#but i guess that’s just how things go huh…..

[seitmai]

I'm obsessed with them, so many thoughts

You really didn’t know when it all happened, when you and Bradley became a thing. At first he was just an annoying crew member you couldn’t shake off your tail. Then he was your wingman. Then you got accidentally placed into marriage accommodation and the two of you played it off so you could get better housing. Then you actually bought a house. And then somewhere along the way you got married.

Whoops 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Where shall we have the wedding?” Bradley asked and you raised a brow “register office” you shrug “what you don’t want a wedding?” He asks, hand on his chest as he feigns offence. “You do?” You ask and he nods vigorously. You huff. “Fine” “so shall we do it on the beach?” He asks “okay” you just go along with it, hardly even entertaining the idea at all.

It's so cute that Bradley us the one wanting a real big wedding 😍🥹 (I bet he has a Pinterest board since that first morning run 🤔🤭)

“just not really into the whole idea of this wedding. I kinda thought we’d just sign papers and get on with it” you said “well you picked Bradshaw, he’s a drama queen at the best of times” she says and you him in agreement;

Haha so true 😅

You showed up to the beach-front wedding right on time, completely dead against the idea of being in any way, shape, or form late.

Yes a fellow on time or early club member 💪🏻

Your father gave you away, Bradley in floods of tears at the end of the isle by the time you’d gotten there. “You look incredible” he whispers, lips quivering as he stares at you “shut up you’re going to make me cry.” You grumble, but smile. “It’s okay to cry.” He says, as the ceremony begins. “You may now kiss your bride” and Bradley dipped you and kissed you sweetly, drowning out the cheers of those around you. “I love you, Bradshaw.” You say, smally, “I love you more, sweetheart” he says and kisses your forehead “you’re crying” he points out “shut up”

I might cry too because this is so perfect 🥰🥹

And then you looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test two years later. You hummed “okay” and looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing nothing else other than the fact that you had to tell Bradley right that second. You marched downstairs, where he was sat playing with some keys on the piano you’d bought him last Christmas, stopping next to him. “Hey baby, y’alright?” He asked, and you just held out the stick to him. “What’s this?” He asks, taking it from you and looking over it once. “You serious?” He asked, looking at you; smile growing from ear to ear “you’re pregnant?” He almost whispers “unless the other four lied.” you say and he jumps up and pulls you into his arms, kissing all over your face until you shouted at him to stop.

They are really black cat wife and golden retriever husband 🤭🥰

He knelt down and looked at your stomach, kissing it gently then moving to put his ear against it “uh huh” he hummed “Bradley what are you-” “shush I’m talking to em” he says and you stand, unimpressed, but let him nonetheless. “Oh yeah baby, I’m excited to meet you too” he coos “yeah, yeah, I’m your dad” and you audibly giggle. He looks up at you, eyes wide “you done?” You ask and he nods “yeah little one was done talking” he smiles, and hugs you close again.

He is so excited to be a dad 🥹🥰

“I need to get the baby clothes out of the attic” he mumbles, kissing your temple “the what?” You ask “I bought them when we started renting the house!” He says, dragging you excitedly up the stairs “but we own the house, Brad” you him “no, no, the one we had during the mission!” He says and you gasp internally, realising how long the two of you had been together without even noticing it.

Omg I can't with him 😂

He kissed your forehead and hugged you, then your husband before walking back over to the aircraft he was working on. “Thought you needed a new picture for your pinboard” you hum “oh? I just added the wedding photo!” He says, excitedly, showing you the filled gap. “Okay, guess you don’t want the sonogram of your grandchild.” You say, turning to head out before Bradley hurriedly grabbed you and turned you back into the situation, pulling the strip of photos from his breast pocket. Your dad stood with his jaw wide open “you’re-” he breathes “you’re really pregnant?” He asks as his eyes well with tears “well I wouldn’t lie-” you say but he just pulls you into a big bear hug, pinning Baby Bradshaw’s picture onto his board.

Her nonchalance and Bradley's giddiness made Maverick's surprise even better 🤭

You head to go look at the part of the engine your dad couldn’t quite fix while Bradley held back with Maverick. He turns to him and shakes his hand “your dad would’ve been so proud.” He says, smiling at Bradley “I know you are.” Rooster smiles, wordlessly being pulled into a hug with his father-in-law.

🥺🥺🥺

Bradley had sort of a sixth sense, somehow knowing you weren’t asleep beside him. “Hey, baby what’s up?” He croaks, immediately moving to sit up with you when he sees his senses were correct. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Bradley.” You say, staring ahead at the wall “what do you mean?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I mean I’m a fighter pilot, I was raised by a single father, I never had that maternal instinct, what am I doing?” You whisper, and when Bradley managed to finally pull your face towards him you were crying “oh sweetheart” he hums, pulling you into him gently “you’re gonna be the best momma ever, and the fact that you worry proves that. I love you, okay?” He comforts “I know. I love you too.”

This coming from Bradley, who himself probably doubts his fatherly abilities hits even more 🥺🥰

You were stubborn the whole pregnancy. You thought it was ridiculous that people just stopped when they were pregnant, and Bradley was trailing you trying anything to get you to just relax. “Hen, please!” He begs as you head out for your morning run “I’m three months pregnant, Bradley. I’m not incompetent.” You snap, as he begrudgingly pulls on his running shoes and follows you out the door. He pulled you back anytime you went quicker than a 10 minute mile “Bradley, if you slow me down one more time I’m going to pull your arm out of your socket” you snap and he holds his hands up “message received.”

😂😂😂

“What’s up?” Bradley asked, as you practically threw your stuff on the floor. “They’re putting me on the desk.” You grumble, anger evident in your eyes while his soften “oh baby we knew that was gonna happen” he soothes, rubbing your arm reassuringly “no! No we didn’t! I was perfectly fine hiding the bump, but no!” You huff “I’m Bradley Bradshaw and all of California has to know my wife’s pregnant!” You imitate him but he just smirks “oh I’m so sorry that everyone needs to know you’re taken and carrying my baby” he says, smugly. “Don’t you smile at me Bradley-” you wag an accusatory finger at him, but he heaves you over his shoulder, and towards the stairs “c’mon, let’s help you blow off some steam” he reasons “y’know it’s possible to get pregnant while pregnant, right?” You ask and he cheers “woohoo! Two for one deal, sounds great!” He says and you can’t help but smile.

Haha crisis that Bradley himself brought onto her averted 😅

But when you approached your street, you rolled straight past your house and straight to the Hard Deck ‘congratulations on your baby’ banners plastered all over “welcome to our baby shower!” Bradley grins as you pull up “is this really necessary? They aren’t even here yet.” You tell him and he shrugs “thought it might take your mind off maternity leave” you smile at him “thanks, Brad”

He is so sweet 🥹

And at one point in the evening, you sat Natasha and Bob down separately. “Hey Phoenix, can we borrow you?” Brad asked, pulling her away from her conversation “yeah of course guys!” You took a seat at a table and Bradley forced you to elevate your feet against your will. “What’s up?” She asks “how’d you like to be godmother to little Bradshaw?” Her eyes lit up when Bradley asked and she leant over the table to hug the two of you “oh I’d love too!” She announces, excitedly.

The best godmother 🥰

Then you head over to Bob, but Phoenix holds Rooster back “they have a special connection, let her do this”. You sit on the stool next to Bob and he offers you some peanuts which you refuse, and you stay sat in silence for a minute. “Bob can I ask you something?” You ask, as he pulls your calves up to rest in his lap “of course, hen” he says, brushing some crumbs off his top “what’s up?” “Well, the job we’re in isn’t an old job” you say and he laughs and agrees “it’s also dangerous” you say, and again - he nods. “So if anything happens to me and Brad, can you be there for little Bradshaw?” His eyes widen and start to swell with tears “will you be our godfather?” You ask and he nods, moving to miss your cheek “of course I will, hen. I’d be honoured.”

Bob the godfather 🥹🥰 this kid is so luck to have these people in their corner!

“Okay all done, baby” your husband said “okay. My water broke three minutes ago” you say as calmly as he had, he nods, then whips his head back round “your water broke?” He asks and looks down, and indeed, your water had broken “oh my god your water broke?!” He announced, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out to the bronco, picking the hospital bag up on the way. “Ready to have a baby?” He asks, giddily. “Am I supposed to be?” You ask and he shakes his head with a smile “no”

Her calmness and Bradley’s dramatics is just so good

You were dead silent during birth and it scared the shit out of Bradley. “Do you want an epidural, honey? They’ve offered-” “no.” “Can I get you more ice?” “No.” And he tried everything, even when it was time to push. You held his hand and your mouth was zipped shut. “Is she supposed to be this quiet?” He asked the doctor who just looked at him nonchalantly “it’s normal, all mothers react differently to birth” he said. “I’m a fighter pilot Bradley. I’ve had worse.” You grit. “Breathe baby” he tells you “I think you need to.” You say “stop being dramatic” you say as you push again “honey-” “either shut up or get out.” You tell him and he glues his mouth shut, at least until the baby comes.

Iconic behavior and I wouldn't have expected any less from her 😅👏🏻

“Hey mom, shall we take baby so you can get some rest?” The nurse asked, leaning to take Nick from your arms “excuse me?” You asked, pulling your baby closer. “So you can sleep?” She suggests “I’ve carried him for nine months and now he’s here you’re taking him away?” You ask “well, some mothers like to sleep” “I can sleep when I’m dead.” You deadpan, and she realised that Nick wouldn’t have been pried from your hands even if you were dead, so she left you all alone.

Bradley cuts the chord and they hand you your baby, and your eyes widen as you stare at the baby on your chest “welcome to the world Nick Bradshaw” you coo at the baby and Bradley raised his brows “Nick?” He asks, voice cracking “what? Got a problem with that? You and your stupid dick” you grumble and Bradley laughs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

🥰🥰🥰

I think the worries she had about being a mom are already gone 🥹🥰

I'm so obsessed with them and their dynamic, if you ever feel up to write more about them, I will eat it right up 👏🏻🫡

Personal Space (two Bradshaws like it now)

Bradley ��Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: A sequel in which you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space. Even more so now you’ve had a baby, apparently.

Can be read as a part 2, but doesn’t have to be. Read Personal Space here

You really didn’t know when it all happened, when you and Bradley became a thing. At first he was just an annoying crew member you couldn’t shake off your tail. Then he was your wingman. Then you got accidentally placed into marriage accommodation and the two of you played it off so you could get better housing. Then you actually bought a house. And then somewhere along the way you got married.

“Where shall we have the wedding?” Bradley asked and you raised a brow “register office” you shrug “what you don’t want a wedding?” He asks, hand on his chest as he feigns offence. “You do?” You ask and he nods vigorously. You huff. “Fine” “so shall we do it on the beach?” He asks “okay” you just go along with it, hardly even entertaining the idea at all.

“So? What do you think?” Nat asks as she makes you pivot in a white gown “I think I look like a roll of toilet paper” you said, crossing your arms “maybe it’s just not the dress for you?” She reasons and you shake your head “just not really into the whole idea of this wedding. I kinda thought we’d just sign papers and get on with it” you said “well you picked Bradshaw, he’s a drama queen at the best of times” she says and you him in agreement; your consultant leading you back to the fitting rooms “let’s try another”.

You’d left with a sleeved dress; hating the idea of having a low cut dress, and begging Nat to just let you leave. Sure, you loved the dress - but you loved the idea of getting out of that suffocating shop more.

“Hey honey” Bradley had said, hearing you walk into the house and set your keys on the kitchen counter. “Hi” you reply shortly, moving to fill your cup with water from the sink. “How was your day?” He asked, moving to rest his head on your shoulder and holding you from behind. “Good. Bought a wedding dress” you say simply “you did what?!”

Then on your wedding day, you’d stared at yourself in the mirror far too long. “You look gorgeous” Penny whispers, squeezing your shoulders comfortingly “I look like a fucking pin up doll” you huff, not necessarily believing yourself - just not used to being such a central perspective of attention. “Wow” your dad says, walking into the room “you look gorgeous” he whispers “is there an echo in here?” You mumble, but smile at him “thank you” you say, wiping the tears from under his eyes. “C’mon, Bradley’s nearly about to come get you himself”

You showed up to the beach-front wedding right on time, completely dead against the idea of being in any way, shape, or form late. Your father gave you away, Bradley in floods of tears at the end of the isle by the time you’d gotten there. “You look incredible” he whispers, lips quivering as he stares at you “shut up you’re going to make me cry.” You grumble, but smile. “It’s okay to cry.” He says, as the ceremony begins. “You may now kiss your bride” and Bradley dipped you and kissed you sweetly, drowning out the cheers of those around you. “I love you, Bradshaw.” You say, smally, “I love you more, sweetheart” he says and kisses your forehead “you’re crying” he points out “shut up”

And then you looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test two years later. You hummed “okay” and looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing nothing else other than the fact that you had to tell Bradley right that second. You marched downstairs, where he was sat playing with some keys on the piano you’d bought him last Christmas, stopping next to him. “Hey baby, y’alright?” He asked, and you just held out the stick to him. “What’s this?” He asks, taking it from you and looking over it once. “You serious?” He asked, looking at you; smile growing from ear to ear “you’re pregnant?” He almost whispers “unless the other four lied.” you say and he jumps up and pulls you into his arms, kissing all over your face until you shouted at him to stop.

He knelt down and looked at your stomach, kissing it gently then moving to put his ear against it “uh huh” he hummed “Bradley what are you-” “shush I’m talking to em” he says and you stand, unimpressed, but let him nonetheless. “Oh yeah baby, I’m excited to meet you too” he coos “yeah, yeah, I’m your dad” and you audibly giggle. He looks up at you, eyes wide “you done?” You ask and he nods “yeah little one was done talking” he smiles, and hugs you close again. “I need to get the baby clothes out of the attic” he mumbles, kissing your temple “the what?” You ask “I bought them when we started renting the house!” He says, dragging you excitedly up the stairs “but we own the house, Brad” you him “no, no, the one we had during the mission!” He says and you gasp internally, realising how long the two of you had been together without even noticing it.

“Hey dad” you say, as you and Bradley head into the hangar he and you owned “hey honey, hey Brad” your dad greets, wiping the oil from his hands to come over and talk to the two of you. He kissed your forehead and hugged you, then your husband before walking back over to the aircraft he was working on. “Thought you needed a new picture for your pinboard” you hum “oh? I just added the wedding photo!” He says, excitedly, showing you the filled gap. “Okay, guess you don’t want the sonogram of your grandchild.” You say, turning to head out before Bradley hurriedly grabbed you and turned you back into the situation, pulling the strip of photos from his breast pocket. Your dad stood with his jaw wide open “you’re-” he breathes “you’re really pregnant?” He asks as his eyes well with tears “well I wouldn’t lie-” you say but he just pulls you into a big bear hug, pinning Baby Bradshaw’s picture onto his board.

You head to go look at the part of the engine your dad couldn’t quite fix while Bradley held back with Maverick. He turns to him and shakes his hand “your dad would’ve been so proud.” He says, smiling at Bradley “I know you are.” Rooster smiles, wordlessly being pulled into a hug with his father-in-law.

Then one evening you were sat up in bed, Bradley sound asleep beside you as you look down at the barely visible bump. Bradley had sort of a sixth sense, somehow knowing you weren’t asleep beside him. “Hey, baby what’s up?” He croaks, immediately moving to sit up with you when he sees his senses were correct. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Bradley.” You say, staring ahead at the wall “what do you mean?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I mean I’m a fighter pilot, I was raised by a single father, I never had that maternal instinct, what am I doing?” You whisper, and when Bradley managed to finally pull your face towards him you were crying “oh sweetheart” he hums, pulling you into him gently “you’re gonna be the best momma ever, and the fact that you worry proves that. I love you, okay?” He comforts “I know. I love you too.”

You were stubborn the whole pregnancy. You thought it was ridiculous that people just stopped when they were pregnant, and Bradley was trailing you trying anything to get you to just relax. “Hen, please!” He begs as you head out for your morning run “I’m three months pregnant, Bradley. I’m not incompetent.” You snap, as he begrudgingly pulls on his running shoes and follows you out the door. He pulled you back anytime you went quicker than a 10 minute mile “Bradley, if you slow me down one more time I’m going to pull your arm out of your socket” you snap and he holds his hands up “message received.”

Then one day, at around the sixth month mark you walked into the house and slammed the door so hard it rattled. “What’s up?” Bradley asked, as you practically threw your stuff on the floor. “They’re putting me on the desk.” You grumble, anger evident in your eyes while his soften “oh baby we knew that was gonna happen” he soothes, rubbing your arm reassuringly “no! No we didn’t! I was perfectly fine hiding the bump, but no!” You huff “I’m Bradley Bradshaw and all of California has to know my wife’s pregnant!” You imitate him but he just smirks “oh I’m so sorry that everyone needs to know you’re taken and carrying my baby” he says, smugly. “Don’t you smile at me Bradley-” you wag an accusatory finger at him, but he heaves you over his shoulder, and towards the stairs “c’mon, let’s help you blow off some steam” he reasons “y’know it’s possible to get pregnant while pregnant, right?” You ask and he cheers “woohoo! Two for one deal, sounds great!” He says and you can’t help but smile.

Then came your maternity leave, Bradley picked you up in his bronco. You were quick to head outside, and he kinda hated how well you hid the bump. “I’m done.” You huff, settling into the seat beside him “if that bitch from accounting asks me one more time if I want her herbal teas I’m going to knock her teeth out” you complain and Bradley chuckles “well, just me, you and Baby Bradshaw now” he says and you hum in agreement.

But when you approached your street, you rolled straight past your house and straight to the Hard Deck ‘congratulations on your baby’ banners plastered all over “welcome to our baby shower!” Bradley grins as you pull up “is this really necessary? They aren’t even here yet.” You tell him and he shrugs “thought it might take your mind off maternity leave” you smile at him “thanks, Brad”

And at one point in the evening, you sat Natasha and Bob down separately. “Hey Phoenix, can we borrow you?” Brad asked, pulling her away from her conversation “yeah of course guys!” You took a seat at a table and Bradley forced you to elevate your feet against your will. “What’s up?” She asks “how’d you like to be godmother to little Bradshaw?” Her eyes lit up when Bradley asked and she leant over the table to hug the two of you “oh I’d love too!” She announces, excitedly.

Then you head over to Bob, but Phoenix holds Rooster back “they have a special connection, let her do this”. You sit on the stool next to Bob and he offers you some peanuts which you refuse, and you stay sat in silence for a minute. “Bob can I ask you something?” You ask, as he pulls your calves up to rest in his lap “of course, hen” he says, brushing some crumbs off his top “what’s up?” “Well, the job we’re in isn’t an old job” you say and he laughs and agrees “it’s also dangerous” you say, and again - he nods. “So if anything happens to me and Brad, can you be there for little Bradshaw?” His eyes widen and start to swell with tears “will you be our godfather?” You ask and he nods, moving to miss your cheek “of course I will, hen. I’d be honoured.”

Bradley and you had started putting together your hospital bag at the 8 month mark. You were both premature so had a bit of superstition, especially with only being a few weeks off of the 40 mark. You’d placed the bag by the front door, along with a baby carrier in the middle seat of his Bronco.

