#I want to make more for this au but…tired

[jinjooha69]

TOJI X READER !!!

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (dad's friend! AU)

Under His Roof

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Content Warnings (Please Read): Age gap, Power imbalance, Manipulation, Degrading talk, Possessiveness/Obsession, Breeding kink, Spanking/Discipline, Angst & emotional manipulation, Soft/dom moments later on, Minors DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

prev chapter | next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 2

Your dad had called earlier that day, voice crackling through bad reception. Some last-minute crisis at work meant he had to stay overnight on-site. He sounded more annoyed about the inconvenience than worried about leaving you alone.

“I asked Toji to swing by. Just in case,” he said. “He’ll stay the night. Don’t give him trouble.”

You blinked. “He’s staying?”

“Yeah. He said it’s no problem. I owe him anyway.”

You wanted to ask why it had to be him, but the call cut before you could say much more.

Evening rolled in like a quiet tide. The house felt strangely still, like it knew something was different. You weren’t nervous—just... hyper-aware. You’d been feeling that a lot lately. Ever since that night you talked to Toji in the kitchen. Something had shifted. You didn’t know what exactly, only that you caught yourself thinking about that conversation more than you meant to.

About the way his voice dipped.

The way he looked at you like he was figuring something out.

The way he said, You’re more than enough.

You hadn’t seen him since then. But you felt it in your chest the moment the doorbell rang.

You opened it to find him there, holding a duffel bag in one hand, a grocery bag in the other.

“Your dad told me you probably hadn’t eaten,” he said, stepping inside like it was his house too.

You moved out of his way, unsure how to respond. He looked like he always did—black fitted tee, low-hanging joggers, that clean, strong scent that always clung to his skin. But there was something else now. A kind of weight in the air you couldn’t name.

You followed him into the kitchen, where he unpacked the bag—rice, some pre-cooked chicken, a bottle of cola.

“I don’t cook fancy,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “But I figured hot food’s better than junk.”

You nodded and murmured a soft “Thanks,” watching his shoulders move under that shirt as he turned back to the stove.

You stood nearby, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie, uncertain what to do with yourself. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… thick. Like the quiet between you had its own heartbeat.

“You always get this quiet when you're alone with someone?” he asked, teasing just enough to make you blush.

You looked up, startled. “No— I mean, I don’t know. I just don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he said, stirring the pan. “Just sit. You don’t have to talk.”

You did as he said, sliding into a chair. You watched him cook. It shouldn’t have felt intimate—but it did. He didn’t say much more. Just made sure your plate was full. Made sure you ate. Made sure you drank enough water. Like he wasn’t just here to keep you company—he was here for you.

After dinner, you ended up on the couch, scrolling absently through your phone. Toji sat nearby with a beer, flipping through TV channels without settling on anything. You weren’t really watching. Neither was he. The space between you felt warmer now. Still quiet. But not stiff.

“You good?” he asked again, just like the other night.

You nodded. But your face gave you away.

“Still thinking about him?”

You hesitated. “Not really. I think I’m just... thinking.”

He leaned back, arm stretched across the top of the couch, eyes on the ceiling. “Thinking’s good. But sometimes it just makes you tired.”

You nodded again, pulling your knees up to your chest, the oversized hoodie swallowing your frame.

“C’mere,” he said, motioning gently with a flick of his fingers.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“You look cold. C’mere.”

You hesitated—because something fluttered deep in your chest. Not fear. Just nerves. Confusion. But you obeyed without thinking too hard. You always did with him.

You slid closer, slowly. And when your shoulder brushed his chest, he eased an arm around you, careful, unhurried, like he was taming something fragile.

“There,” he murmured, the heat of him soaking into your skin. “That better?”

You nodded, cheek brushing the fabric stretched over his chest. His heartbeat was steady. Slow. Yours was not.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. The quiet stretched long, the weight of him warm around you. Gentle. Protective. His thumb moved once, barely grazing your shoulder, the touch so light it could’ve been imagined.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered. How they traced the slope of your jaw, the way your lashes fluttered when you breathed out. You didn’t catch the way his hand flexed once, slow and restrained, before settling again.

You just sat there, soft and warm in his hold, thinking maybe—just maybe—this was what safety felt like.

The night deepened. The kind of quiet that settled between you and Toji wasn’t empty—it was thick, like velvet. Soft but heavy. You could hear the hum of the fridge, the patter of soft rain against the window, and his slow, calm breaths beside you.

He hadn’t moved in a while. His arm still lay around your shoulder, heavy but comforting. His fingers occasionally drummed gently against your upper arm—small, thoughtless movements. At least, that’s what you thought.

You were curled into him more than before, drawn to the warmth without realizing how much. Your knees tucked under you, your side pressed against his, your cheek resting lightly against his chest. The TV played some late-night crime show no one was watching.

You were still thinking about your ex. Still chewing on old wounds.

“You shouldn’t let someone like him get in your head,” Toji said, his voice low, almost like he was talking to himself. “He didn’t know what he had.”

You made a small sound, not sure how to answer. “He said I was too much. Too clingy. Too emotional.”

“That’s not a flaw,” he murmured. “You feel things deeply. That’s rare.”

His hand moved then—not down, not anything obvious. Just from your shoulder to your upper back, slow and firm, almost like a massage. Still something you could pass off as harmless.

“You care too much about what boys your age think,” he continued. “They don’t know what to do with a woman like you.”

Your lips parted slightly at his words. Woman. You didn’t know why that word sounded different coming from him. You felt it somewhere low in your stomach. But you didn’t speak. You didn’t even move. His hand had reached the middle of your back now, resting there with quiet weight.

“Guys like that… they don’t deserve softness,” he said. “They waste it.”

There was a beat of silence. You still didn’t move.

And then he said it, barely a whisper:

“I wouldn’t have.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t even fully understand what he meant, but it sounded... important. Different. His voice was lower now, closer to your ear. You didn’t realize he’d leaned in.

“Toji—” you said softly, your heart starting to thump.

He hummed like he didn’t hear it—or maybe like he was giving you space to stop him if you wanted.

Then his fingers moved again. A little lower this time. Slow enough to make you second guess if it really went as far as you thought. Just the small of your back. Still not wrong. Still not inappropriate. But just barely.

You felt warm. Too warm. Your cheeks flushed. Your chest tight.

“I’m gonna tell you something,” he said, eyes still watching the flickering TV screen. “And you don’t need to say anything back.”

You nodded, eyes wide. Confused. Curious.

“I noticed,” he said. “The way you look when you’re thinking too hard. When you chew your lip and stare off into nowhere. The way your voice gets small when you talk about someone hurting you.”

You swallowed, heart hammering.

“I noticed how soft you are,” he added, voice even lower now. “And how easy it would be to ruin that.”

Your breath hitched.

He leaned closer, nose brushing the top of your head. Not a kiss. But too close. Too much. And still—somehow—not enough.

“But I won’t,” he said, as if reading your silence. “Not unless you ask me to.”

And then—he pulled away. Just enough. His arm still around you. But no more words. No more boldness.

He left you there, heart pounding, brain reeling, breath shallow—wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t say anything.

Not because you didn’t want to—because you didn’t know what to say. The moment sat heavy in your chest, thick and trembling. It hadn’t felt like danger. Not really. But it also hadn’t felt like safety anymore.

It felt like something entirely new. Something you didn’t have words for.

Toji didn’t move. His arm stayed where it was—loose, relaxed like he hadn’t just whispered things no man had ever said to you before. Like he hadn’t just told you, in a voice deeper than sin, that he’d noticed you.

That he’d thought about you in ways that no one ever had. Certainly not someone like him.

You shifted slightly, instinctively—just enough that your thigh pressed a little closer to his. Not a bold move. Not intentional. Just... your body needing something, and your brain too slow to understand what.

He didn’t speak. But you felt his head tilt slightly. Like he’d felt it. Like he noticed that, too.

You fumbled for words. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper. “About... ruining.”

His fingers twitched against your lower back. Not moving lower. Not pulling you closer. Just a small pulse of tension—controlled, held back.

He leaned in again, slower this time. You felt his breath against your temple.

“You don’t have to know,” he said. “That’s the thing about being soft, baby. You don’t need to understand everything. You just feel it.”

That made your stomach twist. Not in fear. In something darker. Deeper. Something that made your knees pull tighter under you and your arms wrap around yourself, like they could contain it.

“I didn’t mean—” you started.

But he cut you off. Not unkindly. Just gently.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” His hand pressed just slightly—just enough for you to feel his warmth right through the hoodie. “You never do.”

You turned your head toward him before you could stop yourself, your eyes wide and searching. And you caught him looking at you with that same intensity. Not smiling. Just... watching. Like you were something he didn’t want to break, but couldn’t stop reaching for.

“I…” You swallowed. “I don’t know what to do.”

His expression softened. “That’s alright. You don’t need to do anything.”

He moved then—slowly, deliberately—lifting one hand to your face, the back of his fingers brushing the line of your jaw.

“Just let me look at you.”

The words punched all the air out of your lungs.

No one had ever said it like that. Like they meant it. Like you were art. Like you were made to be looked at. To be studied. To be touched like glass.

Your eyes flicked down, suddenly self-conscious. But his hand tilted your chin back up.

“Don’t hide,” he said, voice rougher now. “Not from me.”

And then he did something that made your heart trip.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss—not to your lips. But just beside them. Your cheek. Close enough to make your skin light on fire. Just enough to test the waters. Just enough to mark the line.

It wasn’t a friendly kiss. It wasn’t innocent.

But it wasn’t demanding, either.

It was a promise. And a warning.

He pulled back, finally, standing from the couch in one smooth motion, like the weight of it all didn’t sit on his shoulders. Like he hadn’t just lit a fire under your skin.

“I’ll take the guest room,” he said simply, like nothing happened at all.

You just sat there, stunned, trembling a little, heart racing against your ribs like a warning bell.

And you stayed like that for a long time—your skin still buzzing where his mouth had touched, your mind too soft to hold onto anything except the sound of his voice, still echoing.

"You never do anything wrong."

next chapter

.

[mononijikayu]

multo — fushiguro megumi.

“Do I really seem that broken to you?” you asked, your voice tired, raw. “No, not at all.” he said. “You just seem like someone who’s still looking for the parts they lost.” And something about the way he said that. It was quiet. Almost all too knowing. That had made your heart twist. Because he was looking too. You could see it. And he’d been looking longer than you knew.

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, depression, memory loss, emotional distress, hurt, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, past lives, reincarnation, character death, depiction of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, grim reaper! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: multo being a prevalent song in the opm sphere right now, i cannot avoid it. and now here we are, a sequel to forg_tful. i think in some ways, this was bound to happen. there was so much more to tell. plus, this is an excuse to write for megumi. anyway, i hope you enjoy it!!! thanks to @areyna for beta reading for this one, as usual!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS HARD TO DEAL WITH THIS SITUATION, EVEN IF ITS HIS NORMAL. Yet he lived a life of conundrums, after all this time. He was always precise, he liked getting things figured out.

Still, many decades having come and gone, Fushiguro Megumi was still living a life where he didn’t know what to do when it came to you. You, who was the head of the Special Cases Division in the League of Grim Reapers. His subordinate. And he hated it.

You were always there. Not just around but completely and utterly present. Wholly, extraordinarily there. You were at every cursed site. You picked up every urgent late-night call.

Every blood-soaked step he took deeper into the mess of death and decay. Clipboard in hand. Voice like frost. With eyes that saw right through him.

He couldn’t remember a time before you. He wasn’t sure there was one. It wasn’t just the work. It wasn’t even the case. It was you. It was you who consumed his mind at every little mission that needed to be dealt with. It was you whom he couldn’t help but have a glance at. 

The way you tilted your head slightly when he spoke an order, like you were listening to more than his words. The way your beautiful gaze lingered just long enough to make him wonder if you knew. And in the silence of his dreams, you did.

You were always there, too. Just calmly standing in the dark.  Sometimes with blood on your hands. Sometimes with your hand in his. Sometimes you were there smiling back at him. Sometimes you weren’t even looking at him. He never asked what that meant. You never offered in each and every dream. That was the game you played with him.

He hated how you moved like you were made of secrets. How you never flinched when he got angry, or cold, or tired of pretending. How you could sit across from him in silence and make it feel louder than a battlefield.

Each and every time he found himself alone, Fushiguro Megumi was certain that this would be the moment. This would be the moment he’d finally sit down, let the silence devour him, and wish, with everything in him, that it would just stop. All of it. The cases. The ghosts. The dreams. You.

He didn’t know how many times he’d had that thought, curled up in a chair long past midnight, staring at reports he couldn’t bring himself to file. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to forget you.

You who was like a ghost haunting him in each and every dream, every waking flash of memory that made his chest ache and his fists clench. And he tried.

He approached the Head Office. He went in determined, carefully filing the paperwork. Sat across from officials who asked sterile questions in sterile rooms.They called it a memory severance. It was very clean cut. It was clinical. Most of all, it was final.

But it was Gojo Satoru who stopped him. Gojo, of all people. The one who teased him relentlessly, who rarely took anything seriously. He’d gone to him thinking maybe, just maybe he'd understand what he was going through.

Yet, he did not expect the reaction he got. If anything, it was not how it was supposed to go. He remembered the way Gojo had gone unusually quiet.

And he never got quiet, he was not the type to be like that. Megumi remembered the way he took off his sunglasses like something sacred was being spoken aloud.

"You’re really gonna go through with that?” he asked, almost softly.

Megumi said nothing in reply, still looking down on the floor.

Gojo Satoru merely looked at him, sighing heavily.

This was not something that was to be taken lightly, Megumi realized.

“Does she mean that much to you?” Gojo prodded gently.

Megumi’s jaw clenched. “No. That’s the problem.”

“Lying like that can hurt your head.” Gojo tilted his head, frowning just slightly. “Hm….maybe she means too much to you.”

Megumi swallowed hard. “I just… I can’t keep living like this. Every case, every report, every night, she’s there. I’m not even sure if I feel anything real anymore, or if it’s just....something left over from before. Some kind of cosmic echo I’m not strong enough to shut out.”

Gojo leaned forward, voice dropping into something serious—an oddity from him. “You do know what happens when you go through with it, right?”

“I forget her. That’s the point.”

“No, no.” Gojo said, voice tight. “It’s more than forgetting. You’ll break the bond.”

Megumi looked up. “Bond?”

Gojo exhaled, like this was something he’d hoped he’d never have to explain. “Yeah. You didn’t notice that’s why Yuuta doesn’t remember Rika?”

“Yuuta–senpai did that?” Megumi blinked.

“There’s a reason she’s still showing up for you and why Rika doesn’t for Yuuta. There’s a reason she’s tied to your missions, to your life, to your dreams.”

He paused. Then, quietly, he sighs. “You two have something akin to something ancient, well something deep and remarkable. It’s something older than the work, older than this system, older than me—hell, older than you.”

Megumi blinked, cold sweat prickling at the back of his neck. “You’re saying this is fate?”

“I’m saying it’s a thread no one can break, other than you and her.” Gojo said, gazing direct and unblinking. “And if you cut it, that’s it. There’s no finding her again. There’s no being together again. Not in this life. Not the next.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. He felt uncomfortable with those words. It felt unnatural, for him to not see you. Not knowing you. He didn’t want to not know you, in the next life or the life after that.

He was just exhausted. Exhausted from knowing that you were in this miserable life now, just like him. He could see it in the way you handled every soul you took.

Every broken, bloody case. He knew that this was the misery of seeing you slowly slip away from everything you used to be. He knew that it was just everything that wasn't supposed to be.

You were too pure for this. Too good. And here you were, getting your hands dirty in a way that felt like poison to him.You weren’t supposed to be like this.

You were never supposed to be bound by the same fate he was. You weren’t supposed to stand next to him, cold and hollow, covered in blood and the weight of unspoken burdens.

You used to laugh. You used to live. And now, Megumi could see the shadow of that light growing fainter, as if each passing day was pulling you further away from the person he remembered. The person he couldn’t forget. The person he couldn’t stop loving.

He wanted to turn back time. He wanted to do something, anything. Just so he could stop you from becoming this creature you were never meant to be. He didn’t want you here. Not like this. Not with him. And he didn’t want to remember you this way.

But no matter how many times he tried to look away, you always found your way back into his thoughts. Into his nightmares. And he couldn’t figure out why that was. He couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Fushiguro Megumi tried to speak. He opened his mouth, his throat tight, but the words died on his tongue. Gojo’s voice, low and firm, sliced through the silence like a razor. “You’re going to forget her, Megumi.”

Megumi froze, the weight of those words anchoring him in place. Gojo Satoru was watching him carefully, bright blue eyes behind his sunglasses unreadable, but the seriousness in his tone was unmistakable.

“I can’t stress this enough to you, kid.” Gojo continued, his voice quieter now, almost soothing, like he was trying to make it easier. “This is not a one–time thing.”

Megumi felt the air in the room grow heavier, suffocating. He knew where this was going. He knew the real and bitter truth, but hearing it from Gojo’s mouth made it real. Made it truly and horribly final.

“You’ll break the bond. Forever.” Gojo whispered.

Megumi’s breath hitched. He could feel his heart drop in his chest, heavy like lead. “Stop.”

“Once you say you want to forget,” Gojo continued, his voice a soft warning now, “she’s gone for you.”

“I said stop!”

Gojo Satoru did in fact stop talking when he asked. He felt like he was going to be sick. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate. That word was sickening. Gone. Gone like she’d never been a part of his life. Gone like he had never fallen in love with you. Gone like a thread severed — unraveling and vanishing.

He would lose you, all of you, everything of you. Not just your presence, but the connection. The history he had with you. All the lives. All the memories. Everything. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even think.

Gojo’s bright eyes softened for just a moment, like he understood. Like he knew what this was doing to him. But the damage was already done. The words were spoken. There was no taking them back.

And Megumi? He was caught between the agony of keeping you, keeping the connection, the pull, the ache in his chest and the horrifying reality that keeping you meant watching you fall further into this fate. This world. This curse.

“I don’t know if I can….I….” Megumi whispered, barely audible, to no one in particular. His voice was raw. “I don’t know if I want to forget.”

Gojo didn’t answer immediately. He just stood there, waiting. Watching. Finally, his voice was soft. “I know. I know.”

But was it? Was forgetting you really the answer? Or would it just be another lie? Another piece of him that would slip away, just like you were slipping from his reach? Would he really do this? Megumi couldn’t help but swallow the bile down his throat.

“It’s up to you, okay?” Gojo says in response to him. “I’m not here to judge you for choosing your peace of mind, if you do.”

Gojo turns to his desk and starts writing something on a small piece of paper. Megumi looks at him. Gojo pushes the paper into his space for him to take. Megumi slowly takes it. He looks at the information written on it in his boss’s neat handwriting. 

“Tell Shoko I said hi. She’ll go and help you.”

Megumi looked at the paper longer than he should have.

He nodded at him absent–mindedly and began walking away.

He doesn’t know what to do.

DESPITE IT ALL, THE PAPER DIDN’T MAKE ITSELF USEFUL. Fushiguro Megumi didn’t go through with the memory severance. Not that day. Not the next. Not even on his next day off. He just couldn’t find it in himself to go and actually make the appointment.

But he couldn’t sleep after that conversation.bEvery time he closed his eyes, he saw your face again. The faint light behind your gaze, the strange sadness in your smile. And every time he woke up, the ache in his chest felt deeper. Older. Like it belonged to someone who’d already lived through this once before.

He hated it. Hated not knowing what to do. He hated how you were everywhere and nowhere all at once. And more than anything — he hated not understanding everything about this. How did you even become a grim reaper? How did you even end up here?

You weren’t like the others. You weren’t even like him, a foolish young man who decided to be unfilial and kill his father to protect his sister.  You didn’t have the cold detachment most of them wore like armor. You weren’t bitter. You weren’t angry. You weren’t dead inside — you just looked like you’d forgotten how to be alive.

There was something off about it. Something is wrong. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like where this was heading in his head. He had to know. He had to understand how you came to be here.

So, he asked.

He caught Gojo Satoru on one of his rare, quieter days seated on the rooftop of a botanical garden, bright blue eyes hidden behind tinted lenses, spinning a lollipop between his fingers. Megumi furrowed his brows.

“I have a question for you.” Megumi said, tone low.

“And good afternoon to you, kid. Seriously, you didn’t even find the time to greet your elders. Do it again.”

“Good afternoon.”

“Much better—”

“I have a question.”

“Only one?” Gojo smirked, fixing his posture. “Getting lazy.”

“I don’t care about that either.”

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Just answer the question I’m about to ask.”

Gojo sighed. “Alright, alright. What’s it about?”

“It’s about her.” Megumi said.

Gojo’s smile faded. He turned his head, just slightly. Listening. “Okay, but—”

“How did she become a grim reaper?” Megumi asked. “She doesn’t move like someone trained for this. I know she isn’t. Her past lives prove that. She reacts before she thinks. Like it’s muscle memory….like she’s done this before, just not… here. Not like this.”

Gojo was silent for a long time. The wind brushed past them.

Finally, he said, “That’s not up to me to question.”

Megumi frowned. “You know something. You always do. You’re my boss.”

“I always know something, that’s just part of my job.” Gojo said, half–smiling again. “Doesn’t mean I’m allowed to tell you.”

“I want to understand her.” The words came out before he could stop them. Quiet. Honest. Maybe even desperate. “I want to know. Please. You know how much this means to me.”

Gojo exhaled through his nose, slowly. Then: “She doesn’t remember.”

Megumi’s breath caught. “What?”

