojo is unusually quiet. He mumbles something about taking a shower when you get back, leaving your side as soon as he gets the chance. You really wouldn't mind, but he seems rather... avoidant, especially with his ensuing actions.

You plop yourself down on your couch, trying to get comfy while keeping your back straight, a nearly impossible feat. Feeling restless, you tap your foot while you watch condensation from a glass on the coffee table in front of you drip down the sides. With each drop that falls, your heart beats a little faster.

You prepared a cool glass of water and a bowl of Satoru’s favorite sweets for when he's done, anticipating a binge of a show you both recently discovered. But, instead of an evening full of your usual snuggles on the couch, him getting handsy while you ‘protest’ about missing the show, you are woken up to a different reality.

When you hear the click of the bathroom door, you straighten in your seat, excited to be close to him again. But before you can even call him over to the couch, Gojo heads straight to your bedroom. You wait a few minutes, assuming he's just changing, but you grow uneasy as the time ticks by.

Maybe he just wants space. Well, how long should you give him? Should you ask him if he wants space? But what if he's waiting for you? Does he just want to be in bed instead?

You wait and wait, tapping your foot anxiously on the floor and checking your phone every few minutes. When the supposed appropriate amount of time has passed, you hesitantly approach the bedroom.

You find yourself knocking on the door before you enter, even though you've never done that to your shared door before.

"Hey, Satoru?" You call out tentatively.

You stand in the doorway, scared to cross an invisible boundary. A sheepish smile is on your face, even though you try to get your lips to stretch normally.

He's on his phone, just scrolling. Oh, maybe he just got distracted by TikTok or something.

"Hm?" He barely responds, not even looking up.

“Is something bothering you?” You ask, worried. “Is it your side?”

“Why would it be my side?” Gojo asks flatly.

Your brow creases in confusion, but you try to keep a light tone. “Oh. Uh, what’s wrong, then?”

"Nothing, why would anything be wrong?" He gives you a tight-lipped smile. His tone is so strange—bordering on sarcastic—and you don’t know what to make of it. As he stands up and passes you, slipping out of the room hastily like you are what’s bothering him. The thought turns your stomach.

You pause for a beat, frozen in the doorway as you process what just happened. Then you turn around, eyes following his form as he enters the living room and unceremoniously sprawls across the couch. He crunches on some candy you brought in the bowl.

Okay. Maybe you should be more direct.

You walk over to him, cautious but trying not to appear nervous, “Satoru, can we talk?”

“We are talking,” He smiles oddly.

“You know what I mean…” You say with a note of annoyance coming through in your tone, then it turns softer. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“Yes.”

You blink rapidly, surprised by his blunt answer. You take a seat next to him.

“Okay…could you tell me what I did?”

“…”

He’s not faking a smile anymore, which is a start. His lips are set in a firm, flat line, instead. His jaw is clenched and his neck muscles are emphasized due to how taut they are; you have rarely seen him tense like this. Your chest aches—what did you do?

“Please, Satoru, what’s wrong?” You ask again, each word filled with care and concern. And somehow, it seems to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” He echoes back loudly. “What’s wrong is that you stood in front of me while there was incoming fire! You can’t just do that.”

That’s not what you expected.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

“I just– fuck, why would you think to do that?” He stresses, pulling at his hair. “You took too much risk—you can’t use RCT!”

“Yeah, me and like ninety-nine percent of all sorcerers. Like it matters. You think I thought of that?” You huff.

“‘Like it matters?’ Are you hearing yourself right now?” He scoffs. “It matters a lot, and you know it does. It’s reckless.”

“When it comes to you, it doesn’t.” You say hotly, unwavering.

“It does matter. You got hurt when you shouldn’t have. When you didn’t need to!”

You’re surprised by his outburst. “I–I was only thinking about protecting you, okay? I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking about that! Caring about getting hurt? That was the last thing on my mind.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious you weren’t thinking,” He sneers. “There’s no need to risk your life like that. Absolutely no need.”

Your jaw drops in shock, and you try not to feel hurt. “You can’t be serious right now, Gojo. You were in no state to protect yourself. I was…doing my best, I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“I still got shot,” He argues back immediately, painfully reminding you.

A small, pained gasp escapes you. You spin around as fast as you can—tears are freely falling without your permission.