It was week 38 when you were both putting together the crib beside your bed, two spare bedrooms and still you only wanted your baby beside you. “Okay all done, baby” your husband said “okay. My water broke three minutes ago” you say as calmly as he had, he nods, then whips his head back round “your water broke?” He asks and looks down, and indeed, your water had broken “oh my god your water broke?!” He announced, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out to the bronco, picking the hospital bag up on the way. “Ready to have a baby?” He asks, giddily. “Am I supposed to be?” You ask and he shakes his head with a smile “no”

You were dead silent during birth and it scared the shit out of Bradley. “Do you want an epidural, honey? They’ve offered-” “no.” “Can I get you more ice?” “No.” And he tried everything, even when it was time to push. You held his hand and your mouth was zipped shut. “Is she supposed to be this quiet?” He asked the doctor who just looked at him nonchalantly “it’s normal, all mothers react differently to birth” he said. “I’m a fighter pilot Bradley. I’ve had worse.” You grit. “Breathe baby” he tells you “I think you need to.” You say “stop being dramatic” you say as you push again “honey-” “either shut up or get out.” You tell him and he glues his mouth shut, at least until the baby comes.

Bradley cuts the chord and they hand you your baby, and your eyes widen as you stare at the baby on your chest “welcome to the world Nick Bradshaw” you coo at the baby and Bradley raised his brows “Nick?” He asks, voice cracking “what? Got a problem with that? You and your stupid dick” you grumble and Bradley laughs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

“Hey mom, shall we take baby so you can get some rest?” The nurse asked, leaning to take Nick from your arms “excuse me?” You asked, pulling your baby closer. “So you can sleep?” She suggests “I’ve carried him for nine months and now he’s here you’re taking him away?” You ask “well, some mothers like to sleep” “I can sleep when I’m dead.” You deadpan, and she realised that Nick wouldn’t have been pried from your hands even if you were dead, so she left you all alone.

“Taking you away from mommy? Who does she think she is?” You whisper to baby Nick. “Welcome back to the world, Bradshaw.” You say and Bradley can only smile and hold the two of you close.

You’re going to be just fine in this mommy role.

——————————

Part 2-ish? I know it was really well liked and I enjoyed writing it so hope you enjoy this one too!

-> @rosiahills22 here’s another one!

[cameronsbabydoll]

okayy enough with all the sappy stuff what about how they fuck!! loved sugar coated chains but can we pleaseee see more of their sex life maybe how some of the baby camerons were made;)

The first baby wasn’t planned.

Not by you, anyway.

You had been too young—too naive to be anyone’s wife, let alone his. And maybe, deep down, Rafe had known that. But it never mattered, because you never mattered.

Not in the way you wanted to.

Not in the way that meant he would have ever let you go.

You remember sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands, heart pounding so hard it made you feel sick.

Two pink lines.

Your breath had felt trapped in your throat, eyes blurring as you tried to process what it meant—what it would mean for you, for your life, for the future you had once imagined before Rafe Cameron had taken it from you.

He had found you like that.

Had crouched down, plucked the test from your fingers, and grinned as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"Guess it’s official now, huh?"

Like you hadn’t already been bound to him.

That night, he had kissed you softer than usual. Had run his hands down your body with something close to reverence—like he was proud of what he had done.

And maybe, for a second, you had let yourself believe that meant he loved you.

The second baby came after a fight.

You had been distant. Too distant. And Rafe had noticed.

You had started sleeping on your side of the bed, started moving through the house like a ghost, started doing everything you could to not feel him.

And Rafe had hated it.

So that night, he had reminded you.

Had pressed you into the mattress, covered your body with his, whispered against your skin, “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to pull away from me.”

And when he had pushed inside you, slow and deep, holding you there, all you could do was take it.

And when he had finished inside you, when he had groaned against your throat and wrapped his arms around you too tight to escape, he had murmured, “I should put another baby in you. Then maybe you’d stop acting like you could ever be anything except mine.”

A month later, when you missed your period, when you saw those same two pink lines for the second time—

Rafe had just kissed your forehead and smiled.

"Guess you finally learned your lesson, huh?"

The third baby was made in a moment of desperation.

Because by then, things had changed.

You had changed.

And Rafe could feel it.

The way your eyes had started looking more and more empty whenever they met his. The way your hands had stopped reaching for him, the way you had started slipping through his fingers like water he couldn’t hold on to no matter how tight he clenched his fist.

And Rafe had been scared.

So that night, he had touched you softer than usual. Had kissed you slower. Had whispered things against your skin that almost sounded like love.

And maybe, for a second, you had almost believed it.

Maybe that was why you had let him take you like that—why you had let him push into you with something close to need, why you had let him bury his face in your neck and whisper, “You’re mine, baby. Always.”

Like a promise.

Like a warning.

And when you had seen those two pink lines for the third time—

You had just nodded.

Because you had already known.

Because you had never really had a choice.

[dior-luxury]

https://www.tumblr.com/dior-luxury/778931380458536960?source=share

Could you continue with the other characters please? It doesn't matter if it's random <3 I loved your work.💗😭

You Call Them A Different Name To Get Their Reaction

Pt.1

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] trey . jack . jade . kalim . epel . lilia

- [𝐩:𝐬] jealousy . some talk of physical fighting

Note: Thank you so much for enjoying my work anon!! (*¯ ³¯*)♡ And I shall do your request!

Trey Clover

Trey had always been the composed and easygoing type. He was the kind of boyfriend who didn’t get riled up easily, who always met your antics with a chuckle and a warm pat on the head. But today was different.

You had been lounging in the Heartslabyul common room, waiting for Trey to return from baking in the kitchen. The scent of fresh strawberry tarts lingered in the air when he finally walked in, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Here you go, made them just how you like," he said, setting the plate before you.

You grinned up at him, your heart warm with appreciation. "Thanks, Riddle!"

The silence was immediate. You didn’t even realize what you had said at first, too busy reaching for a tart. But when you noticed Trey standing still, his smile slightly frozen, your stomach dropped.

Riddle?

Your eyes widened. Oh. Oh no.

Trey let out a small chuckle, but there was something almost imperceptibly strained about it. "Riddle, huh?" he repeated, sitting across from you, his usual calm demeanor still present—just a little quieter than before.

You scrambled to explain. "No, wait, that was an accident! I wasn’t even thinking, I—"

He held up a hand, shaking his head. "Nah, I get it. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately. Guess my name just slipped your mind."

There was no outright anger in his voice, no bitterness. But the way his fingers lingered on the rim of his teacup, the slight downward tilt of his lips, told you that it did sting. Trey wasn’t the type to make a fuss, but that didn’t mean he was unaffected.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in both of yours. "Hey. I promise it was just a slip. There’s no one else but you, Trey. You know that, right?"

He looked at you for a long moment before finally exhaling and squeezing your hand back.

"Yeah… I know."

He smiled again, this time more genuine. But later that night, when he kissed you goodnight, there was something just a little more possessive in the way his lips lingered against yours—like he was silently reminding you of exactly who he was to you.

Jack Howl

Jack was a lot of things—stubborn, loyal, and fiercely protective of you. He wasn’t the kind of guy who let small things get to him. But this? This got to him.

You were in the courtyard after classes, talking to Jack about your day as he listened attentively, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"And then Ace was being an idiot like usual, and Deuce—oh! Leona, can you believe he actually—"

You paused mid-sentence, your words catching in your throat. Jack’s ears, which had been relaxed just moments ago, twitched. Slowly, he turned his head to you, golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"What did you just call me?"

The weight of your mistake crashed down on you all at once. Your boyfriend’s name wasn’t Leona. It wasn’t even close.

"Jack! I meant Jack!" You held up your hands in a panic. "It was just a dumb mistake! I was thinking about how Leona skipped class again, and—"

But Jack had already turned away slightly, exhaling through his nose in that huffing way he did when he was trying to hold something back. His tail, usually so expressive, was still.

"I see."

Just two words, but they made you feel awful.

"Jack," you stepped closer, trying to see his face, but he kept looking away. "Come on, you know I’d never mix you two up. You’re you. No one else even compares."

He didn’t answer immediately. For a few long moments, the only sound between you was the rustling of the wind.

Then, he finally spoke. "...Do you like him?"

Your eyes widened. "What?! No! Jack, of course not!"

Jack was still for a moment before he finally let out a low sigh. "I know you didn’t mean it, but…" He rubbed the back of his head, ears still stiff with tension. "I don’t like it."

You stepped closer, pressing a hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath. "I don’t like that I made you feel this way," you whispered. "Jack, you're the only one for me. I swear it."

Jack studied you for a moment, then let out another breath—this time softer. He finally let his arms drop to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his warmth.

"...Alright," he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours. "Just don’t do it again."

Jade Leech

Jade was someone you could never quite predict. He was charming yet unsettling, affectionate yet always holding something back. And that was what made your mistake all the more dangerous.

It had been a peaceful afternoon in the Mostro Lounge, and you had been sitting at the bar while Jade prepared a special tea blend for you. His movements were graceful as always, his gloved hands handling the delicate porcelain with practiced ease.

"Here you are, my dear," he said, placing the cup before you with that ever-present smile.

"Thanks, Floyd," you said absentmindedly.

The moment the name left your lips, you felt it. A shift in the air. A silence that pressed down on you like the depths of the ocean.

You looked up slowly. Jade’s smile was still there. But his golden eye, sharp and assessing, gleamed with something unreadable.

"Oh?" His voice was smooth as silk, but there was something distinctly unsettling about the way he tilted his head. "Floyd, you say?"

Your stomach twisted. "Jade. I meant Jade."

He let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. "How peculiar. Do I remind you of my dear twin, then?"

"No!" You waved your hands frantically. "It just slipped out, I swear!"

Jade leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. His expression was still pleasant, but his gaze was razor-sharp. "Hmm. I wonder what Floyd would say if I told him about this. You do seem quite fond of him, after all."

Your breath hitched. "Jade."

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your distress. "Oh, don’t look so alarmed. I am merely teasing."

But there was something possessive in the way his fingers brushed against your wrist, something dangerously alluring in the way he murmured, "Still… I do wonder how I should punish you for this little slip."

You swallowed. "P-Punish?"

Jade smiled wider, leaning impossibly close, his breath ghosting over your ear.

"Relax, dear. I’ll simply have to remind you who I am."

And with that, he took your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles—soft, yet full of silent warning.

There would be no more mistakes after this. Not unless you wanted to see what lay beneath that polite, charming mask.

Would you dare let it slip again?

Kalim, Epel, and Lilia React to Their Girlfriend Calling Them a Different Name

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was someone who exuded warmth like the desert sun—bright, energetic, and ever-loving. He never failed to shower you with affection, always bringing you little trinkets or inviting you on wild magic carpet rides just to hear you laugh.

So when you called him by another name—Jamil’s name, of all people—it was as if the sun had momentarily been eclipsed.

It happened during one of your regular visits to Scarabia, where Kalim had been showing off his newest imported sweets.

"Here, try this one! It’s made with real golden saffron—super rare!" Kalim beamed, holding a small pastry up to your lips.

You giggled, taking a bite. "Mmm! That’s amazing, Jamil!"

The second the name left your lips, the room went silent. You didn’t even realize what you had said until you noticed Kalim’s expression—his wide, ruby eyes blinking rapidly as if he had misheard.

"...Huh?" He let out a small, confused chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "Wait, what did you just call me?"

Your heart sank. "Kalim! I meant Kalim! It was an accident, I swear!"

But even though he was still smiling, there was something… off.

"You called me Jamil." His voice was softer now, almost hesitant. Not mad. Not even sad. Just—confused.

And that was the worst part. Because Kalim adored you with every fiber of his being, and it never even crossed his mind that you might think about someone else like that.

"I—It just slipped out!" You rushed to grab his hands. "You know I love you, Kalim. I wasn’t thinking. You’re the only one for me, I promise!"

He studied your face for a moment, and then—just like that—his blinding smile returned.

"Hehe, okay!"

Just like that?

You blinked. "Wait… you’re not mad?"

Kalim shook his head, squeezing your hands. "Nah, I know you didn’t mean it! Besides, if you were thinking about Jamil, maybe it’s because he’s been helping you with something, right?"

You almost wanted to cry from how pure he was.

But then his grip tightened just a little. His smile was still warm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his usually carefree gaze.

"Still… I wanna make sure you’re always thinking about me, y'know?" Kalim leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "So how about I spend even more time with you? That way, you won’t even have the chance to mix me up with someone else!"

His laughter rang in your ears like golden bells, and suddenly, you realized—you might have just signed up for never having a moment alone again.

Epel Felmier

Epel had always been fighting against people’s assumptions about him—his delicate features, his small frame, the way others (Vil) constantly made him practice "refined manners." So when you—his girlfriend, the person who was supposed to see him for who he truly was—accidentally called him the wrong name, it hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

You two had been hanging out in the botanical garden, resting against one of the large apple trees. The air smelled of fresh fruit, and Epel had just finished carving a wooden trinket for you with his pocket knife.

"Here." He placed the small wolf carving in your palm, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Made it for ya. Thought you’d like it."

Your heart melted at the sight of it. "Epel, this is beautiful! You’re amazing—seriously, Vil should let you show off your skills more!"

Epel scoffed, crossing his arms. "Hah, like he’d ever—"

"Right, Rook?"

Silence.

Epel’s whole body tensed. His grip on his knife twitched. You, on the other hand, immediately felt your soul leave your body.

"I meant Epel!" You blurted out in a panic. "Epel, Epel, Epel!"

His violet eyes snapped to yours, narrowed and sharp like a predator who had just been challenged. "Tch. Rook?" His voice was low, unreadable. "So ya think I’m like him now?"

You grabbed his hands. "No! I don’t even know why I said that—I was just thinking about how he always praises you, and it just—just slipped out!"

Epel clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. "Hmph." He pulled away, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. "That’s real annoyin’, y'know?"

You felt horrible. "Epel…"

For a moment, you thought he might storm off. But instead, he turned his back to you, exhaling sharply before muttering:

"I gotta make sure you see me as me—not anyone else."

The next thing you knew, he was pulling you up into his arms, pressing a heated, almost desperate kiss against your lips. His hands gripped your waist, and when he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged.

"There," he muttered, his face flushed but determined. "Now you won’t forget who I am."

And with that, he stomped off—probably to go punch a tree or something.

Lilia Vanrouge

You should have known calling Lilia the wrong name was dangerous.

The moment the name "Malleus" left your lips, you swore the entire atmosphere of the room changed.

Lilia had been casually floating upside down in your room, strumming his guitar when you had absentmindedly asked:

"Hey, Malleus, can you hand me that book?"

The strings of his guitar let out a warped, discordant twang.

Slowly, he flipped right-side up, his glowing red eyes peering at you with eerie amusement.

"…Malleus?" Lilia repeated, his tone light and playful—but oh no, oh no, oh no, something about it sent a chill down your spine.

Your breath caught. "I-I meant Lilia! LILIA! It was a mistake, I swear!"

Lilia tilted his head, his fangs peeking from his smirk. "Fufufu~ how interesting… I didn’t realize my little human had such a wandering mind."

He vanished.

Your stomach dropped. "Lilia?"

Suddenly, cold fingers brushed against the back of your neck.

"Right here, darling~"

You spun around, only for him to disappear again, reappearing behind you with a chuckle. "How careless of you to let another name slip, hm?"

"Lilia, please—!"

He let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his chest. "Ah, what is an old fae to do? Must I remind you exactly who your boyfriend is?"

Before you could respond, Lilia scooped you up effortlessly, twirling you in the air before pinning you against the nearest wall, his smirk widening at your flustered expression.

"Hm, yes, I think some proper discipline is in order~"

You gulped. Oh, you were in danger.

And knowing Lilia, he was going to make sure you never made that mistake again.

[f1fantasys]

He Just Wants My Body, I Want His All - Part 1

Warnings - explicit smut. masturbating, oral m! and f! receiving, nipple stimulation, penetrative sex, choking, blowjobs, swearing, use of the word Slut. Minors DNI.

Winter break.

Snow, skiing, hot chocolate, wine, and

sex, or lack there of.

With the f1 season over and done with for another year, it only meant one thing. A getaway deep in the mountains surrounded by snow, with your closest friends, and him.

You and Lando had been tip-toeing each other for too long now, getting to a point where it was a matter of time until one of you breaks. The constant flirting, darkening eyes, lingering touches, you both had it bad. And to make matters worse, it had been months since you last had a good fuck, so to say you were getting antsy was an understatement. Pleasuring yourself was no where close to giving you what your body craved. You knew Lando hadn't had that problem. The boy was a player, balls deep in a new girl every weekend, and you hated yourself for wanting him this badly. But whenever you were around each other, everything faded away, and he made you feel like the only girl he wanted.

Max had told you a couple of times now that those girls mean nothing to Lando. They're just a form of helping him get a decent fuck in before his races, not because he wants them. No. He wants you. And each time Max told you this, you laughed in his face.

You definitely weren't sure about a future with Lando. You were both still young, reckless. All you craved from him at the minute was his body. Often, you'd think about how his lips would feel on yours, would he leave you plumped and bruised, hickey's on your sweet spot? How would his tongue feel circling your hard nipples, or better yet, on your cunt? Lapping through your folds as he finger fucked you, stretching you out for his girth, which you imagined to be mighty big. Then you'd think about how he fucked. Is he slow and soft? Or does he prefer quick, hard and rough? You imagined the latter.

''Y/N!'' Lando's voice rang in your ears as you came back to earth, his fingers clicking in front of your face.

''Huh, sorry, I zoned out'' you said, looking at him like a deer caught in headlights, tying to play it cool because you could feel your panties, wet, from the dirty thoughts you were having.

''You don't say'' he said, smirk on his face as if he knew what was going on in your mind.

''Hot tub?'' he asked. ''Max and P are gone for a walk, so it's just you and me.''

''Yeah sure'' you said, the words leaving your mouth before you could over think it. You got up to go get changed, not giving Lando the chance to say anything else, though you heard him mumbling something to yourself because the last 5 minutes were weird as fuck, you'll admit.

He was already sat inside when you came out, with the hot water bubbling away, already giving his face a glow with sweat. You winced as you took off your gown, revealing a skimpy bikini that left nothing to imagination, as you stepped into the tub, the heat a stark contrast to the cold of the air.

You sat across him, involuntarily letting out a moan as the water soothed your aching muscles, Lando's eyes on you the whole time.

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke, the tension getting thicket with each passing second until you couldn't take it anymore.

''Sooo-'' you started, but Lando cut you off.

''So- how long?'' he asked, voice raspy with intent.

''What?'' you asked, taken aback.

His next words pushed you off the cliff.

''How longs' it been since you fucked?''

You couldn't bring yourself to answer him, brain short circuiting.

''I-why?'' you asked back.

''Before, could always tell when you'd had a good night. You haven't been the same and I'm guessing it's coz your fingers aren't doing justice.''

You quickly felt a heat creep up your neck, no surprises your cheeks must be flushed already as it was obvious what the picture in both your minds was - you, naked, fingering yourself.

''I-I'm not going to answer that'' you huffed, leaning further back and looking up at the night sky.

Lando chuckled opposite you, making you look at him again.

His eyes were shades darker than they were a few moments ago.