“Her memories of her past life… they’re gone. I know usually, you get it back once the office processes the paperwork, when you ask. But she…she doesn’t have it.” Gojo said, voice unusually gentle. “That’s the price of what she is. A Reaper that didn’t start off dead. She’s someone taken, not made. Someone chosen.”

“Chosen by who?”

Gojo looked at him. Really looked. “That’s the wrong question, kid.” he said. “The real one is—why her? Why did they all choose her?”

Megumi didn’t answer. 

He didn’t know how to.

Because how could he?

“She probably doesn’t even know why she keeps ending up next to you either. She may think it’s just because you’re her sector boss.” Gojo said. “Doesn’t know what her body’s reacting to. Doesn’t know why you make her so still. So quiet.”

Megumi clenched his jaw. His voice cracked before he could hide it. “Then how am I supposed to let her go?”

Gojo looked away, eyes hidden behind the gleam of glass and the slow, setting sun. “You’re not, I suppose.” he said. “You never were. We learn that the hard way.”

Gojo’s words hung in the air like smoke. You never were. It rang in Megumi’s ears long after the sun dipped beneath the edge of the world. Long after Gojo stood, patted him once on the shoulder, and walked away.

He didn’t follow him, he doesn’t know how to. Instead, he just sat there, with his jaw tight, his hands pressed against the concrete, staring at the empty horizon like it owed him something. Why her?

He didn’t know. He’d never known. But he felt it — in the marrow, in the breath, in the way you voice made his name sound like a memory.  You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything. And still, you looked at him like she’d lost him before.

He hated it all, he just couldn’t help it. He hated how cruel it was. Because he wasn’t built for this kind of pain. The slow, relentless ache of watching someone you love exist beside you, and never with you. 

“Fucking hell.” Megumi whispered into the void, lowering his head onto his hands. “What do I do?”

COFFEE TASTED EVEN BITTER THAN BEFORE FOR THIS SHIFT. Two days later, you were back in the field with him. They didn’t even try to stagger the assignments anymore.

Maybe the office didn’t notice. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe the higher–ups in the main office had seen something in the threads of fate that neither of you had the clarity, or the courage to face.

The location was a run–down district just outside the city perimeter, a place with broken streetlights and water stains curling along the edges of old brick walls. It smelled like rust. Smoke. That strange metallic air before a storm.

It was another violent death. A girl this time. Sixteen. Gone too early, too fast. She’d died in the middle of a fight, unfortunately. The fists clenched, jaw locked, eyes wide with rage. And by the time the team got there… her soul was gone.

Not released. Not processed. Just gone. And that was dangerous. Because a soul left too long in that kind of pain alone, in that raw, fragmented fury, it didn’t stay soft.

It calcified. Morphed. Turned. And there will be no chance for rebirth. Only the certainty of misery, in purgatory or worse, disappears. And then, there will be nothing.

You crouched near the faded chalk outline, fingers pressed to the scorched concrete where the girl’s blood had pooled just days before. “The poor thing, really.”

“It’s a bad case.” Megumi mumbled under his breath.

“She didn’t even realize she died.” you murmured. “This kind… they don’t leave on their own. They get stuck. Trapped between the pulse and the silence.”

Fushiguro Megumi stood beside you, tense as he looked at the entirety.

He was watching the shadows like they could grow claws at any moment.

He was watching you too, when you weren’t looking.

“Her soul’s still in the district, by my estimates,” he said. “It hasn’t registered on any gates.”

“Then we’re running out of time, senpai.” you replied. “How long do we exactly have?”

He looks at his watch for a moment. “Before the sunrise. But that’s being too generous.”

You stood, brushing your coat back with a practiced flick, already walking toward the alley’s edge. “I can certainly do it in one hour.”

“That’s overconfidence in you, isn’t it?”

“Well, Reapers don’t get second chances, senpai.” you added, like you were reminding yourself more than him. “And lost souls don’t either.”

Fushiguro Megumi finds himself unable to say anything.

When he looked at your eyes again, there was no shine.

Perhaps that broke him more than the thought of a soul dying out.

Your hunt unfortunately started slow. But that was not your fault. Before and after dawn are the peak hours of souls, looking for the gates of the afterlife. That also means the influx of the Reapers all around the neighborhood is throwing you off. You couldn’t help but sigh. 

Perhaps the biggest hindrance spiritually is your boss, who couldn’t stop looking at you. His aura is overwhelming your senses. But you couldn’t say that to him.

You weren’t here to find yourself in the disciplinary ward, after all. Yet you were sure that even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to say it to him. And you didn’t know why.

You moved through the backstreets with quiet precision. Two shadows in a city that had forgotten the names of the dead. You passed windows that hadn’t seen light in years. Fences curled with rust. Shoes on telephone wires, spinning like memories.

And then, there was a flicker. You could feel the heaviness of the cold air. It was static along your spine. You froze. So did Megumi. You couldn’t help but frown at the feeling. You hated moments like this. You knew that this wouldn’t be something good. 

“There, senpai.” you said under your breath. “Did you feel that?”

He nodded, eyes narrowing. “She’s close.”

You turned the corner into an abandoned courtyard. And there she was. The girl’s soul was standing dead center, arms wrapped around herself like a shield. Her skin was pale and cracking, edges fraying like her form was struggling to hold.

Her frigid eyes were wide and unblinking, locked somewhere between now and a moment she would never escape. A moment that would forever trap her, frozen in this misery.

“No, no—don’t come near me, please.” she hissed when you approached, voice warped by grief. “Don’t touch me!”

Her pain rolled off her in waves. It was thick, bitter, and raw. It made your chest ache. Your purse your lips in a flat line. “She’s starting to mutate.”

“No, she’s already halfway gone. She’s passed that.” Megumi said quietly beside you. “Another hour and she’s not coming back.”

“I can reach her, senpai. I think I can do something.” you murmured, stepping forward.

“Hey! You know you can’t. This is against protocol, she’s already progress to—”

“But I have got to try!” You tell him, determination in your eyes. “How else will we know if we don’t at least give it a shot?”

“Do you think I would risk my subordinate to harm? Are you that stupid?”

“Senpai—”

But something about her gaze caught you.

The way her eyes skipped past Megumi to rest only on you.

There was so much hatred in her eyes.

“I know you.” the soul whispered.

You stopped cold. “Huh?”

She took a step back. Then forward. Fingers twitching. “You don’t remember me.” she said, voice trembling. “But I know your face. I saw it before I died.”

Megumi’s voice was sharp, controlled. “She’s displacing. She’s too far gone, I told you! She’s confusing you with someone else!”

“No.” The soul looked between you both, eyes going glassy. “You’re the reason. You’re the one who saw me and didn’t stop it.”

The moment your hand stretched out, the air turned still. Not quiet at all, no. It was still. Like the world was holding its breath. Your coat stirred in the stagnant wind. The flickering edges of her soul glowed dimly, like embers under ash.

“Don’t move, [last name].” Megumi warned, voice low, blade still at the ready. “She’s past saving.”

You didn’t listen. You couldn’t. The way she looked at you. It wasn’t desperation anymore. It was recognition. Like some part of her soul saw you the way you really were.

Like whatever spark that lived in the heart of all things dying had seen your name written in its final seconds. You stepped closer. Your hand didn’t waver.

“I can help you.” you said, gently. “But you have to let me. I can’t reach you if you turn away now.”

But the black hollow in her chest pulsed. It was thick, violent, pulling outward like smoke curling from the inside of a burning house. She clutched her head, breathing fast. She started to scream over and over.

“I don’t want to forget—!” she screamed, staggering forward. “I was someone! I know I was someone!”

Her body jerked, the dark mass inside her twitching, warping. “I remember my mother’s voice! I remember the sound of the TV in the morning! I remember what it felt like when I thought someone might love me—”

Her hands curled into fists again.“—and now it’s all fading! It’s gone, it’s gone—”

And then, something cracked in her. It sounded like the first break in a dying tree, right before the whole thing crashes down. She lunged. Fast. Vicious. But not at you. At herself.

She reached into her own chest like she wanted to tear the rot out. Like if she could just find the memory, the warmth, the piece of herself she’d lost—she could make it stop.

And that was what did it. The darkness snapped free. Swallowed her whole. A burst of energy surged outward in a shockwave. You stumbled back, the weight of it slamming into your ribs like guilt made physical.

Megumi moved without hesitation, his arms braced in front of you, body between you and the explosion. “Move back!” he barked, but his voice was already too far.

The girl was no longer a girl. You knew that much, even with much denial. What stood before you was twisted. Bone-white limbs extended too far, mouth open in a scream that had no sound.

Her eyes were now massive voids, leaking black tears. Her sorrow had become a shape, deepening into something of a monstrosity. Her grief had become a weapon to wield against you. And still....still, you stood there, looking at her with pain in your heart. You took one shaky step forward.

“Please….” you whispered. “You don’t have to become this.”

But she was gone. Megumi knew it before you did. He shifted, blade raised. “This has to end, now.”

And your voice cracked as you reached for his wrist. “Wait—Senpai, don’t—”

His jaw clenched. But he didn’t move yet. “This is beyond the protocol, you know this! We have to–”

“Look at her, senpai!” you begged. “She’s scared. She’s just scared.”

“She’s not her anymore, [last name].” he snapped. “This thing? It’ll take you with it.”

“I know that!” you said. “But just—just give me one more second.”

Fushiguro Megumi’s grip faltered. Just barely. His blue–green eyes looking at you, trust blossoming in the corner of his eyes. You nodded at him, thankful. You turned back toward the girl and looked at the echo of her and stepped forward. 

The creature, at least what remained of her, was writhing now. Flickering between the memory of a girl and the monstrous thing her grief had carved from her. Her mouth opened again, distorted and shaking, but this time… this time she spoke.

"Please, please….." she rasped. The sound wasn’t from her throat. It was from her soul, raw and breaking. “I don’t want to stay like this. I don’t want to forget—but I don’t want to be like this either.”

You froze. That voice. That ache. It hit something deep in you. Deeper than instinct, deeper than memory. Something older. Something permanent. Your head started to hurt little by little. But you kept it together. You had to. 

“Then let me help you.” you said, stepping forward slowly.

Her body trembled, a broken silhouette against the rotting skyline. Her hands were shaking like she still didn’t know what they were for. Fists, weapons, or prayers. She reached for you with one, the other still clenched tight by her side.

“I don’t remember who I was, I….I don’t remember!” she whispered. “But I know I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not anymore. Please... just let me go.”

And something in you had clicked. That quiet place, deep down, where the echoes of the past lived. The place you didn’t have the key to. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if you remembered her, or if she remembered you. 

What mattered was that she was asking you. To free her. To end this. You took a breath, steadying your hand. Your reaper’s seal burned faintly across your palm. She didn’t flinch at the sight of it at all. She had all but accepted her fate.

The blink of morning dawn was starting to come little by little, the darkness of the night slowly swallowed up. This was not how you wanted it all to go. You didn’t want to lose another soul like this.

But this had to be done now. You had already broken protocol for this. You couldn’t bring yourself to make her suffer anymore than she already has. This is the only mercy she could get in the hands of heaven and hell.

“I’m sorry.” you said, voice low, trembling. “But I promise… this won’t be for nothing.”

You stepped close enough to touch her forehead with your fingers.

Her eyes fluttered shut. A single tear fell—black, then clear. “Thank you.” she whispered to you, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you.”

And with that, light appeared as bright as the rising sun. It was ever so blinding and yet it was a silent light. A silent light that brings the deliverance of peace. You purse your lips as you watch it all. Her form dissolved like ash into sunrise, scattering upward. Gentle. Final. Not gone, but freed.

When the last of her vanished into the air, the wind returned. Soft. Barely there. You stood still, hand out, arm shaking. Fushiguro Megumi hadn’t said a word back as he sheathed his weapon back. He looks at you, concern casting down from the peripheral of his eye. 

When you turned back to him, he was staring at you like you’d split him in two. Like he was watching the exact moment your soul remembered how to ache. The morning sun finally hit the two of you. You took a breath. You opened your mouth for a moment, but nothing came out. 

“Are you alright?” Your subordinate asks you.

“I didn’t save her.” you said, quiet.

“You did. Don’t say that.” he answered. His voice was rough. “You just didn’t get to bring her to the gates. It’s okay.”

“But I…..”

“No, don’t think too much about it.” Megumi says as he gets closer to you. His figure towers over you. He looks at you with a softened gaze. “Please. You did what you could. You brought her peace. You saved her, okay?”

Your face contorted at his words. Suddenly, your brows were drawn, lips trembling, your shoulders pulled tight like your body didn’t know whether to collapse or run.

But the tears came anyway. They slid down your cheeks soundlessly, shameful and uncontrollable, like a crack in a dam that had held too long.

“I just—” Your voice faltered, hoarse. “I just wanted her to feel safe.”

Fushiguro Megumi stepped in without hesitation. Not with words. Not with orders. Just warmth. Just him. He reached out, careful and steady, and his hand came to rest against the back of your neck. 

It was gentle. Too gentle, like he was holding something precious to him. Yet it was the very thing that was grounding you. His other arm wrapped around you like a shield. A quiet one. Something steady enough to hold grief without needing to fix it.

“You gave her that, okay?” he murmured. His voice was low now, close to your ear, the kind of softness he didn’t show anyone else. “She left remembering that someone heard her. That someone stayed.”

Your fists curled into his coat. Your forehead dropped to his chest. He didn’t move an inch. He didn’t even pull back. Instead, he stayed there with you. He let his warmth envelope you when you needed it. He just held you there, close and certain as the sun kissed your skin even more.

“She was just a kid, senpai.” you whispered, your breath hitching.

“I know.”

“She was alone. I was alone. If you hadn’t been here—”

“I am here.” he said, more firm this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breath shook again, and then again, until it steadied. Just enough. 

Megumi’s hand brushed the back of your head slowly, his touch almost reverent. “You don’t have to carry it all, [last name].” he added. “Not alone.”

You stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for the blood on the pavement to dry. Long enough for the light to shift between buildings.

Long enough for the ache to settle instead of sharpen. Eventually, you pulled back just slightly, just enough to see his face. His jaw was tight. His eyes hadn’t left you for even a second.

“Do I really seem that broken to you?” you asked, your voice tired, raw.

“No, not at all.” he said. “You just seem like someone who’s still looking for the parts they lost.”

And something about the way he said that. It was quiet. Almost all too knowing. That had made your heart twist. Because he was looking too. You could see it. And he’d been looking longer than you knew.

For a moment, you felt the weariness of it all come to you. You were just standing there in the alley, your shoulders slack, your eyes red and all the sudden a little too distant for someone who just found their job done well.

The morning light caught on your uniform, smearing silver against the black. And for the first time since arriving, you didn’t look like the head of the Special Cases department. You just looked…tired. Almost so small. All too far away.

Megumi said nothing. Just stood there, quiet across from you, waiting like he always did. Because he knew better than to fill that kind of silence. The kind where memories try to surface but never make it to shore.

You take out a cigarette from your coat and bring a cigarette to your lips. Lit it with a snap of your fingers. Inhaled. Exhaled. The smoke curled around your face like something trying to stay. Then, finally, you turned to him. 

Your eyes were strange. Not confused. Not pained. Just old. Like something from another lifetime had turned over in your chest and was watching him from behind your lashes. For a moment, it didn’t even look like you were having a bad migraine.

“Do you believe in déjà vu?” you asked, voice low, almost idle.

He blinked, startled. “…What?”

You glanced up at the sky. Smoke slid from between your teeth. “It’s just a thought, from observation.”

“.....What brought this on?”

“Sometimes….I can’t help thinking about it.” you said slowly to him. “When you look at me, senpai…”

The word felt foreign in your mouth — formal, yet intimate. “…I feel like I’ve already grieved you, or maybe you’ve grieved me. I don’t know which. But….it’s just like that.” you said. “And I don’t know why.”

Megumi’s breath stilled. His throat closed around the sound of your voice. And his heart, it was a traitorous little thing. And it surged once again in a violent way against his ribs.

Because that was you. Not the reaper. Not the officer. You. That was a sliver of something that remembered him, even if you didn’t know it. The first time you’d said anything like that.

The first time your body remembered what your mind had let go. He stepped forward. It was slow, like something might shatter if he moved too quickly. His boots scraped against gravel. You didn’t flinch. Your reddened eyes never left his blue–green gaze.

Fushiguro Megumi said your name. Just once. Your actual name. And it made you feel something. Something you weren’t supposed to feel. Your breath takes a hitch. The way he said it, you knew that it cracked at the edges.

And for a second, just a second, you looked like someone who knew what it meant. Like someone who’d said his name before, in a world that had long since died. The silence stretched between the two of you.

None of you break the silence. Instead, it just deepened.It was now too dense and too impossible to ignore. The kind of silence that remembers.Megumi’s breath held still, lodged somewhere behind his ribs, as though letting it go would undo whatever fragile thread was pulling you toward him.

Then he said it again. Your name. Not your title. Not your designation. Your name. Your actual name. He had spoken it in a low, careful, way. Perhaps more than the first. It was like it meant something dangerous. Something forbidden.

And the way it echoed in your chest. It was almost… familiar. And it just made your head hurt even more. Your breath caught. A tremor ran through you, subtle but sharp, and your eyes. Those tired, shadowed eyes had locked onto his own, like they’d done this before. Like they’d found him before.

Something changed in your expression, you were sure. Even if you couldn’t see it, you knew something had changed. Not recognition. Not quite. But something old. Something that haunted the space between memory and instinct.

“…Why did that sound like a goodbye?” you asked, voice rough, uncertain.

Megumi swallowed, jaw flexing. His gaze never left yours. “Because it might be. Our work is always full of goodbyes, after all.” he said.

You blinked. That was the moment. The flicker. A beat of stillness that didn’t belong to this life. A feeling that didn’t have a name. And you felt it. Deep down. Like a ripple in still water. The ache of having known someone, and the agony of not remembering how.

“Who are you to me?” you asked, softly. You weren’t sure you even meant to speak. The words came from somewhere else.

Megumi didn’t answer. Not with words. He stepped forward, slow and sure, and the scrape of gravel beneath his boots sounded louder than it should’ve.

The air felt heavier now, charged with things he cannot put together. His presence filled the alley like a shadow cast from something much older than the buildings around you.

“You don’t have to say anything.” you whispered. “But something in me… it reacts to you.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you looked at him, your fingers flexing like they were supposed to be holding something they’d already lost. Something they had been waiting to find. Megumi’s voice, when it finally came, was quiet.

“I think you were someone I couldn’t save.”

That silence returned once more. It was ever so dense, knowing. Not a void. A presence. You looked at him then. Really looked. And your heart gave a low, uncertain beat like it recognized the shape of him. Not the face, not the name. The weight of him. And then, quietly, your lips parted.

“…Why does it feel like I’ve cried for you before?” You whispered back to him. “I didn’t just mourn or feel sad. But I cried. Bitterly.”

Megumi’s expression didn’t change. But his hand twitched at his side. Your name sat between you like a secret that refused to die. And neither of you moved. Because something ancient had just stirred awake. And neither of you knew what would happen if it opened its eyes.

“Maybe.” He whispers to you. “Just maybe.”

The cigarette burned slowly between your fingers, the smoke catching faint dying gold from a nearby streetlight. You were still watching him, gaze heavy. It was not in weight, but in the way it pressed into him, like you were trying to figure out something that wouldn’t come.

Something that hovered just behind your ribs, just beyond your reach. And then, all at once, you looked away. Your head hurts even more than before. You let the cigarette meet your lips once again. 

You cursed, soft under your breath. “Fuck.” you muttered. “Forget it. I don’t remember.”

Megumi flinched like you’d slapped him. The shift was instant. Your voice closed off, a door slammed shut in the space between you. Your shoulders tensed as if embarrassed to have said anything at all.

You turned slightly, dragging one last inhale from the cigarette like it might anchor you back into this life. The one you knew, the one where he was your commanding officer and not something deeper, older, buried beneath centuries of silence.

“I didn’t mean to make it weird, senpai.” you added. A shrug. Casual. Too casual. “I’ve been overworked lately. It’s probably just… nerves.”

But Megumi couldn’t breathe. Because he remembered.He remembered every second of that moment when you looked at him like you knew him.

Not the version of him standing in front of you now, but the boy he used to be. The one who held your hand in another lifetime, who once promised you peace.

And now you were brushing it off like smoke in the wind. He opened his mouth to say something to you, at least anything that would make it better. But his voice caught in his throat. So he just stood there, hurting quietly like he always did.

“…It’s okay.” he said finally. Low. Tired. “It happens.”

You gave him a look, unreadable again. A flicker of something he couldn’t name. And then you nodded. As if that was the end of it. As if there shouldn’t be anything more to be said. As if it never happened.

You dropped the cigarette. Stepped it out with your boot. “We should head back. The office will want a full report.”

“Yeah.” 

He watched you walk ahead, back straight, hands tucked into your coat pockets like it was just another night, just another mission. But Fushiguro Megumi’s chest still ached with everything you didn’t say. 

Everything you almost remembered.

YOU ONLY FOUND OUT TODAY THAT SOMETHING WAS WRONG. You got in and you looked at the office. It was too quiet. Usually, people were bustling and hustling, putting in reports in and out of the sector head’s office. You were confused, very confused. Until you checked your emails. The report was never filed. At least not by him.

You noticed that his office was cold, his coat still hung on the hook by the door. There was no answer. No note. No explanation. Just silence. Nothing from his secretary. Nothing from his other subordinates. 

The first thing you did was check dispatch. The second was the morgue. By the third hour, you were in a rage. Something inside you wouldn’t calm down, wouldn’t sit still.

Not until you stormed the massive head of operations wing and grabbed Gojo Satoru by the collar in front of six stunned Reapers reporting to him and hissed.