You want to tell him that’s not fair, but you don’t trust your vocal cords right now. Not with how tight your throat is from trying to hold back sobs that would surely wrack your body if you let them.

The guilt that has been trailing you all day now collects at the pit of your stomach, practically eating you alive. You feel physically sick. He’s right. He did get shot. He was vulnerable, his Infinity lowered because of you. If…if the bullet had gone through his head, what could you have done then?

You stand up as steadily as you can. You don’t spare him a single glance; you can’t, not with your face crumpling as you try your hardest not to cry. You exit the living room swiftly, holding it all in, all of your emotional pain but also your physical pain. Your wound is throbbing and it even feels hard to stay standing right now.

You finally round the corner into the hallway. Now out of view, you let yourself stagger down the hallway, succumbing to your dizziness. It’s your fault, your fault, only your fault. You can’t handle this right now.

You walk aimlessly down the hall, just wanting to get away from him right now. You wind up in the bathroom and lock the door behind you. You stand in front of the mirror, looking for something redeeming within yourself, but all you can see are your pathetic tears and guilt swimming in your eyes.

You grip the edge of the counter, so tightly that it begins to hurt and your fingers tremble at the effort. You feel unsteady, like the brain Gojo teased you don’t have is lacking oxygen. Maybe you really lack one if you think you could possibly be the right match for the strongest.

You sink to the ground, finally releasing heaving sobs that have been trying to claw themselves out of you. They’re muffled by your hands, which you press firmly against your mouth in an effort to contain your noises, but some of the sound leaks between your fingers. You stuff some of your shirt into your mouth to bite down on, trying to hold it all in, trying to hold yourself together.

Your breath hitches at a throb of pain from deep within your back. It hurts so much, even with the pain reliever Shoko gave you to take. It hurts more than when she was threading the needle between your folds of skin; it’s deeper than that, sharp and intense and robbing you of a normal breathing pattern.

Despite your efforts to keep quiet, pained whimpers start to leave you. And worse—panic floods you, taking advantage of your poor state of mind. All you can focus on is the stabbing pain that refuses to dull.

You rip off the gauze with shaking hands, terrified to see its state. But confusion fills you when there's only dried smears on it—that must be from earlier. If your wound is still closed, then why does it hurt so much?

You shift on the floor, limbs giving out. You contort in pain, which only makes things worse, pulling the stitches to their limits. They stay intact, but the tension brings waves of pain to your back. A yelp is ripped from your throat at a particularly painful pulse.

The thunder of incoming footsteps gives you both fear and a sense of relief. On one hand, you didn’t want him to hear; on another hand, right now all you crave is your boyfriend’s comfort.

“Hey, what was that?” He asks from behind the door, sounding on edge.

“Satoru…” You mewl out in pain.

He calls out your name, voice now urgent. You cringe at the resistance of the lock against his attempt at opening the door.

“M’sorry, I locked it,” You sniffle. “Stupid of me.”

But he still appears in front of you, a locked door holding nothing to his defiance of space and time. He takes one glance at your crumpled form on the floor and curses. All of the tension from earlier melts away, replaced by genuine worry and need.

“What happened? You okay? Did you fall?” He asks as he hurriedly crouches next to you. His hands reach out to you, gently pulling you into his lap. You wince as your back bends, aggravating your wound.

You shake your head. “No, it’s just—agh, fuck—just my back, it suddenly hurts so bad.”

He grimaces. “Can…can I take a look?”

You give your consent and he quickly peels your shirt up. His fingers shake as he does so, even though he doesn’t mind the sight of injuries or blood. Or, at least, when it’s not yours.

He slowly pulls your shirt up just enough to reveal your wound, fearing the worst. You shiver when the fabric chafes against your graze, and he murmurs an apology upon seeing your discomfort. One of his hands rubs soothing circles on your waist.

When he inspects your injury, he’s met with red, puffy skin—the area around your stitches is clearly inflamed, but not unsually so. He breathes a low sigh of relief.

“It looks a bit swollen,” He determines before pulling your shirt back down, careful not to let it touch your wound this time. “But not too bad.”

“It feels bad,” You whine.

"I know," He says gently. “I’ll call Shoko in a second to make sure it's alright. Do you want to head to the bed first?"

“Yes, please,” You request softly.

He hooks an arm under your knees, the other cradling your back. “Alright, sweets. Up we go."

He handles your weight like it’s nothing, and easily unlocks the door you stupidly locked on the way out.