''Let me help you, yeah?''

''How?''

''I'll guide you through it'' he said, very matter of factly.

''Since when did you become an expert on pleasuring ones self?'' you asked.

''Since it's you who needs help'' he said, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

You should have said no. Should have laughed him off and changed the topic. But you didn't. Your body was already responding to his words.

''Humor me'' he said when you stayed silent.

''Fine, but you owe me...a Rolex if you don't live up to my expectations'' you pressed, smug look on your face.

''Hell, I'll buy you 10'' he said, sitting up straighter, clasping his hands together like an excited little boy as you stuck your tongue out to him.

''First things first'' he said, treading closer to you and taking a hold of your legs.

You jumped at the contact, not expecting him to touch you at all.

''Relax, just taking care of the first step'' he said softly as his hands found your waist and shamelessly pulled your bikini bottoms down and off you, before resuming to his position opposite you, smirking.

Your body was still tingling his his touch, you really had it out bad, and little did you know, he had it worse. If anyone asked him right now, he'd wouldn't have an answer as to what the hell he was doing, but now that he's made a step forward, he wasn't gonna turn back.

''Do you trust me?'' he asked, teasing voice gone and replaced with sincerity.

''Yes'' you replied quickly, because it was the truth.

Within seconds he was treading in front of you again, his hand finding yours underwater, giving it a squeeze before he held just your index and middle finger, every so slowly bringing the two up, slipping them to his mouth before letting out a moan.

You watched on in shock, mouth agape at the feeling of his hot tongue swirling around them, sucking harshly, and repeating the process over and over.

''Lando..'' you breathed his name out, already feeling your pussy desperately clenching around nothing. His free hand found your bikini strings under the water, untying them easily as he freed your boobs, though still unable to see them.

Just as you wished for more from him, he released your fingers with a pop before sitting back again, losing contact with your body.

You groaned at that, needling more but he sat there was a smug smile.

His voice was stern as he spoke. ''Hands on your breasts, love'' he said, the nickname waking up the butterflies in your tummy.

You did as you were told, hands finding your perky breasts, eyes shutting momentarily as he continued. ''Tease yourself - your nipples. Are they hard?''

''-Yes'' you were quick to answer.

''Perfect, pinch yourself hard. I wanna hear you moan''

You obeyed, but held back the groan you so desperately wanted to let out

''Not gonna let you cum til you do as i say love'' he said, the nickname returning.

This time you didn't hold back. You rolled your nipples through your fingers, squishing them between and let out a series of erratic moans.

It could have been a minute, or 30, who knows, but when Lando didn't speak after that, you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, bottom lip between his teeth. It was only then that you noticed how you'd lifted your body up, your boobs now on full display that had him speechless.

''Lan-''

''You're fucking perfect, fuck. Can't imagine how good your cunt looks if this is just the top half of you'' he whimpered, eyes finding yours.

He looked like he was itching to get a hold of you, but he held himself back, licking his lips and clasping his hands on his knees, leaning slightly forward but not as much as you wished he would.

''Let your hands go south now, cup your throbbing pussy. Must be dripping, yeah? For me maybe?''

Your breath hitched as your fingers found your cunt, which yes, was wet all thanks to the man in front of you. You ran through your folds quickly, eliciting more moans as Lando watched on mouth agape.

''Are you? Wet for me?'' he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

''I-fuck me. I am'' you said, not caring how wussy you sounded, how breathless you sounded.

''Find your clit, I want to hear you loud, desperate, give yourself the friction you so badly crave.''

''Oh god,'' you whispered, head falling back, pushing your boobs out the water again.

''That's it, go on. Tread by your hole, push one in'' he said in a low voice, trying to keep himself together.

''Imagine it's my finger, big and rough, thrusting into you hard and rough'' he demanded as your voice rose with each moan, sharp gasps escaping your mouth with each push. He hadn't told you to, yet, but you added a second finger, your walls clenching perfectly around them as you sped up your pace as Lando threw more words at you, half of them sounded muffled as your brain was not thinking clearly right now. All you could focus on was what you imagined his fingers to feel like.

''Fuck Y/N, you look so hot right now, I'm so fucking hard watching you like this. Gonna sit up and let me see the mess you're making? he asked.

You didn't answer though. You halted your movements for a split second as you lifted your body out of the water, setting you ass outside as your legs stayed submerged, watching Lando as his eyes darkened, whole demeanor changing. You spread your legs for him to see your glistening cunt, throbbing and all it took was a whisper of his name for him to pounce.

His hands were on you, spreading your legs further and flexing his arms muscles as he dove straight in, tongue sliding through your folds as you took a hold of his hair, tugging at it while he lapped at your pussy, using his fingers to pry your hole open further, and thrusting his tongue through it relentlessly.

God you had waited for this moment for so long, and now to be going through without felt nothing short of bloody amazing.

''Please, don't stop, fuck Lando'' you mumbled between moans. The cold air making your body shiver but you couldn't give a damn because of Lando's hot mouth on you.

He really knew what he was doing, devouring you most sensitive parts as his thumb rolled over your clit, an orgasm ripping through you with no warning as you shook and trembled, oozing your sticky cum straight into his mouth, sending him into an array of groans at the taste of you.

Your chest was heaving, Lando not slowing his movements one bit as you tried to regain your breath, and soon he replaced his tongue with three fingers, plunging into you with no warning while he leaned up to latch his mouth to your left nipple, biting and tugging on it harshly.

''Lando, I'm-fuck. I'm gonna cum again'' you said, sure you could cum just from looking down at his face, dripping with your juices. ''Please'' you begged, not sure what for.

His fingers brushed against your G-spot over and over again, giving you that stimulation that you just couldn't give yourself these past months, and it was a matter of seconds until you came crashing down again, body trembling in his arms as he finally slowed his movements, quickly pulling you back into the hot water to warm you up as he whispered dirty nothings into your ear.

He wrapped his arms around you, and you allowed yourself to collapse forward onto his body, shallowed breaths leaving your mouth.

It took you both a second to realize the position you were in - You, naked, on his lap, whilst his dark hardened.

Should it have been awkward? Yes. Was it? No.

Because Lando cupped your face and clasped your lips together in a dominant frenzy. It was messy, desperate, both your tongues fighting each other as your hands roamed each others' bodies. He moved his mouth down your neck, sucking and nibbling on your sweet spots as if he knew your body inside out already, as if you'd done this a thousand times.

You started girding your ass down on his hard on, mentally screaming at just how large he felt under your tiny cunt.

Eventually, you found air to speak, though your words were shaky. ''Lando, please, I need more'' you begged as he pulled his head back to look at you.

By now your body was shivering, not knowing if it was from the snow that had started falling or from the way Lando's gaze was dark, full of lust.

''I-fuck. Can we fuck?'' he asked, already lifting you up in his arms as you frantically nodded your head, as he stepped out the hot tub before placing you down to wrap your gown around you.

The walk up to your room was rushed, Lando hoisting you over his shoulder, practically running up the stairs.

He threw you on your bed, sliding your gown off your body as he stepped back to rid himself of his shorts, revealing him in all his glory as you leaned up on your elbows.

He was thick, to no surprise.

But still, your eyes widened and your pussy throbbed at the sight in front of you.

His cock stood tall against his stomach, twitching, with pre cum oozing down the thick vein at the side.

''Like what you see? Or just desperate for any cock?'' he asked, smirking down at you.

As much as you wanted to tease back, you couldn't help but let a smile creep up your face, causing him to laugh out loud, literally.

''Fuck you'' you mumbled, laying back down, staring at the ceiling.

''I'd rather you fuck me, love'' he said, voice turning raspy again, making your breath hitch.

He hovered above you, knees on either side of your body as he bought a hand to your face, gently lingering his finger on your cheeks as his eyes bore into yours.

You shuffled underneath him when you felt his hard on pressing against your thigh, but his hands were quick to land on your waist, holding you still.

'''Night's gonna end early if you do that'' he said, hint of mischief in his eyes, then he groaned, letting his head fall on your chest making you instinctively wrap your arms around him.

''Fucking condom'' he mumbled as you giggled, running your hands through his hair.

''On the dresser'' you said lightly causing his head to shoot up in disbelief.

''Y/N, holidaying with condoms?'' he asked, already untangling himself from you to grab what he needed.

''Always come prepared'' you said firmly, backing yourself.

''Who were you planning on using it with?'' he asked.

''A hot European man.. tall, tanned, oh i could go on'' you teased as Lando returned to his place above you.

He sat back om his heels as he tore the little packet open with his teeth, all the while you let your finger trace against the vein on the side of his girth. He hissed at the contact, dick twitching involuntarily as he slid the condom on before leaning down to lock lips with you. It was a slow, sensual kiss this time, lazy with your tongues tangling together short gasps leaving your mouths.

Finally though, Lando positioned himself at your entrance.

''You sure?'' he asked.

''I am. Please'' you said, cupping the side of his face as it hovered over yours, your hot breaths mingling together as he slid into your pussy in a single stroke.

Your back arched off the bed, breath hitching as his head fell to your neck, the both of you moaning in unison.

''Give me a sec'' you said softly, needling some time to adjust to his size.

''Fuck you're tight.'' he groaned in your ear.

And soon the pleasure started taking over the pain. You shifted your body, letting Lando know he could move. And did he.

He pulled out of you completely before pounding in again at such a rough pace, all you could do was shut your eyes and dig you hands into his biceps as he repeated the motion over and over again.

''Lando'' you gasped his name as he brushed over your G-spot. ''Please, harder, fuck me harder'' you begged, needling him to give you his all. You were sure you'd never had it this rough before, and he was certainly one of the biggest, but knowing all that only turned you on even more.

''I am fucking you, love. You feel so fuckin' amazing. Can't believe I waited this long to get into your pussy'' he spurred, hands grabbing your hips, imprinting them for sure.

''I'm gonna cum'' you warmed as his fingers found your clit, rubbing over it to quickly send you over the edge, body trembled beneath him as you gushed your hot sticky cum all over his condom-clad dick, pornographic moans leaving your lips along with praises of his name.

And when Lando looked down to see the coating on the condom, he was quick to let out his own guttural moan, movements becoming erratic at just that sight though he was determined to make you cum again before he reached his own high.

He pulled out of you before man handling your body to flip you over onto all fours. You body was like jelly by now so he had no choice but to hold you up himself, your back against his chest, lining himself up at your entrance again.

Your bodies were sticky with sweat, goosebumps raising as he pushed into your again, this time slow and gentle, just for a split second before picking up the pace again.

The sounds leaving your mouth were obscene, no coherent thought in your mind - just Lando and his dick giving your body was it's so desperately needed.

His one hand found your boobs, pinching your nipples between his fingers as his other found your throat, giving it a few squeezes which had you whimpering endlessly. Something about him claiming you had you dizzy and excited.

''Gonna be a good slut and cum for me baby?'' he asked, his voice hoarse as the nicknames had you spiraling, another orgasm puttering through your body viciously, his name leaving your lips like a mantra as he chuckled to himself.

Before you knew what was happening, you were on your back again, at the edge of the bed as Lando placed one foot on the bed, keeping one on the ground, sliding through your puffy cunt again but this time with sloppy, erratic movements. You could feel his dick start to twitch uncontrollably as you pulled his head down for a dirty kiss.

''Fuck, I'm gonna-shit'' he groaned as he released his splutter into the condom while still sliding through you as your walls clenched tightly around him, sending you in an array of your own moans at how sensitive you were already. His body bucked and jerked as he rode himself through it, this time praising your name along with lots of cuss words.

Eventually Lando let his body fall a top of yours, putting all his weight on you as you wrapped your arms around him, but not before running them through his damp hair.

You could feel his breath on your neck, hot and sticky as you both lay there, chests heaving, bodies shivering, all the while he softened inside of you.

After a few minutes of silence Lando gave you one last deep kiss before pulling out, wincing at the loss of contact His plan was to get a towel to clean up, but his body betrayed him and he ended up on his back next to you, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body.

Not knowing where you got a burst of energy from, you straddled his legs, taking a hold of his dick and pulling the condom off, making Lando hiss.

His cock was sticky with his milky cum, and you messed your hand when you gave him a few pumps, indulging in hearing the moans leave his lips as he was already beginning to harden again.

You looked up at him in surprise. ''Already?'' you asked.

He smiled at you, bottom lip between his teeth. ''Formula 1 driver. Stamina'' he teased, though his face contorted with pleasure when he felt your lips wrap around his tip with no warning, bucking his hips up.

''Fuck, Y/N, that mouth of yours'' you said breathlessly, hands pulling your hair out of your face.

You moaned when you tasted him, your tongue circling around his tip as his grip on your hair tightened.

Fondling with his balls, you took him deeper into your mouth, gagging when he hit the back of your throat as you started a steady pace of bobbing you head up and down his shaft.

All that was heard in the room were the sloppy sounds of your mouth sliding over him, and Lando's gasps and moans, your name falling from his lips every now and then.

''I'm not gonna last long with that rate you're going, Y/N'' he warned, though you didn't slow your pace even a little.

''Fuck me, where do you want'' he asked, leaning up on his elbows, and once again, you didn't respond to him. If anything, you tried to take him deeper, sucking harder at his tip, and in seconds Lando was a shuddering mess, his hips bucking up erratically as his cum shot out of him, down your throat.

You gagged again, mouth full of his cum as it started dripping out of the corners when you pulled back, swallowing most of it but keeping some in as you climbed higher up Lando's body, that was still shuddering, only to pry his mouth open with your fingers, let his cum drip down from your mouth into kiss before you kissed him hard, but sloppy, dirty.

When you pulled back, you were both breathless once again, faces messed with sweat and cum, spit running down your chins.

''Fuck me, who knew you were a wild one'' he said, running his hands through your hair as you giggled into his neck, giving him a few pecks.

Eventually, after you both actually cleaned up, albeit a few mishaps of teasing, you settled into bed, your body curled up besides Lando's as he wrapped am arm around you.

The reality of what happened lingering through the both of you, though it didn't feel as awkward as it should have.

''I know we've been tethering on the edge for too long now, and fuck me if it wasn't as good as i always imagined it to be..'' he said, leaving a kiss on your head as your body stiffened, not sure if you wanted to heat his next words.

Before, you could have argued that you only wanted him for sex, but at the back of your mind you always knew that was a lie. It wasn't normal to feel the kind of goosebumps you did when he did so much as look at you, and you knew you were falling for him, inch by inch. And sharing such an intimate moment like this tonight only heightening those feelings. You should wasn't sure if it was one sided.

''I'm not ready for a relationship Y/N, not with work and all..'' he said softly as your heart clenched. A part of you also knew that he knew that's what you wanted.

''But, I don't wanna miss out on us having fun. We're a terrible duo that do it so good together. So I guess what I'm asking is if you'd be up to being my exclusive fuck buddy'' he said, eyes finding yours when you looked up at him.

''Exclusive?'' you asked.

''Ýeah. No more random girls at different race. Or guys for you!'' he teased, pinching your sides.

''Yes'' you were quick to reply, though you definitely should not have. This was only gonna end with you getting your heart broken. But if it meant getting this much from him at the moment, you were ready to take that.

''Yeah?'' he asked, somewhat surprised.

''Yeah, but you owe me 10 Rolex’s!'' you teased back.

''Of fuck off, don't even try to tell me I didn't help get you off, multiple times, if I may add'' he said, leaning down to give you one last dirty kiss of the night.

A/N - hope you enjoyed this! I'm planning on making it a mini series with some angst (I know!!). Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[mononijikayu]

start a war — gojo satoru and nanami kento.

Satoru exhaled, tilting his head, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips, but his voice was quieter than usual. "Be better, huh?" He let the words hang in the air before nodding, something unreadable in his eyes. "Alright, then. Guess I better not disappoint, huh?" There was a flicker of something in your expression. Perhaps it was relief, or maybe something gentler than that. But he didn’t care to know. Instead, he lets himself drown in the small, knowing smile you gave him. "No, I don’t think you will. After all, your eyes tell."

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw! (not safe for work), possibly triggering themes - please beware!, afab! reader, use of she/her pronouns, unrequited romance (for now), fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt, love, fluff, humor, light-hearted, falling in love, long-term relationship, marriage, healing, age gap (reader is 12 years older than satoru), physical abuse, mental abuse, parental abuse, domestic violence, retaliation, violence, abuse, emotional abuse, emotional distress, injury, blood, bodily fluids, fighting, mental health issues, loss, hatred, resentment, trauma, depression, desperation, domestic life, confessions, distress, cheating, cutting off family members, escaping, profanity, toxic relationship, drama, depression, bitterness, children, mention of various forms of abuse, mention of violence, mention of blood, mention of bodily fluids, mention of trauma, depiction of various forms of abuse, depiction of violence, depiction of various forms of abuse, actor! nanami, actor! gojo, housewife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 20k words

NOTE: it was hard to write this part of the series because satoru's life was really hard. i hope i was able to portray it well enough, and with good care to the sensitivity of the content. in some ways, the only wonderful thing in his life is his mother and reader. please beware. if you cannot read it yet, you can opt out from this part. your well-being is more important to me. i hope that if you can read this, please know that i love you. and if you are going through what these characters are going through, i just want you to know i'm here for you and i support you. i love you all so much, please keep safe!!! see you in the next one!!!

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taglist: @not-aya, @nanamin-chan, @qualitygiantshoepsychic, @funicidals, @zanzie, @poopooindamouf, @darlingken, @lillycore, @prosypepper, @sukioyakio, @harrie-fic-center, @yoonseokerist, @midnight-138;

TWENTY YEAR OLD GOJO SATORU THINKS HE’S USED TO IT. This was just his normal life, the accursed life he’s forced to live. He hated it, to be sure. And he thinks it's the worst outcome for any human being to live and breathe such suffering. Yet here he was, in the thick of it. He felt ever so abandoned by what god there exists on the other side.  

The beatings weren’t the worst of it when it came to his father, he thinks to himself. Gojo Satoru could take the blows, he’s known he could since he first felt the blow. He had learned how to brace for them, how to keep his face blank, how to shove the pain somewhere deep enough that it barely registered anymore.

But his poor, defenseless mother—she was the one who suffered the most. And she was too fragile to endure it, too weak to even shout or whimper or even to fight back at all. The illness had already made her frail, had stolen the color from her cheeks and the strength from her limbs. Yet destiny made her suffer more.

Satoru hated it.

He hated the way she still flinched whenever his father, drunk and staggering, raised a hand as if to strike. Hated the way her lips parted on instinct, whispering those same, rehearsed apologies—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—for things that were never her fault.

Hated how she still, somehow, found the strength to step between them, shielding Satoru when he was the one who bore the brunt of the man's wrath, even when she could barely stand herself.

"Stay back," she would murmur, her voice trembling but her arms unwavering as she held them out in front of him. "Please, Satoru. Don't say anything."

But it was never that simple. It never was.

Because what Satoru hated most—more than the stench of liquor that clung to his father, more than the bruises he had long stopped counting—was the way his hands trembled. Not from fear. No, never from fear. It was rage. Hot, blinding, and useless.

His small fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to strike back, wanted to scream, wanted to do something other than stand there, helpless. But he knew what would happen if he did. It would only get worse for her.