“Where the hell is he?”

Gojo Satoru, for once, didn’t smile. He didn’t joke at all. He didn’t even pretend. He just looked at you, something strange and guilty swimming in the corners of his bright blue eyes. That had made you even angrier.

“I asked you a question!”

“I’m your boss, don’t you know that?”

“I don’t really give a fuck about proprieties right now.” You reiterated, brows narrowing deeper. “Now answer my question.”

“He’s in the Hall.”

The words didn’t register. “What? Which hall? There’s many halls in this place!”

“The Hall of Discipline.”

Your stomach dropped. “What? Why?”

Gojo sighed. Quiet. Tired. “For the obvious.”

“What, this is not making sense—”

“He falsified the report, [last name].” he said, more clearly this time. “Said the soul’s corruption was his mistake. Claimed he delayed the purge protocol. Said it was all on him. The office found a dozen violations in his write-up and he didn’t fight it. Took the blame.”

You couldn’t breathe. “That’s….”

“He’s your superior, as much as I am.” Gojo added, softer now. “When things go wrong, the system comes for the one in charge.”

“But I was—I stepped in, I—”

“I know that, kid.” The blue eyed man said. “We all know. But Megumi made it so no one else could touch you. He rerouted everything.”

Your hands were shaking. “He shouldn’t have….This is stupid!”

“It is. But he still did.” Gojo Satoru put a hand on your shoulder. His voice dropped. “He did it for you.”

You moved almost instantly. Your legs moved like a blade through the halls. You did not care for anything else. You had to get there fast. You didn’t care if you were going to get in. You’ll force your way in. You didn’t carry any clearance, nor were there orders for you to be there. But that also didn’t matter.

All you had to do was walk in. The guards didn’t dare stop you. They felt it in the air around you. The storm. The promise. They saw your eyes, your fists clenched into fists. It was all too much, that energy flowing from your body.

Down below, the stones whispered. Every step rang against old bones. The torches bent away from your passing. You stopped there soon enough, at the seventh row. You knew that cell. The worst one. Your throat felt dry.

You opened the door almost immediately. And you saw him, you saw everything. He was there. Fushiguro Megumi. Chained. Bruised. Slumped in shadow.

One eye was swollen. One hand red with dried blood. He didn’t lift his head at first. Not until you said something. Not until you called his name like it still meant something.

Then slowly, his gaze suddenly found you. His breath caught. “…….You came.” he murmured. A rasp, not quite real. “......Why?”

“I should be asking this question.” Your throat burned. “Why did you do it?”

He blinked once at your words. Then again.

As if the answer had teeth. As if it lived behind his ribs.

And then he hitches a breath, trying to speak despite the pain.

 “You weren’t supposed to be here.” he said softly. “Not in this life. Not like this.”

You stared at him. “…What does that mean?”

But he didn’t answer. Only looked at you like you were a secret he’d buried centuries ago and couldn’t stop digging up. And for a moment, for just a breath, your skin remembered him. Not your mind. Not your soul. Just the body.

The instinct. The shape of something familiar in the dark. A voice you’d followed into fire before. You didn’t know why your hands moved.

Why you reached him with everything in you. Why he let you. But you touched him. Gently. His jaw. His cheek. The side of his throat where something still beat, still fought.

“You should’ve let me take the fall.” 

Your voice was low, splintering at the edges. A whisper only the walls and the dust could hear. Your hand cupped his cheek tenderly, carefully as you could, your soft palm against the warmth of bruised skin. 

“It was my fault.”

“I couldn’t. ” Megumi breathed. Not because it hurt. Not because he was bleeding. But because you’d said it. That. The one thing he’d wanted to protect you from.

“You could have—”

“You know that I wouldn’t.” he added. A little more fragile now. Like he was trying not to fall through the space between you. “This is the only choice.”

Your grip trembled. Not because of fear, that was for sure. But because somewhere in your body, in your bones, you did know. You didn’t remember, not truly. Not all of it. Not clearly. But it seems your body did. 

You could feel the ache. There was an instinct. The way your fingers ghosted over the edge of his jaw like they'd memorized the path long ago. The way your eyes were clouded with concern. That was real. That was yours. That was surely warm. Only for him.

“I didn’t want this, senpai.” you whispered. “I didn’t want you like this.”

His lashes lowered. Eyes half–lidded, jaw tight. “I know.”

Silence pressed in from all sides. The stone, the iron, the weight of what couldn’t be said. What wasn’t supposed to be remembered. But it lingered anyway.

Between you. Like a curse. Like a vow. You leaned in, forehead resting against his skin. The light flickered overhead. Shadows crawled across the cell floor like old ghosts.

“I keep feeling it.” you murmured, almost to yourself. “That something's missing. Like I'm half–awake. And when I see you... it’s like I almost know what I’m supposed to say. Like I’ve said it before.”

Megumi didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched you. 

Like you were sunlight bleeding through a locked door. 

Then, he speaks to you with laboured breaths.

“I used to dream of you.” he said. Soft. Low. Carved in smoke. 

“Before you ever put on the uniform. Before the office took your name. There’s too much to say….Too much to speak on.” 

“Senpai, don’t speak too much—”

But Megumi didn’t stop. He felt feverish, lost in the pain. He was losing his mind. “You’d show up in places you shouldn’t have been since that first life. Under sakura trees. In the middle of winter. At the edge of a battlefield.”

You blinked at his words.

Your heart clenched.

Your lips pursed into a line.

“You always smiled. Always left first.”

Something twisted inside your chest. A flicker of grief you couldn’t place. “Senpai….”

“I think I was supposed to follow you. Everywhere…..” Megumi whispered. “I just… never got there in time.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your fingers curled tighter against his skin. And deep in the marrow of your soul, something remembered. Something screamed. But the name wouldn’t come. Nothing would come to you. Even if you wished there was.

His blue–green eyes fluttered, glassy and dark, lashes trembling like he was fighting sleep—or memory. And then, like something pulled from the bottom of a well, his voice returned. Distant. Drenched in fever.

“She always leaves first…” he mumbled, barely audible. “Still wears the ribbon… said it meant ‘home’…”

You froze. The words hit you like a blade behind the ribs. Because you’d heard them before. Your head started to hurt once again. You bit your lip, trying to not let the pain win. You turned to look at Megumi, but the words continued to echo in your head. 

It was too familiar. It was like you remembered it. Yet it was not here. Not in this life. Somewhere else. A dream, maybe. A voice calling across some great divide. The ribbon was real, but you couldn’t explain how. Couldn’t remember ever being given one. And yet, suddenly your hand was moving.

You reached beneath the folds of his tattered coat, down the neckline of his uniform, like something was guiding you and there, tucked against his collarbone, warm with his fevered skin. 

A ribbon. Frayed at the edges. Crimson. Your breath caught in your throat. So you don’t forget me. The words weren’t yours. Not yet. But they echoed in the hollow of your ribs like they belonged. 

And you knew. You knew he’d been holding on to it across lifetimes. A part of you broke, almost instantly. But a deeper part of you awakened. It was like a ghost coming to you, haunting you with something you couldn’t even remember, mockingly.

“Come back to me.” you whispered, voice trembling. Copying the words in your head. The pain is becoming more and more prevalent. “Wherever you are… whatever this is… come back.”

His body stilled in your arms. His head lolled gently, eyes barely open. “…don’t let them take you again…”

It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning. The shadows around you shifted. The air thinned. Something old was listening.  The Hall of Discipline groaned faintly above you, its stone bones creaking under memory and magic. 

The red ribbon pulsed against your fingers. It was soft, steady. Like a heartbeat. Like a tether. It felt so familiar. And you hated it. Because you couldn’t understand it. You purse your lips, the thundering hurt hammering in your head.

Fushiguro Megumi had slept into feverish slumber. 

Soon enough, you knew you were also going to.

You pull out your phone and call Gojo Satoru.

“Bring medics down here.” You whispered to him. “Now.”

You hung up and leaned against Megumi, holding the ribbon.

THAT BITTER NIGHT, YOUR SLEEP CAME IN MANY FRAGMENTS. It all came in so many fractures you could not understand. And when it did, when your body finally gave in to exhaustion, you dreamed. But not like before.

This one was... different. You were standing in a garden. Quiet. Cracked stone beneath your feet, dust curling around the hem of robes that felt too heavy, too ancient to belong to the present. Trees loomed tall overhead, but they were wilted. Hollow. Like something had long since abandoned them.

There was a shrine. Or maybe a ruin.

Something half–buried and forgotten.

And he was there. Megumi. But not quite.

He didn’t wear black. He didn’t look like the version you knew. His hair was longer, tied back. His eyes were the same. But older somehow. More haunted. He was standing at the edge of a small pond, hand resting on a stone marker.

And when he turned to you, your heart lurched so violently in your chest it almost woke you. “You always find me here, you know.” he said.

You blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose so.” he murmured. “You never do. Not the first time. Not even this time.”

You stepped forward, compelled by something you couldn’t name. You looked down at the stone marker. It was worn smooth. The name had faded from it. All except one character. Yours. And then, a hand gripped your wrist. Familiar. Steady. Warm.

But when you looked up, he wasn’t standing beside the stone anymore. He was behind you eyes narrowed like he was afraid of what, you couldn’t tell. You were confused. This was not reality. You were sure of that. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t true.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet, not just yet,” he whispered. “Not this time.”

“Why not?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He didn’t answer.

The dream shattered like glass.

You felt like you were falling.

The weight of the world blinked away as you landed. And when your eyes opened again, you were in a hospital room. The light was pale. Blurred at the edges. Machines hummed like lullabies gone wrong. Outside the window, snow fell against the glass in slow motion. It was too slow, like time had stopped to watch.

You looked down. You were in the bed. IVs in your arms. Tubes at your side. Everything white and wrong. The door creaked open. And there he was. Megumi. But younger, still tired. His hair damp from the rain. His Reaper uniform still clung to him. Another version of him from another time. 

You were once more confused as he looked at you, so tenderly, so warmly, so devotedly. He stepped inside quietly, as if any noise would wake something that wasn’t supposed to rise. His eyes met yours, and the pain in them was older than anything the world had a name for.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet.” he whispered.

Your throat felt tight. You tried to sit up, but couldn’t. The ache in your chest told you something was ending. “Why not?” you asked, voice trembling. “Why can’t I stay?”

He didn’t answer right away. He came to your side, and sat in the chair like he’d done it a thousand times. Reached for your hand like it had always been his to hold. His thumb brushed over your knuckles.

"You weren’t meant to see this. You weren’t supposed to see the end, your end." he said, finally. Voice low. Fragile. “But you did. And it broke something.”

“What did it break?”

Another pause. Then, his voice broke too: “Me.”

The lights above flickered. You looked down and saw the ribbon again, tied loosely around your wrist. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, not knowing why.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to your temple. “You always say that.” he murmured.

And then suddenly, that sound again.

You can hear the shattering glass.

That horrific, sharp sound.

The world split open, the hospital room disintegrating into fragments. White light, falling snow, the beeping machines all swallowed by black. You fell through it like water. And then you woke up. Sweating. Shaking.

The real Fushiguro Megumi still lay unconscious in the cot beside you, fever cooling slowly under your watch. The red ribbon was still in your hand. But now, you remembered the feeling of  snow. You remembered the feeling of dying. And you remembered him, at your side.

Every time.

Every lifetime.

Every chance.

And you still didn’t know why.

You sat up, feeling the sweat cold at the back of your neck, breath caught in your throat. And across the room, far from you and Megumi, you could feel the faint, flickering, like a phantom.

For a moment, you thought you saw a shadow move. It looked like someone standing just at the edge of your perception. Watching with such precision. Such intent. Such desire.

Gone when you blinked. But you felt it. The same ache from the alley. The same weight in your chest. The same name, unspoken but circling your ribs like a storm waiting to break. You didn’t sleep again that night. Instead, you watched Fushiguro Megumi breathe.

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED WHEN YOU CAME INTO THE OFFICE. But that was because you were still feeling sick.That’s what they told you, anyway. That’s why you were still officially on medical leave. That’s why you weren’t supposed to be on–site today.

It’s why they hadn’t even processed your last mission report yet, which you were sure said something about "emotional trauma recovery" whatever that meant in a place like this.

But you didn’t care about that at all. You woke up before the sun that morning, throat raw from another dream you couldn’t quite shake, your fingers still curled around the edge of Megumi’s spare coat, left behind on the couch.

So you came in. You took the high elevator to the top deck, to what used to be an observatory before the league converted it. Now it was all reinforced glass and glowing panels, quiet enough to think and empty enough to breathe. 

You stood there, staring out over the city that doesn’t even know you exist. The wide world is still asleep below you, blanketed in blue and grey. For a moment there, you thought you were alone. Until the reflection shifted.

Division Head Gojo Satoru’s tall frame emerged behind you in the glass, arms folded casually, his usual blindfold replaced by tinted lenses. He looked half like a ghost, and half like someone who never really slept.

You didn’t hide your surprise. “You’re up early, senpai.”

“Old habit, I suppose.” he said, stepping closer. “I used to crash here when the paperwork got unbearable. Not much has changed.”

You looked at him. “You still do?”

He didn’t answer directly. Just gave a small smile and joined you at the glass, the mundane city lights painting dying soft gold across his jaw. He studied your face for a moment. He hummed soon after.

“You shouldn’t be here, no?” he said eventually, voice gentler than expected.

You scoffed. “Says the guy who’s technically been dead a million times.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Touché.”

A long silence passed between you at that moment.

The kind that felt full, not at all like a blank canvas. 

The kind only people who’ve shared enough pain can understand.

“Did you see him?” you asked suddenly, without looking.

Gojo’s smile faded. He exhaled through his nose.

“He’s still recovering, in his apartment.” he said. “Stubborn as ever.”

You nodded. Your reflection looked pale, eyes a little too hollow. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“He didn’t see another way. Especially as your boss.”

“I would’ve taken the punishment.”

“He knew that.” Gojo turned to face you now. “But the system doesn’t work that way. And you—”

He paused. Something unreadable flickered in his gaze. “You’ve always been meant for something else, aren’t you?”

You turned toward him, brows drawing. “What does that mean?”

Gojo tilted his head, a grin returning but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not the one who gets to answer that. Sorry”

A pulse of unease tightened in your chest. Like something was circling you in your own skin. Like something remembered.

“Gojo–senpai—” you started, stepping forward without thinking. But he was already moving, already backing away, like he’d said too much or just enough.

“Get some rest, kid.” he said, his voice lighter now, but not soft. “And don’t do anything stupid. Or at least… not without backup.”

The doors behind him hissed open. He turned.

But then he stopped. Just for a second.

His head angled over his shoulder, voice low now. Real low.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” The words slipped through the quiet like a needle. 

Your mouth opened. Closed. “What?”

“In your dreams, when you were knocked out.”

“I don’t know….” you said. “It felt like… like a memory. But not mine.”

Gojo’s voice dropped, serious in a way he rarely allowed. “Some memories don’t belong to just one person.”

You glanced at him. “So whose was it?”

He looked at you carefully. His tone was impossibly gentle. “Yours.” he said. “And his.”

Gojo Satoru turned back toward you fully, no grin this time, no swagger. Just those pale lenses catching the dull ceiling light. His face was unreadable for a moment as he ended up deep in his thoughts.

“In your dreams, sometimes…..” he said. “You remember things. Not clearly. Not yet. But something’s waking up.”

You stared at him.

Your stomach turned.

Your lips pursed deep.

“Megumi…” you whispered. “Was it because of me?”

Gojo didn't respond. Didn’t need to. The silence cracked between you like ice underfoot. And then he walked away, hands in his coat pockets, disappearing into the flickering lights of the hallway. You turned back to the glass. The city hadn’t changed. The light was still dull, the sky still gray.

But your reflection was different now. Because in your own eyes, something else looked back. And this time, it blinked with you. Like something had decided. Like something in you had finally opened its eyes.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He says, smiling at you. “Go on. Back home.”

You were going to argue but you gave in and nodded.

He turns around and walks away, his face drops.

He takes his phone from his pocket and the phone rings.

“She’s going to remember soon.”

YOU DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS, BUT YOU ENDED UP HERE ANYWAY. Far above, tucked away in the forbidden archives of the League of Reapers, a forgotten case file blinked awake, its lock peeling open, quietly, like something old had just been permitted to stir.

The records room wasn’t supposed to be open after hours. Especially not the forbidden wing. You weren’t sure how you got past the first two sigil locks. You didn’t stop to question it. Your hands just moved, like they knew what they were reaching for.

Down long aisles of dust and dead magic, your footsteps were the only sound. The further in you walked, the more the air changed. It was heavy, old, metallic. Like the stillness right before a storm. You passed the shelves that should’ve had your file. Yours and Megumi’s.

But there was nothing. Just blank ledgers. Burnt corners. Redacted names. Your existence. It was odd. It was fully cleaned off the paper like a sin no one wanted to confess. You stood there in front of the empty space where the file should be, hands trembling.

“…Why?” you whispered. “Why can’t I find anything?”

The lights overhead flickered.

And then, without warning, you stopped.

You felt that endless burst of energy.

“Because you were never meant to.”

The voice came from behind you. Calm. Controlled.

Beautiful in a way that makes your skin crawl.

You turned, slowly to see that face you had longed to see.

Geto Suguru. The Keeper of the Forgotten. The guardian of records sealed by the gods of this realm. He stood with his hands behind his back, black robes pooling like ink around his boots. His purple eyes gleamed golden in the dark.

“You shouldn’t be here, reaper.” he said, voice smooth like a blade sliding into silk. “These files are sealed for a reason.”

“I had a dream, keeper.” you said. “I saw a version of myself. I—remembered something. And I…..I don’t know. I need to—”

“That wasn’t a memory.” Geto cuts you off. “That was residue. Massive chunks, it would seem. It's a massive leftover of emotion trying to piece itself into something. It’s dangerous to mistake echoes for truth.”

Your voice sharpened. “Then what’s the truth?”

Geto tilted his head, dark hair falling over one eye. “It’s not your place to ask.”

Something inside you flared. “It’s about me. How is it not my place?”

He took a step forward to you, his beautifully decorated robes flowing as he did. You backed up instinctively and suddenly hit the shelf behind you. His presence closed in like mist under a door. After all, he was not one to challenge.

“You died, reaper.” he said softly. “And you weren’t chosen to come back. But something refused to let go. Something broke the cycle. Your soul was taken, not guided. That makes you… an anomaly.”

You swallowed. “So someone stole me?”

Geto Suguru didn’t answer.

But his silence was confirmation enough.

That had made your chest constrict.

“I deserve to know what I have forgotten.” you said, a low shake in your voice. “Please.”

Geto’s purple haze darkened. It was not unkind, but far too knowing. “Reaper, it is not your place to ask.”

“Keeper—”

“You had made your choice a hundred years ago. The choice is final. You have chosen this life.” he said. “You believed you deserve peace. And we have given it to you.”

He raised a hand. You felt the air around you thicken, magic curling tight around your lungs, around your mind. The archives blurred from you all of the sudden. Your eyes widened as you looked at him.

“No—wait—” you started.

“Go back to your sector, reaper.” Geto said gently, stepping back into the dark. “Before the parts of you that are still whole begin to remember why they were broken in the first place.”

And with that, darkness.

WEEKS LATER, IT WAS HARD TO DEAL WITH THE SILENCE. Fushiguro Megumi wanted to look for you. But it was like you vanished into thin air. It was stupid, how he went into a frenzy when he came looking for you.

Yet that was all he could know. He couldn’t stand it, going into silence. He hated that more when you appeared in his nightmares. It was raining when Megumi found you again.

He didn’t find you until it was already late. It was way too cold, even for a reaper. Outside headquarters, where reapers weren’t supposed to linger this long in the mortal veil.

You stood beneath the overhang of a closed shop, arms folded over your chest, face lifted slightly to the sky like you didn’t know where else to be. Like you didn’t know how long you'd been standing there.

He almost didn’t call out to you. Almost let you stay like that—just standing there at the edge of the platform, watching the clouds roll over the city like ash. The back of you looked like someone else. Like someone older. Like someone trying to remember what it felt like to be whole.

But your aura....it wasn’t sitting right. Fushiguro Megumi knew the shape of you in every room. Could pick you out from a mile away, even in crowds, even in battle. But this? This wasn’t your usual rhythm. 

Your energy was jittery, off–beat. Like someone had burned out the center of you and filled it with static. The aftershock of a dream you couldn’t shake. Something was rattling inside of you and he felt it in his bones.

“…You okay?” Megumi’s voice was low. Careful.

You flinched. And that did something to him. Made his gut twist. Made his jaw tighten. You never flinched around him before. Not like that. He stepped forward, slowly, like he might spook you if he didn’t. His coat rustled against the silence.

“Shouldn’t you still be resting? You’re still injured.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, just let the words slide out with the smoke that curled from your cigarette. It was slow, unbothered.

Like maybe you weren’t worried sick about him for the past two nights. Like maybe you hadn’t checked his office three times today already. Like maybe your heart wasn’t still racing from that dream.

But Fushiguro Megumi saw the tension in your fingers, how they trembled just a little when you flicked the ash. He saw how you stood slightly off–balance, weight shifting like you didn’t want to be caught hoping.

“I wanted to see you.” he said simply, honestly. The words came quiet, unfiltered. “You disappeared for the whole day. Gojo told me.”

You exhaled, sharp through your nose. “Why is he snitching on me?” you muttered, flicking your cigarette to the side, watching the embers die as they scattered. “Old man’s bored, isn’t he?”

Megumi shrugged one shoulder. “Probably. He said you looked ‘haunted’ and then told me to handle it before he had to get emotionally involved.”