Unshed tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t carry him earlier, even after he had been shot and couldn’t move. You are incapable, unable to handle what he can on a daily basis. Can your relationship really be mutual if he always has to act as the strongest? You could barely protect him earlier.

"It hurts that badly?" He references your teary eyes without mockery, only softness.

If only your tears were from that pain.

"It could be worse, I guess," is what you settle on, neither a lie nor the full truth.

"Could I make it better, maybe?" He asks with a suspicious smile. Before you can answer, he swings you around a few times like he normally would when he carries you, which draws a genuine laugh out of you.

"You're gonna make me dizzy!" You complain, but your smile is so pure and wide, something Gojo doesn't miss.

"You're so beautiful, sweets," He says, affectionately rubbing his nose against yours. You feel warm from the closeness.

You look away shyly, "Yeah, right."

"You don't believe me?" He asks huskily, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Ugh! Put me down and call Shoko already! It stills hurts," You pout.

"If you say so," He says, but his little smirk is still planted on his face. He lays you down carefully, gently releasing you onto the pile of blankets.

He then turns around and dials the doctor in question, "Yo, Shoko."

You close your eyes, trying to ward off the radiating pain with deep breaths. Gojo's phone call turns to background noise, the words indecipherable.

You tune back into the world at the end of his conversation.

"Okay, thank you so much Ieiri."

You faintly hear Shoko's disgust on the other end of the line, "What's going on with you?? Please never thank me like that again, yuck!"

You can't hold back the giggle that bubbles up at Shoko's reaction. Gojo blows a raspberry into the speaker and promptly hangs up on her.

"What's the verdict?" You ask.

"Well, sweets," Gojo sing-songs. "Did you forget to do something?"

You look up in thought, your brows furrowing, "I don't think so..."

"Really?" He says, then produces a familiar orange pill container. You're forced to stare at it as he shakes it in front of your face. "What about this, hm?"

"What? I already took one," You say, a little indignantly. "When we first got home. It was so horrible tasting and was a giant horse pill, too...Ugh, get that bottle away from me, might as well throw it out. I don't want to take anymore later."

He cracks the bottle open, pouring one into his palm. You narrow your eyes at him. Before you can ask what he intends to do with it, that same pill is shoved into your mouth followed by an amount of water so large that you almost begin to choke.

You cough on the water, and he pats your back accordingly, as if he expected this.

"What-?! Are you trying to waterboard me? I said I already took one, and-" You cough again. "God, where did you even get that water from anyway?"

"Mm. But you didn't notice the pill this time, right?" He looks satisfied with himself.

You deadpan. "No, but-"

"Besides, you were spacing out before we left the infirmary. Shoko specifically said to take two pills when you came home, or else the pain might get bad."

Your face feels hot, "Oh, did she now? Hah hah...I must have misheard her..."

He sighs, and it's only now you notice how tired he looks. There's a lull in your conversation, and you use this time to truly observe him. Dark circles are prominent under his eyes—how come you never noticed that?—and his eyes hold a look of defeat.

He breaks the silence, speaking softly, "You worry me, y'know? When I came in and you were convulsing on the floor...I don't want to see you like that again."

You stay silent, not willing to risk jeopardizing this rare moment of complete and utter vulnerability from Gojo.

"And when Shoko lifted your shirt and there was so much blood pouring out of your back..." He closes his eyes, screwing them shut. "I didn't know what would happen. That really scared me. Even when Shoko said you'd be fine, I didn't believe her until it stopped. And even then, you looked so weak...you still do, and it kills me."

He looks down at the ground, between his hands that are interlocked so tightly that it looks like it would hurt.

"It fucking kills me inside that you got hurt protecting me, and you didn't even notice. If that bullet had come any closer, you-"

He stops abruptly, voice breaking. You reach forward, taking his large hands in yours.

"But it didn't. Look at me, Satoru. I'm fine, I really am. I promise."

He shakes his head vehemently, and you're shocked to see liquid trickle down his face. You almost startle when he embraces you so tightly that you can barely breathe, as if you could disappear at any moment. His head rests on your shoulder, effectively hiding his expression from view.

He whispers by your ear, "What's the use in being the strongest when I freeze up like that? I put you in so much fucking danger."

"Satoru, look at me," You ask again, but his head stays tucked in the crevice between your shoulder and collarbone. "Please."