"Don't look at him like that, my son." she pleaded one night after their father had finally collapsed in a drunken heap. Satoru hadn't said a word, but she could see the fury simmering beneath his pale, glacial eyes. "You know what happens when you—"

"When I what?" he snapped, yanking himself away from her touch. "When I make him mad? When I make things worse? As if that bastard needs something to fuel the fire. As if he needs a reason!" His voice cracked, his breath coming out sharp and uneven.

"Satoru, please—"

"Stop telling me to let it go!" His vision blurred, his whole body shaking. He wanted to punch the walls, to scream until his throat was raw. "You let him do this! You always let him—"

Her slap wasn’t hard. It didn’t hurt. But it stunned him into silence.

For a long moment, she just stared at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, hands trembling just as much as his were.

Then, in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper, she said, "What else am I supposed to do?"

Satoru had no answer.

And that was what he hated most.

Almost as much as he hated having to hide the bruises from Yaga Masamichi when he was still in high school.

That was when it was most prominent.

Satoru had always been strong—physically, mentally, in every way that mattered. But sometimes, no matter how much strength he had, the anger got the better of him. That’s why the bruises happened. That’s why, some days, he’d roll his shoulders and feel the ache buried deep beneath the skin, why he’d clench his fists just to remind himself that he could still fight, even if he didn’t. Even if he couldn’t.

But Yaga wasn’t stupid.

Satoru knew the man saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he moved, the occasional wince he couldn’t quite suppress when sparring. Maybe it was the way he sometimes showed up to class with a faint shadow of a bruise peeking out from under his collar, or the times he kept his sunglasses on longer than necessary, even indoors.

And yet, Yaga never pushed.

Never asked.

Not directly, anyway.

"What happened to your wrist?" Yaga had asked once, his tone casual but his sharp eyes betraying his concern.

Satoru barely spared him a glance, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Training accident, teach." he said easily. A half-lie, but a lie all the same. “Just held the baseball wrong. You know how it is.”

Yaga didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied him, gaze heavy in a way that made Satoru’s skin itch. But still, he didn’t push. "Be more careful next time, Satoru." was all he said before walking away.

And that was how it always was. Because Yaga Masamichi knew. He wasn’t born yesterday. knew that Satoru wouldn’t tell him the truth, even if it was obvious. Knew that if he did push, Satoru would just deflect, turn it into a joke, act like it didn’t matter.

Even now, years later, long after graduation, Yaga still checks up on him, whether it be a phone call or a text. Although, sometimes he tries to go himself. But that doesn’t always happen. Still, he tries to do what he can.

"You and your mother are eating enough, right? If not, I’ll send over some food there."

"Don’t overwork yourself. I know you’re taking care of your mother, but take a rest."

"You know you can call if you need anything, right?"

Satoru would just grin, waving him off. "I’m not a kid anymore, Yaga. I’ve got it handled."

But some nights, when the past was a little too close, when the phantom ache of old wounds lingered longer than it should, he wasn’t sure if that was a lie. He wasn’t sure he was actually alright. He wasn’t actually sure that he didn’t need anyone.

Geto Suguru also always noticed. And he expected nothing less of him. He was his best friend after all. He knew him better than most people, even his mother, even Yaga. Even now, years later, when they hung out like nothing had changed, Suguru’s sharp purple eyes never missed a thing.

Satoru had always been good at hiding things, even when he was a kid. All of his pain. All of his anger. All of the bruises that littered his skin like evidence of a war he couldn’t fight back in. But Geto Suguru always noticed.

Satoru would catch him staring sometimes when they were kids, when they were still teenagers. He could feel the burning gaze at his wrists, at the faint marks barely visible beneath the cuff of his uniform. His expression would darken, his jaw tightening as he exhaled through his nose.

"Let’s take him down, Satoru. You and me, we’ll get it done. You’ll be freed from the bastard." he’d say, voice low, simmering with conviction. "Let’s beat him together. Just tell me when and where. I’ll help you."

And good gods, Gojo Satoru wanted to.

He wanted so badly he could taste the urge on his tongue, could feel the violent, reckless need clawing up his throat. He wanted to see his father afraid for once. He wanted to watch him flinch like his mother does. He wants him to bleed like he does. He wants him to feel powerless, to feel like a wounded animal, to feel so weak that he begs for mercy.

But he couldn’t. Not without consequences. Not without leaving his mother in that house alone, with no one to protect her. Not without making things even worse. So he gritted his teeth, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and told Suguru those words he hated — No, not yet.

Geto Suguru never liked that answer. He never did.

"Not yet?" He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes—dark purple, burning with frustration completely bored into Satoru like he was the idiot in this situation. "And when, exactly, is ‘yet’? When he puts your mom in the hospital? When he finally does something you can’t fix?"

Satoru hated it when he talked like that. Hated how blunt Suguru was, how easily he put words to the thoughts that already haunted Satoru’s mind. Like he was saying something Satoru hadn’t already thought of a thousand times over. His hands clenched into fists in his pockets. His headache from the pressure of his own barely contained rage. 

"I said drop it, Suguru." he bit out, voice sharp, final. “Please.”

And for all that Suguru was stubborn, he did.

At least out loud.

But his silence was never truly silent.

It lingered in the way his jaw clenched, the way his fists curled tight at his sides, the way he always positioned himself just a little closer to Satoru than before, like if he couldn’t do anything yet, he’d at least be ready for when he could.

But his silence spoke louder than his words ever could. The way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists, the way he didn’t meet Satoru’s eyes—it said everything. He wanted to fight for Satoru in a way Satoru couldn’t fight for himself. But Satoru wouldn’t let him.

Couldn’t let him. Because Suguru had parents who loved him, a future ahead of him that didn’t have to be ruined by a single act of revenge. Gojo Satoru wasn’t about to take that from him. So he swallowed his pride and his rage and let things continue as they always had. Until the night they didn’t.

Until the night his father came home drunker than usual. Angrier than usual. Until the slurred curses turned into the sound of something shattering. Until he heard his mother’s voice. It was a tone too soft, ever still and trembling, barely a whisper beneath the fury. 

"Please… please don’t—"

Satoru was on his feet before he even realized it. The room spun around him as he moved, his vision tunneling, his pulse hammering so loud it drowned out everything else. His nails bit deep into his palms, his whole body rigid, every muscle locked in place as if his own rage was the only thing keeping him upright.

Not yet, he had told Suguru. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

But maybe ‘yet’ had just arrived. Maybe this was it, maybe this time, he can’t help it. Because he couldn’t let it go this time. Because he didn’t want another time. The floor felt too far away as he took his first step. The air in his lungs burned as he took his second. 

His father’s voice—deep and volatile—spat something cruel, something his mother didn’t deserve, something he didn’t fully hear over the roaring in his head. Then another crash. A gasp. A whimper. And that was it. The last thread of restraint snapped. Satoru moved.

He was down the hall before he could think. The door was already half-open, the dim light from the kitchen spilling into the hallway, casting long, warped shadows across the floor. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air. It was pungent, suffocating, clinging to everything.

And there he was. His father stood over his mother, his chest heaving, his broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. She was curled against the cabinets, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders trembling. A broken plate lay in jagged shards near her knees. Her hands were thin, delicate. And they were shaking. Satoru immediately saw red.

"You bastard." His own voice barely sounded like his. It was low, seething, vibrating with something ugly and raw.

His father turned sluggishly, narrowing bloodshot eyes. "What did you just—"

Satoru didn’t let him finish. His fist connected before he could think. A sickening crack echoed in the air, and his father stumbled back, knocking into the dining table with a grunt of pain. But Satoru didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think.

He hit him again. And again. As hard as he could. He let himself push until his knuckles split, but he didn’t feel it one bit. The only thing he felt was the satisfaction of watching his father fall, of watching him struggle to push himself up, dazed, stunned.

"That feel good?" Satoru’s voice was almost a snarl. He barely recognized himself. "You like that? Huh?"

His father groaned, trying to sit up. "You—"

Satoru grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back down onto the floor. "Say it again." 

His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling so fast he thought he might explode. His hands were still trembling—just like his mother’s had been. "Say something else."

His father didn’t.

For the first time, he actually looked afraid.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t sure how long he would have stayed there, fists clenched, heart pounding, eyes burning with something violent and unforgiving. If not for his mother’s voice.

"Satoru… stop." Her hand wrapped around his wrist—small, fragile, barely a touch. But it cut through him sharper than anything else.

He turned, and she was looking at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. She shook her head once. Not like this. Not yet. Satoru’s hands dropped. His father coughed, groaning as he pushed himself onto his elbows.Satoru forced himself to step back. To unclench his fists. To breathe.

His mother was already moving, kneeling down, pressing a cloth against his father’s bleeding lip with trembling fingers. And Satoru hated that. Hated how, even after everything, she still cared. He turned on his heel and walked out, fists still shaking.

Maybe 'yet' hadn’t arrived after all.

But it was close.

He was so close to the end of it all.

IT WAS A NICE DAY TO BE OUTSIDE. Perhaps that’s why Yaga Masamichi asked to meet today. The quaint little café was tucked away on a quiet street just outside Metropolitan Tokyo, the kind of place that had probably been there for decades. 

Faded wooden tables, the hum of an old espresso machine, the occasional clink of ceramic cups meeting saucers. It smelled of roasted beans and nostalgia, of things unchanged even as the world outside moved forward.

You arrived a few minutes early, slipping into a seat by the window, where the late afternoon sun slanted through the glass in golden streaks. The café was quiet, the kind of place where the scent of roasted coffee beans lingered in the air, where soft chatter mixed with the gentle clinking of porcelain cups against saucers.

You ordered a matcha latte and a croissant. The hunger from the long drive gnawed at your stomach, and the heat of the sun had left your throat parched. You figured Yaga wouldn’t mind. He was never one for small courtesies anyway. If anything, he’d probably just grunt in acknowledgment before ordering his own drink, something plain and bitter, like he always used to.

It had been years since you last saw Yaga Masamichi. The two of you had grown up in the same small town, running barefoot through the narrow streets as children, getting into scrapes, building forts out of old cardboard boxes. You lived just a few houses apart, the kind of proximity that turned familiarity into something close to kinship.

But life had a way of pulling people apart. He left for university in Kyoto. You stayed behind, tethered to the countryside, where the same roads led to the same places, where the seasons changed but everything else stayed the same. Well, that was until you had married Kento. 

Yet even then, you knew he was in Tokyo for a while before he moved back to the countryside to go and teach. Even then, you and him never talked again after that. There were no hard feelings, no dramatic goodbyes about all that. It was just a gradual drifting, like leaves floating down different streams. That was how it went sometimes.

Still, when he called out of the blue, his voice was exactly the same. Gruff. Familiar. Straight to the point. You thought to yourself that he hasn’t changed one bit. Perhaps that touched you quite a fair bit. At least one thing, someone from home didn’t change one bit.

"Can I meet you?" he had asked, no preamble, no idle pleasantries. "I have something to ask of you."

“What about?” You asked him in return.

“Just come meet me. I’ll ask you then.” He says, almost too bluntly. “It’s a matter that is too serious to express over the phone.”

There was something in his tone, something weighty, something that made you pause. Yaga Masamichi had never been the type to reach out unless he had a reason. He could have all these years. But he had now. Which means it must be that grave. 

So you agreed. And that’s why here you were. The matcha latte was warm in your hands, the foam swirling lazily on the surface. You took a sip, savoring the earthy sweetness, your gaze drifting out the window. A moment later, you hear the bell above the café door chimed.

You heard those heavy footsteps you could not recognize.  You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. Sometimes, there are just going to be people, no matter how many years pass, who still carry the same presence. 

You could feel the presence of a man who had seen too much, carried too much. He was broader than you remembered, the weight of responsibility settling into the set of his shoulders, the firm line of his mouth. But the moment he sat down, the tension in his posture told you this wasn’t just a casual reunion. Nor did he waste time with pleasantries.

“There’s a kid, [name].” Yaga said, folding his hands over the table. “His name is Satoru. I used to be his teacher in high school.”

“What does this have to do with me?” You gave him a confused look.

“It has everything to do with you.” He retorts, almost too gruffly. “I know it is.”

“I’m going to need more details about this, Yaga.” You sighed at him, leaning slightly into a slouch. “I didn’t drive all the way out here for nothing.”

“You didn’t drive here for nothing, I assure you.”

You gave him a sharp look. “Then start talking.”

“He’s got talent—unreal talent. The kind that only comes around once in a generation. If he had the chance, he could be something great.” He exhaled slowly. “But he doesn’t have that chance.”

You frowned. “Why?���

Yaga’s jaw tightened. “His home life is… bad. His father refuses to support him, and he’s abusive, to both mother and son. And Satoru won’t leave because of his mother. It’s been a year and a half since he finished high school, and he still hasn’t gone to college. He’s stuck, [name]. And I don’t know what to do.”

You leaned back, processing the information. A gifted kid, burdened by circumstances beyond his control. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard a story like this, but something about the way Yaga spoke. It was low, deliberate, with the weight of frustration and something close to guilt , it made this different.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked.

Yaga met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Because I think you’re the only one who can help him.”

You blinked. “Me?”

“I don’t know your husband Kento.” Yaga admitted. “I only knew you.”

His voice was quieter now, the weight of old memories pressing into the space between you. He exhaled through his nose, fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic cup in front of him, a steady, rhythmic sound. Like he was trying to piece together the right words.

“And if there’s anyone who can get through to that kid, who can guide him toward something better… it’s you.” His dark eyes met yours, unwavering. “You value education. I knew that since we were kids. And I know that because of what happened, you would want someone like this kid to succeed.”

What happened, huh. The words sat between you like a ghost, unspoken but present, heavy in the air. All the sudden those memories came crashing through to you, almost instantaneously did all those words, all those feelings, all those moments came to you in crashing waves that swallow you whole.

You purse your lips, leaning back slightly, fingers tightening around your own cup. “How would you know that?”

Yaga hesitated, just for a moment. Then, in a rare moment of quiet sincerity, he leaned in slightly. “Because I know you.”

“We haven’t met in nearly fifteen years, Yaga.”

“That doens’t mean you haven’t changed, about this especially. I know you don’t want this kid to be twenty forever and not have anything.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried. “I know you want someone else to have more.”

You felt it in your chest, in the space between your ribs, in the parts of you that had tried to move on from the past but never quite managed to. You took a deep breath, your hands unsteady as your eyes rose to meet his.

“I know you would want this kid to have something more than what you had, [name].” Yaga said to you, pleadingly. “So help me. Even just this once.”

And just like that, you understood why he had come to you. This wasn’t just about his student. It was about you. About the road you had walked alone, about the chances you never had, about the years spent trying to carve something out of nothing. Yaga knew that weight. He had seen it all those years ago, and now he was asking you to take that pain and turn it into something good.

He was asking you to give this kid a future. And the worst part of it,  you weren’t sure you could say no. You sighed once again, dragging a hand down your face. The café felt smaller all of a sudden, the air heavier. You glanced down at your untouched coffee, watching the steam curl and fade into nothing.

“You’re asking a lot of me, Yaga.” you murmured.

“I know.” He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. He never did. “But I have no one else to turn to. I know you are the only one who can make it happen.”

A part of you wanted to refuse. To walk away before this tangled you into something you weren’t prepared for. But Yaga knew you too well. He knew exactly where to press, which words to say to keep you in your seat.

You tapped a finger against the table, thinking. “Tell me more about him.”

A flicker of something crossed Yaga’s face, and you could only guess it to be some sense of relief or even perhaps gratitude. But it disappeared just as quickly, when he started to think about the student he cared so deeply about.

“As I said, his name is Satoru.” he started, leaning forward. “He’s already twenty years old. Supposed to go to college years ago, but his father gambled away his money to drink and other shit vices. And his mother’s a housewife. So, there’s no luck there. Doesn’t help that he tries to work, but it doesn’t help much when he’s too overprotective of his mother.” Your frown became prominent. “That’s horrible.”

“The kid’s too proud to ask for help.” Yaga sighed with exasperation. “He’s smart as hell, but he’s got no direction. I’ve done what I can, but he needs more than just a teacher looking out for him. He needs someone who understands.”

“Understands what?” you asked.

Yaga’s gaze was steady. “What it’s like to be left behind.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest. You clenched your jaw, looking away. The past had long since scarred over, but there were some wounds that never fully healed. You knew exactly what he was implying, and you hated that he was right.

Still, you forced out, “And you think I can do something for him?”

“I know you can.” Yaga’s voice was firm. “I know that if you meet him, you’ll see what I see. A kid who’s got everything he needs to make it but no one who’s willing to fight for him. I know maybe you could be that someone.”

You let out a slow breath. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get involved. But you also knew this—if you walked away now, you’d never stop thinking about it. “Where is he?” you asked, finally.

Yaga allowed himself the smallest smile. “In the countryside town I’m teaching in. I can try and convince him to meet you, if you want to. But it would take some time for me to convince him. I promise, though. I can make it happen.”

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “I can’t meet him yet.” you say, voice quieter than before. “He might reject me and all of it outright. It’s best to rein him in slowly. So we don’t overwhelm him.”

Yaga doesn’t react. He just watches you, the way he always has—patient, steady, waiting for you to say more. But when you don’t, he nods once, accepting it for what it is. You exhale, reaching into your coat pocket and pulling out a pen. 

The napkin in front of you is thin, the paper rough under your fingertips as you begin to write. The ink bleeds slightly into the fibers, but you don’t stop. Numbers, details, instructions. It has everything Yaga needs to make sure that the young man has some options. When you’re done, you push it toward him.

“Arrange a meeting when the time is right, when you’ve reined him in.” you murmur. “But in the meantime, he’ll get this.” You nod toward the napkin. “This is for him.”

Yaga picks it up, scanning the details. He doesn’t speak, but his brows furrow slightly. You know the exact moment he realizes what he’s holding. “This is a lot of money,” he finally says, looking up at you.

You shrug. “It’s from the money I saved over the years by myself, before my marriage. Much of that is my investment. But I don’t need it…..you know my husband cares for me more than I can imagine. You can use this. I’ll talk to my accountant.”

“That’s not the point, [name].” Yaga says, voice edged with something unreadable. He sets the napkin down but doesn’t let go of it. His fingers press into the paper, thoughtful. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to.” Your voice is calm, but firm. “Besides, you were the one convincing me to help him, weren’t you? I doubt he’ll leave without his mother. This would be enough money to bring her with him. And for them to be comfortable for a while, until he could find some work to help with his day to day with his mother.”

Because it was never about Yaga’s student. Not really.

You weren’t thinking about some youngling in his twenty year of life, or how he was with too much potential and nowhere to go. You were thinking about yourself at that moment. You were thinking about your own young self, the echoes of grievous youth. You who were still waiting, still stuck, still waiting for something, anything, to change and happen. 

You lean back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest. Yaga is now watching you as you took your time, still collecting yourself. The café feels quieter now, like the weight of the past has settled into the walls, pressing against your ribs.

“I’m not saying he has to take it, Yaga.” you say after a moment, your fingers idly tracing the rim of your cup. “I’m just someone who helps. I can’t force it on him. That’s up to you. To him.”

Yaga says nothing, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and scrutinizing. “....I know.”