You snorted softly. “That sounds like him.”

A beat of silence passed between you. Then another. The wind picked up and pushed at the hem of your coat. You rubbed your arms. It was feeling more from nerves than cold, you were sure. But you hated that. You would have rather it was the cold. 

Finally turned to look at him. His hair was still damp. His knuckles were bandaged. His blue–green eyes were dark under the weight of whatever hell he’d just been through. But he was here. He came.

“…You shouldn’t be up and about just yet.” you said again, quieter now. “You’re still recovering. You look like shit.”

Megumi’s gaze flickered to yours, sharp but soft, like a blade dulled at the edge for your sake alone. “And you look like you haven’t slept in three days.”

You didn’t respond.

He stepped closer.

You didn’t look up.

“You weren’t there after the mission for today.” he said to you. “And I kept thinking….if you were alright. If you were doing well. You were having bad headaches too.”

Your chest tightened. “How did you—”

“It was obvious.”

Because it was. And you did realize it, how obvious it was. That you were in pain. Yet you didn’t know what to tell him what it was all about. You didn’t know what to tell him. When it was all horrible things. 

But you didn’t know how to tell him that every time you closed your eyes, you heard him whisper your name in a hospital room that didn’t exist. That some part of you knew that voice before your brain ever caught up. That it made your heart twist in ways that didn’t make sense.

“You came all this way just to check on me?” you asked, forcing a wry smile.

Megumi didn’t blink. “I’d cross the veil if I had to.”

Just like that, your cigarette burned out between your fingers. Your eyes met his and lingered. “I think I lost something.” you said.

His heart kicked. “What do you mean?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. “I went to the archives.”

Megumi stiffened. “What?”

“I had to.” Your voice was soft. “I needed to know why I keep dreaming things that feel like memories. Why I remember voices that don’t belong to me. Why you… why I keep—”

You stopped yourself. Jaw locking. 

Megumi’s gaze never wavered. “What happened?”

You looked away. “They weren’t there.” you whispered. “Our files. Everything I was looking for—it’s gone. Or hidden. Or… I don’t know.”

Silence. “And then…” Your voice faltered. “He was there.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

You hesitated. “Geto Suguru. The Keeper.”

Megumi swore under his breath. Stepped toward you. “What did he say?”

“That it’s not my place to know.” you said, bitter. “That I was taken. That my soul wasn’t meant to be here. That someone pulled me from the cycle and forced me into this life.”

Megumi’s breath stopped when you mentioned those words. You didn’t see the way his hands curled into fists. Didn’t see the fear creeping up his throat. You didn’t know how much anguish this was putting him through.

“I tried to remember after that.” you continued. “But something’s wrong. Like there’s a hole in my head. I can feel it. I was so close, and now it’s just…”

You looked at him again, more desperate now. “Why does it feel like you’re the only thing I remember?” you asked. “Like my soul keeps walking toward you, even when I don’t want it to.”

Megumi couldn’t speak. Didn’t trust himself too. Because he knew that feeling. Knew what it was to ache for someone you weren’t supposed to keep finding. Know the exact weight of your gaze. The way his name used to sound from your lips.

He took one slow step closer.Then another. He didn’t touch you. But he stood close enough for you to feel the heat of him beneath the rain. His bright blue–green eyes locked to yours, solemn, endless.

“I’ll find out what they’re hiding,” he said. “I swear it.”

“…Why?” you whispered.

Megumi's voice was quiet, but it hit like thunder: “Because your soul isn’t the only one that remembers.”

You looked at him confused and uncertain.

The scent of the cigarette left your lips.

You nodded at him, letting everything slip by.

Later, the tension in the air thickened, like a storm pressing down on the heavy silence between them. Fushiguro Megumi’s resolve, forged from year after year of restraint and quiet determination.

Now felt like a chain binding him to the past and the future that Geto Suguru had hinted at. A future where the woman he loved was something more than human.  More than what he could protect.

Geto Suguru, the Keeper, stepped back, the hint of amusement in his voice masked by something far older, more knowing. "You think you’re the one holding the key, don’t you, reaper." he said, almost as though to himself. "But the door was never locked to begin with. You’re just too stubborn to see it."

Fushiguro Megumi’s gaze never wavered. He knew the risks of going here. He knew the stories buried beneath the names in those forbidden files. But none of it had ever mattered more than you. You were more important than anyone to him in this world.

“I’m not afraid of what’s in that file, you know that. I remember everything, even if you blank it out.” Megumi said, his voice hardening. “You may think I’m blind to the danger, but I’m not. I’ll tear down every wall you put up between us.”

Geto’s smile returned, just a little—cold and calculated. “You can try. But the truth always catches up.”

Megumi didn’t flinch. His mind was set, his path clear. The years of unanswered questions, the weight of a thousand lost memories, had led him here. To this moment. To this man who seemed to hold all the pieces of a puzzle Megumi could never finish on his own.

“You’re wrong about one thing, keeper.” Megumi added, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “I’m not the only one who remembers.”

Geto’s eyes flickered, just for a moment. Then, with a shift of his body, he turned, as if dismissing the conversation entirely. "We'll see."

Fushiguro Megumi stood there, unmoving. It wasn’t over. It wasn’t nearly over. Not as long as she still came back to him. Not as long as the past, and the memories they shared, remained anchored to their souls.

The door behind him closed with a finality that echoed. But the bond was already there, and nothing Geto Suguru said or did could sever it. And Megumi would make sure of that.

[larluce]

Merlin arrives with a baby in Camelot AU

(co-writing with @roxineedstosleep)

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

Chapter 3: Valiant (Part 1)

In Gaius's chambers. Merlin, who has barely slept, drags himself out of bed with dark circles under his eyes, hastily putting on his clothes. His day is just beginning, but he's already exhausted.

Gaius: (Almost at the same pace as Merlin, dressing more slowly and then putting more wood on the fire) Did you get any sleep last night?

Merlin: (Yawning) No. (points to the baby in the crib). Someone thought it was a good idea to have colic and roll a bottle across the table.

Baby: (sleeping peacefully) 😴

Merlin walks over to the table to see his list of things to do for the day. His to-do list is quite long, and the castle bells haven't even rung to welcome the day yet.

Gaius: (Looking up from his book) You can barely stand, my boy.

Merlin: (Yawning, as he prepares the bottle of milk) Uh-huh. But the prince can't seem to dress himself, and my roommate is sick. Do you think you could give her-

Gaius: (Sighs and takes the bottle) I'll do my best to look after her today; colic is common at this age. Go before Arthur gets impatient.

Time skip. At the Training Grounds. Arthur is already waiting with his arms crossed when Merlin arrives with his training gear, having already dressed him.

Arthur: (mockingly) Have you always been this slow?

Merlin: (mimicking his tone) Have you always been this helpless?

Arthur: (seriously) You can't talk to me like that.

Merlin: I'm sorry. (exaggeratedly polite tone) Have you always been helpless, my lord? (gives a small bow)

Arthur: (A smile almost forms on his face at the joke, but it soon returns to his angry expression and he throws a training pad at Merlin's head) Let's begin.

And Arthur uses him as a training dummy all morning.

Despite being overworked, Merlin gets some help from other servants who know how difficult Arthur is to deal with.

Time skip. In the laundry room.

George: (while helping Merlin wash Arthur's clothes) He wants you to quit.

Merlin: (confused) Uh?

George: The prince. He's hoping you'll either get fed up and quit, or make a mistake bad enough to get you sacked. He does the same with all his personal manservants. Although you're the first he's ever been so hard on.

Merlin: (laughs) I don't think he's forgiven me for humiliating him in front of his men. (mockingly) Or should I say his daddy's men?

George: (curious) So why aren't you doing it?

Merlin: What?

George: Quit.

Merlin: (thinking) I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. And I need to buy things for my baby. (shrugging) I just came to visit Gaius. I never planned to stay. But it doesn't hurt to have some money.

Merlin doesn't mention the baby to any of the servants. He never does. But something about the sympathetic look George gives him in response makes him suspect they might already know. And he confirms it when he asks Gwen for help with Arthur's armor.

Time skip. At Gwen's house.

Merlin: (dressed in Arthur's armor)

Gwen: (after showing Merlin how to put on the armor) I guess you know what to do with the helmet?

Merlin: (tired, but smiles at him) Yeah, yeah, that was the only bit I'd figured out.

Gwen: (laughs)

Merlin: (puts on the helmet) How come you're so much better at this than me?

Gwen: I'm the blacksmith's daughter. I know pretty much everything there is to know about armour, which is actually kind of sad.

Merlin: (impressed) No, it's brilliant! I would love for my girl— (cuts himself off, eyes widening in panic) I mean, if I had a girl, I would love for her to be interested in my interests. Yeah… (takes off his helmet and avoids Gwen's gaze) I'd better get changed now.

Gwen: (helps Merlin out of the armor and says tentatively) And how is Gaius's little patient?

Merlin: (feigning ignorance) Uh?

Gwen: The one I saw yesterday when we met. The baby.

Merlin: Oh, she is. Uhmm… (decides to repeat the lie Gaius told him to say) She's actually the daughter of a patient. Gaius and I are temporarily looking after her while her mother recovers.

Gwen: (not sounding very convinced) I see… (finishes removing Merlin's armor)

Merlin: (realizes) Wait, have you told anyone about her?

Gwen: …

Merlin: Gwen! 😠

Gwen: In my defense, I didn't know you were going to become the prince's manservant.

Merlin: (pacing) That's why everyone's been looking at me strangely. I'm sure you put them in the idea that she's my daughter! 😡

Gwen: (tries to calm him down) Merlin-

Merlin: (screams) She isn't! I wish she was, but she isn't. And even if she was, what do you all care? Huh? Why can't you just mind your own damn business?! 😤

Gwen: …

Gwen: Just out of curiosity, how much sleep did you get today?

Merlin: (sighs) 2 hours. Maybe. (feeling bad) Sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you.

Gwen: It's okay. (places the disassembled armor in Merlin's arms) We servants may be gossips, but we never give each other away. We know how to keep a secret when it matters, and we protect each other. I just want you to know that.

Merlin: (smiles, grateful) I'll keep that in mind. (leaves)

Time skip. At the training grounds.

Merlin: (struggles to get the vambrace on Arthur's lower arm)

Arthur: (grumpily) You know the tournament starts today?

Merlin: Yes, sire. (Fixes the buckle on the gorget and tries to make conversation) Are you nervous?

Arthur: I don't get nervous.

Merlin: Really? I thought everyone got nervous-

Arthur: (shouting) Will you shut up?!

Merlin: (gets angry, but says nothing, grabs Arthur's cloak, ties it up, and silently hands him his helmet)

Arthur: Aren't you forgetting something?

Merlin: …

Arthur: Merlin! 😡

Merlin: (innocently) You told me to shut up, I'm just obeying your order, sire.

Arthur: My sword! 😤

Merlin: Right away. (goes to the swords and grabs one, but then puts it back and grabs another, and so on)

Arthur: (impatiently) What are you doing?!

Merlin: Choosing your sword, my lord.

Arthur: Just give me that one.

Merlin: (proceeds to draw his sword veeery slowly)

Arthur: (snatches the sword from Merlin and points it at him, threateningly) Don't think I don't know what you're doing.

Merlin: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Arthur: (enraged) I swear-

Merlin: You'd better hurry or you'll be late for your tournament, my lord.

Arthur: (fuming, but holds it together and walks quickly away)

Merlin: (smirks)

Time skip. At the tournament.

Both Arthur and Valiant win their respective matches. Not that Merlin could know, he was too busy catching up on sleep. He managed to get at least an hour of sleep before His Royal Highness nudged Merlin awake with his foot to make Merlin remove his armor.

Valiant: (Exits the arena, stops near Arthur, and bows) May I offer my congratulations on your victories today?

Arthur: (Frowns suspiciously, but nods) Likewise.

Valiant: I hope to see you at the reception this evening. (Leaves with his servant)

Merlin: (Still half asleep, half awake) Creep. It sounded like he was asking you out.

Arthur: (Shocked) Merlin!

Merlin: (Blinks) Oh, sorry. Did I say that out loud?

Arthur: (Sighs) By tomorrow you need to repair my shield, wash my tunic, clean my boots, sharpen my sword, and polish my chainmail.

Merlin: (Incredulous) Are you kidding? There's no way I can-

Arthur: First thing in the morning. (Leaves)

Merlin is left alone, noting how all the extra tasks within his duties for the next day seem to grow to exaggerated levels.

Time skip, in Gaius's Tower.

Merlin enters his room, his arms and legs feeling cramped from everything he's done since Arthur let him leave. Too tired, he casts a simple magic-blocking spell. His eyes glow gold, and as that happens, the baby teddy bear stops floating through the air and lands on the floor with some herbs and flowers.

Gaius: (enters) Good to see you all in one piece (with a caring tone) Tiring day?

Merlin: (with a tic in his eye) Tiring would be an understatement 🙃.

Gaius: I'd say it's always like this, but it's all because of the upcoming celebration.

Merlin: (bitterly) So the prince is such an idiot about the upcoming celebrations? (conjures) Daeft thaet (his eyes flash and the mess the baby's magic caused sorts itself out)

Gaius: (smacks him)

Merlin: Ow!

Gaius: What did I tell you about using magic like that? 😠

Merlin: If I could feel my arms, I would! 😠 I only have enough strength for this. (picks up his baby) How's the sweetest girl in the world? 😊 I hope you were good to Uncle Gaius!

Baby: 🥺 Boooo

Merlin: Oh! 😥 Is it because your teddy bear doesn't dance anymore? I'm so sorry, baby, but you can't do that kind of magic in here. (sniffs the diaper) Uh, looks like you're due for a change. (his eyes glow and a cloth diaper flies to him)

Gaius: If you want her not to use her magic lightly, you should set an example 😒. Especially because tomorrow-

Merlin: (ignores Gaiud while changing the baby's diaper) That's it, baby! 🤗 (picks her up again) Who pooped more solid poop today? You did, you did.

Baby: (happy babbling) 😄

Gaius: (sighs) Merlin, tomorrow-

Merlin: (still cuddling the baby) I know, tomorrow you'll be a good girl too, right, baby? Of course you will-

Gaius: (raises his voice) Merlin, tomorrow I won't be able to have the baby here!

Merlin: (turns to Gaius like a possessed doll) What? 🙂

Gaius: What I'm telling you, tomorrow there will be many injured. And all of them not only come to the medical tents after competing, but they also have to stay here if necessary.

Merlin: But that's terrible! 😣 Where will I and the baby rest? There's barely any room here! …. How am I going to hide the baby?! 😰

Baby: ☹️

Gaius: (seeing the baby getting nervous) Merlin-

Merlin: The servants already know about her, now the other knights will too-

Baby: 🥺

Gaius: Merlin-

Merlin: And they'll throw me out! And we won't be able to stay here-

Baby: 😢

Gaius: MERLIN!

Merlin: (shuts up)

Baby: (burst out crying and a couple of vials break) 😭

Gaius: Don't worry, I already have a plan. We'll take turns looking after the baby, and if anyone asks, we'll say she's the daughter of one of my patients from the citadel, like always. No one will suspect.

Merlin: 🫠 You could've started with that.

Gaius: And you could need some sleep.

Time skip. The next day at the armory.

Merlin: (enters with the baby in a baby sling, muttering) Taking care of a baby with uncontrolled magic while I have to attend to an arrogant prince of a sorcerer-hunting kingdom in a place full of sharp and pointed weapons. Nothing can go wrong with that idea, right? (yawns) I'm so sleepy.

Baby: (looks around curiously)

A hiss is heard.

Merlin: (turns to the sound) Hello? Is anyone there? (Shrugs and bends down to pick up Arthur's armor)

Baby: (close to Valiant's shield, makes graby hands to the drawing of snakes, delighted with the animals) 😃

In reaction to the baby's involuntary magic, the snakes emerge from the shield, hissing loudly.

Merlin: (frightened, screams and instinctively backs away, falling on his back and protecting the baby with his body) Ahhh! What the fuck! 😨 (When he looks back at the shield, the snakes are gone)

Valiant: (who entered a moment ago, draws his sword to threaten Merlin, believing himself exposed)

Merlin: (blinks, confused, and rubs his eyes) I really need to sleep. I'm starting to see things. (gets up)

Valiant: (lets out a sigh of relief and puts his sword away)

Baby: (scared, not by the snakes or the fall, but by Valiant's presence, bursts into tears) 🥺😭.

Merlin: (concerned, takes her out of the sling and rocks her) Oh, sorry, baby. Did I scare you? I'm sorry.

Valiant: You shouldn't be with a baby in here.

Merlin: (puts the baby back in the sling and gathers Arthur's armor, too tired and worried about the still-crying baby to worry about Valiant) Tell that to that idiot I have for master. (Yawns and leaves)

Valiant: …

Time skip. Merlin, still trying to calm the baby's crying, bumps into George in a corridor.

Merlin: (exalted, very quickly) She's the daughter of one of Gaius's patients!

George: (laughs softly) I didn't ask. But yes, I know, you've told everyone. Where are you going?

Merlin: I have to get Arthur ready for-

George: What?! 😨 You're going to attend to him with the baby?! Do you want him to kill you?

Merlin: (whines, stressed) I have no choice. Gaius is busy, and I have no one else to take care of her.

Baby: (cries louder) 😭 (the baby's magic flutters ornaments around)

Merlin: (panicked) No, no, no! Baby, please stop crying, please. (Almost on the verge of tears too)

George: (Pitying him) Let me take care of her. (Takes the baby)

Merlin: (Panics even more, afraid that George will notice the baby's magic, about to throw away Arthur's armor to take her back) No, wait!

George: (Recites a lullaby while rocking the baby; which means he doesn't sing, just says the lyrics in a monotone) Lullay, my liking, my dear son, my sweeting. Lullay, my dear heart, my own dear darling. Lullay, lullay, lullay. 😐

Baby: (Falls asleep as soon as George settles her in his arms) 😴. (And the decorations stop waving)

Merlin: …

Merlin: How did you do that?! 😱

George: (shrugs) I don't know, but I have five little brothers, and my mom always gave them to me when they cried a lot as babies, and when I talked to them, they fell asleep. I guess my voice calmed them.

Merlin: (thinking) I think it actually bored them… (says, very relieved) Thanks a lot, George! Keep her asleep and only wake her up to give her milk, okay? Gaius can tell you where he keeps the milk and when to give it to her. (starts to walk away briskly)

George: (calls out) After the fight, there's a shooting match. The prince almost never attends those, so you can rest.

Merlin: Thanks! (finishes leaving)

Time skip. In Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (enters)

Arthur: You're late. 😒

Merlin: (tired voice) I know. (abruptly places the armor on the table)

Arthur: (scolding) Be careful with that!

Merlin: It's steel, it won't break. (lifts the chain mail) Raise your arms.

Arthur: You can't talk to me- 😠

Merlin: Your Royal Highness, please do me the honor of raising your arms. 🙄

Arthur: Better. (Raises his arms)

Merlin: (puts Arthur on his armor) Your helmet. (places the helmet on Arthur's arm)

Arthur: (looks at Merlin's work) At least you didn't forget anything this time. Let's go. (leaves)

Merlin: (follows, shuffling)

Time skip. After the match.

Merlin: (asleep in some hidden corner) 😴

Arthur: (finds him) There you are! Lazing around as usual 😡 (kicks him)

Merlin: (more asleep than awake, mutters) Yes, yes, I'll go give the baby some milk.

Arthur: What are you talking about? Get up! (kicks him again)

Merlin: (opens his eyes) Uhm… What happened?

Arthur: Asleep again? I need you to get me my bow and arrow, now!

Merlin: (confused, still stretching) What for?

Arthur: What do you mean, what for? To participate in the shooting competition!

Merlin: B-but… I thought you never-

Arthur: That's the rub. A good servant doesn't think, he obeys. What are you waiting for? Go! (kicks him again)

Merlin: Ow! Alright, alright I'm coming. (gets up reluctantly, thinking) He had to have urge to brag about his aim today of all days. 😓

And it turned out that the boastful prince not only wanted to participate in the shooting competition, but in all the day's activities. And Arthur, to not lose sight of his servant again, doesn't let Merlin leave his side. Merlin's eyelids are heavy, and his thighs are cramping from standing for too long. He's too tired.

Time skip. At the evening reception. All the competing knights (uninjured) are chatting happily.

Merlin: (with dark circles under his red eyes) Anything else you'd like, sire?

Arthur: (now out of his armor, cool as a cucumber) No, I don't think so. I'm already a bit tired. I think I'll have some rest.

Merlin: (his eye ticing) Really? You? Tired, sire?

Arthur: Yes, you may leave.

Merlin: (forces a polite smile) Thank you, my lord. (turns away)

Arthur: Oh, Merlin. I want-

Merlin: (turns to him and explodes, yelling) WHAT?! WHAT ELSE DOES YOUR GREATEST HIGHNESS WANT ME TO DO?! 😡 To undress you and tuck you in for bed?! To feed you in the mouth? To wipe your ass?! 😤

Knights around: (gasp) 😨😨😨😨😨😨

Arthur: (surprised Pikachu face) Uh… 😦

Merlin: For all the gods! Are you really so useless that you can't do anything by yourself? Can't you take care of yourself at all? Don't you have hands? I swear I've seen one-year-old babies and crippled men more self-sufficient than you! Merlin clean this, Merlin fetch that, Merlin hop on one foot and then do a somersault in the air! Leave me alone! I'm exhausted! I want to sleep! 😡(leaves, stomping)

Knights around: …

Arthur: …

Morgana: (holding back a laugh) I like him.

Time skip. In Gaius's Tower.