He slowly raises his head, revealing the expression he tried to conceal. His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are tinged pink; it makes your heart hurt.

"You're not the strongest to me," You say. "You're not even Gojo Satoru. To me, you're Satoru. Just Satoru. You're human and have emotions and memories and trauma, just like everyone else."

You steel yourself for your next words, the ones that have been haunting your thoughts since he got shot.

"I know that what happened reminded you of that...that time with Toji. I-it felt the same for me, and this time...this time I couldn't stand to watch idly. I would rather die than watch that happen to you again. Especially since, this time, it was definitely my fault."

"Your fault?" He laughs dryly.

"Yes!" You instantly cry out, causing his eyes to widen.

"Haven't you realized by now?" You practically sob. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't been touching you. Because your Infinity lowered for me—fuck, it makes me sick saying this out loud—they were able to really hurt you. I'm the one endangering you, and i-if this keeps up then..."

He says nothing. Now that you admitted it, there's no taking it back. And there's no way that he can or should accept this. There's no way he should accept you, you who are so useless and weak and stubborn. And yet...

"That's all?" He says seriously. You're struck with a flash of frustration and anger at his dismissal, but the hard look in his eyes tells you he is just as frustrated and will not budge on this point.

"We'll be more careful. It's a lesson learned for sure, but I'm not giving you up anytime soon. That's what you wanted me to say, isn't it? That I was going to let you go."

You look down shamefully, "W-well..."

He barks out a sharp laugh, "That's not happening. Do you know why?"

You avoid his gaze, and your voice comes out small. "You pity me?"

"I love you." His voice is firm and so sure; it leaves no room for doubt.

Your eyes snap back to his. There’s no bandages or glasses in the way to obscure the emotion shimmering in them—an endless sea of affection and intensity and something else that you couldn’t capture in words even if you tried. Love.

He loves you.

“I love you, so you can’t be reckless. You just can’t, okay? I’ve been going crazy knowing you got hurt, but I couldn’t handle it if…” He takes a sharp breath. “It’s selfish of me, but I don’t fucking care. Nothing can happen to you. I’ll take all of your hits and all of your missions if it means you’ll be safe. You’re the one person I can’t handle losing.”

“Then you’ll understand I feel the same way,” You say with a determined look on your face. “It’s not like I planned to do what I did. It was all instinct. I didn’t care what would happen to me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” He admits, voice raw and so unlike his usual self-assured tone. “You don’t value yourself enough. You matter so much, sweets, more than I could ever say in words. I’d do anything for you, to keep you safe.”

You counter, “And I would die for you, Satoru, because I love you. And I wouldn’t ever regret it.”

Your determined admission renders him silent.

Then he chuckles, “You’re stubborn, aren’t you, sweets? Of course you sound all cute and mad the first time you tell me you love me.”

Your eye twitches, but you exhale into a smile. “Maybe. But so are you!”

“How about this?” He proposes. “How about we both stay alive, live happily ever after, and drink boba and eat kikufuku for the rest of our days?”

“I think I know where this is going,” You say, suspicion clear in your voice. But you can’t stop the way your heart jumps at his words, the insinuation of spending the rest of your days with Satoru making you weak inside.

“Well, sweets, I have an idea,” He says softly, but his words are filled with excitement.

“Hmm?” You muse, playing along. “What is it?”

“I think we need a sweet treat to make us feel better. Don’t you think so? Maybe we could…check out that boba place I talked about earlier?”

“The one ‘I’ said I wanted to go to?” You ask, using air quotes and shaking your head in amusement.

“That’s the one!” He grins, throwing himself around your form. He squeezes you tightly, nuzzling into your neck. “I love you so much that I’ll treat you, seeing as you want to go so badly. Not that I really wanted to go or anything…”

“You’re such a bad liar!” You laugh, pinching his cheek. “But, Satoru…I meant what I said.”

You look at him seriously, not willing to let this slide. You don’t expect him to match your intense energy, but he does.

“So did I. You don’t have to worry about that anymore, because I’ll never let that happen again. I’ll always be here for you, sweets. I’ll always protect you. You can try, but I’ll never make that mistake again. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, so I won’t let it. I love you too much to let it happen.”

Your heart feels like it could burst. You sniffle, not able to hold the tears back.

“Aw, is my baby crying?” He teases, gently thumbing the tears away from your cheeks. “You okay?”