“Give it however you see fit.” You lean back slightly, crossing your arms. “Tell him it’s a scholarship. Tell him it’s a loan. Hell, don’t even tell him where it came from if you think it’ll make him stubborn.” A small, knowing smirk flickers at the corner of your lips. “But if he’s as smart as you say he is, he won’t waste the opportunity.”

A pause. The café hums around you. There were still those muted conversations, the hiss of steaming milk, the faint clatter of dishes from behind the counter. Yaga doesn’t answer you right away. But that was understandable. And you did not care.

Instead, he stares down at the napkin. The one with the scribbled details, the promise of a future written in ink. His fingers curl around it, calloused and rough, before his eyes lift to meet yours. There’s something unreadable in his expression, something unspoken. Maybe he’s searching for a reason to say no. Or maybe he’s just trying to understand why you’re doing this. 

Finally, he exhales, slow and deliberate. His large hands moved carefully as he folds the napkin—not rushed, not careless. A deliberate gesture. When he tucks it into his pocket, it’s with the same quiet reverence as someone securing something fragile.

“…Thank you.”

The words are gruff, edged with hesitation, but sincere. You offer a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that you both understand. Neither of you says anything else. Some things don’t need to be spoken out loud.

“Now, are you hungry or not?”

“Why are you suddenly asking now?” Yaga snickered, leaning against the bench.

“Just order before I change my mind about paying.” You rolled your eyes, drinking your matcha drink.

“Alright, alright.”

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. Gojo Satoru sat across from Yaga, legs sprawled out, arms folded, the usual cocky glint in his eye replaced with something harder to place, something wary. His foot tapped against the leg of the chair, a steady rhythm, like he was keeping time with an unseen clock.

“So let me get this straight.” His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it, sharp and suspicious. “Some random person I’ve never met, who doesn’t even know me but someone who knows you, just up and decides to pay my way? Like, what, I won the lottery and no one told me?”

Yaga didn’t react. He just exhaled through his nose, already expecting this reaction. “Yes.”

Satoru snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week. Thanks, Yaga. I needed the laugh.” 

He slumped back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the edge of the desk, acting like this conversation was nothing more than an annoyance. “Alright, joke’s over. What’s the real reason you called me in?”

Yaga said nothing. Instead, he reached for the folder at the side of his desk, sliding it across the surface with a practiced patience that only made Satoru more irritated. He didn’t move to take it, just eyed it like it might bite him.

“I managed everything already, just like your benefactor asked me.” Yaga said, voice firm but calm. “Tuition, housing, living expenses—it’s all handled. All you have to do is decide what you want to do next.”

Satoru could not help but just stare blankly at the folder like it was a trick, like if he touched it, the illusion would break and the rug would be pulled out from under him. “This isn’t a joke, Satoru. I promise you.”

Something in Yaga Masamichi’s voice made him stop. The usual sarcasm sitting on Satoru’s tongue dissolved. Slowly, he sat up, planting his feet on the floor before dragging the folder toward him. His fingers drummed against the cover for a moment before flipping it open.

Inside, neatly arranged, were the details like Yaga said. All the bank transfers, the college exam forms, rent agreements, even a breakdown of potential career paths. It was all there, structured and waiting, like a road laid out ahead of him.

His throat felt dry. No one had ever done something like this for him before. Gojo Satoru wasn’t stupid. He knew how the world worked. Nobody gave something for free, not without expecting something in return. His grip on the folder tightened.

“Who?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.

Yaga didn’t hesitate. “Someone who understands.”

Gojo Satoru could feel his jaw suddenly tense. That wasn’t an answer. But the way Yaga said it, the way he looked at him, Satoru knew he wasn’t going to get anything else. So he just lets it go for now. He frowns.

He clicked his tongue, snapping the folder shut. “And this benefactor, they don’t want anything back?”

“No.”

Satoru scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Yaga’s expression didn’t change. “Believe what you want.”

Satoru leaned back in his chair, spinning the folder between his fingers before tossing it onto the desk. Silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken. It wasn’t just about the money. It was about the fact that someone out there had seen him, had looked at his life, his struggles, and decided he was worth helping. That thought made his chest feel tight, like a weight pressing down on him.

He’d spent years clawing his way through life, telling himself he didn’t need anyone, that he could handle it on his own. And yet here it was—help, handed to him on a silver platter. No strings. No conditions. It pissed him off. Because it meant he had no excuse.

Satoru clicked his tongue again, running a hand through his hair. “So all I gotta do is choose, huh?”

Yaga nodded. “Yeah. Pick your university well.”

For a long time, Satoru just sat there, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. He could feel Yaga watching him, waiting, but the older man said nothing. He had learned, over the years, that pushing Satoru never worked. Eventually, Satoru leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He tapped his fingers against the folder, once, twice, before exhaling sharply.

“You know what this feels like?” he asked, voice lighter than the tension in the room. “It feels like one of those scam emails. ‘Congratulations! A long-lost prince has left you a fortune! Click here to claim it!’” He gave Yaga a dry look. “Should I be worried about malware?”

Yaga didn’t smile. “No one’s scamming you, Satoru.”

Satoru hummed, glancing back at the folder like it might suddenly disappear. “That’s what a scammer would say.”

But the joke fell flat, and he knew it. Because the truth was, he didn’t want to look at this too closely. Didn’t want to pick it apart and realize it was real. Because if it was real, then he had no excuse not to take it. His fingers curled around the edges of the folder.

Yaga, always patient, spoke again, his voice steady. “You don’t have to decide today. I just wanted to tell you.”

Satoru let out a breath that almost sounded like relief. Almost. “I feel a but coming in here.”

But then Yaga added, “But you do have to decide, eventually. Don’t let this go to waste.”

And just like that, the relief was gone. Satoru tilted his head, expression unreadable. “And if I say no?”

Yaga shrugged. “Then you say no.”

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “You’re really just gonna let me walk away from all this?”

“If that’s what you choose, then yes.” Yaga said simply. “That’s what your benefactor said.”

That was the part that unsettled Satoru the most. His whole life, every choice had been made for him, by his father, by circumstance, by a world that didn’t care whether he sank or swam. And now, suddenly, he had control. He didn’t know what to do with it.

Satoru dragged a hand through his hair, sighing dramatically. “Man, I hate this.”

“Hate what?”

“This.” He waved vaguely at the folder, at Yaga, at the whole damn situation. “This whole ‘I get a say in my future’ thing. It’s stressful.”

Yaga’s lips twitched slightly. “You’ll get used to it.”

Satoru clicked his tongue, then stood abruptly, snatching the folder off the desk. He tucked it under his arm like it weighed nothing, like it wasn’t the single biggest decision of his life. He looked at his old teacher with complex eyes.

“I’ll think about it, Yaga.” he said, already turning toward the door. “I promise.”

Yaga nodded, as if he knew that was the best he was going to get. “Alright.”

But just as Satoru reached for the handle, he paused. “…This person.” he said, without turning around. “The one who did all this.”

Yaga waited. “Yes?”

Satoru’s grip on the folder tightened. “Are they gonna want to meet me?”

Yaga considered his answer carefully. “They’re leaving that up to you.”

Satoru let out a small scoff, shaking his head. “Figures.”

And with that, he walked out into the cold winds of the evening, the weight of the neatly pressed folder pressing against his side like a decision he wasn’t ready to make. Not yet. But maybe soon.

HE TOLD HIS MOTHER ALMOST IMMEDIATELY. In some ways, Satoru knew he couldn’t keep this from her. Something this big, how can you keep it to yourself? Someone else needed to know. And he knew his mother was that person.

The folder sat in the dim glow of the kitchen light, thick with opportunity. With a future. With escape. But his mother hadn’t touched it. Instead, she sat across from him, hands curled around a chipped ceramic mug, knuckles pressed white from how tightly she held it. She hadn’t taken a sip in minutes. The tea had gone cold.

“Satoru, my son….” she murmured, shaking her head, her voice brittle. “You don’t know these people.”

He had expected this. She had always been careful, wary of kindness, of luck. Of hope. “I know Yaga, though.” Satoru said, his voice controlled, steady. “And I know this is real.”

His mother exhaled, slow and tired. “For you, it is.” she whispered. “But to me, I’m still not sure.”

The words sank in like a blade between his ribs. Satoru sat still for a long moment, his heartbeat in his ears. For a while, he had told himself that if he ever got the chance to leave, he’d take it without hesitation. No second thoughts. No regrets.

But that was before he had something to lose. Before the idea of walking out of this house meant leaving her behind. Guilt curled in his stomach, sick and twisting. He had spent his entire life watching his mother weather the storm of his father’s anger. Taking the worst of it. Absorbing it so Satoru didn’t have to. He couldn’t pay her back for that. He couldn’t undo it.

But he could do this.

“Come with me, mom.” he said.

His mother’s head snapped up, startled. “What?”

Satoru met her eyes, clear and unwavering. “Come with me, to Tokyo or Kyoto. Wherever I end up going to school.” he repeated. “We don’t have to stay here.”

She blinked, like she hadn’t even considered it. “Satoru—”

“I mean it, mom.” he said, leaning forward. “You don’t have to stay with him.”

Her fingers trembled. “And go where?” she whispered.

Satoru swallowed. “Anywhere but here. There’s enough money for the both of us.”

She let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “It’s not that easy.”

His jaw clenched. “Maybe not, mom.” he admitted. “But staying here? That’s not easy either.” His voice dropped, lower now, pressing. “That’s never been easy.”

His mother flinched, looking away.

Satoru stared at her, his chest tight.

For years, he had tried to convince himself that his mother was fine. That his father’s anger had only ever been directed at him. That she could handle it. But he knew better. He had seen the bruises she covered with long sleeves in the summer. Heard the way her voice shrank in his father’s presence.

He had never asked why she stayed.

Because deep down, he already knew.

“You don’t understand, Satoru.” she whispered. “We can’t just—”

Satoru’s breath hitched. “Then make me understand.”

She exhaled shakily, pressing the heels of her palms against her forehead. “I don’t know how to leave.”

He reached across the table, his movements slow, deliberate, as if any sudden motion might scare her away. His fingers found hers, cold and trembling, and he covered her hand with his own. A silent reassurance. A plea.

"We’ll figure it out, Mom." His voice was softer than usual, a stark contrast to the steel in his grip. He needed her to believe him. Needed her to trust that there was a way out. "Just come with me."

She didn’t respond right away. Her fingers twitched beneath his, hesitant, unsure. He could feel the slight tremor in them, the way she curled them ever so slightly, as if she wanted to hold on but couldn’t quite bring herself to. Satoru swallowed hard. He knew what she was thinking. Knew that years of fear, of habit, of hope that things might still change were keeping her frozen in place. 

But she didn’t pull away. And that was something. For now, that was enough.  He squeezed her hand, just once. Gentle. Certain. A quiet promise. The quiet admission struck something deep inside him. Because he understood. For so long, he had felt like that, too.

His father had built a cage around them. One with invisible walls, lined with rules, punishments, expectations. They had learned to navigate it, to survive inside it. But now, for the first time, there was a door. And Satoru wasn’t walking through it alone.

He reached across the table, covering her hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out, mom.” he promised. “Just come with me.”

Her fingers curled slightly under his, hesitant, unsure.

But she didn’t pull away.

And for now, that was enough.

The night they left weeks later, the house felt heavier than usual. Like it knew it was being abandoned. Like it was trying to hold them back. Like it doesn’t want to be left empty with that crude, brutish and miserable man. But Satoru does not care. He does not want to be here anymore. 

Satoru stood in the dim hallway, bag slung over his shoulder, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. His mother was in front of him, clutching the strap of her own bag with white-knuckled hands. She hadn’t moved in minutes.

“We should go, mom.” he murmured.

His mother didn’t respond. She was staring at the walls, the floor, the furniture—like she was trying to memorize them. Like she was trying to convince herself she could step away from it all. Satoru swallowed hard. He understood.

Because for years, this house had been their whole world. Their cage, their battlefield, their suffocation. Every argument, every bruise, every silent dinner had seeped into the walls. This place had shaped them, broken them, kept them trapped. And now, they were about to leave it behind.

Satoru reached out, his hand hovering just above her shoulder. “Mom.”

She flinched, eyes darting at him. For a second, just a second, she looked terrified, she looked just as much exhausted. Not of him. Of the unknown. Of a life that is now going to be separated from the brutal one she had been forced to live.

“I don’t—” Her voice cracked, her throat working around the words. “Satoru, what if this is worse?”

Satoru inhaled sharply. That fear she felt, he knew had felt it too. The doubt. The what-ifs. The voice in the back of his head that told him maybe it was better to stay where things were familiar, even if familiar meant unbearable.

“Then we’ll deal with it, mom.” he said firmly.

His mother let out a shaky breath. “You don’t understand—”

“I do.” Satoru interrupted, stepping closer. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “I know what it’s like to be afraid of leaving. To think that maybe… maybe this is all we get. Maybe we just take it. Live with it.”

Her chin trembled. “I just….”

“But we don’t have to.” he whispered. “We don’t have to live like this.”

His mother looked away, blinking rapidly. “This is my home, my son.” she murmured. “This is all I knew.”

Satoru’s chest ached. “No, mom. It’s not your home.” he said quietly. “This is just a house where bad things happened. It was never your home.”

Her breath hitched. “.....It’s not my home?”

“No, mom. It’s not.” Satoru pressed on, voice soft but unwavering. “Home isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to hurt. We can find something better. We can make something better. We’ll build a home together.”

His mother squeezed her eyes shut, one hand gripping the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping her upright.  Tears were forming at the edges of her eyes, her body was shaking. He was losing her. Panic rose in his throat.

“Mom, please.” he begged, voice cracking now. “I can’t leave you here.”

She exhaled sharply, her entire body trembling. Then, slowly, she turned back to face him. And for the first time in years, there was something in her eyes other than resignation. Something fragile. Something afraid. Something hopeful.

Satoru reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “Come with me, mom.” he whispered. “I’m begging you.”

His mother’s grip was weak at first, hesitant.

Then, finally, her fingers tightened around his.

And she nodded back at him.

Satoru exhaled, something breaking inside him. Relief, gratitude, something bigger than all of that. He squeezed her hand once before letting go. She followed him to the door. She hesitated for only a second before stepping outside. And for the first time in years, she didn’t look back.

HE HAD A DIFFERENT PERCEPTION ABOUT THIS CITY. But it would seem that Tokyo city was quieter than Satoru expected. He thought the city would be overwhelming, suffocating with its neon lights and endless streams of people, but standing in the doorway of their new apartment, it was the silence that struck him first.

No shouting. No breaking glass. No heavy footsteps signaling trouble. Just the low hum of traffic outside and the soft creak of the floorboards as his mother hesitantly stepped inside. It didn’t feel real to him.

“Welcome home, you two.” Yaga said from behind them, setting a thick folder onto the kitchen counter. “I take it you’re getting along well with this apartment?”

“Yeah.” Satoru turned to him, still adjusting to the idea that this was happening. “I guess.”

He wasn’t dreaming, right? 

His father wasn’t about to yank him back with an iron grip, right?

 His mother lingered near the window, fingers ghosting over the curtains like she didn’t know if she was allowed to touch them. Like any second, someone would come and tell her this wasn’t hers to have. Yaga didn’t push her. He just motioned for Satoru to sit at the small, round dining table. Satoru hesitated before finally doing as he was told.

“Alright, let’s go over everything. Now that you got into Tokyo University.” Yaga exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. He flipped open the folder, tapping a few neatly stacked documents. “There’s quite a bit.”

“Looks like there’s quite a bit.” Satoru says, looking at the binder.

“Your tuition has been taken care of in full. All you have to do is choose your major and register for classes. Everything else, the apartment, utilities, and monthly expenses, and your mother’s health check ups….it’s also been covered. It surprisingly fits for one year from the money we got, so it’s going to be fine.”

Satoru’s hands clenched on his lap. “It still sounds like a scam, even when it's done already. It just still feels unreal.” he muttered.

Yaga snorted. “Yeah, well. I’d be suspicious too, if I wasn’t the one who pushed for this to happen.” He leaned back in his chair, studying him. “But don’t worry. Like I said, your benefactor doesn’t want anything from you, Satoru.”

Satoru frowned. “That also still doesn’t make sense.”

Yaga’s expression softened. “It does, knowing your benefactor, it truly fits.” he said. “Though your benefactor reminded me to tell you to study well, and take care of your mother.”

Satoru blinked, caught off guard. “That’s it?”

Yaga nodded. “And that you go to college, everyday. No classes missed.”

Satoru let out a sharp breath, disbelieving. “That’s really it?”

Yaga’s gaze was steady. “That’s really it.”

Satoru looked down at the folder, at the proof of everything Yaga was saying. His mind raced, trying to find the catch, the fine print, the part where this all fell apart. But there wasn’t one. There wasn’t anything that has been faulty throughout.

Someone—some ridiculous stranger—had decided to give him and his mother a way out. A fresh start. And all they asked in return was for Satoru to live. To be something more than what his father had tried to reduce him to. The realization settled into his bones, heavy and overwhelming.

His mother let out a shaky breath from the window. “I don’t know how to thank them.” she whispered. “This is just….”

Yaga gave a small, knowing smile. “Then don’t, Mrs. Gojo. Really.” he said simply. “Just live well. That’s enough of a thanks to the benefactor.”

Satoru swallowed past the lump in his throat. For the first time in a long time, he believed it. And for the first time in his life, he thought—maybe, just maybe—he had a future. One that was finally his own. 

The apartment felt too clean. Satoru wasn’t used to that. Everything in his life had been messy. Broken things that never got fixed, stains on the walls that told a story of fights and silent suffering. But here, the walls were smooth, the floors unscuffed, and the air smelled like citrus, like someone had actually cared enough to prepare this place for them.

His mother still stood by the window, staring out at the Tokyo skyline, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked so small against the view. Like she wasn’t sure if she belonged there.Satoru ran a hand through his hair and turned back to Yaga, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach.

“So what now?” he asked, his voice flat. “I just… start over?”

Yaga leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “That’s the plan.”

Satoru scoffed. “Yeah, because it’s just that easy.”

Yaga exhaled through his nose. “No, it’s not.” He met Satoru’s gaze, steady and unwavering. “But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got support now. You’ve got options.”

Satoru hated that word. Options. It had never applied to him before. It had always been one way, his father’s way, and if he fought against it, he got beat down, literally and figuratively. But now, he was standing in a place that wasn’t his father’s house. He had a bed that wasn’t covered in cigarette burns. A kitchen where nothing had been thrown in anger.

It was real. It was his. Satoru stared at the papers in front of him, his chest tight, his breath uneven. This wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some fleeting hope destined to slip through his fingers. It was happening. After everything, after years of feeling trapped, after nights of clenched fists and swallowed words—he was finally here.

This was the start. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white, tension coiled in his shoulders like he was bracing for a blow. For something to go wrong. For someone to suddenly take it all away. Because that’s how it had always been.

He had learned young that good things never lasted. That the rug was always waiting to be yanked from beneath him. That every step forward came with a price. But this time, there was nothing in his way. No one to stop him. No one told him he couldn’t.

He forced himself to exhale, to relax his fingers, to release the quiet fear clawing at his chest. Across the table, Yaga sighed, watching him with that same gruff patience he always had. He gestured toward the stack of documents, the official letterhead, the crisp edges that made it all feel so real.