Merlin: (enters)

Gaius: (carrying the baby) Merlin! How could you leave the baby with- 😠

Merlin: (sharply) Not now. (smiles softly at the baby and kisses her forehead) Good night, baby. (goes to his room)

Gaius: Merlin! 😡

And Merlin falls dead onto his bed, not thinking about the consequences of his outburst… and which he would probably face the next day.

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

...

UHHH! Merlin really messed up, didn't he? What do you think will happen to him?

Tagging @chaosofbelievers , @blackgigglypuff , @stressed-but-chill , @nocheaseforyougoodsir , @thedragonlies , @evedaser , @lolazoel , @sammythetoaster , @caraspud , @g00pygunkyguy , @bertoliosis35-blog , @purpuraffe , @lordemryspendragon , @herstarlight , @justaz , @myalchemicalgnomace , @haunted-glassesgurl , @exmintha , @dumbdemjin , @a-line-drawn , @itsjustmeandmyanxiety , @beebsnas , @rem-the-moth , @tmarauder101 , @whitemaskcd , @robynnemrys , @genyxie , @trubel43 , @andrealux21

[misguidedasgardian]

AMOR VINCIT ONMIA (IX)

IX. Raw

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your feelings, his feelings, his truth, yours, it was all there in the open. 

Warnings: Use of she/her pronouns, reader has hair, Ancient Rome AU accuracies and inaccuracies, arranged marriages, age difference (Marcus is late forties reader is 20), cursing, angst, ANGST, descriptions of a mainly patriarchal society, reader wants to have kids, reader drinks wine for courage, reader get’s drunk, SMUT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE THIS IS HAPPENING  MIGHT MISS SOME WARNINGS

+18, MINORS DNI 

Notes: Sorry for the delay, like I said I wrote it and then I wasn’t so sure, didn’t want to undo all of reader’s pain, but you know what? I was tired of the angst we were supposed to have a good time and well, IT’S HAPPENING PEOPLEEEEE

He was kissing you

His lips were on yours.

He swallowed your tears, your cries, he was shutting you up the only way he knew how.

And yet…

You were still so angry, you tried to separate from him, you did, but he didn’t release you, he clinged into you, deepening the kiss, making your head spin.

When he needed to catch his breath, then he finally released you. 

“I’ll love you”, he said, but it was almost angry, like a grunt, you could tell he was frustrated, as you were, “love me”, he demanded against your lips

“I did”, you said, “now I hate you”, you whispered angrily

“Oh yeah?”, he asked back, with a sufficient smile on his lips. 

“Yes”, you said, “you left me alone, you humiliate me”, you said angrily, “you broke my heart, you are in love with my mother”

“I’m sorry”, he said, his face showed you he was indeed, honest, but he was very serious, “for leaving you, I’m sorry for breaking your heart, and I don’t love your mother anymore”, he said slowly, patiently

“I don’t care”, you bit back, like a little child would. 

“Forgive me”, he said again

“No”, you fought. He looked down at you, at your eyes, and took a long sigh

“Please, listen to me”, he begged, “please”, you frowned, you were frowning at him, but nonetheless, you nodded. 

“Fine”, you said back. 

“Is not that I didn’t… want to… be with you”, you could tell he was struggling, this was as hard for him as it was for you, “I…. I have been trying to fight it, you know how embarrassing it is for ME?”, he said angrily against your lips, “I was supposed to protect you, not lust over you, not desire you like a sick person, you are a young beautiful woman…”, he said

“And you are a handsome general of the empire, and my husband”, you fought back angrily.

“...And I was charged with taking care of you and keep you safe”, he murmured

“Then you should have escorted me to the temple of Vesta”, you said back, “instead of marrying me”, you defied

“I know”, he said, “I know but… I did, and you are young enough you could be my daughter”, he reminded you

“So?”, you asked, “Cecilia has the same difference with her own husband”

“I know”, he murmured, “and yet… I… felt so guilty…”

“Because you loved my mother”

“No”, he insisted, “I might have loved her, but I don’t anymore”, he did say that same thing that day when he was feverish. But still you shook your head, “I swear it”, he promised. You said nothing. “You deserve so much more”, he lamented

“You are right”, you said back, “I deserve to be loved by my husband, whoever he is, however old he is, and however handsome”, you said confidently. “I deserved to be….”, you didn't have the strength to say it

Alright, the propriety and restraints all forgotten, you had started this, and it was not going to be over until everything was out there, out in the open. 

“You want it to be me, then?”, he asked, you shook your head.

Your ego or perhaps, your pride were not going to let you be the one to beg him to do it, to beg him to be the husband he signed up to be. The discomfort in your face was clearly noticeable for him, as he took a long breath

He kissed you again, not letting go, he had you trapped against his body, one of his arms tightly surrounding your waist, hand plastered spread in your lower back, and his other in the back of your neck. Your fists were onto his chest, you weren’t even sure if you were trying to push him away or grabbing onto him.

“Forgive me”, he begged against your lips, “I was so blind… For neglecting you”, he said, “for not treating you like you deserve to be treated”, he said then, “for leaving you alone”

“I wanted you”, you said, angrily, “and you wanted my mother!”, you threw on his face, making him flinch

“You are wrong”, he said angrily. You separated from him, not wanting him to use more of his kisses to distract you, they were proven to be very distracting, very useful in destroying your determination.

“You are just muttering words”, you said. “There are no actions to sustain them”, you said, devoid of all emotions.

He looked at you, truly looked at you.

Maybe he finally saw your eyes devoid of light and emotion

Maybe he finally saw the deterioration in you, for lack of care and love.

“You wanted me?”, he asked, like you just told him a joke

“Since you came to my mother’s house that day”, you said firmly, “you promised you were going to care for me”, you said, “I wanted to marry you”

“You did?”, he asked

“I did”, you said, “and then you married me, you abandoned me, neglected me, humiliated me”, you felt his hot breath over his face. 

“I never intended for it to happen that way”, he lamented, “I promise, I thought it was enough to keep you safe”, you chuckled darkly. “Your mother couldn't trust anyone else with you, you don’t understand the power you have running inside your veins, we couldn’t let you fall in the hands of the wrong man”, you nodded faintly, not wanting to hear anymore, only wanting to feel

It was so contradictory, as you were enjoying the closeness of the man that had done that to you. That had left you alone….. but you had been… so…so… lonely

“What do you want?”, you asked him, “what do you want to do now?”

“Let’s start over”

“No”, you said, only thinking about having to start your marriage all over again made your head hurt.

“Then give me another chance, let’s work from here”, he said, “I know what I have done wrong and I regret it, deeply, now I know how you feel, please”

“Are you going to be my husband now?”, you asked him

“If you’ll have me”, he said

What other choice did you have? You had to admit you did not feel the same about him that you did when you just married him, the admiration you held was now tainted, and you held resentment in your heart…

And yet…

The very thought of divorcing him scared you.

The very thought of being alone again made your heart ache.

But really, should you give him another chance?

“Alright”, you whispered so faintly, it could have been easily taken by the soft wind

“We’ll start over”, he said, “without your mother’s shadow, without my fears and doubts, how about that?”, you searched into his eyes for any ounce of doubt, you didn’t find any. You only found honesty, or that is what you wanted to believe. “Say yes”, he begged, and then you realised you haven't say anything

“Yes”, you murmured, not yet convinced, your resentful heart still throbbing painfully in your chest. 

He leaned in and kissed you again. This time it was desperate, and needy, and even passionate, he pressed you against him and you just melted in his hands. This is something you had never felt before. 

He released you softly, caressing your face, and then, his hands finally left your form.  

You cursed yourself by feeling for missing his touch in mere seconds. And how your heart dropped when you saw him turn, towards the stairs, and out of the room. 

“Where are you going?”, you asked, the anger returning quickly, like a tidal wave. He seemed surprised by your tone, turning to you with his eyebrows raised

“To get the tunic I sleep in”, he said with a soft smile

“You’ll sleep by my side”, you didn’t know if you were demanding it or asking it, you wanted to demand it, it sounded like a question though

“Yes I will”, as soon as he left for that simple mission, you became extremely nervous

Gods, were you finally going to be bedded by your husband? you were going to have sex? The mere thought made you incredibly nervous. You changed quickly into your sleeping robes and sat by the side of the bed to wait for him. You eyed hungrily the small table by the window, in it, stood an amphora of wine and a cup, very enticing. 

You couldn’t stop yourself, you stood quickly and filled the cup to the brim and then gulped it down in quick movements, so quickly your throat hurt. 

Quickly you felt your palate tingling and stuck with that mellow taste and you knew you were done for. Wine made you sleepy and sloppy in equal measures, but did it give you courage? yes it did. 

You shakily took another quick drink, this time, slower, you did not want to get poisoned or something. 

You heard his strong steps climbing up the stairs slowly and you started playing with your fingers. Leaving the amphora and the cup on the table. The only thing separating you from the top of the stairs was a curtain that was drawn back, and he appeared quickly through them, he searched you with those pretty eyes of his until he found you standing.

“Wine?”, you asked nervously, as you gazed upon him, he was dressed in his sleeping tunic, you had never seen him in it before, he was always dressed appropriately in front of you, unlike you in the countryside. 

He hesitated, you could see it, but he eventually nodded and walked towards you. 

He took from your cup and drank himself, slowly, paladating the red thick liquid.

“It's a good harvest”, he said awkwardly, you wouldn’t know, you didn't drink wine, usually

“Sure”, you answered, “is it from around here?”, he only chuckled and you felt your ears burn because of your dumb question

“You don’t have to be nervous”, he said softly, gazing at you, he took two steps towards you, and you felt all the wine travelling to your head

“Oh gods”, you murmured, just as he was going to cradle your face to kiss you again, as he was clearly trying to start something else… you felt the wine you just gulped as the thirstiest woman on earth rose to your head, making you incredibly dizzy. 

He could immediately see sudden change in your movements, as the great general he was. 

He leaned in, smelling the wine in your breath, so he instead took his lips to your forehead

“Wait”, you called, but it was slurred. 

“Let's get you in bed, we are both tired”, he said with a soft smile.

In your dazed brain, it seemed like all the progress you had made with him was erased like it was written in the sand. You pouted childishly. your nose is ticklish, a clear sign of coming tears.

You were going to sleep with him, for the first time. You each went to one side of the bed and then got inside it, under the covers. It was a bit weird, you certainly settled in a very strange and uncomfortable silence, but once you were side by side on the bed, you looked at him, and he smiled at you

“I’m going to turn off the light”, he said softly. You nodded, grabbing the sheets tightly, covering your body until the only thing that could be seen was your face. 

He blew the light out of the oil lamp in the table next to the bed, and suddenly, the only light was coming out of the window, of the stars and moon. Once your eyes adapted to the room, you could see him clear as day. 

You felt him, right by your side, his warm, big body right next to yours, you could feel him clearly and yet he wasn’t touching you. 

“So when I left for short moments that is when you decided to chug an amphora of wine?”, he seemed almost entertained by you. You only grunted, shame pooling in your lower belly alongside the hot wine.

This was the first night you were going to spend alongside your husband and you were drunk. 

His big, warm hand on your cheek made you tremble

“You don’t have to be nervous”, he murmured, understanding the reasoning behind your ‘chugging’. “ever, not around me”, you wanted to laugh, but the embarrassment wouldn’t let you. You were nervous because you were afraid he was going to reject you, again, like the first night you spent as a husband and wife. 

“I’m nervous because you might reject me again”, you whispered, boldened by the fermented grapes. “And you are”, his hand didn’t disappeared from,your cheek, instead, he caressed your skin with his thumb

“I am not”, he said gently, “I just don’t want to have my wife intoxicated in our first time… together”, he said simply. 

“Tell me the truth”, you murmured after a pregnant pause. “Why don’t you want me… in that way?”

“I do want you”, he said softly

“I don’t believe you”, you murmured

“I just felt… guilty”, he explained softly, “for desiring you, and I wanted to have my head clear of every doubt before I really tried something with you”, he whispered. It seemed like the darkness had made you both a bit bolder, as he couldn’t clearly see your face, it made it somewhat easier. “but I see it clearly now”, you closed your eyes, wishing he would just stop talking. 

The cynic who had been born in the last six months returned to the surface, again, all words, no substance, or at least, there wasn’t any because you decided to get drunk in ten minutes. Your wine idled mind was just tired of it all. 

“I wish we could turn back in time”, he murmured, “I wish we could go back to that night we got married”, he said, “with what I know now”

“But we can’t”, you said, frowning, he sighed, his eyes shone even in the dark. He leaned in and kissed you softly, you answered back. wanting him to take the leap, to be the one who desired you, to initiate it, but he separated from you.

“Good night husband”, you turned on the bed, looking at the wall. He didn’t move too much, he accommodated his arms and scooched a bit, and then you guessed he fell asleep. You tried to follow, but couldn’t

Had your childishness ruined the little advances you had made? Was he never going to bed you again? share a bed again? 

Did you ruin everything?

You were sure you were going to wake up alone, and he was going to put you at arm’s length again, so you blew it. 

You were glad you finally fell asleep because otherwise, you were going to cry all night. 

. 

As you fell asleep tormented, you woke up incredibly rested, the first thing you felt when you came to it was how warm you were, how comfortable, you cuddled deeper into the bed only to realize… it wasn’t a bed.

You opened your eyes and you were welcomed with a beautiful caramel colour, and as your eyes adapted you realized it was your husband’s beautiful tanned skin. You were cuddling against him, your hand on his chest, your head on his shoulder. 

the sun was shining on the horizon, he should be up and about by now, but no.

He was there, with you.

His breathing was deep, as he was deep in slumber, but as you looked for his eyes you found his beautiful dark orbs looking back at you.

“Morning, pulchra”, he whispered teasingly

“Good morning”, you muttered, feeling your cheeks heated. “I’m sorry”, he said, trying to get off of him, but he grabbed your wrist, the one resting on his chest, and made you impossibly closer to him

“This is the best sleep I have had in years”, he said gently, his hand caressing your wrist, the other one turning around you, caressing your cheek softly. 

“I hardly believe that”, you said apologetically, “I was probably drooling all over you”, you giggled, “clutching into you”, he chuckled

“You can drool all over me, every time you want”, he teased, without you even realizing it, he had you trapped in his arms, leaning in dangerously close

“Marcus”, you whispered, like a little plea.

“Clutch onto me”, he whispered hotly against your lips, “don’t ever let go”, he finally kissed you, and you let out a little whimper against his lips. 

His kiss was demanding, passionate, the headache you had been harvesting disappearing as you fought for breath in his lips

He released you, as breathlessly and you were

“Are you still sure?”, he asked.

“Yes”, you as much as demanded. 

So he longed again against you, in his strength, in his passion, he leaned in until you were the one who was under him. 

His weight on top of you felt so good, so grounding, so natural. 

he had you trapped under him -not that you’d want to escape him-, but he released your hands so they were free to encase his face, to travel around his head and get tangled in his curls. 

You spread your legs instinctively, and he accommodated himself between them like he was meant to be there, again, natural

Everything felt so natural. 

“Marcus”, you whispered again against his lips

“If you want to stop we will”, he said firmly, yet his voice sounded strangled, like doing so would make him do an Herculean task

“I don’t”, you said. He separated from you, only to release you from your tunic, and he did the same with his own. You helped him, touching his skin.

It was so soft, so hard in the right places, and even softer in others. The sunlight shone through the window and it casted a magical glow over his beautiful skin. Age lines were starting to surge through his skin, which only accentuated his handsome, manly features, if anything, he was aging like fine wine, getting more handsome as the months went by. 

He gently led you on your back again, as he kneeled on the bed. your first instinct was to hide your nakedness, but the hungry gaze he was giving you made you feel so desired you didn’t, you let him look, watching him back with equal measure of excitement in your eyes. 

The only thing still clinging to his frame was his subligaria, but his fingers took care of it promptly. 

 You had seen many, in mosaics, in drawings, in paintings, in male slaves in the market, but all of them paled against him, even Priapus and his depictions in Pompeii would seem… flacid and small, to what was now standing in front of you, 

He didn’t give you more time to gaze upon him, he pounced on you, kissing you, taking his place on top of you. 

His hands were everywhere, on your sides, on your breasts, on your tights. It was all consuming and overwhelming in the best possible ways.

It felt like you were drunk on something stronger than wine. 

You felt him, in your core, it was so hard but so soft at the same time, it was scary, yet you felt an incredible need, a desire for him. He separated from you, only to look at your face while he entered you.

You whined in pain, as he spread you open slowly, but he didn’t stop, and you were thankful for that. 

You grabbed onto him, the pressure almost unbearable, he hid his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your sensitive skin there, making your head spin. 

And then, he was finally in, all the way. 

You whimpered in his arms, as he made a trail of kisses from your neck, to your jaw, to finally your lips.

He was grunting, like a wounded animal, his muscles around you tense, like he was running a marathon

“For the Gods”, he whined. “Are you alright, my pulchra?”, he asked gently

“Yes”, you whined. “it hurts”

“I know my love”, he whispered, kissing your face, your temple, “only this once”, he promised. 

“You have to do something”, you didn't know why, you were so overwhelmed, he slid out of you, leaving just the tip, and then he just slammed back in, taking all the air out of your lungs. You whined against his mouth but this time, the flames of pleasure started licking your belly, even if it ached from the intrusion. 

He held you as he fucked you, slowly, sensually, he kissed your whined until they turned into moans, he caressed your fists until they became clutching hands wanting to pull him as cloer as humanly possible 

He eventually got more bold, and sloppy with his movements, gaining trust, confidence, until he fucked you troughroughly, grabbing onto you as you were grabbing onto you. 

Finally his movements stalled, he moaned in your ear, his hips snapped against yours one more time. He kissed you again, as he cummed inside you. You grabbed onto his face, the ecstasy too delicious, too overwhelming to let it go. You whined and turned on his hold and he kept you together. Your bodies melted on each other like they belonged together, they did.

You felt so strongly you could die.

Then, he released himself from you, making you moan and thrash in discomfort. He left you but then came back, he spread your legs gently, he wiped you clean of the viscosity and discomfort, and just when you thought he was going to finally leave you, he returned with flowers, jasmines, and food for the both of you.

You ate as you didn’t in centuries, and then you both, accommodated back in the bed, you stuck to his side, your head on his chest, your hand caressing his scarred yet soft skin. 

“A-are you going to leave me in Rome next chance you get?”, you asked him shakily, as he wrapped his arm around you. 

“I’ll take you with me, wherever I go, if it's safe””, he said strongly, caressing the naked skin of your back. 

“Are you going to… are we going to make a family?”, you asked him, he nodded.

“I never thought I’d have children”, he confessed, “I was comfortable with the fact of being the last of my bloodline… for the Gods…. I have no bloodline to speak of, really”, he said sincerely, and that truly surprised you

“Really?”, you asked him

“My parents were farmers, we all lived here”, he said simply, “I was the middle child, I was sent to Rome to become a soldier”

“I didn’t know”, you said gently, with a soft smile

“Are you not disappointed?”, he asked, you shook your head softly. 

“Why would I?”, you asked back

“That our children might not inherit the great house of Acacius?”, he teased, the bare mention of your future children made your skin tingle with anticipation. 

“I don’t care about that”, you assured him, “They’ll inherit what we’ll build, together”, you muttered with a soft smile. He chuckled and squeezed you more tightly against him. 

“If you want it to be me, I’ll give you as many children as you want”, he promised, “I’ll love them, and care for them… we’ll make the most beautiful family you’d ever seen”, you smiled as tears fell down your cheeks.

“Are you going to love me?”, you asked then

“I’ll build my love for you pillar by pillar, stone on stone, I’ll build you the strongest and biggest temple of love you had ever felt”, he promised. 

“You promise?”,you asked him

“I do”, he said surely

“It’s going to take a while, for me to trust you”, you said carefully

“I’ll wait for it as long as I need to, my pulchra”, he whispered, kissing you again. 

Alright, don't come at me, maybe it was too soon for her to fold but you know what? she was so lonely and I was tired of making you all so sad, they needed to get it done already! jeje

@orcasoul @peelieblue @raynetargaryan2 @thereallchristine @sesdeuxyeux @melsunshine @thelastemzy @vjuvbbjugv @cloudroomblog @capycapy-bara @lokiwife2021 @whirlwindrider29 @peepawispunk @syd-maximoff @ayoungpascallover @lindsayjoy444 @immyowndefender @negrita2345 @onlythehobi

[lavandadiana]

Hear me out, Original Nice x Hero Lin Ling.

Takes place during episode 1, Miss J was able to catch up to Nice and stop him from committing suicide, and let him some time to recuperate because Nice is still suicidal. (Lin Ling doesn't take over as Nice.)

Miss J forces Nice to be on True Love's Recipe (Enlighter still takes over as host), and was about to tell the truth about not being Moon's boyfriend when something crashed into the studio, interrupting the show.

It's the rank 14 hero, The Commoner (Lin Ling), and his nemesis, The King (an OC I just made up). They were fighting outside the studio when The Commoner punched The King into it.

Miss J, Moon, and Nice are somewhat relieved that they were interrupted. The King tried to take Moon hostage, but Nice interfered and was captured instead. (Think of the wedding scene from episode 2 where Moon wanted Wreck to kill her, but now it's Nice with the King.)

The commoner, unaffiliated with the Treeman Corporation, still knows that Miss J will chew his ear off and possibly lower his trust value if Nice dies.

Awesome fight scene occurs, The King gets frustrated and commands Nice to kill The Commoner. (The King's main power.*) Nice, under The King's command, tries to kill The Commoner, but with the right words, inspires Nice to break free from The King's command.

But Nice was floating high in the air when he broke free from The King's command. Since breaking free from The King's command takes a lot of energy, Nice falls from the sky.