“Mhm, just happy,” You nod and let out a watery laugh. “Hey, Satoru.”

“Yeah?” He hums.

“Do you love me enough to give me the last kikufuku later?”

You expect him to joke along with you, but he’s perfectly serious in his words back. Only you seem to have that effect on him.

“Even that,” He chuckles along with you, unbridled warmth and affection swimming in his baby blues as he gazes at you, eyes never leaving your form. “Even that, sweets.”

gojo masterlist <3

A/N: I don’t feel like this is the highest quality writing, but I felt really compelled to write this for some reason, so…oh well! <3 I hope it still turned out okay.

Also Satoru definitely should have apologized but I feel like he’s stubborn and hates apologizing so I left that out <3

I think this is the first time I've managed to not use (Y/N) HAHA, sometimes I see comments on other posts about how much it disturbs their immersive experience, so I'm going to try to limit my usage of it from now on...personally, I've seen and used it for so long that it's just part of my x reader vocabulary, but I understand why people don't like it lol.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you had a great day today !! <333

[revelboo]

I just wanted to write in to say that I adore your writing, it's reignited my Transformers fixation in a way I didn't expect! You stories have had me in a chokehold for days and I honestly can't believe the variety you offer both in characters and continuities. Thank you so much for providing so many fantastic stories to read!

Clumsy Heart, your Pharma story, and the Insecticon ones in particular have caught my interest but I honestly love every story you write about the Decepticons. You even made me have sympathy for Starscream after I binged Everything's All Right, I can't wait to see more of your posts!

Thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense! 18+ 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 103

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Brushing his mouth against your throat to nudge your head back, Soundwave is aware of the way Megatron is watching the interaction. The hunger in those optics. Almost tempted to trespass in the warlord’s mind, but afraid to risk it. Because if Megatron feels him snooping, he won’t be trusted ever again. Servos sliding to your hips, he rocks against you and your lips part. “Spark bonding isn’t wrong,” he whispers.

• Why does that soft sound you make spill through him? Make him ache for something he shouldn’t want. If nothing else, you’re bound to Starscream. For that he should want nothing to do with you. Shifting uncomfortably, Megatron watches Soundwave urge you to move against him, to ride his spike. “Worth sharing with Starscream?” He sneers, before your head turns. Those eyes staring at him as Soundwave claims you.

• Scowling at Megatron as his optics trail over you, your breath catches when Soundwave lays you back and you’re distracted from trying to defend Starscream. Hips moving in slow drives against you, his spike stroking inside you. And Megatron shifts slightly, almost unconsciously moving to keep you in sight until you close your eyes. Don’t want to see those red optics wandering over you because you feel molten under his attention when you should hate it. “Soundwave,” you whimper, hips lifting to meet his thrusts.

• Watching you arch under him, Soundwave keeps crooning to you. Trying to keep you focused on him and keep you from provoking Megatron. Hears the other mech vent softly as he reaches out a hand. A big servo brushing against your throat as your eyes open. Feels your confusion and the interest you hate to acknowledge. Will you hate him for this? “Perfect way to control Starscream,” he says and your eyes dart to him. Your shock sparking through him and he holds your eyes, hoping you can understand. That you can forgive him as he rolls his hips, thrusting faster.

• Optics narrowing as Soundwave groans and loses himself in you, Megatron watches you grab at Soundwave. A heel sliding as your breath hitches and you cry out, Soundwave thrusting harder as you squirm under him. That scandalous, wet sound of you taking Soundwave’s spike filling his head. But Soundwave’s words linger. Because from what he remembers of the bonds, he’d be trying himself to you. Harm to him, becoming harm to you. Meaning Starscream couldn’t hurt him without indirectly hurting himself. No more plots or schemes. And Soundwave growls, venting raggedly as he releases inside you before slipping free and easing back. Watches Soundwave gather you into his arms as you tremble, Megatron reaches and uses a servo to turn your head his way. Those dark eyes hooded as you raggedly pant.

• Racing through the halls of the base, Starscream shoulders past a couple of Constructicons not caring as they snarl at him. Bracing a hand against the wall and opening the door to let himself in, he stops short to find you in Soundwave’s arm, Megatron looming over both of you, a servo under your chin. Wings flaring, he grits his denta and glares at Soundwave as the other mech just stares at him, completely unrepentant. Letting that monster touch you, see you. “Megatron,” he growls and the warlord glances at him, one corner of his lips twitching slightly. Amused at his anger. Because that’s his mate. His sparked mate.