"Your next step is to register for school and pick your classes," Yaga said, voice steady, even. Then, with a pointed look, he added, "Take your time picking what you want to do—just don’t waste this chance."

The words settled heavily in the air between them. Satoru swallowed, nodding once, fingers tightening over the papers like an anchor. No. He wouldn’t waste it. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t do anything like that. 

Satoru ran his fingers over the papers, the weight of them heavier than it should have been. His throat felt tight, but he forced out a scoff, masking the unease gnawing at him.

"Tch. You think I’d waste it?" He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head just slightly, forcing a smirk. "Come on, Yaga. Give me some credit."

Yaga didn't blink so much as blink. He simply crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed. "Credit is earned, not given." His tone was flat, matter-of-fact. "You might be smart, but that doesn’t mean you’ll do the work."

Satoru clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. "You sound like an old man."

"And you sound like a kid who doesn’t know what he’s getting into."

Satoru narrowed his bright blue eyes at him. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. 

Yaga exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Look. Just don’t screw this up. That’s all I’m saying."

Satoru glanced down at the papers again, his fingers tightening around the edges. "I won’t."

This time, he meant it.

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS WAS UNREAL. Satoru never thought he would make it this far. The Tokyo University campus stretched around him, grand and sprawling, filled with students who looked like they had always belonged here. It felt strange to walk among them, knowing that just a year ago, this had been nothing but an impossible dream.

But it was real now.

He had passed.

He was here.

Satoru kept his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his fingers curling into the fabric as he walked alongside Yaga. It had been Yaga’s idea to come with him, but Satoru had wanted it too, though he wouldn’t admit it. He’d never been the type to need someone by his side, but maybe, just this once, he didn’t want to do this alone.

They walked in silence for a while all around the campus, the low hum of student chatter filling the air, the occasional bike rolling past on the paved paths. Then, the question that had been burning in his mind finally slipped out.

“Hey, Yaga.”

“Hm?”

They walked side by side, the hum of the campus life surrounding them. The air was warm, thick with the scent of pavement after rain, and the late afternoon sun stretched golden fingers across the rooftops.

Satoru shoved his hands into his pockets, his posture loose, but his mind wasn’t. Something had been gnawing at him ever since Yaga handed him those papers, ever since the weight of opportunity settled on his shoulders.

His voice was quieter than usual. "My benefactor—I gotta ask." He barely glanced over, keeping his tone casual, as if the answer didn’t matter. "Who is it?"

Yaga didn’t respond right away. Instead, he slowed to a stop, his gaze drifting toward an old stone wall covered in ivy. The thick vines sprawled across the surface, swallowing cracks and imperfections, twisting like they had been there forever. Satoru frowned, stopping a step ahead of him.

"Oi, what are you—"

Yaga let out a slow breath, like he was considering something. And then, finally, he smiles. "She’s your benefactor."

Satoru’s breath stilled.

He turned, following Yaga’s gaze.

And then he saw you.

You stood just past the wall, near the entrance of the university, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. The light caught in your hair, casting a soft halo around you. You weren’t looking at him—not yet—but the moment Satoru’s eyes found you, something inside him went still. 

At twenty years old, for the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru thought he had seen an angel. 

But it wasn’t just that you were beautiful.

It was something else. The way you carried yourself—poised, yet approachable. The quiet kindness in your features. The steadiness in your stance, like you had already decided you would stand by him, no matter what.

And you had. Without even knowing him. A stranger had given him everything. The weight of it settled in his chest, unfamiliar and heavy. For the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo had no idea what to say. His fingers twitched. His breath came in slow and careful, like he was afraid that if he moved too suddenly, this moment would shatter.

You turned then, your eyes finally meeting his own, and something deep in his chest twisted. How was he supposed to look at you, someone who had saved him, someone who had believed in him when no one else had—and pretend this was normal?

For the first time in years, Gojo Satoru was completely, utterly speechless. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do with the emotions overwhelming him. Gratitude. Disbelief. Hope. It had been a long time since he had let himself hope for anything.

And yet, standing here, staring at you—he thought, maybe, just maybe, he could start. Silence settled between them like a held breath, thick with things unspoken. Satoru stood frozen, his mind caught in a whirlwind, unable to process the weight of Yaga’s words. 

She’s your benefactor.

You. The woman standing just a few steps away, the one who had made all of this possible, who had given him a chance at something better at freedom without ever meeting him. For the first time in a long time, Satoru didn’t know what to say.

Yaga let out a slow breath, watching him carefully before speaking again, this time with something unusual in his voice. A heaviness. A lament. “When we were kids, you know she was amazing.” Yaga said, his tone quieter than usual. “She was the smartest person I knew.”

Satoru blinked, caught off guard by the way Yaga’s voice softened, like he was speaking of something precious, something lost. “She studied here, years ago,” Yaga continued. “One of the brightest. The kind of student that professors remembered. The kind of person you just knew was going to change the world.”

Satoru’s eyes flickered to you, searching your face for something, for what, he didn’t know. But you didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, as if you had long made peace with the past Yaga was unraveling. “But she never got to graduate.”

Satoru frowned, his grip tightening in his pockets. “Why?”

Yaga hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “She became a mother.”

The words landed like stones in Satoru’s chest. “What?”

“She became a wife.”

Satoru’s stomach twisted. There was something unspoken in Yaga’s words, something heavier than what was being said. A life that had been rerouted, rewritten. A future that had been sacrificed for something or someone else.

“She had dreams, y’know?” Yaga said, his gaze distant, like he was looking at something only he could see. “Dreams bigger than this place could even hold. But life had other plans.”

Satoru swallowed hard, a strange, unfamiliar ache settling in his throat. Yaga exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “And yet, even after all these years….” he said, looking at you now. “She's still the same.”

His voice grew firm, looking at you. “Still looking out for others before yourself. Still giving when you’ve already given too much. But how much is that a life, [name]?”

Satoru clenched his jaw, something tightening in his chest. “I….”

“She wants you to live, Satoru.” Yaga’s voice cut through the air like a quiet, unwavering truth.

“To become someone she couldn’t be.”

Satoru’s breath hitched. “Me?”

Yaga nodded at him. “Yes, you. She wants you to be free. In a way she couldn’t. So make everything count.”

That word. Free. It echoed in his mind, sharp and relentless, like it had been waiting for him to hear it all his life. He had never been free. Not from the weight of his family’s name. Not from the bruises hidden beneath his sleeves. Not from the suffocating feeling of being trapped in a life that had been dictated for him before he was even born.

Even now, even standing in this place, even holding proof that he had made it here, a part of him had still been waiting for it all to be taken away. Because nothing had ever truly been his. But then—there was you.

The woman who had given him a future, even when you had never met him.

The woman who had believed in him, even when no one else had.

The woman who had looked at his life—the one he had been struggling to survive in and decided he deserved something better. 

Satoru swallowed hard, his throat tight, his fingers twitching at his sides. He looked at you again, really looked at you this time. And in your eyes, he saw something he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

Hope. Not just for him, but for what he could be. You had given him a choice. A chance. A way out. A way forward. A freedom he had never known. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid to take it.

HE HAD TO BE HONEST, IT STARTED WITH CURIOSITY. A passing thought, a simple question. Who was she? The woman who had saved him, a stranger who had given him everything without asking for anything in return. Yaga had said you were the smartest person he’d ever known. That you were meant for something great.

And Gojo Satoru, who had spent his life feeling like he was meant for nothing, couldn’t shake the thought. So he started searching. At first, it was just your name. A quick lookup on university records, old archives, things easily accessible. But what he found pulled him in deeper, past the point of idle interest, past the point of stopping.

Because you weren’t just smart.

You were a prodigy.

A force of nature they couldn’t handle.

Your name was everywhere, overwhelmingly so. There were the old scientific papers, articles praising your research, university newsletters featuring your achievements. There were awards, national recognitions, competitions where you had left everyone else in the dust.

Satoru scrolled through it all, page after page, eyes scanning through words that felt foreign to him. Chemical reactions, molecular structures, theories he didn’t even pretend to understand. But you had understood them. And not just understood them—you had mastered them.

He clicked on a video link without thinking.

And then—there you were.

Gojo Satoru sat back, stunned.

The screen flickered, grainy from age, but the image was clear enough. You were sitting in a brightly lit lecture hall, across from an interviewer, your hair tucked neatly behind your ear. You looked younger here, maybe barely twenty, but your eyes were sharp, your expression alive.

And when you spoke, Satoru stilled.

“This is what I love about science, you know?” you said, your voice confident, steady. “It’s everywhere. It explains the world. It connects everything—every living thing, every reaction, every change. It’s a miracle, it is life!”

You smiled, leaning forward slightly. “Isn’t that amazing?”

Something in Satoru’s chest twisted. He had never cared about chemistry. Had never cared about formulas or reactions or any of the things you were talking about. But watching you now, the way you lit up, the way you spoke like the world was something worth understanding, for the first time, he got it.

There were more videos. Clips of you working in the lab, hands steady, movements sure. Interviews where you spoke about research projects, your words quick, excited, spilling over each other in your enthusiasm. Moments where you laughed, bright and uninhibited, so full of life it made his breath catch.

You were dazzling. Not just beautiful, though you were, effortlessly so but brilliant in a way that made it impossible to look away. You were more than that. You were a diamond in the rough, among all these people. Among all mortals surrounding you, you looked like a passionate, genuine and wondrous goddess blessing all with your presence.

But then, the more he dug, the more he couldn’t find anything anymore. Everything, all of it had stopped. The records, the videos, the awards, all of it ended at a certain point. No graduation announcement. No further research. Just bitter cold silence.

Satoru sat there, staring at the screen, his fingers curled into his palms. Because he knew why. You have become a mother. And then horridly, a wife. And your future, the one that should have been limitless had been cut off, rerouted, swallowed by a life that wasn’t yours alone anymore.

Satoru exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the strange weight in his chest. Who were you now? Did you still dream of the things you once wanted? Did you still love chemistry the way you had back then? Did you regret any of it? Or did you look at him—the boy you had chosen to help, the one you had given this second chance—and see something of yourself in him?

Satoru didn’t know. But for the first time in his life, he wanted to. And that realization hit him with startling clarity. This wasn’t just gratitude. It wasn’t just admiration. It was something deeper. Something consuming.

And Satoru, who had never cared much about anyone outside of himself, felt an unfamiliar pull toward the woman who had changed his life before he even knew her name. He didn’t think he could ignore it.

It didn’t stop after that first night. If anything, it only got worse. Satoru found himself thinking about you more often than he wanted to admit. At first, it was just curiosity. He told himself that. Curiosity was all well and dandy.

But curiosity didn’t explain why he kept going back, why he kept watching the same videos over and over, memorizing the way you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved.

Curiosity didn’t explain why he started reading about chemistry, things that had never interested him before. Just to understand the things you had once been passionate about. Just to know what your world looked like.

Curiosity didn’t explain why he noticed the way your voice softened when you spoke, the way you carried yourself with quiet grace, like someone who had spent too long in the shadows of what could have been.

It didn’t explain the way his stomach twisted when he thought about everything you had lost. The way it ached. The way he wanted to—Stop, Satoru, this is madness!

He cut the thought off before it could form, running a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. This was ridiculous. You weren’t some mystery to be solved. You weren’t a puzzle for him to piece together.

You were just a woman. A person. But the more he learned about you, the harder it became to see you as just that. Because you weren’t just anyone. You were someone who had been larger than life, someone meant for something extraordinary. And yet, when the world had taken that from you, you hadn’t broken. You hadn’t let it turn you bitter.

You had chosen to help him. And Satoru who had spent his life feeling like no one had ever truly seen him suddenly realized that he had never really seen anyone either. Well, until now. Until you. Until you haunted the narrative of his existence.

He didn’t know when it shifted, when the fascination became something else. Something deeper. Something sharper. But he knew it the moment he caught himself watching an old video of you late at night, long past the point of exhaustion, long past the point of excuses.

The screen flickered, your younger self smiling, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you explained something about chemical bonding. Satoru wasn’t even listening. He was watching your hands.

The delicate way you gestured, the way your fingers curled slightly when you were deep in thought. And he wondered, suddenly, what it would feel like to have those fingers traced against his skin.

His breath hitched. The thought came unbidden, slamming into him with the force of something undeniable. And that was when he knew he was in trouble. Because this wasn’t just admiration anymore. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was something more to him. It was something surely more consuming than any other drug in this world.

And Gojo Satoru, for the first time in his life, wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop it.

GOJO SATORU WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. He wasn’t even supposed to be in this part of the university today, but his feet had carried him here, as if drawn by some invisible force. And then he saw you.

You stood near the entrance of the new science wing, speaking with one of the department heads. You weren’t smiling, but there was something almost wistful in your expression, something he hadn’t seen before.

For a moment, he just… watched. It had been one thing to see you in old interviews, to read about you, to trace the remnants of the brilliant woman you had been in the past. But here, now—he could see you in real time.

And you were even more mesmerizing than he had imagined.

Satoru had spent years perfecting the art of reading people. It was second nature to him, the way he could pick up on subtle tells, unspoken thoughts lingering in the way someone shifted, the way their eyes darted or their fingers curled.

And what he saw in you made his stomach twist. You looked like someone who had built a life out of moving forward, like someone who had made peace with the things they had lost. But deep down, buried beneath the layers of composure, he saw it.

The quiet grief. The remnants of a dream abandoned, tucked carefully behind the way you stood so still, the way your fingers brushed over the edge of a desk as if testing its reality. They were all there under the surface.

Something about it unsettled him. Because he knew that feeling. That hollow ache, that quiet longing for something just out of reach. And for the first time in his life, Satoru wanted to know what it would take to bring that spark back into your eyes. What it would take to make you look at him. So he stepped forward.

“You seem important here.” he said, voice light, teasing.

The words made you turn toward him, your gaze settling on him in a way that made his pulse stutter. For a moment, you simply studied him, bright blue eyes, white hair, a sharp grin that hid far more than it revealed.

He saw the way you hesitated when you looked at him for the first time, quietly searching his face as if trying to place him in a category of familiarity, but he knew you wouldn’t. Not yet. Not like this.

“Not at all.” you finally replied, shaking your head. “Just someone who used to study here.”

“Ah, I see.” he hummed. “So, an old-timer.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Not that old.”

But Satoru had already noticed the way you shifted, the way your fingers curled slightly against your palm. You didn’t talk about the past much, did you? You didn’t let yourself linger in what had been. And yet, you were here. Still standing in the middle of a building you had helped fund. Still tracing the echoes of who you had once been.

“What’d you study?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Chemistry.”

“And did you love it?”

Your eyes flickered to him again, as if the question had caught you off guard. Satoru held your gaze, waiting. He wanted to hear you say it out loud. He wanted to know if it still burned somewhere inside you.

“I did, I suppose. I fought hard to get there.” you admitted, voice softer now. “It was my passion, once.”

Once.

Satoru didn’t like that word.

Didn’t like the way it tasted in his mouth.

Because passion wasn’t something that simply faded. It was something that lived inside you, something that clawed its way back to the surface, no matter how deeply you tried to bury it. And maybe that was why he was standing here now. Because, somehow, you had become his passion.

“Still passionate about it?” he pressed, tilting his head.

You hesitated. And then, after a moment, you exhaled. “Some passions never really fade.”

Something in him tightened, he couldn’t point out which. Gojo Satoru hadn’t been expecting you to say that. He hadn’t been expecting the way those words would settle inside him, threading into something deeper.

“Passion’s a funny thing.” Satoru murmured, his voice carrying a lazy sort of amusement, but there was something deeper beneath it. Something steady, something careful. “Sometimes, even if you try to leave it behind, it finds its way back to you.”

Your beautiful bright eyes flickered toward him, searching his face, as if trying to figure out why he had said that. Satoru held your gaze, refusing to look away. You purse your lips into a flat line, lowering your gaze.

For a moment, the world around him faded—the distant hum of students talking, the soft footsteps echoing down the hall, the chatter of professors discussing research grants and department budgets. None of it mattered.

Because right now, it was just you. And for the briefest second, he thought maybe you felt it too. That quiet pull. That strange, undeniable gravity between two people who, by all logic, should have never crossed paths—should have never been drawn toward each other.

And yet, maybe they always had been. Your fingers flexed slightly at your sides, a barely-there movement, but Satoru noticed. He noticed everything about you. The way your lips parted just slightly, as if you wanted to say something but weren’t sure if you should.

The way your eyes darkened with thought, with something unspoken, something he was suddenly desperate to know. It made his chest feel tight. You inhaled slowly, as if steadying yourself. And then, after a pause, you exhaled, offering him the smallest nod.

“Maybe you’re right, I suppose.” you murmured.

Satoru’s pulse jumped. Maybe he was. Maybe passion wasn’t something you could just let go of. Maybe, no matter how much you tried to bury it, itt would always find its way back. And as he stood there, watching you, he wondered if the same could be said about people.

If some people, no matter how different their worlds were, would always be pulled toward each other in the end. If you and him would be one of them. You let your serene face relax and echo towards him, a warm smile on your lips.

“You should keep doing well.” you told him, your voice soft but firm. “You should be better. Be what I couldn’t be.”

Satoru expected those words. He had heard them before. Albeit, it was all phrased differently, maybe, but the meaning was always the same. Be strong. Be smart. Be the best. But coming from you, they felt different.

They didn’t feel like there was a demand. They felt like a hope. And when he looked at you, he saw something in your eyes that made his breath catch. It was emotion, all too raw and unguarded, flickering behind the composed mask you always seemed to wear.

It was something he didn’t quite understand yet, but it made his chest feel tight, made his hands curl into fists at his sides. Because for a fleeting moment, he thought that maybe you wanted this for him. Not because of obligation. Not because of charity. But because you saw something in him. Something worth saving.

Satoru swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He wanted to ask why you were all about it. You would surely have all the answers. Why did you care? Why did it sound like you were speaking from experience? But he didn’t.

Instead, he just held your gaze, letting the moment stretch between you. Letting it settle in his bones. And for the first time in a long time, he thought that maybe he did want to be better. For you. He would do it for you.

Satoru exhaled, tilting his head, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips, but his voice was quieter than usual. "Be better, huh?" He let the words hang in the air before nodding, something unreadable in his eyes. "Alright, then. Guess I better not disappoint, huh?"

There was a flicker of something in your expression. Perhaps it was relief, or maybe something gentler than that. But he didn’t care to know. Instead, he lets himself drown in the small, knowing smile you gave him. "No, I don’t think you will. After all, your eyes tell."

And Satoru didn’t know why, but those words settled deep in his chest, warm and steady. Like for the first time, someone believed in him. Really believed in him. And damn it all, he wasn’t about to let that go to waste.

Not when it was you.

HE WAS SMART, HE KNEW THAT MUCH. But Gojo Satoru never thought he would take this high level of academics seriously. School had always been something he coasted through, excelling without much effort, relying on his natural intelligence to get by. But after meeting you, something shifted.

He wanted to understand you. And what better way to do that than to follow the same path you once walked? So, when it was time to declare his major, he chose to do something in science like you once did.

He told himself it was logical to do so. After all, chemistry was the foundation of so many things, from medicine to engineering, and it held the promise of a stable future. But deep down, he knew the real reason.