The Commoner jumps up and catches Nice. Nice, tired and hazy from being under the King's powers, he sees The Commoner with a white light behind him. (A studio light broke and was shining on him.)

"Is he my guardian angel?" Nice thought, as he gets flustered. "His dark brown hair, with a white streak, shines so beautifully in the light. He still has the light in his stunning brown eyes, so innocent."

"Are you okay?" The Commoner asked Nice. Nice, flustered, nodded, not even daring to speak. Luckily or unluckily, depending on who you ask, the camera crew was still rolling, capturing the scene of The Commoner princess carrying the flustered Nice.

The Commoner placed Nice on the couch while he beat up The King. The Commoner does his fighting, defeating The King, but because of his status, he knew that he would be free soon.

After the fight, he bids Nice and Moon goodbye and takes The King into custody. Nice, his face still red, lovingly waves goodbye to The Commoner.

After the fight, clips of The Commoner saving Nice and Nice lovingly waving bye to The Commoner goes viral. It raises their trust values, making Nice, rank 12, and The Commoner, rank 11.

Because the clips went viral, people began shipping The Commoner with Nice. Shipping wars broke out: NiceMoon vs. NiceWreck vs. NiceCommoner. People noticed similarities between Nice and The Commoner, stating that they were soulmates because of them.

Treeman Corporation tried to wait it out, but as time passed, Nice x The Commoner became even more popular. Eventually, they contacted The Commoner's agency to see what could be done.

(In this AU, Lin Ling got signed by the guy who created FOMO in episode 4.) Instead of forcing The Commoner to do what the company wants, they let him have some autonomy over himself and his brand.

Treeman Corp. pays Lin Ling to have The Commoner to spend time with Nice in public. "A bromance." Miss J says. Lin Ling agrees, and a friendship between The Commoner and Nice blooms.

They fight together sometimes; they train together sometimes. The announcements of Nice and The Commoner planning to enter the top 10 (separately) came out one after the other.

Of course, it's all for publicity. Lin Ling likes Nice, but to him, it's platonic; it's work. But for Nice? Oh, he's fallen hard for Lin Ling.

Edits, fanfics, fan art, and everything else—Nice has seen them all. Nice knows the public wants Nice to date The Commoner, and for once, he agrees. Treeman is hesitant; some fans still want Nice and Moon together.

But Lin Ling refuses. He absolutely refuses to date Nice. Nice only knows The Commoner, the hero, not Lin Ling, the real him. Even though his hero persona and real self are similar, Lin Ling hides things from the public, hence the differences between his hero and real personality. (Like Moon in episode 2. She has her hero side and her real self separate. But Lin Ling only hides small things unknown to the public.) Only after knowing the real Nice, does Lin Ling also develop feelings for Nice.

This could go either way. Yandere Nice, doing everything he could to get Lin Ling to agree to date; Nice pining after The Commoner, getting to know Lin Ling, doing acts of service for him to make Lin Ling agree to date.

OR Nice is pining after The Commoner, but X is pining after Lin Ling. (The Commoner and Lin Ling literally look the same, but their personalities differ.)

Just some food for thoughts. :)

*The King is basically an OC villain I created on the spot. He is a wealthy and powerful socialite. His main power is commanding one person at a time, who must then obey his orders. I think he could be a real villain/nemesis for The Commoner, or his hero agency could stage fights with The Commoner without his knowledge.*

[seokminfilm]

yellow ── lee seokmin

🤍 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🤍 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, domestic/established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, kissing, spooning, waking up together, reader calls seokmin 'seok'

🤍 summary, yellow was the color that reminded you of seokmin.

🤍 author's note, wanted to write something soft and who else to do it with other than seokmin??? thought of yellow by coldplay and immediately had the urge to write so here we are 💗

🤍 now playing, yellow (coldplay)

🤍 word count, 645 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

the warm sun spills through the linen curtains of your bedroom, painting your sheets in a yellow light. seokmin's tanned hands are wrapped around your waist, pressing you into his body as he continues to quietly snore.

you blinked slowly, savoring the feeling of your boyfriend's hands on your body as the sun danced on your skin. it's quiet in seokmin's apartment, birds singing a catchy song outside as if to give you a song to wake up to. it makes you smile lazily, sleep still lingering in your body.

yesterday night was the first time you had gone home with seokmin; the two of you had suggested that you would take it slow for the first month of your relationship, and you had—seokmin always made sure to take you home after the two of you hung out, no matter how late it was. he promised to let you stay over when you were ready.

after the two of you had come home from a wonderful candlelit dinner and hung out at his house for a bit, seokmin prepared to take you home, seeing how tired you were getting.

"you ready to go home?" seokmin strokes the top of your head softly, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead as you shake your head.

"can i sleep here tonight? only if it's okay with you." your voice has a hint of shyness to it, and rightfully so—it would be the first time you asked seokmin to sleep with him, in his bed.

seokmin's beautiful brown eyes widen at your request, and the smile that comes on his features makes your whole body warm up with love. "of course you can."

and that's how you got here, cradled in seokmin's muscled arms as he finally starts to stir. he groans slightly, body shifting with yours as his warm breath fans your ear. seokmin's thighs are cold, pressing against yours as his shorts ride up his legs just slightly.

you can't see him, as your back is turned to him, but you can imagine the cute sleepiness in his features. you can imagine seokmin's slightly pursed lips, bed-head hair, and scrunched-up nose easily.

"good morning." seokmin's voice is soft, still warming up from disuse. he squeezes you a little tighter in what you think seems to be a sleepy hug, smiling against your neck as he buries his face in it.

"hi, seok." you smile, hands falling down to seokmin's slender fingers to hold. you can feel the outline of his promise ring on his middle finger, and it makes you proud, pride swelling up in your chest.

"did you sleep okay? was everything how you wanted it?" seokmin asks softly, a surprise kiss landing on your neck as you sigh happily.

"of course it was, seok. i was sleeping with you for the first time—i couldn't be happier," you let your eyes flutter shut again, feeling seokmin's lips turn into a smile as he chuckles lowly.

"i'm so glad you decided to stay with me last night," he says, voice finally starting to warm up as he adjusts his position once more.

"i'm glad i stayed too, seok." you open your eyes again, yellow haze greeting your vision as the wind softly beats against the window. everything feels like a dream, having your boyfriend spoon you in his bed on a friday morning for the first time ever.

"wanna sleep in a little more? i'm still kind of tired," you ask softly, laughing as you hear a tiny snore from seokmin, answering your question quickly as you let your eyes flutter shut once more.

"mmh....just an hour longer," seokmin answers about five minutes later, hearing your tiny breaths as he kisses your shoulder one more time before falling asleep with you spooned up in his arms, happy to finally have you beside him.

[aloekat]

the homosexual horses have returned

previous | next

part 2 of turning danganronpa characters into ponies!!!

so if you've been browsing the ishimondo tag at all in the past week, these two might be somewhat familiar lol

and i actually sketched them out WOO!

some notes:

Taka: - named Moral Compass (because. come on. that's so free) - unicorn. you might notice going forward that i have stylistic choices for each pony type, with unicorns having those long tails and extra fluff on their chest and hooves. Taka, however, keeps these extra short (unlike somepony like Byakuya who lets them grow out really long and silky). - cutie mark is a compass. again. that's obvious and kind of lazy but Whateva - a little bit part zebra! one of his grandfather's scandals in this au is he was never fully a pony and like that was bad in politics for whatever reason (just go with it alright lol) Mondo: - named Kickstart (i've had like 6 other names for him and this ones the one that stuck the most so it Might change later who knows) - pegasus. does a lot of racing. like a lot a lot. has some general scars and roughness on his hooves from hitting obstacles and runways too hard. pegasi in my designs have extra "ear feathers" and some feathers where the tail meets the body (which you can't see here because of his wings blocking them). - cutie mark is a cross between a dumbbell and a motorcycle tire with some smoke and sparks (could this look better? yes probably but just imagine it looks better alright lol) - his brother is still dead in this au because it's (unfortunately for mondo) so central to his character that i couldn't just. get rid of it. well that's my two faves already done! don't know why i started with makoto and byakuya before these two, i think i just had more inspiration for byakuya at the start lol

mondo was a bitch to both name and make a cutie mark for, i think i'm just extra picky with him because he's my all time fave ever and i want his stuff to be perfect </3

anyways if anyone has suggestions for who to...horse-ify next please let me know as i don't have specific plans for anyone in particular as of now (i have design ideas like on a google doc but nothing drawn out lol)

ok post over everyone is free to go now lol

[tinksummers]

More TADC Headcanons:

I’m tired, stressed, and sleep deprived. I have some more headcsnons, plus some other ships for fun.

FunnyBunny

Physical touch: Pomni doesn’t like physical touch, and Jax is rather awkward when it comes to it. So it takes them a while for a simple hug, but they usually settle for hand holding and cheek kisses. Overtime Pomni does become a little more comfortable, in the form of letting Jax rest his body on her. When Jax becomes comfortable, he’ll just walk up to Pomni and hug her, he’d do this for attention or out of boredom.

Pomni likes it when Jax just holds her and they sit in silence. Which devolves into Jax annoying her and trying to get her attention. (by poking her and saying her name over and over.)

Their memories of their past lives is foggy, but one of their pastimes is just talking about it.

It takes Jax a while to speak about his past, but he does remember having a mother and sister. His father is rather spotty, but he does remember seeing someone that looked like a man. His sister used to be a jokester and would encourage him to do pranks with her. They would usually do them on their mother, harmless pranks.

While Pomni only remembers a boring desk, dull empty streets, and a cold apartment. That she used to be a coder that would fix the mistakes of others. Nothing more than that, she sort of misses that life.

After a while, Jax will just rest his body on Pomni.

If he wants to be really annoying, he’d lean his body weight on her to make Pomni struggle holding him up.

Is kids a possibility?

I believe it would be a possibility, but in the circus the characters can’t have kids. So that would be a no, however Pomni thought about it at one point in her life. While Jax, never particularly cared or wanted to be a father.

What would happen if they did have a kid? Such as adoption through a sentient NPC or a new character?

That would be interesting, the child in question would be attached to Pomni first. Despite being an anxious person, she does like kids and would do everything in her power to make sure they were comfortable. As for Jax, he would distance himself, not wanting to interact out of fear of saying something wrong.

Marriage: This would be a few years down the line, they wouldn’t even think about it until Zooble brings it up.

This prompts Caine to throw an over the top wedding celebration, overwhelming the couple, they don’t like large affiars. Caine would switch to something quick and quiet. As Jax and Pomni would want it to be quick and meaningful.

GaterDoll

In this au, after the Spudy’s adventure Caine allows Gumigoo to stay in the circus. He will be the only NPC to stay.

Ragatha happily welcomes Gumigoo in her usually welcoming demeanor. Which makes him a bit bashful.

Like Pomni, Ragatha makes sure Gumigoo adjusts to the circus and shows him around. Even to his room that Caine makes for him specifically.

His room is styled like his home map with a bit of his bandit style to it.

Gumigoo usually asks Ragatha about certain things in the circus. And hangs out with her and Pomni the most.

Since Gumigoo is an NPC he learns that all of those in the circus had lives before.

Ragatha explains to Gumigoo she used to volunteer worker. Worked closely with kids and she thinks she was a mother at one point. But that memory is hazy, however, sometimes she does hear the words ‘mama’ echo in her mind.

Gumigoo tried to teach Ragatha how to shoot a pistol, though this resulted in Ragatha flinching. She’s not the biggest fan of loud noises so he drops it after that.

Ragatha appreciates Gumigoo’s straight man attitude, it’s especially nice to see it go up against Jax’s personality.

They eventually develop a mutual respect for each other and become really good friends.

This does develop later on, definitely crushes.

When Gumigoo gets a crush on Ragatha and vise versa, the both of them go to Pomni about it.

Abstragedy

Gangle loves to draw Zooble, usually in scenery settings. Because she thinks they would look pretty in those settings.

Gangle is the only one who goes into Zooble’s room. If anything she’s the only one they’ll allow into her room.

Zooble knows a lot of the cursed things that Gangle draws, but keeps it between them.

Zooble finds it rather charming that Gangle is able to express herself through her work.

Like Jax and Pomni, the pair likes to talk about their past lives sometimes.

Gangle used to be a fast food manager, she would work there while going to art school to be a comic artist. Though she doesn’t remember much beyond that point. Other memories are fuzzy, though sometimes she would see ribbons and other people in those visions.

Zooble used to be a tattoo artist, they would have a sketchbook like gangle. They wouldn’t exactly remember much beyond that point. However, one thing was apparent was a small room, with two couches and another person. For some reason everytime they would remember it would frustrate them.

Zooble likes to help Gangle cosplay her favorite shows, they may not get it. But if it brings a smile to Gangle’s face? That’s all they need.

Gangle helps Zooble with their parts, reassuring them they look amazing. Knowing Zooble’s issues with themselves, Gangle makes sure how much she appreciates them.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 17

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1 @7thsthings

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

Fic Playlist

Masterlist

Will proofread again a bit later

I don’t even see it coming. Gojo’s hand is on my collar before I can blink, yanking me toward him like I’m some unruly kid. His grip is firm, almost too tight, and his voice is sharp, cutting through the fog clouding my head. He’s saying something, his words laced with anger and disappointment, but I can’t focus. I can’t hear him.

All I can think is why am I still here?  Why does he even care?

“Just drop me home,” I mutter, barely loud enough to hear myself over the pounding in my ears. I look past him, ignoring the way his face twists in frustration, and focus on Kenjaku instead. “Drop me home,” I repeat, pulling away from Gojo’s grip.

For a moment, Gojo looks like he might grab me again, but he doesn’t. He just lets out this long, tired sigh, his hand falling to his side as he takes a step back. I don’t even look at him. I’m done with this.

Behind us, Geto’s voice cuts through the chaos, loud and angry. “What the hell were you thinking?!” He’s yelling at Kenjaku now, pacing back and forth like he’s ready to throw a punch. “You knew he just got out today! You knew he wasn’t ready for this, and you had that shit in your car?! What the fuck, man?!”

Kenjaku’s face is pale, his hands shaking as he rubs them over his face. He looks just as wrecked as the rest of us. “I forgot,” he stammers, his voice cracking. “I forgot that shit was in my car. I fucked up, man. I fucked up.” He’s pacing now, his movements frantic.

I watch them for a second, the scene playing out in front of me like a bad movie. Kenjaku’s pacing, Geto’s yelling, Gojo’s glaring at me like I’m the biggest disappointment he’s ever seen. And me? I’m just standing here, watching it all like it doesn’t matter.

Because it doesn’t. Not really.

Geto shouldn’t be blaming Kenjaku. He shouldn’t be wasting his energy on him. Kenjaku didn’t do this to me. 

He didn’t make me this way. I did. I’m the fuck-up here. It’s always been me.

The thought settles in my chest like a weight, heavy and unrelenting. I let out a shaky breath, my fingers twitching at my sides. I can still feel the high coursing through me, numbing everything but the guilt. It’s always there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting to swallow me whole.

I glance at Kenjaku, who’s still pacing, muttering under his breath about how he messed up. And I want to tell him to stop. To shut up. To stop acting like this is his fault, like he’s the one who ruined me.

But I don’t. Because what’s the point? I’m already ruined.

The sound of Geto’s voice, the pacing, and Gojo’s silent judgment—it all started to grate on my nerves. I could feel the irritation bubbling up in my chest, mixing with the high, making me restless. My jaw clenched, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Aye, Kenny!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Drop me home, man! The fuck is you doing?”

Kenjaku stopped mid-pace, his head snapping toward me like I’d slapped him. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He just stood there, looking as lost as I felt.

Geto turned to glare at me, his hands still clenched into fists. “Are you serious right now?” he barked. “You’re acting like this is normal! Like this shit is fine!”

“It is fine,” I snapped back, throwing my arms out. “Ain’t nobody asking you to care! So why don’t you just back the fuck off and let me handle it?”

Gojo stepped forward again, but I shot him a look before he could get close. “Don’t even start, Satoru. I’m not in the mood for one of your fucking lectures.”

He just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was exhausted with me. “You couldn’t even last 24 hours, Sukuna,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Not even a full day.”

“Yeah? And what about it?” I fired back, my voice rising. “What do you want me to say? That I fucked up? Fine! I fucked up, okay? You happy now?”

Kenjaku took a hesitant step toward me, his hands raised like he was trying to calm a wild animal. “Ryomen, listen—”

“Nah, you listen,” I cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “You wanna act like you care, like you didn’t just leave that shit sitting there for me to find? Don’t play dumb, Kenny. Don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted.”

His face fell, his expression crumpling like I’d just sucker-punched him. “I forgot it was there,” he said quietly, almost too quietly for me to hear. “I swear to God, I didn’t mean—”

“Save it,” I snarled, cutting him off again. “You think I give a shit about your excuses? Just drop me the fuck home.”

The tension in the air was suffocating, the weight of everyone’s eyes on me making my skin crawl. I opened the car door and climbed back in, slamming it shut behind me.

I leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes and letting out a shaky breath. The high was still there, dulling the edges of everything, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

I could hear Geto and Kenjaku arguing outside, their voices rising and falling like a broken record. Gojo’s voice joined in every now and then, calm and measured, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

I leaned back in the seat, trying to drown out the noise outside. Geto’s yelling, Gojo’s calm but cutting words—it all blurred together like static. But then I noticed Kenjaku walking off, pacing like a madman before finally jumping into the car. He slammed the door so hard the whole car shook, muttering curses under his breath.

“This is some bullshit,” he growled, gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to rip it off. “I’m gonna drop your ass home. Try not to fuck up the rest of my night for once, man.”

His words hit a nerve, and before I could stop myself, I shoved his head, hard enough that it smacked against the driver-side window with a dull thud. The sound was satisfying, but not as much as seeing his face twist in anger.

Kenjaku whipped his head around, eyes blazing. For a second, I thought he was about to swing on me, his fist twitching at his side. “You got one more time to try me tonight, Ryomen,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Just one.”

“Yeah? Then do something,” I sneered, leaning forward like I wanted him to. “C’mon, Kenny, show me you ain’t all talk.”

He stared at me for a beat, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, but then he just exhaled sharply and started the car. “You ain’t worth the energy,” he muttered, shaking his head. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “Yo, Geto! Gojo! I’m dropping his dumb ass home. Y’all can stop babysitting now.”

Geto’s voice came from somewhere behind us. “If he pulls this shit again, don’t bother calling us next time.”

Kenjaku waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll handle it.”

The car started moving, and I could feel his anger radiating off him like heat. He gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched as he muttered to himself.

“Dumbass, always making shit harder than it needs to be,” he grumbled. “I should’ve left your ass on the street.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back, tapping my fingers against my leg to the beat of some song in my head. “Just drive, Kenny. You’re wasting your breath.”

Kenjaku finally pulled up to my place, the silence between us thick and suffocating. The streetlights cast faint shadows over the driveway, the empty windows of my house staring back at me like hollow eyes.

I let out a dry laugh as I reached for the door handle. 

Of course, no one was home. 

I’d forgotten Yuuji and Choso were staying at Toji’s. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

The car door creaked as I pushed it open, but Kenjaku’s voice stopped me before I could step out. “Sukuna,” he said, his tone softer now, like he was speaking to a child about to do something stupid. “Try to stay clean tonight…..well dont do anymore shit”

I froze for a moment, gripping the door handle tightly. His words hit deeper than I wanted to admit. I sighed, not bothering to look back at him. “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, stepping out and slamming the door shut behind me.

As I made my way to the front door, his car didn’t move. I could feel his eyes on me, probably waiting to see if I’d stumble or second-guess myself.

 He knew me too damn well.

The house was dead silent when I stepped inside. No laughter, no chaos, no Yuuji begging me to make him food or Choso yelling at him to shut up. Just me and the suffocating quiet.

I leaned against the closed door for a moment, running a hand down my face. 

What the hell am I even doing anymore?

I flicked on all the lights, the artificial glow doing little to chase away the darkness clinging to my mind. Plugging my phone into the charger, I tossed it onto the counter before stripping out of my clothes, each piece hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The shower was hot—steam curling against the bathroom mirror—but it didn’t help. The water hit my skin like needles, but no amount of scrubbing could wash away the weight crushing my chest.

 Her voice. Her face.  The sting of the love of my life with my best friend.

 It played on repeat, eating away at me.

When I stepped out, towel wrapped loosely around my waist, the room felt even emptier than before. My phone’s screen lit up, buzzing against the counter. I froze.

Mom.

The name flashed across the screen, her persistence showing in the way the phone vibrated angrily in place.

What the fuck does she want?

 I thought bitterly, clenching my jaw. I stared at it for a moment, debating whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail like I always did.

But the buzzing didn’t stop. Finally, with a sharp exhale, I snatched it up and pressed the green button.

“What?” I barked into the phone, pacing the length of the kitchen, my wet footprints marking the tiles.

"I heard about your stint in the slammer," her voice came through, sharp and condescending. It was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and infuriating.

My grip on the phone tightened. “I didn’t go to jail, you bitch,” I snapped, pacing faster. The anger surged like a second heartbeat.

There was a brief scuffle on her end, muffled voices overlapping. Then a deeper voice cut through the chaos—my father.

“Sukuna,” he said, calm but cold, the way he always sounded when he was gearing up for a lecture.

I stopped in my tracks, the silence in my apartment suddenly deafening. I pressed the phone harder against my ear, my jaw clenching. “What the hell do you want, old man?”

“You need to get your shit together, boy,” he said, each word hitting like a slap. “Your brothers are looking up to you. You can’t keep running around like a damned fool, breaking into fights and—”

“Don’t you dare,” I cut him off, my voice low and threatening. “Don’t you dare talk to me about them.”