Previous

[very-straight-blog]

It really tires me how some fans try to make Aegon look like an asshole who doesn't give a shit about anything. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of his character as such. Of course he cares, that's literally the essence of his personality. He cares. He and Aemond both feel too much emotion, but if Aemond sublimates into self–improvement, trying to be strong, cold and detached, then Aegon is literally an open wound. I want to talk about this, also using Tom's interviews (yes, I think the actor's opinion is valid in this matter) and the few scenes that we have in the first season.

We know that Aegon didn't want the throne and wasn't ready to rule. The scene with Alicent, who explains to him the prospects for the future of their family, seems very traumatic to me. Imagine what it's like to know from your childhood that the lives of people close to you depend on you, on how strong you'll be. Such a burden can destroy anyone. You can't just ignore it.

Next, we're shown how Aegon drinks on Driftmark. And that's a pretty sad sight - several cups in a row, wincing, as if taking a medicine that will help him to feel better.

Actually, I like the theory that he gets drunk after Aemond says that Helaena is his future queen. Another reminder that he'll have to marry his own sister, for whom he has no feelings. And he drinks because he tries to numb his pain.

The same goes for his obviously unhealthy attitude towards sex - he uses it to numb his loneliness. I believe that Aegon literally didn't have the opportunity to feel what love is in any form. His father disliked him and showed it openly. His mother loved him, but she never knew how to express it the way he needed to. He was married to his sister (the tragedy for both of them) and it was a matter of duty, not feelings. At the time of the first season, Aegon is deeply unhappy and this is obvious. I have every reason to believe that his need for physical intimacy is based on the fact that this is the only form of love he can receive. Considering that Aegon is quite smart, I even think that he himself understands how ugly this form is, but there's nothing he can do. During the act, I guess in some unhealthy way it really saves him from loneliness, longing and the need to be loved, but in the end it makes him even more unhappy.

Then it's impossible not to remember the eighth episode and the famous:

It's still clear that family is important to him. Yes, he feels like a stranger among his relatives, but it hurts him just because he cares. He cries and says "it will never be enough for you or father" because he wants it to be enough. He still loves them and wants them to love him back.

"What Aegon wants more than anything is to be told by his dad ‘I have faith in your capabilities as a young man. I see you bringing prosperity to King’s Landing.’ But he hasn’t said any of those things. His dad has completely ignored him, in fact, throughout his entire youth." (с) Tom Glynn-Carney for Esquire

Next, we can move on to episode nine and the fact that Aegon ran away. I've seen a lot of opinions that this is an indicator of selfishness and like...what? He was scared. This follows from the script:

He was scared, he'd never leave his family, much less Sunfyre. It was a decision made in a panic when he realized that his father had died and the moment he had feared all his life had come - he needed to accept the crown to protect his family.

During the conversation in the carriage, we see that Aegon was really hurt that his father didn't love him:

He even said "because he didn't like me" when talking about his father's attitude towards him. He didn't use the word "love" because it was obvious to him that his father didn't love him. He used the word "like", unknowingly emphasizing that he couldn't count on even simple sympathy.

He's also well aware that Viserys could have named him the heir, but didn't do so simply because he didn't want to and because of this, he - the eldest son, feels unworthy of the throne, and also completely lost.

When Alicent tells him that Viserys wanted to make him the heir before his death, an emotional dam breaks inside him, it's literally written in the script:

And at this moment, looking at the dagger, he's not even listening to Alicent, he's completely in his thoughts - maybe, at least for a second, his father cared about him. And when he asks his mother if she loves him, we see how much he craves love, how broken he really is, how important his family is to him.

I know this post is insanely long and I haven't even analyzed the various microexpressions in Tom's acting, but I'm really tired of people wanting to make Aegon something pure evil.

"I also see Aegon as being incredibly complex. He's not an out-and-out psychopath. I see a multilayered character that just has endless potential of pits of vulnerability and empathy and things that we don't see. I think it's his vulnerability that breeds the darkness. It's the way he copes, it's his security, it's his safety blanket, it's an addictive coping mechanism for him to shut things out and to be cold." (с) Tom Glynn-Carney for Entertainment Weekly