He wanted to be closer to you. He wanted to see the world through your eyes, to grasp the passion that once burned inside you, the same passion that had led you to this university years before him.

He sat in the same lecture halls where your name was still spoken with admiration by professors who remembered you. He read the research papers that bore your name, tracing his fingers over the printed words, imagining you writing them.

And with every experiment, every late-night study session, every moment he spent poring over chemical equations, he felt like he was reaching for something greater than himself, it was like he was reaching for you. 

He excelled. Of course he did. 

When Satoru Gojo set his mind to something, there was no other outcome. His professors saw potential. His classmates envied his effortless brilliance. He passed every exam, aced every project, and by the time graduation came, he had done exactly what he had set out to do.

He had become someone worthy of your world.

But then, life had taken an unexpected turn.

It started as a simple favor for a friend. A photographer had been searching for someone striking, someone who could hold the camera’s gaze and make people stop and stare. Satoru just happened to fit the description.

He agreed to a photoshoot, thinking nothing of it. But then, the offers started coming in. Even his mother was surprised at the amount of calls their apartment would get in all hours of the day. It just didn’t feel real at all.

So many entertainment and modelling agencies started to reach out. Many other brands wanted his face. Directors saw something in him, something beyond just his looks. They saw presence. They saw charisma. A raw, untapped potential waiting to be shaped into magnificent talent.

One commercial turned into another. One guest appearance led to an audition. And before he even realized it, his life had changed. He was no longer just a graduate with a science degree. He was now a highly paid, well beloved actor and model.

The world had taken notice of him, and for the first time, he wasn’t just a shadow chasing after your past. He was someone people looked at. Someone people admired. And maybe this path would bring him even closer to you.

Because science had allowed him to understand the person you were before. But being in this world, it would give him a chance to be part of your world now. To stand in places you might see him.To become someone you might watch on a screen, unknowingly letting him into your life.

He wondered if you ever turned on the TV and saw his face. If you ever lingered for a moment, thinking he looked familiar. If, by some twist of fate, you’d be drawn to him the way he was to you. Maybe, you’ll see him and find him handsome too. 

Satoru had always been a genius. He knew that since he was young. And now, he had a new goal. One day, you’d see him. One day, you’d notice him. And this time, he wouldn’t be just another face in the crowd. He would be someone you couldn’t ignore.

IN SOME WAYS, HE KNEW HE WAS WHAT EVERYONE WANTS TO BE. That’s why Gojo Satoru had always thought the world revolved around him. Not in an arrogant, boastful way—no. To him, it was a simple fact. People noticed him. They always had. Whether it was his height, his striking looks, or the sheer force of his presence, he had been born to be seen.

And yet, for the past few years, there was only one person he had truly wanted to be seen by.

You.

Everything in his life, his choices, his career, his calculated steps forward, all of that had been made with you in mind. So it was ironic—cruel, even—that the first person to truly look at him and understand him in years wasn’t you.

It was Suguru Geto.

This is how it happened.

Gojo Satoru had only been in the entertainment industry for a short time. He had deviated from his modelling career to step into the realm of films and TV. So, when he found himself on the set of Jujutsu Kaisen, a high-budget, highly-anticipated TV project that had the entire industry buzzing.It was just something else entirely.

He had taken the role on a whim, after finishing a film he had just done, where he played the second lead. When this script came to him, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse,his agency said it would cement him as more than just a pretty face, that this was his ticket to becoming a household name in acting.

But the moment he stepped on set, he felt it. That eerie pull. 

That flicker of déjà vu. And then he heard the voice. Smooth. Familiar.

“Didn’t think I’d see your face here.” Satoru turned—and there he was. Geto Suguru.

It had been years. Years since they had last spoken, years since they had laughed together, plotted together, ruled their high school together. And now, here he was, standing in front of Satoru, dressed in costume, script in hand, just like him.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Satoru muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

Suguru smirked, tilting his head just slightly, the way he always did when he was amused. “What? You think you’re the only one who could make it big?”

Satoru rolled his bright blue eyes, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something unfamiliar clawing at his chest. Warmth. He had missed him. Even if he’d never admit it out loud. The past had never really let go of him, after all. And apparently, it never let go of Suguru either.

Satoru scoffed, shaking his head as he looked Suguru up and down. “Tch. Didn’t peg you for the acting type.”

Suguru’s smirk only grew, effortlessly slipping back into the same ease they once had, like no time had passed at all. “And I didn’t peg you for someone who follows directions, but here you are, holding a script.”

Satoru clicked his tongue, flicking the script in his hand. “Who says I’m following them?”

Suguru huffed out a quiet laugh, shoving his own script under his arm. “Some things never change.”

The words settled between them, heavier than they should have.

Because some things had changed.

Too much time had passed. Too many things had gone unsaid.

And yet, standing here now after years apart and now together face-to-face, Gojo Satoru felt the past pressing against his ribs, demanding to be acknowledged. But neither of them said it. Not yet. They knew better than to open those can of worms right now at work.

Instead, Suguru cocked a brow, shifting his weight onto one foot. “So? Are you in this for real, or are you just here to piss off whoever’s in charge?”

Satoru grinned, all sharp edges and mischief. “Can’t it be both?”

Suguru let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course.”

The tension of the past still hummed between them, but before Satoru could throw out another quip, a murmur rippled through the room. New voices. New energy. Satoru’s ears picked up on it before he fully registered what was happening as those whispers, low and curious, voices murmuring came just a little too eagerly.

"That guy’s here."

"You mean the veteran actor, high above on the cast list? Yeah, I heard he finally showed up."

"Took him long enough."

“I thought he wasn’t going to accept! Isn’t he too big of an actor?”

“Well, I heard his kids liked the manga. So he said yes.”

Gojo Satoru exchanged a glance with Suguru, the amusement in his friend’s lilac eyes shifting into curiosity. He didn’t know who this guy is, well at least because he hadn’t worked with him just yet. But then someone called out his name, and the second it reached Gojo Satoru’s ears, everything inside him stilled.

"Nanami Kento, yeah, that’s him!" someone else muttered. "You know, the one from 7/3 entertainment? The biggest in the country! The guy’s supposed to be a genius. No wasted effort, precise, focused—completely different from the usual loudmouths we get here."

Satoru clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “Oi, I can hear you, y’know.”

The group of staff whispering nearby stiffened, but one had the guts to glance at him and smirk. “Yeah, we know.”

“Maybe you should shut up before I report your behaviour as unprofessional.” Gojo says to them, quieting them down.

Suguru chuckled under his breath. “Sounds like you’ve already got competition.”

Satoru huffed, flipping his script open lazily. “Please. No one outshines me.”

Though it wasn’t obvious, Satoru could feel the blood rushing in his ears. That name he had only ever seen in passing, in small interviews, in articles that always started with the same words. He hated it. He hated him.

“He’s the husband of that famously well renowned scientific philanthropist!” One of the other staff, who was just walking in, was squealing. “I don’t know her name, but I know him! Guys, isn’t he handsome?”

He frowned at those words. He didn’t want to hear the rest of it. The world around him suddenly evaporated. All Satoru could feel in him was genuine grievance, his blood boiling. All he could see was the man standing a few feet away from him. His blue eyes narrowed.

Gojo Satoru barely registered the rest of the conversation people were making all around him. The voices around him became little more than background noise, a dull hum against the rush of blood in his ears. Nanami Kento.

The name alone had already irritated him, but that—husband—that word sent something hot and unpleasant curling in his chest. His fingers clenched tightly around the edges of his script, creasing the paper.

"I don’t know her name, but I know him!"

That sentence alone nearly made him scoff aloud. Of course they don’t know her name. Because that’s how people were. They saw what was convenient. They chose the parts of the story they wanted to acknowledge.

And apparently, the part where you had built your own legacy, where you had worked and sacrificed and given away more than you ever got in return, that didn’t matter as much as the man standing in front of him now.

A man Satoru already despised without even knowing him. 

Suguru, ever perceptive, must have noticed the shift in his expression because he leaned in slightly, voice low. "You good?"

Satoru didn’t answer.

His bright burning gaze was locked on Nanami, standing a few feet away, exuding that air of quiet composure that only made Satoru’s irritation flare hotter. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. How could it ever be fair?

You who had given so much to the world, you who had shaped his entire future, you who had stood by him when no one else had were now being reduced to a nameless mention in passing, a footnote in someone else’s story. A footnote in your husband’s story.

And Satoru hated it.

Hated everything about him.

Before he realized it, he was already moving.

Satoru held the handshake for a second longer than necessary, testing, searching. Just waiting for some kind of crack in Nanami Kento’s composure. But there was nothing. Just that same, steady gaze. Unbothered. Detached.

Like he wasn’t even worth reacting to. Satoru could feel his teeth grinding behind his ever-present smile. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like him. But he had played this game before, so he kept up the act, slipping effortlessly into the role of the easygoing junior.

“Man, it’s kinda crazy, huh?” He let out a breathy chuckle, tilting his head slightly. “I always figured we’d cross paths someday, but I didn’t think it’d be here.”

Nanami regarded him for a moment, expression unreadable. “You know of me?”

Oh, he was going to play it like that, huh?

Satoru clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand as he stepped back. “What, you think I don’t read? You’re pretty famous, y’know. Brilliant actor. Great reputation.” He paused for a beat before adding, “Husband of a certain famous scientific philanthropist…..I think her name is [name] [last name], wasn’t it?”

Nanami looked at him, bewildered for a while. But he gathered himself and smiled. “My wife no longer uses her maiden name. But I’m glad you know of Mrs. Nanami’s endeavours.”

That irritated him a lot. “Oh, of course, who wouldn’t, Nanami–senpai! I attended Tokyo University like her. Same department too.”

“Is that so? That sounds good. I’m sure she will be happy to hear about it.”

“Of course, it would make her feel glad that your kouhai knows her efforts for the world.” He smiles at him, tighter than ever before.

For the first time, he saw something flicker in Nanami’s expression. It was brief, barely perceptible. But it was there. And Satoru felt something sharp twist in his chest. Because that meant Nanami knew.

He knew exactly who Satoru was talking about. He knew exactly what he had just implied. And still, he didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look uncomfortable. Instead, he simply adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and replied evenly. “I appreciate the compliment.”

Satoru’s fingers twitched. “Of course, Nanami–senpai. Send my regards to her.”

Nanami gave him the same smile he wore on his lips. “Of course, Gojo–san. I’m sorry if I must cut our conversation for a little while. I have to go meet the other staff.”

“Oh, by all means, Nanami–senpai.”

Suguru, watching from the sidelines, let out a low whistle. “Damn, he’s good.”

Satoru shot him a glare before plastering on another saccharine smile. “Well, let’s get along, yeah? Nanami–senpai.”

Nanami gave a polite nod. “Of course, Gojo–san. Let’s work well together.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. Gojo Satoru turned away first, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stalked toward Suguru, his fake smile dropping the moment Nanami was out of sight.

“I hate him.” he muttered under his breath.

Suguru smirked. “Yeah. I could tell.”

Satoru’s jaw ached from how hard he had been clenching it. The entire interaction had felt like a match, a careful spar between two people who knew exactly how to play the game—who knew exactly what wasn’t being said.

And Nanami Kento had won.

Effortlessly.

Satoru could still hear the measured tone of his voice, the practiced ease with which he had responded. There had been no cracks in his composure, no hesitation in his words. Even when Satoru had practically thrown her name between them like a live grenade, he had remained completely unshaken.

That pissed him off more than anything.

His fingers flexed at his sides before curling into fists again, his nails pressing into his palms.

Suguru, walking beside him, snorted under his breath. “Relax, Satoru. You’re about two seconds away from blowing a blood vessel.”

Satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the tension. “He’s so fake.” he muttered, voice dripping with distaste. “Did you see that? The guy didn’t even blink.”

Suguru hummed in agreement, tilting his head slightly as he glanced back toward where Nanami had disappeared. “Yeah. That’s years of practice, man.” He smirked. “Gotta admit, though—he handled you better than most people do.”

Satoru scoffed. “Yeah? Let’s see how long he can keep it up.”

Suguru chuckled but didn’t comment. He knew Satoru too well.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

THIRTY SIX YEAR OLD ACTOR GOJO SATORU KNEW ALL ABOUT THE SECRETS. But so did everyone else. Everyone kept talking about it left and right. It was in hushed whispers at the bars, murmured conversations over coffee, and knowing glances exchanged in crowded rooms. The scandal had spread like wildfire, unstoppable and all-consuming.

But despite the way they all feigned shock, despite the polite gasps and the disapproving shakes of their heads, not a single one of them was truly surprised. Because they all knew. Behind those shocked faces they put on their faces, they all knew.

They had always known, in some way or another. Some had turned a blind eye, while others had carefully looked the other way, pretending not to see the cracks forming long before they splintered wide open. But they weren’t eager to say that shit out loud. Not because they cared about Nanami Kento, not because they thought it was a tragedy. No, because it would mean looking in the mirror and seeing their own sins reflected back at them.

They had their own affairs, their own secrets buried beneath perfectly polished lives. None of them were innocent. Behind all the kindness they showed in public, behind the poised smiles and well-mannered words, there was something ugly lurking beneath the surface. Self-preservation disguised as moral superiority. They condemned him in private but would never dare speak too loudly, lest their own skeletons rattle too close to the surface.

But Gojo Satoru, he didn’t give a damn about any of that.

Gojo Satoru had never been one for morality in the way others saw it. Right and wrong had always been concepts that bent to his will, things he decided for himself. If it came down to it, he would choose his people over everything else. And you, you were his person now.

He didn’t care whether the scandal ruined Nanami Kento. Whether the man’s reputation was torn apart, his name dragged through the mud until it was nothing but a whispered warning among society’s elite. He didn’t care if Nanami lost everything, if people looked at him with disdain, if his legacy turned into nothing more than a cautionary tale of betrayal and selfishness.

Nanami Kento could have burned for all Satoru cared.

What mattered to him, in the end, was you.

What mattered was whether the wreckage left behind would consume you whole, whether the weight of it would press down on you until you couldn’t breathe. Whether it would leave you broken in ways no one else could see.

And now, years later, it was all out.

The whispers had turned into full-blown conversations, the judgment had spread like wildfire, and you were caught in the center of it all—left to pick up the pieces of a life you no longer recognized.

Satoru saw it in the way you carried yourself. The exhaustion in your eyes, the way your shoulders curled inward, as if you were trying to make yourself smaller, as if you wanted to disappear altogether. He saw the way your fingers trembled slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your breath hitched when the silence stretched too long.

You were hurting. 

That was unacceptable.

If it were up to him, he would have razed the world to the ground to keep you from feeling this way. He would have turned every judgmental whisper into a scream, made every onlooker regret ever daring to look at you with anything but reverence. He would have made sure that the world never dared to hurt you again.

He would start a war for you if it came down to it.

He would ruin everything if it meant that, in the end, you could smile again. That you could be happy again. Because the world had taken too much from you already. And if it refused to give back what it stole—then he would take it back himself.

And that’s what he has been doing for a while now.

The horrible scandal of Nanami Kento’s long-time affairs had finally come to light just a few months ago. But with the powder keg of the media lighting the way, the news spread like wildfire, and with it came the whispers, the stares, the quiet judgment that hung in the air like smoke.

You found yourself in a secluded park in Tokyo, far away from the murmurs of the city. The sky was grey, the air crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of rain. You sat alone on a weathered wooden bench, arms wrapped around yourself as if to hold everything in place. But the weight of it all pressed too heavily against your chest, and before you realized it, silent tears had begun to slip down your face.

The crunch of approaching footsteps barely registered until a familiar presence settled beside you. A quiet moment passed before a handkerchief, white and neatly folded, appeared in your periphery. You hesitated before looking up, eyes red-rimmed and weary.

“Why are you here?” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Gojo Satoru smiled, an expression that wasn’t quite teasing but not entirely gentle either. “I took a walk.”

A scoff left your lips weak and watery. You took the handkerchief from him and dabbed softly at your damp cheeks, the fabric soft against your skin. The sight of you crying and hurting broke him inside. 

“I’m sorry. This is just….” you murmured. “I was just—taking a walk, and then—” You gestured vaguely, at the empty space around you, at the quiet solitude you had craved until it swallowed you whole. “And now I’m crying.”

Satoru shook his head. “It’s fine. Take all the time you need.”

The wind rustled through the trees, sending a shower of golden leaves to the ground. You stared at them as they scattered across the pavement, as fleeting as everything else. Satoru didn’t say anything else, didn’t press or pry. He simply sat there beside you, watching the world turn as you slowly pieced yourself back together.

He watched you closely, the way your shoulders curled inward, the way your fingers clenched around the handkerchief as if trying to hold yourself together. He saw the exhaustion in your eyes, the weight pressing down on you, and it made something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

Satoru Gojo was not the kind of man who fixated on things like guilt or grief. But when he looked at you, he found himself caring in a way that unsettled him. He didn’t care about Nanami Kento’s downfall. He cared about making sure you didn’t fall with him. 

You inhaled shakily, the crisp autumn air filling your lungs. It felt sharp, grounding, but not enough to ease the weight pressing against your ribs. You tried to calm yourself down but you could feel everything overwhelm you over and over again.

“I should be angry all the time. I know I feel it deep inside me.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I should be screaming, breaking things—something. But I’m just… tired.”

Satoru hummed in acknowledgment, tilting his head slightly. “Anger takes energy.” he said. “And you’ve spent too much of that just keeping yourself together.”

You let out a breathy laugh, humorless but not entirely empty. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The silence stretched between you again, but it wasn’t suffocating. It was steady, unhurried, like the wind threading through the trees. Gojo Satoru never rushed you. That was the thing about him. He was the strongest, the fastest, the sharpest from what you heard from everyone. 

And yet somehow, as he sat beside you, all you knew was that he knew how to slow down when it mattered. He knew how to feel the grief of someone who doesn’t know what to do at their own pace, while he sits there with them.

Your fingers smoothed over the handkerchief in your lap, tracing the embroidered edges. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” you muttered, voice barely above the wind. “To grieve something that wasn’t even real.”

Satoru shifted, resting his forearms against his knees. He glanced at you, his usual smugness absent, replaced by something quieter. “It was real to you, [name]-san. I mean, twenty five years is a lot.” he said simply. “That’s enough. So don’t think its foolish for you to grieve.”

You swallowed, pressing your lips together to stop them from trembling. That was the cruel part, wasn’t it? It had been real to you. The version of Nanami Kento you had trusted, had believed in — he wasn’t there anymore. Because you knew he hadn’t been truly real.

And yet, he had been real in your mind all this time, in your memories for nearly twenty–five years of your life. And now, that version of him was gone, leaving behind nothing but the cold reality of what he had truly been.

You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before exhaling through your nose. “How do you do it?”

Satoru raised a brow. “Do what?”

“Not let things get to you.” you said. “You act like nothing ever really touches you.”

For the first time since he sat beside you, Satoru looked away. His gaze flickered to the sky, to the golden leaves dancing in the breeze. “I don't,” he admitted. “I just don’t let people see it when it does.”

You turned to him fully now, surprised by his honesty. The world only ever saw Gojo Satoru as untouchable, a man who laughed in the face of pain, who carried his burdens with infuriating ease. But here, in this quiet little corner of Tokyo, you caught a glimpse of something else.