“Who the hell else is gonna talk sense into you?” he shot back, his tone rising. “You’re spiraling, and you’re dragging this family down with you.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. “Family? You’re only ‘family’ when you want to point fingers. Where the fuck were you when Jin died? Huh?”

“Don’t you bring your brother into this—”

“Why not?” I snarled, my voice cracking under the weight of my anger. “He raised me more than you ever did. He’s the only reason I kept my shit together this long.”

The line went quiet for a moment, the weight of my words hanging between us like a loaded gun. Then, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“Get some help, Sukuna,” he said, his voice softer but no less cutting. “Before you lose everything.”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I hung up, tossing the phone onto the counter with more force than necessary. It skidded across the surface, knocking into an empty bottle that clattered to the floor.

Lose everything? I thought, my chest heaving as I glared at the phone. I already have.

“You wanna lecture me now?” I hissed into the phone, pacing back and forth. My knuckles were white, the phone trembling in my grip. “You abandoned us! You and Mom just up and left, dumped all your responsibilities on Grandpa so you could go live your perfect little lives. You don’t get to talk to me about family!”

“You ungrateful little shit,” my father snapped, his voice rising. “We did what we had to do. You don’t know half of it.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” I barked, slamming my fist against the counter. The sting barely registered. “You didn’t ‘have to’ do anything except be there for us! But no, you left Jin and me to fend for ourselves like we weren’t even yours. Like we didn’t fucking exist!”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then his voice came back, low and sharp. “Keep running that mouth, Sukuna. You’re lucky I’m not there right now, or I’d put you in your place.”

“Yeah? You think you scare me?” I snarled, my voice dripping with venom. “Come over here, old man. Try it. I dare you.”

I could hear him breathing heavily on the other end, the tension crackling like static. Then he laughed—a deep, humorless sound that sent a chill down my spine.

“Fighting you would be a waste of time,” he said, his tone icy. “Beating an addict is senseless. You’re already your own worst enemy.”

His words hit like a slap, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. My grip on the phone slackened, but I forced myself to hold it together.

“You think you know me?” I said quietly, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t know a damn thing.”

“I know enough,” he said coldly. “Enough to see you’re following the same path as your mother. You think you’re invincible, but you’re just a broken little boy, lashing out at the world because you can’t face yourself.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, my voice shaking with barely contained rage.

He sighed, the sound almost pitiful. “Get your shit together, Sukuna. Before there’s nothing left of you to save.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone for a long moment, my chest heaving, my mind racing. Then I hurled it across the room, watching as it shattered against the wall.

Nothing left to save?

 My fists clenched at my sides as I glared at the broken pieces.

 I was never worth saving to begin with.

Frustrated, I tossed my phone onto the counter and yanked open the fridge. Empty shelves and a single expired condiment stared back at me. “Great,” I muttered under my breath, slamming the door shut. With nothing edible in sight, I grabbed my phone again and ordered a pizza.

As I placed the order, a notification lit up the screen. My group chat with Toji, Geto, and Gojo was blowing up, messages pouring in faster than I could read. Curiosity got the better of me, and I tapped into the chaos.

Toji was the center of it, recounting our earlier confrontation in vivid detail, painting himself as the victim. I scrolled through their responses, some jokes, some questions, but I didn’t reply. The whole thing felt too exhausting to bother with.

Then, another message popped up—this time, a direct text from Gojo.

"Open up. I’m outside."

Why the fuck is he here. Didn’t I just leave him and Geto…ughhh Fuck!

I stared at the message from Gojo, my jaw tightening. What the hell does he want now? Of all nights, he had to show up now. I rubbed my temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping in.

For a moment, I considered ignoring him, pretending I wasn’t home. But knowing Gojo, that wasn’t going to work. He’d just bang on the door loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood.

I dragged myself to the door, my feet heavy, my anger barely subdued. Pulling it open, I was met with Gojo’s grinning face, his sunglasses perched on his head like he was about to hit the beach instead of dealing with my mess.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Reach home alright I see?”

“What the fuck do you want, Gojo?” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind him.

He turned to me, his smile faltering just slightly before he shrugged. “To check on you. Toji’s blowing up the chat, saying you lost your mind tonight.Then the whole incident earlier as well.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms as I leaned against the door. “I don’t need a babysitter. Go bother someone else.”

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the house. “Damn, man. You’re really living like this?” He gestured to the empty fridge, the mess of clothes on the floor, and the broken phone lying in pieces across the room.

“Don’t start,” I warned, my voice low.

“I’m not here to lecture you,” he said, holding up his hands. “I just… I get it, okay? Shit’s been hard for you lately. But you can’t keep going on like this. It’s not healthy.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Healthy? You think I give a fuck about that? Look around, Gojo. This is my life. This is all I’ve got left.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he shot back, his voice firm now. “You’ve got Yuuji. Choso. Hell, you even have us, whether you want to admit it or not.”

I glared at him, the mention of Yuuji and Choso hitting a nerve. “Don’t bring them into this. They’re better off without me.”

“Stop that,” Gojo said, stepping closer. His usually carefree expression was gone, replaced with something harder, something more serious. “You think you’re doing anyone any favors by pushing them away? You think Yuuji doesn’t notice? Or Choso? They’re not stupid, Sukuna. They see you falling apart, and it’s killing them.”

I looked away, my jaw tightening. 

They don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve me.

Gojo sighed, his voice softening. “Look, I’m not saying you have to fix everything overnight. But you’ve got to start somewhere. And maybe that starts with not trying to fight Toji or screaming at Y/N.”

At her name, my chest tightened, the weight of tonight’s events crashing down on me again. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to steady myself. “It’s not that simple, Gojo.”

“It never is,” he said, shrugging. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

I didn’t respond, the silence between us stretching out. Finally, Gojo clapped me on the shoulder, his usual grin returning.

“Pizza’s here,” he said, pointing to the door where the delivery guy was knocking. “At least you’re feeding yourself tonight. That’s a win.”

I snorted despite myself, shaking my head as I went to grab the food. Gojo might’ve been annoying as hell, but maybe—just maybe—he had a point.

I let the pizza box drop onto the counter and headed straight to my room, a single goal in mind. My weed stash better still be there.

Rummaging through the drawer, I exhaled in relief when I found it untouched. “Still got it,” I muttered to myself, grabbing enough to roll up two quick joints. It didn’t take long; muscle memory did most of the work.

Satisfied, I headed back out, the first joint already dangling from my lips. But as I stepped into the living room, my steps slowed.

There he was—Geto. He’d just strolled in like he owned the place, his hands shoved into his pockets, his usual air of calm intact. He stopped and stared at me. No words, just a heavy, assessing look that shifted from my face to the joint hanging casually between my lips.

I met his gaze and exhaled a slow stream of smoke, unfazed.

I froze for a moment, the joint hanging loosely from my lips as Geto strolled in like he owned the place. His sharp eyes scanned me, taking in the mess I was and the unmistakable smell of weed lingering in the air.

He stopped in the middle of the living room, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and gave me a long, deliberate look. “Really, Sukuna?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring his judgment as I sparked the lighter and took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl out of my nose.

Geto sighed, his expression unreadable. “ you were spiraling earlier, so I figured I’d come see well check in on you.”

I smirked bitterly, blowing a cloud of smoke in his direction. “Well, take a good look, Geto. This is what ‘spiraling’ looks like. Happy?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t react to my defiance. Instead, he walked over to the couch and sat down like he had all the time in the world. “You know, for someone who acts like they don’t give a shit, you sure make it obvious how much you do.”

I narrowed my eyes, taking another drag. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re angry,” he said plainly, leaning back. “Angry at everyone—Toji, Y/N, your parents, even yourself. But instead of dealing with it, you’re sitting here getting high and pretending it’ll make everything go away.”

I clenched my jaw, the joint trembling slightly between my fingers. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Geto tilted his head, his gaze piercing. “Don’t I? You think you’re the only one who’s been through shit? You’re not special, Sukuna. We’ve all got demons. But at least the rest of us are trying to fight ours.”

His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. I turned away, pacing the room to shake off the frustration bubbling inside me. “Why do you even care?”

“Because you’re my friend, you idiot,” Geto said, his tone softer now. “And as much as you piss me off sometimes, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself.”

I stopped, the weight of his words settling on my chest. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the wall, the joint burning down between my fingers.

“Put it out,” Geto said quietly, nodding toward the joint.

I hesitated, the defiance in me wanting to resist, but something about the way he looked at me—calm but unyielding—made me pause. With a sigh, I stubbed it out in the ashtray, the room suddenly feeling heavier without the haze of smoke.

“Now what?” I muttered, crossing my arms.

Geto leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now you start getting your shit together. One step at a time. And we’ll be here to make sure you do.”

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” he admitted, standing up and clapping a hand on my shoulder. “But it’s better than whatever this is.”

Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Gojo walked back in with two beers in hand. “So, what’s the verdict? Is Sukuna salvageable, or do we just leave him to rot?”

Geto rolled his eyes, but I caught the faintest smirk on his face. “He’s got potential.”

I snorted, sitting down heavily on the couch. “Glad to know I’m such a promising project.”

Gojo handed me a beer, his grin wide and infuriating. “Cheers to that.”

I grabbed a slice of pizza, chewing in silence while Gojo and Geto helped themselves like this was some kind of hangout. The room was quiet except for the occasional crunch of crust or Gojo mumbling about how the pizza wasn’t bad but could use more cheese.

Halfway through my second slice, the memory hit me like a slap. I dropped the crust onto the plate and leaned back, glaring at both of them. “Wait a minute.” I paused for effect, my voice low and cold.

“I thought I told you two I wanted nothing to do with you.” I jabbed a finger in their direction, eyes narrowing. “So why the fuck are you both here?”

The room grew a little quieter as my words hung in the air. Geto didn’t flinch, but I could see the way Gojo’s smirk faltered for a second, his eyes narrowing as he set his beer down on the coffee table.

"Yeah, you did say that," Gojo replied, his voice a little more serious now. "But you’re not exactly in a state to be making decisions like that."

I looked between them, frustration bubbling up again. "You both really think I need you here? After everything? You think I’m just gonna fall back into this, like it’s fucking normal?"

Geto took a slow sip from his drink before speaking, his tone calm but heavy with meaning. "It's not about what's normal, Sukuna. It's about you not shutting us out completely. We're still here for you, whether you want us to be or not."

I could feel my jaw clenching, my hands gripping the edge of the pizza box as if it could somehow steady the anger and confusion swirling inside me. "You think I want your pity? You think I need your help?" My voice was rising again, and the frustration had me seething. "I’m fine. I don’t need any of this—you—right now."

Gojo leaned forward, his usual cocky demeanor slipping just a little. "It’s not about pity," he said quietly. "It’s about you, you dumbass. You think you can handle all this on your own? Look at you—this isn’t you. You’ve been through hell, and you’re trying to bury it all under drugs and anger. We know you, Sukuna. You’re better than this."

I wanted to argue, to shout at them, to push them out and slam the door. But something in Gojo's words stung too deep, and for a split second, I saw everything I was trying to ignore. I dropped my gaze to the pizza, feeling the weight of everything—the past, the broken relationships, the people who tried to be there for me despite my best efforts to shut them out.

Geto sighed, his voice softening, though I could hear the undercurrent of frustration in it. "We didn’t come here to fight with you, Sukuna. We came here because we care. You can hate us all you want, but we’re not going anywhere."

I swallowed hard, trying to push back the wave of emotion that threatened to break through the anger. "You shouldn’t. You have every right to walk away."

Gojo chuckled, though it was dry, a little bitter. "Not gonna happen, buddy. You might be a pain in the ass, but we’re stuck with you."

Geto gave me a pointed look, then grabbed another slice of pizza. "You're not as alone as you think you are. And you're sure as hell not getting rid of us that easy."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the exhaustion, the hurt, and the weight of everything I’d been avoiding hit me all at once. "I didn’t ask for any of this," I muttered, more to myself than to them.

They both stayed silent, the room thick with the tension of everything left unsaid. But at least, for the first time tonight, I didn’t feel like I was drowning. Maybe I didn’t have all the answers, and maybe I wasn’t ready to let them in fully, but... for once, I wasn’t completely alone.

The silence stretched on, but somehow it felt a little less suffocating.

I stared off into the room, the words from Gojo and Geto fading into the background as my mind went somewhere else—somewhere darker, somewhere that didn’t require thinking, just... feeling. The weight of everything pressing in on me, the guilt, the anger, the memories I kept trying to bury—it was all too much. I needed something to take the edge off, something to numb it.

I felt my fingers instinctively reach for my pockets, the familiar jolt of need surging through me as I thought about the Percocet I’d stashed away. It wasn’t much, just enough to get me through the night, enough to escape for a little while. I needed to forget, just for a fucking minute, to stop feeling like I was on the verge of losing it.

I stood up abruptly, not looking at either of them as I started to head toward the back of the room. But I could feel Geto’s eyes on me, like he knew exactly what I was doing. "Sukuna..." he started, but I didn’t turn around.

"Don't." My voice was tight, harsh. "Just... don’t."

I moved toward the small cabinet where I kept my stash, fingers brushing against the familiar plastic bottle. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I was already trying to calculate how many pills it would take to make everything go away. Just long enough to forget. I could already feel the familiar dulling sensation starting to settle in the back of my mind.

"You think this is going to fix anything?" Geto’s voice cut through the haze, his tone almost too calm. "You think popping a couple pills is going to make everything better? This isn’t going to fix you, Sukuna."

I turned to face him, the pills still in my hand. "You don’t get it, do you?" I spat, the anger bubbling back up. "I’m not you. I’m not some fucking saint who can just talk their feelings away. I don’t give a shit about fixing anything. I just need to stop feeling—anything."

Gojo, who’d been silent until now, finally spoke up. "That’s not how this works, man." His voice was quieter than usual, not mocking or teasing, but laced with something else. Concern.

I could feel my pulse quicken as I raised the bottle in my hand. "You think I don’t know that?" I gritted out. "You think I’m stupid? I’m not trying to fix anything. I’m just trying to get through this fucking night."

There was a long pause as they both stared at me, and for the first time, I felt like I was really being seen—not just the guy who caused all the shit, not just the broken, angry mess—but me. The person who couldn’t handle everything on their own anymore, the one who was desperately trying to hold onto whatever little sanity I had left.

But even as I stood there, the pill bottle in my hand, the weight of their stares making me feel more exposed than I ever had before, I knew I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t go back to who I was, the reckless guy who pushed everyone away, who destroyed everything just to feel something. I didn’t want to be that guy anymore.

But damn, the pills felt like the only thing that could make it stop. Make the constant noise, the constant fight, just... stop.

I sighed, lowering the bottle. "I’m not gonna do it," I muttered, though I wasn’t sure if I was convincing them or myself.

The room was heavy with the tension of my unspoken words, and for a moment, I thought about walking out. About running again. But something—maybe it was the look on Geto’s face, or maybe it was the way Gojo hadn’t said anything at all—stopped me.

Maybe I wasn’t completely alone in this. Maybe there was still a chance, a little fucking chance that I could fix this, that I could pull myself together before I lost it all.

"How about we just sit here for a while?" Gojo’s voice broke the silence, his casual tone the only thing that kept me from falling apart completely. "No pills. No drama. Just... sit."

I stared at him, the weight of everything pressing down on me again. But this time, I didn’t feel the desperate need to run. Maybe—just maybe—sitting here with them wouldn’t be so bad.

"Yeah," I finally muttered, dropping the bottle on the table. "Okay."

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to do everything alone.

The quiet in the room felt suffocating, every second stretching longer than the last. The more still I became, the more the weight of everything crushed me. The anger, the loneliness, the guilt—it was all there, suffocating me in the silence. I tried to hold it back, but I couldn’t. The first sob broke free, a quiet hitch of my breath. Then another. And another.

I pressed my hands to my face, my fingers digging into my skin as if I could hold myself together that way. But it wasn’t working. The tears kept coming, hot and fast, and I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop anything. The rage inside me, the broken pieces of who I used to be—it all spilled out.

I fumbled for the remote, desperate to drown out the sound of myself breaking, my own pathetic cries. I turned the TV up as loud as it would go, hoping it would cover the sound, but it only seemed to make everything worse. The noise of the screen clashing with the harsh noise in my chest, making it feel like everything was closing in on me.

"Shit..." I gasped between sobs, choking on the words. "I'm such a fucking loser."

I hated myself for it, for letting it all get this far, for being weak enough to break down like this in front of anyone. But I couldn’t stop. I just couldn't. I could feel the walls I had so carefully built around myself crumbling, leaving me exposed. This wasn’t who I wanted to be. This wasn’t the guy I used to be—the one who could handle everything, the one who didn’t need anyone.

But I wasn’t that guy anymore, was I? Not when I was sitting here, falling apart like this, feeling more broken than I ever had before.

I heard movement behind me, felt someone close but didn't bother to look up. I couldn’t. Not when I felt so small, so pathetic.

"Sukuna..." Geto’s voice was soft, a hint of something that could have been sympathy or just concern. "Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to—"

But I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t hear the words he was offering. Not over the sound of my own voice cracking in my chest, not over the torrent of tears I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I wanted to say something back, to make them leave, to make it all stop, but the words wouldn’t come. All I could do was sit there, face buried in my hands, trying to breathe through the storm that had erupted inside me.

In the end, I wasn’t sure if I was crying because I’d been broken, or because I didn’t know if I’d ever be fixed again.

Snippet from next chapter

You did WHAT?

My heart pounded in my ears, rage burning hotter than ever. I whipped around, my gaze locking onto Gojo as if he were the one responsible for every goddamn bad decision I had made. My chest heaved, and the anger took over, turning into something ugly and raw.

“You cleaned me out?!" I spat, my voice rising with every word. "What the fuck gives you the right to go through my shit? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Thank you for everyone who is reading this chaos I came up with on a whim.

[beetle-goth]

A Cinderella Jooster AU that @jumpin--bean and I have been playing around with

Jeeves takes the role of Cinderella and Bertie as the prince. Jeeves working under Lord Worplesdon and Aunt Agatha with Florence Craye as his evil “stepsister”

Prince Bertram is giving a ball that is open to peoples of all class statuses (an easy way to invite all his pals that range from the idle rich to bohemian artists).

Jeeves, seeing the opportunity for a little fun, requests the night off. Other servants are allowed to go, but his request is rejected. Even though he never gets the night off, he’s never even sick and the ball is open to all people of any class status. Well.

Open to, but still very obviously divided once you get there.

But Aunt Agatha says “no, you will stay here where you won’t get into any mischief. You’re sneaky and you’re dishonest and I will not have you bring shame to my household”

That evening Jeeves is visited by a fairy godmother to fulfill his wish to go out, but the godmother’s spell turns him into a filly for one night so he can freely dance with his preferred partners at the ball. Afterall. The magic was supposed to be for only one night. It was supposed to just be a magical memory for him to carry around through the drudgery of everyday life

Jeeves still mostly looks like himself just slightly more feminine. Jeeves looks at his outfit and notes that it’s made up of all his privately favorite women's fashion, examines his jewelry and finds that it's all genuine. He shows up with a massive (size 9) and extremely elegant tiara

When Jeeves is at the ball, he’s so unused to being on this side of things. Judging the servants for chatting amongst themselves, having to make a converted effort to not fade into the background like he always does

Meanwhile! Bertie is just trying to have a fun night with the lads and is dreading having to dance with women who only want the title of “princess”. He’s excited for the party and to be with his pals but everyone just ends up flirting with each other and/or getting in fights. Meeting “Regina” was the only good part of the night where he wasn’t being eyed up like a piece of meat or playing relationship counselor. It’s a masquerade ball but most idle rich women can smell Bertie out from growing up in similar circles. But Bertie is sick of them and sick of having to come up with plans to get his friends’ together with their crushes. There's only so many times you can push a pal's paramour's snotty younger sibling into the fountain, it tires out the arms after a while

Jeeves as Regina starts to give Bertie more clever plans to deal with them and Bertie is just gobsmacked she’d even want to help. And even moreso when her plans work.

The underlying theme of Regina's plans is secretly "get these people to leave Bertie the fuck alone for a sec". Effective at healing relationships? Maybe. Effective at giving Reg an opportunity to flirt? Yes.

Which was absolutely NOT his goal coming to this party. He's not even sure he had a goal. Maybe he wanted to convince himself that the upper class is still beautiful & worthy, after so many shit years with the Crayes. Afterall, Jeeves didn't even realize he was spending his whole evening palling around and flirting with the prince! But Bertie takes off his mask for Vulnerability near the end of the eve and Jeeves has to run because of both “oh shit” and he’s running out of time.

And this does absolutely work at reinforcing Jeeves’ worldview. Because look at the prince, and how kind and good and deserving he is.

Makes Jeeves even more miserable when he goes back to his normal life working for the Crayes, knowing someone so worthy is out there but so out of his league to even try to work for.

And then he finds out about the search for the owner of his tiara.

Ladies around the kingdom are teasing their hair and getting extreme haircuts to try and make the tiara fit. It’s only when Bertie looses hope at his Aunt Agatha’s home, that he’s doomed to marry Florence Craye and he’ll never find his dream woman does he see a very similar profile shimmer around the corner serving tea.

Bertie had always been very kind to the staff and they all think very fondly of him and Jeeves is completely mortified that he fell in love with his master’s nephew at a ball of all places (not even to mention Bertie’s status of Prince). But Bertie isn’t embarrassed.

Bertie finds his way into the servants’ quarters and says “Jeeves, old man, I know it isn’t the done thing but you look remarkably like… ahem… remarkably like someone I admire greatly. More than admire. And uh… would you please just try this old thing on. To give me… peace of mind?”

And Jeeves responds“sir, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking”

So Bertie says “I’m not a smart man, but I think I know what you’re telling me, dear thing, and I’m not afraid of the truth”

(whether that be the truth that his dream women is gone for good, or that Jeeves the servant man is his dream woman)

And Jeeves puts the tiara on and Bertie gets all choked up and he’s like “my god Regina, you’re beautiful”

And Jeeves is like “Reginald, my given name is Reginald”

With Bertie being a prince, there can be some convoluted loophole that allows him to elope with Jeeves, if only to just rescue Jeeves from Bertie’s terrible family, as they fall ever more in love with each other. Falling in love with their true selves, and not just the masks they wear.

[strewwwberry]

I just read this: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65016871

And now I'm taking it further and thinking of a "Shen Yuan somehow knows literally every dangerous person in at least china and at most, big named people globally due to being #rich kid that's just kinda there, but also knows everything about everyone" au

Anywho lets start with the logistics of how and why Shen Yuan (modern au) knows so goddamn much!

And coz I'm not a pussy (/j do whatever you want, you not a pussy for doing shit differently) my reasoning ain't gon be "he's nice, #mothervibes"

(But he is mothering dwdw)

and I am a pussy in that as real and well done as it is I cannot STAND his internalised homophobia, so in this au he got drunk and kissed a guy in college, and freaked out and came out within the next year thanks to a stubborn sister who's fed up with his bullshit and one SQH who’s here for the ride

(also in this au he was a shut in in middle to high school, went through a red pill phase, and was dragged out of his coffin in college which ended up being a purifing and liberating experience of finding out ✨people don’t give a fuck about you or anyone else (usually)✨ especially tired young adults who just found out what a mortgage is and trying to survive on instant noodles and expensive coffee they cannot afford at the best of times)

Anywho back to the topic, he knows #everythingabouteveryone because he is nosy A.F. Mixed with learnt how to code and did a lil hacking during his shut in years coz he watched the matrix once and he was just like “ooohgg strange computer numbers”

Like teenage boys do (I’m serious Ive heard at least 5 stories of guys who have gone through this exact childhood experience with varying success)

And because of this whenever he meets anyone EVER for 1 full conversation (incredible I know, a singular convo? Scary /srs)

And immediately digs up everything he can find which usually ends with him digging up dirt and yada yada

Now, how does he even get the chance to have these convos with powerful, rich, dangerous #wattpad male lead people?

This is mainly because of the fact he HAS to go to those rich people meet up parties, usually entailing rich people and “up comers” tryna gain connections, but can also delve into high up criminals tryna make connections with the tax evading sorta rich which is most definitely at least some of SY’s family

(The one thing about his life we actually know about apart from having a younger sister and two older bros, is that he rich rich so ima take that and run)

Before we carry on, here’s my idea for how the “business” is set up (can be skipped but I thought so hard to write this so feel bad for me and let me guilt you into reading :D)

Dads side: great great grandparents grew up modest, not rich not poor, just in a loop of sorts, and decided to run a restaurant together, over the next generation (great grandparents) would expand with more restaurants, and the next (grandparents) would go further into hospitality with a hotel company opening up, and then his father and uncle would go to upkeep all of this.

Mums side: grandmother(GM) was an anesthesiologist, grandfather(GF) worked in pharmaceutical, they got married and decided to open their own pharmaceutical company, which GM was (rightfully) worried about as she got paid really well (becoming an anesthesiologist is rough and tryna transition from that to pharmacy is a massive risk and can be a downgrade payment wise) but she did so anyway in the name of ❤️love❤️ and apparently power of love worked coz now they rich rich coz of it; mum, her 2 older sisters, and younger brother would go to carry on the pharmaceutical business

Mum and dad met at rich people gathering thought hey you kinda cool and joining would only make us richer! Marriage of convenience that worked well enough!

Sy’s oldest brother and second oldest where fighting for dad and uncles business in hospitality coz they thought it would be easier (highlight thought, easier or not it’s still not easy lmfao) and their father wanted one of the boys to inherit his stuff anyway (older bro won and hired his younger bro as second in command out of both care and pure spite), and their mother had already decided that when they get a girl she’s inheriting the pharmaceutical company (angsty time for familial pressure 🤭 and suddenly sy’s weird relationship with sexuality and gender is being unraveled verrrryyyyyy slowly)

Anywho back to sy, he’s the weird 3rd son not involved in any inheritance so his parents want his gain connections to try and figure out where he can go and still live comfortable (in normal people terms, rich rich with a literal house in his name fully paid off and literal servants despite it being (checks notes) 2017(?))

And because of this he’s going around meeting; newly wealthy people, old money people, big named people, and, you guessed it, dangerous mofos (dangerous in a sort of this business is totally not a cover for a loitering drug money scheme for triad gangs😄!)

And the reason he knows shit? Mans is stubborn he decides if he wants to find out this persons shit? He’ll find out even if it kills him (he says not realizing how literal that statement can be until he’s in too deep)

And I’ve lost my train of thought so imma make this part 1 and link next part below

1 <here

2

[jinjooha69]

TOJI X READER !!!

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (dad's friend! AU)

Under His Roof

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Content Warnings (Please Read): Age gap, Power imbalance, Manipulation, Overstimulation , Corruption kink, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Degrading talk, Jealousy sex, First time sex, Size kink, Fingering, Grinding, Dry humping , Possessiveness/Obsession, Breeding kink, Spanking/Discipline, Biting / Marking, Angst & emotional manipulation, Soft/dom moments later on

Minors DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

prev chapter | next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 3

You woke slowly. The kind of morning where everything feels heavier, like the world’s wrapped in thick cotton. Outside, the rain had stopped, and weak sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft streaks across your floor. You sat up in bed, legs tangled in the sheets, mind swimming in fragments of the night before.

Toji’s words still echoed somewhere behind your eyes.

You never do anything wrong.

Let me look at you.

You didn’t know what to make of it. You weren’t even sure if you’d dreamed it.

Your feet hit the floor before you even made a decision to get up. You weren’t dressed for company—just a loose old tee and some sleep shorts. Still, you wandered toward the kitchen, half-thinking about coffee, half hoping you’d find nothing and get time to gather yourself.

But he was there.

Of course he was.

Toji stood by the stove, back turned to you, in one of those loose white linen shirts—buttons open halfway, sleeves lazily rolled. His hair still a little messy, like he’d only finger-combed it. Grey sweats hanging low on his hips, coffee mug in one hand, spatula in the other. Barefoot. At home.

Like he belonged there.

You paused in the doorway, watching him in silence. The way his back moved with each breath. The strength under his skin, quiet but impossible to miss. The line of his neck where the shirt collar hung open. He looked more like a painting than a man.

He didn’t turn. But he knew.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he said, voice calm, just rough enough to remind you he hadn’t spoken yet that day. “Sleep okay?”

You felt your cheeks warm instantly. “Y-Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure?” He finally looked over his shoulder. A smirk—not teasing. Just knowing. His eyes flicked over your sleepwear and back up to your face. “You look a little... rattled.”

You cleared your throat and stepped into the kitchen, crossing your arms in front of you like that would hide anything. “Just... tired.”

He nodded, like he didn’t believe you but wasn’t gonna call it out. He flipped whatever he was cooking—eggs, you thought—like this was normal. Like this was a regular morning. Like he hadn’t kissed your cheek and burned a hole through your chest the night before.

“You hungry?” he asked, glancing at you again. “Made enough for two.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

He plated the food with casual ease, sliding one toward the seat closest to him and gesturing for you to sit. You obeyed without thinking, legs folding beneath you, trying not to make eye contact. You could feel him watching you—could feel the heat of it even across the space.

“I, uh... I didn’t mean to fall asleep so early,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean to leave you out there.”

His hand reached across the table—just his fingers brushing against your wrist. Not grabbing. Not holding. Just making contact.

“You didn’t leave me anywhere,” he said, tone lower. “I stayed exactly where I wanted to be.”

You froze.

He leaned back, taking a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim.

“I meant what I said last night,” he added. “You don’t have to understand it all now. But you should know I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

You looked at him then, finally. Really looked. And there was no teasing in his eyes. Just... patience. Intensity. Control wrapped in velvet.

“I don’t know what to do with any of this,” you whispered.

He smiled, slow and almost soft. “You don’t have to do anything.”

A pause.

“But if you ever want to... I’ll let you.”

He said it like a secret. Like an open door. Like an invitation with no pressure behind it—but a thousand promises hidden underneath.

And then he went back to eating like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just cracked your world open with nothing but words and a lingering touch.

---

After breakfast, Toji stayed. He said something about needing to wait for your dad to call—some update about the project site or shift change, you weren’t really listening. You were too busy trying not to look at him too hard, not to remember the kiss on your cheek, the weight of his hand at your back, the deep hum of his voice that seemed to wrap around your brain and squeeze.

You escaped to your room, changed into something more covered—your favorite loose hoodie and leggings, nothing special—and busied yourself with anything that kept you away from the kitchen, from him.

Until the bathroom called.

The hallway was narrow, old floors creaking slightly under your steps, and the bathroom door was half-open. You reached for it—

Then stopped dead in your tracks.

Toji was in there.

Not doing anything weird—just... shirtless. Steam curling out behind him. Hair damp and pushed back from a fresh shower. He stood in front of the mirror, towel slung around his neck, drying off his arms, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t expected company.

And you couldn’t move.

Not because you were scared—but because your brain just—shut off.

He glanced at you, calm. Just a little smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Didn’t lock the door,” he said, voice low, amused.

You scrambled to look away, heart hammering.

“I—Sorry—! I didn’t mean to—!”

“It’s fine,” he said easily, reaching for his shirt. “You’re not a stranger, right?”

The word stranger clung to your chest in a weird way. No, you weren’t. But you also weren’t supposed to see him like that. You backed away, ears red, your whole body warm.

He laughed quietly under his breath as the door shut.

---

Later that evening, something in the house broke.

It was small. A loose curtain rod in the hallway. You tried to fix it on your own, but the chair wobbled under your foot and you made a noise loud enough for Toji to come around the corner.

“You trying to kill yourself?”

He said it with a chuckle, hand already gripping the back of the chair, steadying it with ease. “Hop down.”

You obeyed, trying to avoid looking at him. But he stayed right where he was. Standing close. Way too close. His chest nearly brushing your shoulder as he reached up to inspect the rod himself.

You could smell his cologne—fresh and clean, like rain and soap and something darker that made your knees pull together.

He leaned forward slightly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“Didn’t know you were handy,” he murmured.

You let out a shaky breath. “I wasn’t... I just wanted it to stop rattling.”

He hummed, still working. “That’s cute.”

You turned to face him without thinking—and nearly bumped right into his chest. Inches. That’s all that was left. His hand rested on the wall behind you now, framing you without even trying.

He looked down at you.

You looked up.

Your stomach twisted into a thousand knots.

“You always get this flustered,” he said softly, “or is it just me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He smiled a little. Not cocky. Just... sure of himself. Like he knew exactly how this was going to go—whether you did or not.

“Relax,” he whispered. “I’m just fixing things, right?”

But his hand brushed your wrist on the way back down. And it lingered for just a beat too long.

The curtain rod was fixed. At least, that’s what he claimed.

But he didn’t move away.

He lingered in that narrow hallway with you—crowding your space under the flickering ceiling light—body close enough that the heat from him practically poured into your skin. You tried to step aside, your shoulder brushing his chest, but his hand caught your wrist. Gently. Firmly.

“You alright?” he asked.

Your breath caught. “Y-Yeah. I just... I’ll go back to my room—”

“You’re shivering,” he said. His voice had dropped lower, and the hand at your wrist didn’t let go. “Cold?”

You weren’t sure. Maybe. Your body was hot, but your skin had goosebumps.

Toji’s eyes dropped. You didn’t realize where until his hand moved, slow and casual, brushing something from your arm—except it wasn’t your arm. It was the side of your chest. And his thumb, heavy and deliberate, dragged too close across the slope of your breast as he “dusted something off.”

You stiffened, your breath hitching.

His hand lingered half a second too long.

Your nipples had hardened under your top long before—thanks to the chill, you told yourself—but now you were very aware of how visible they probably were. And so was he.

Toji’s gaze flicked down. Barely a second. But you felt it.

Then he stepped back. Gave you space. A smug look tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew exactly what he’d done.

“Didn’t mean to make you nervous,” he murmured, already turning away. “But maybe throw on something warmer next time.”

He left before you could say anything. Before your brain even caught up.

You stared after him, chest tight, hoodie clinging to your body in all the wrong ways.

You touched the spot his thumb had grazed, breath still uneven.

What was that?

-----

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Not because you were scared—but because he was still in the house. In the guest room. Just across the hall. The same Toji who touched you earlier like it meant nothing.

You walked to the kitchen past midnight, needing water, needing air. And he was there again. Shirtless again. A glass in his hand, another bottle of whatever he was drinking open on the counter.

He looked over his shoulder when you entered, that same maddening calm in his face.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

You shook your head.

“Come here,” he said. Not a request.

You hesitated. Then moved.

He handed you the glass. Not alcohol—just water. Cold and clean and necessary.

“You alright?” he asked. “You were quiet earlier.”

You stared at the floor. “Just... stuff. Breakup stuff.”

A beat of silence. Then he set his glass down.

“You let him touch you?” he asked softly.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“That boy. The one who cheated. Did he get to touch you?”

You didn’t answer. Your breath caught again—your throat too tight. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t even angry. Just asking. Calm. Casual. Too close.

His finger brushed under your chin, tilting your face up.

“Did he even deserve to?” he asked, voice low, hand barely holding you but still there.

“I—I don’t know,” you said, flustered, stomach twisting. “He was just my boyfriend—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You shook your head, half out of confusion, half to clear the fog building inside.

Toji exhaled slowly. Then stepped back—again, leaving you reeling with the space he took with him.

“You’ve got no idea what kind of hands you should fall into, do you?”

You didn’t.

But your skin still burned where he touched it.

----------

The house was too quiet.

After that moment in the kitchen, you’d rushed back to your room—but your heart didn’t settle. Not with the way he’d touched your chin, not with how close his mouth had been, not with the words he said—

“You’ve got no idea what kind of hands you should fall into.”

That line looped in your head while you lay in the dark. And then you heard it—the soft creak of a footstep outside your room.

Your breath froze.

Then—his voice. Low. Just outside the door.

“You still awake?”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t need to.

The knob turned. Slowly. Silently. Like he already knew the answer.

And then he stepped inside.

Toji stood there, shirtless still, wearing only sweatpants. The dim hallway light caught on the hard muscle of his chest, the cut of his arms. He leaned on the doorframe, but there was nothing lazy about the way he looked at you.

His eyes traveled slowly—too slowly—from your blanket-covered legs up to the shape of your chest and then to your wide, stunned eyes.

“You scared?” he asked.

You nodded. A small one. Honest.

He smirked. “Good.”

He came closer.

Not fast. Not in a rush. Like he had all the time in the world to make this worse.

“Look at you,” he muttered, standing beside your bed now. “Lying there like that… under this tiny little blanket, wearing what—nothing?”

You blushed furiously, fingers gripping the fabric.

“I—I sleep in just a tee,” you stammered.

He leaned over. His palm pressed to the bed near your head, the other tugging just lightly at the edge of the blanket.

“Is that so?” he said, voice a warm whisper. “Mind if I see?”

You didn’t say yes. You didn’t say no either. Your breath just hitched as his hand pulled the blanket back a little, revealing your thigh. Bare skin. Goosebumps.

“That’s not nothing,” he said, voice smug. “But close.”

His fingers brushed that skin. Down to your knee. Then up again—slow, so slow your lungs forgot how to breathe. The pad of his thumb dragged along the inside of your thigh like it was innocent.

You whimpered.

“You want me to stop?” he asked. But his hand didn’t.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. You should have said yes. You didn’t.

Instead, you whispered, “I don’t know…”

His grin widened. His hand pressed higher. Under the hem of your oversized tee, warm palm brushing the crease of your thigh where it met the heat of your core—hovering just close enough to make you squirm but not quite there.

“You’re warm here,” he muttered. “Bet you’re wet too.”

You squeezed your legs together.

But Toji didn’t let you hide.

He pushed your knees apart, his eyes locked on your face the whole time.

“You really don’t know what I’m doing to you, do you?” he said, like it turned him on even more.

“Too sweet. Too dumb. Just lying there like you’re not making my cock hard as a rock right now.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

And then—his hand really touched you.

Over your panties. Just a soft stroke of his fingers, knuckles brushing the slick patch you didn’t even realize had formed.

Your gasp was quiet—but he heard it.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I thought.”

He kept touching, slow and gentle, but just firm enough to leave you trembling. The cotton was already damp. His fingers dragged over the wetness, back and forth, until the friction made your hips twitch.

“You gonna cum like this?” he whispered. “With me just petting you through your little panties?”

“W-What?” you breathed.

He leaned closer—mouth at your ear.

“Shhh. You don’t need to know,” he said. “You just need to feel.”

You didn’t even realize your legs had spread until his hand slipped between them fully.

He was still outside your panties—barely. His palm cupped you through the thin cotton, fingers curving to press where you were warmest. Wettest.

His thumb dragged slow circles over your clit. Not rough. Not even with pressure. Just enough.

Your body jerked at the contact. A breathless noise broke out of you—a needy whimper, like you hated how good it felt.

“Sensitive, huh?” he murmured, gaze glued to your face. “You’ve been like this all night. I could smell it on you in the kitchen.”

Your hands gripped the sheet. “T-Toji…”

“Shh. Don’t say my name like that. Makes me wanna do things I shouldn’t.”

His fingers pressed firmer. Still outside the fabric, but the heat in your core was pulsing now. Your panties were soaked through. It felt too good, too strong, and too new to make sense in your head.

“I… I didn’t mean—” you started.

“I know you didn’t,” he cut in, low and cruelly soft. “That’s what makes it fun.”

You gasped as he finally slid his fingers under the edge of your panties. Skin to skin.

He hissed through his teeth.

“Fuck, baby. You’re dripping.”

His fingers found your slit—dragging slow through the wetness, circling your clit once, twice, then dipping lower just to tease your entrance. He didn’t push in. Not yet. Just played with the slick mess between your thighs like he had every right to be there.

Your hips jerked again. He held you still.

“Stop moving,” he said, voice firm. “Be a good girl.”

The words hit. Harder than his hands ever did. Your breath stuttered, legs shaking, body arching without permission.

“Good,” he muttered. “Just take it. That’s all you gotta do.”

His fingers slid lower again—and this time, he pushed one inside.

You gasped. Your thighs twitched, trying to close around his hand, but he kept them wide.

“Tight little thing,” he muttered. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this. Not right.”

He added a second finger.

You cried out—a soft, broken sound, like you didn’t know whether to beg him to stop or never stop.

His fingers curled inside you, dragging slow and steady over that spot deep in your heat that made your toes curl and your chest tighten. He was watching you—eyes dark, locked on your face, soaking in every little reaction like it was a drug.

“You gonna cum for me already?” he asked. “Barely started, and you’re shaking like a virgin.”

“I—I am,” you whispered.

He cursed under his breath.

And his mouth was on your neck in the next second, lips dragging heat across your skin.

“You little fuckin’ tease,” he growled. “You let me finger you like that and say that?”

“I’m sorry—!”

“No, you’re not,” he muttered. “You will be though. When I’m done with you.”

His thumb circled your clit again, faster now—his fingers still moving inside you, deeper, rougher. The wet sounds of your body echoed in the quiet room—sloppy, loud, shameless.

Your moans grew desperate, helpless.

“Toji, I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” he breathed. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel how sweet this pussy gets when she breaks.”

And you did.

Your whole body clenched around his fingers. Your thighs locked up, hips jolting, chest rising as your orgasm hit hard—your first, your everything, pouring out of you right into his hand.

You were still twitching when he pulled his fingers out and licked them.

“Better than I thought,” he said, licking his lips. “But this was just a taste.”

He leaned over, mouth brushing yours, teasing—but not kissing.

“You ready for me to ruin you next?”

next chapter

.

[spencer-is-someone]

Based on a dream I had a few months ago where Ethan and Mia were in college and Mia was a stoner dating some loser but then she and Ethan sat under the stars and he said that she smelled like wonton soup and that’s how they fell in love

[thatsmutbean]

Plan was to draw them all full body like Kori but I'm tired sorry

Kori - @xmajordumps - been eating your aus up i love toxicity

Noor - @runningwithscizzorz - i love the divorce and your artstyle <3

Amyntas - @oneofthosenightbees - i love the outfits and the yuri and the cannibalism

The Lamb - @aveloka-draws - Paisa me gusta tu au un montón me lo quiero comer

Lambert - @bamsara - your fic gave me worms i love it its like you put crack on it or smth

[magicpiano]

Dark AU, Arkham patient! Jazz Fenton.

Sadly, Jazz Fenton is convinced that her brother Danny is still alive, that Phantom didn't kill him, that ghosts are actually sentient and not necessarily evil. Clearly she was brainwashed by Phantom who was pretending to be her brother.

The GIW graciously don't charge her with the crime of violating the anti-ecto act by protecting ghosts as a kindness to her parents who have done so much good work. She is sent to a mental hospital outside of Amity Park because they think she will recover better away from ghosts.

Well Arkham doesn't know what is about to hit it and Jazz is going to do whatever it takes to escape and save her brother.

[xthechaozx]

|> parasites in the water! parasites in the water! |> something in the water is making these robots insane!

feel free to use these as icons~

i've had this idea in my head for this au for a while now, I promise I'll post more about it soon!