“Then why are you here?” you asked, your voice softer now.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and something in his expression shifted. “Because you let me see it.” he said simply. “And I figured I could do the same.”

The wind picked up again, a chill brushing against your skin. This time, Gojo Satoru moved . He was reaching out, hesitating for only a moment before pulling the scarf from around his neck and draping it over your shoulders. He hesitates for a moment before wrapping it on you.

“Take all the time you need.” he repeated. “But don’t do it alone.”

You looked down at the scarf, the warmth of it settling around you. Slowly, you pulled it tighter.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel quite so cold.

“I wanna take a walk.” You whispered to him.

“Then, I’ll join you.” He says to you, with a soft smile on his lips. “Come on.”

You eventually stood up from your position.

The two of you walked in silence, the rhythm of your steps uneven at first, but slowly syncing into something steady. The late afternoon light filtered through the thinning branches, casting dappled patterns on the pavement. A chill hung in the air, and you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, gripping the lapels as if to ward off more than just the cold.

Satoru walked beside you, hands in his pockets, his presence a quiet but constant force. “Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked, his voice measured, free of expectation.

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around his handkerchief. The scandal had unraveled like a slow, agonizing wound. The world had always seen Nanami Kento as a man of honor, unwavering in his principles. But now, that image has shattered. Affairs. Years of them. All the women that go through those hotel doors.

Secrets hidden so well that even those closest to him had never suspected a thing. Yet you knew. And you had held it all together. He was your husband. He was all you knew. He was your only safe zone in a world that tries to thrust you forward into the wiles of danger.

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

Satoru hummed, as if considering. “You don’t have to say anything, you know.”

But there was something in his voice, something knowing, as if he understood the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “I thought I knew him very well.” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

“Not all people show their true face.” Satoru huffs softly. “Sometimes it takes time to really know them.”

“All this time, I thought…” The sentence trailed off, unfinished, swallowed by the ache in your chest.

Satoru exhaled, tilting his head back slightly as he walked. “People aren’t always who we want them to be.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “That’s a poetic way of saying I was an idiot.”

“Not an idiot. Never that. You’re too smart for that.” he corrected. “ But even smart people can lose with people they trusted.”

You stopped walking, your gaze fixed on the path ahead. Fallen leaves scattered at your feet, swept along by the wind. Slowly, you turned to look at Satoru. His usual carefree expression was absent, replaced by something softer.

“You don’t have to say that.” you said.

“I’m not.” His tone was firm. “I want to defend you. Even from the depths of your darkness.”

The words settled between you, heavier than the autumn air. A lump formed in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might cry again. But instead, you took a breath, deep and slow, and nodded. Satoru, ever patient, simply resumed walking. You followed.

“Where are we going?” you asked after a while.

He grinned, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “No clue. But I figure if we keep walking, we’ll end up somewhere.”

You shook your head, but for the first time in days, the corners of your lips lifted, just slightly. Maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t have to know where you were going just yet. Maybe, for now, moving forward was enough.

And so, you walked.

The two of you wandered through the quiet streets, the city humming softly around you. Tokyo never truly slept, but here, away from the main roads and blaring lights, everything felt muted. It was like the world had given you a small pocket of peace.

The wind carried the scent of autumn, crisp and tinged with the faint aroma of street food from a distant stall. Your steps were slow, unhurried, as if neither of you wanted to break whatever fragile moment had settled between you.

After a while, Satoru spoke. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You shot him a sidelong glance. “Says the guy who barely stops talking.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “Fair. But I mean it. You keep everything in here—” He tapped his temple lightly. “And in here.” His hand hovered over his chest.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “Not everything needs to be said.”

“Maybe. But sometimes, saying things out loud makes them a little less heavy.” He stretched his arms behind his head, tilting his face up toward the sky. “That’s why I talk so much. The words don’t pile up that way.”

You hummed, considering. You weren’t used to this at all. Someone trying to understand you, someone willing to sit in your silence without pushing too hard. Then, without warning, Satoru stopped in front of a small vending machine tucked into the corner of an alleyway.

He turned to you, expression unreadable. “Pick something.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Pick something.” he repeated, gesturing toward the machine. “Doesn’t matter what. Just choose.”

You frowned but stepped forward anyway, scanning the rows of drinks. It was full of those massive cans of coffee, bottles of tea, fruit juice in bright packaging. You hovered over a random selection and pressed the button. The machine whirred, and a moment later, a small can of hot milk tea dropped into the slot below.

Satoru went ahead and carefully retrieved it for you, the warmth seeping through his fingers as he handed it over to you with a small smile on his face. Then, he pressed a button himself, and a second can clattered into the tray.

“You’re being weird about this.” you muttered, accepting the drink.

“I’m always weird.” He cracked his open with a quiet pop. “But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

He took a slow sip, then met your gaze. “You didn’t think about it.” he said simply. “You just chose.”

You frowned, staring at the can in your hands. “And?”

“And…..” he continued as he closed his drink with its cap. “Sometimes, that’s all you need to do. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. You don’t have to know where you’re going, or what’s next. Just—” He gestured at the vending machine. “Pick something. Keep moving. One thing at a time.”

You looked at him then, at the way his usual arrogance had softened into something quieter, something just for you. And for the first time in days, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d be okay. You would be alright again.

You popped open the can and took a sip. 

It was warm. Sweet. Comforting.

Satoru grinned. “See? Not so bad.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered.

You stared down at the can of milk tea in your hands, the warmth seeping into your fingers. A thought crossed your mind, and you huffed softly, shaking your head.

“I should’ve paid for all of this.” you muttered. “I’m older than you, after all.”

Satoru stopped mid-sip, blinking at you over the rim of his can before bursting into laughter. It was loud, unrestrained, the kind that made passing strangers glance your way. You frowned, watching him with mild irritation as he wiped at the corner of his brightly lit eye.

“What’s so funny?” you asked.

He grinned, rocking back on his heels. “You. Acting like that makes a difference.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” you argued. “Seniority matters.”

“Oh, come on.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Can you let me be a gentleman for once?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You? A gentleman?”

“Shocking, I know you’ve seen it on the TV.” he said, smirking. “But I have my moments.”

You stared at him, the teasing glint in his eyes, the effortless way he carried himself, and sighed. “Fine. Just this once.”

Satoru gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “Oh no, what an honor! I’ll cherish this moment forever.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow, but your lips twitched despite yourself. He was ridiculous, but in a way that made the weight in your chest just a little easier to bear. He bumped your shoulder in return, his grin softening. 

“See? It’s not so bad letting someone take care of you once in a while.”

You didn’t answer right away, instead looking down at the can in your hands. Maybe he was right. Maybe, for once, it was okay not to carry everything alone. “…Thanks.” you said quietly.

Satoru didn’t make a big deal out of it, didn’t tease or push. He just took another sip of his drink and smiled. “Anytime.”

“I appreciate that.” You whisper back to him. 

And so, you kept walking, the night stretching ahead of you, open and uncertain—but somehow, a little less lonely. But at the very least, it’s not a road that makes it hard for you to breathe. Instead, there was warmth. There was tenderness. And there was care.

After nearly half of your life, you found someone who understands.

You finally made a genuinely good friend.

“You’re my first friend in maybe twenty years, you know?” 

Satoru looked at you, surprised. “That’s how long it’s been?”

“Well, when you’re a mom and a wife, your life revolves around them.” You sighed, drinking your drink carefully. “I don’t think I’ve had a life in a very long time. Well, one that’s reflective of myself, at least.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, quiet but heavy. "You're my first friend in maybe twenty years, you know?"

Satoru stilled, his usual playful demeanor momentarily giving way to something softer. He turned to you, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. “That’s how long it’s been?”

You let out a slow breath, staring down at the can in your hands, the condensation slick against your fingers. "Well, when you're a mom and a wife, your life revolves around them."

The confession sat between you, raw and unfiltered. You hadn't meant to say it, but now that you have, it felt like the most honest thing you'd spoken in a long time. It was like you hadn’t been yourself for a long time.

"I don’t think I’ve had a life in a very long time." You took a careful sip of your drink, the warmth grounding you. "Well, one that’s reflective of myself, at least."

Satoru didn’t speak right away, and for once, you were grateful. He didn’t offer meaningless platitudes or empty reassurances. He just listened. You exhaled, rubbing your thumb over the rigid aluminum of the can.

 “You spend so much time making sure everyone else is okay—your kid, your husband. You wake up every morning thinking about what they need, what will make them happy. And somewhere along the way, you forget that you had a life before them. That you were a whole person before you became someone’s wife, someone’s mother.”

Satoru hummed, tilting his head slightly. "And now?"

You hesitated. "Now… I don’t know." You gave a short, humorless laugh. "I’m still trying to remember who I was before all of this."

Satoru took a sip of his drink, watching you carefully. “Then maybe that’s the whole point.”

You raised an eyebrow. "What is?"

"Finding yourself again, like this." he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Not as a wife, not as a mom. Just… you.”

The thought settled deep in your chest, unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Satoru nudged you lightly. "And lucky for you, you’ve got your first friend in twenty years to help."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Yeah, because you’re so qualified for the job."

“Hey, I’m an excellent friend,” he said, grinning. "And, as of today, your official bad-decision supervisor. So, if you ever want to do something a little reckless, a little fun—you know who to call."

You rolled your eyes but found yourself smiling despite everything. "Noted."

And just like that, the world felt a little less lonely.

Yet if you could have known, you would hear something else.

You would hear someone’s heart skipping a beat in joy.

epilogue

Nanami Kento wasn’t the kind of man to let emotions overtake him. He prided himself on restraint, on control. That’s what he always has been. Measured, precise. He liked thinking that he was a clear cut above the rest. That’s what allowed him to be what he was after all this time.

Even when the scandal broke, when his name was dragged through the mud, when the whispers turned to accusations and the life he had so carefully built came crashing down—he had endured it all with quiet resignation.

He had accepted that he was the villain in this story.

But nothing had prepared him for this.

The photo was simple, just an ordinary snapshot, but to him, it felt like a knife twisting in his gut. You, sitting on a park bench, looking at something out of frame with a quiet, almost hesitant smile. The late autumn afternoon sun caught the strands of your hair, casting a glow over your bright beautiful features. 

And beside you, Gojo Satoru, wearing that ever-present smirk, his body angled toward you as if he had been caught mid-conversation. His arm rested casually along the back of the bench, close but not too close. Just enough to make it clear that he was comfortable beside you.

Just enough to make Nanami Kento realize that he no longer had that privilege. At least not without you looking at him with such disgust. At least not without you pushing him away from you, caging him with the distance that never once existed in these past twenty–five years.

His breath felt shallow. He tried to convince himself it was just a coincidence. Just a fleeting moment captured in time. But the longer he stared, the harder it became to ignore the way his chest tightened.

He knew you. Knew the way your smiles had dimmed over the years, knew the exhaustion that had settled into your bones from carrying the weight of a life that had begun to feel more like a duty than a love story. He had seen the way you had started to shrink, piece by piece, until the person he fell in love with felt like a ghost within the home you once shared.

And yet, here you were, looking like someone he hadn’t seen in years. Someone lighter. Someone freer. Someone who no longer belonged to him. Someone who is slowly falling out of love with him.

His hand curled into a fist beside the phone, jaw tightening as a thousand memories flashed through his mind. The long nights he had spent making excuses. The lies. The guilt. The quiet moments where he had felt you slipping away and had done nothing to stop it.

And now, Satoru was the one beside you.

Nanami had always seen him as reckless, arrogant, a man who treated life like a game. And yet, in this single image, Satoru looked at peace. And worse—so did you.

A bitter taste filled his mouth. He had no right to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the anguish from settling deep in his chest, pressing against his ribs like an unbearable weight. He exhaled shakily and turned the phone face down on the desk.

There was nothing he could do. No words he could say that would erase what had been done. No way to go back in time and fix what had already shattered. All he could do was sit there, alone in the silence, realizing that the thing he had feared most had finally come to pass.

You were learning to smile again.

And it’s not because of him.

It was all his fault, it was all his doing.

But he wasn’t going to just sit back and let it happen.

Nanami Kento had always believed himself to be a rational man, a man who weighed his choices carefully, a man who never let emotions dictate his actions. He had convinced himself that he was in control, that he could accept the consequences of his own mistakes with dignity.

But this was different. It was one thing to lose his reputation. One thing to become the subject of hushed conversations and pointed stares. He could endure all of that with the quiet resignation of a man who knew he had done wrong.

But losing you?

That was something else entirely.

He wasn’t going to let it happen.

His fingers clenched around the edge of his desk, the tension running through his knuckles, through his entire body. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He knew he had hurt you, but you were supposed to be his. You were supposed to be the one thing in his life that didn’t slip through his fingers.

And yet, there you were beside Gojo Satoru, smiling like you hadn’t smiled in years. Nanami gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t let it happen.

He had spent twenty-five years loving you. Building a life with you. Living a life where you both were content and happy with your children. His mistakes doesn’t mean he was going to lose you. You said it yourself, you would never leave him. You would only stay with him.

And if Gojo thought he could just step in and replace him, if he thought he could steal you away, that he could make you forget, then he was sorely mistaken. Nanami Kento had fought for a lot of things in his life. His career, his dignity, his carefully built reputation.

But none of it had ever mattered as much as you. And he would fight for you. Even if it meant tearing the world apart. Even if it meant going to war. Even if it meant becoming someone you could never forgive.

Because he could endure being hated by you. He could endure all of the silence, the grief, the suffering. He could endure your anger, your resentment, your rage. But he could not and would not ever endure losing you.

Not to Gojo Satoru.

Not to anyone.

Not ever in this life.

It was till death do part, after.

[fuctacles]

<< sixteen | 😺 | eighteen >>

Wayne, while being the best uncle he's ever had, was also the worst. And not because he’s the only one Eddie knows; he'd beat any uncle Ben or Sam in a landslide. 

(Actually, if you do count Uncle Sam, Wayne might not be the worst.)

"She's a sad lady, isn't she?" he asks out of nowhere during their drive to the hospital. "Still here while everyone she knows move away."

Eddie frowns at the yellow light in front of him. 

"You're the one who told me to talk to her," he points out. He slows to a break at the intersection, the light now red, and turns towards his uncle. "Is this a ploy to keep me in Hawkins? You want me to marry and settle down?" He raises his eyebrows. As if the same fantasy didn't run through his mind at least once a day since meeting Steph. 

"Hell naw." Wayne grins at him. "I want you to live a life of your own. I know you hate this place." 

"It hated me first," Eddie reminds him.

"It's not for a wild thing like you," he agrees with a nod. "Hawkins is for old farts like me. The thing is—Green."

Eddie quickly shifts back into gear before the cars behind him start honking. 

"Stephanie seems to think she's an old fart too," Wayne finishes his thought. 

"Yeah, I've noticed," Eddie grumbles. "And what do you want me to do? Steal her away into the big city?" he jokes. 

Wayne's answering silence grows heavy in the van.

"She's a grown woman, I'm not going to uproot her life," Eddie argues a point his uncle didn't make. It's not that he doesn't want to, more like he doesn't think he has the power to do it. Besides, they just got off together once, it's way too early to make plans like that. He has been daydreaming about them, yes, but he's painfully aware of the difference between fantasy and reality. 

"You know, Jim got really into gardening recently," Wayne says apropos of nothing. 

"Okay, go on…" Eddie nods slowly, patiently.

"He told me some plants have to be uprooted to grow properly. You know, when the pot is too small? Because the roots grow too, and they need space."

The van has finally reached the hospital, so Eddie waits until they're parked to turn towards his uncle. 

"Did you just use a plant metaphor on me?" he asks, baffled. 

"I simply shared some gardening wisdom from a friend," Wayne shrugs.

"Which you just though of."

"You're the one who used the word 'uprooting'," he fires back. 

Eddie pulls the key out of the ignition with a tired sigh.

"You know, I kind of miss the fishing metaphors. They were less convincing." 

Wayne raises his eyebrows. 

"This is the rudest thing you've said to me since you told me the trout was disgusting."

"It's a terrible, stinky fish and you know it!" Eddie protests as they exit the van. 

"How is Wayne's leg?" Steph asks later that day.

"Surprisingly well. The doctor said it healed better than expected and he'll probably be cleared for work the next week."

"I'm guessing he's happy to hear that?"

"Oh, yeah," Eddie snorts. He angles his head so Steph's scratches get where he wants them. "He's been walking up the walls for the past few days, and he hated all the movies the employee at video rental recommended to him. If he doesn't go back to work soon, he'll make it everyone's problem."

Steph hums thoughtfully.

"I get it. Don't you feel restless, too? Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Huh?" Eddie blinks his eyes open. He hasn't realized when he even closed them. "The opposite, actually. I don't have to rush anywhere, there are no midterms; I can kick back and relax, forget the responsibilities and just be Wayne's favorite nephew again." He smiles. "It's like I'm putting my life on pause for a few days. And it's kind of terrifying how easy it is."

Steph remains silent, so he takes a cautious glance towards her. She's not looking at him or the television; her eyes are distant, focused on her thoughts. 

"Everything is slow and old here, isn't it?" she muses.

"I swear to all that's unholy, if it's another opening to remind me how 'ancient' you are..."

Steph rolls her eyes and dips down to shut him up with a kiss. Unfortunately, it works perfectly in her favor. There's probably no argument against him that she couldn't win. All she has to do is press her hand against Eddie's chest, pinning him to the couch, and he can be easily persuaded into anything. 

He kisses and licks back, trying to keep up with her, but with the last remains of a logical thought, grasps at her hand to slow her down. They separate with a wet smack, but don't move more than an inch away.

"Do you want—?"

"I'm taking you—"

They both smile and shuffle away to properly look at each other. 

"Ladies first," Eddie gestures with a nod of his head. 

"Do you want to stay the night?" she blurts out quickly, with little hesitance. 

His jaw drops open and his heart stops in his chest. 

"Like... on the couch?" he asks to clarify. The other option to good to be true.

Steph rolls her eyes, and it should be embarrassing how much he likes when she does it, even at his own expense. 

"In my bed, idiot. Just to sleep, of course."

"Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming." He pinches his arm, and Steph does too, much harder. He yelps, making Arwen look at him with distaste. "Hey!"

"Do you want to?" she presses. 

"Of course I do!" he bristles. "With you, I'd take celibacy vows," he says reverently, grabbing her hand in his. 

She raises her eyebrows, and then pointedly looks him up and down.

"With you, I'd rather not."

Eddie grins despite his blush.

"What did you want to say?" she asks, pulling him back from his salacious thoughts. 

It takes him a second to reel his thoughts back on track.

"Oh. I'm taking you on a date tomorrow." He takes a glance at the clock above the TV. "Yeah, tomorrow." 

"You're taking me?" She raises an eyebrow. 

At that, Eddie quickly slides off the couch and onto his knees, her hand still clasped between his palms.

"Oh, pardon me, princess. Would you do me the honor of going out on a date with me tomorrow?" he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. 

Her eyes are wide and startled, and the first thing she can even manage out of her mouth is a laugh.

"You're such a dork," she murmurs. "Yeah, it's fine, I guess." She shrugs nonchalantly. 

"Fine?" Eddie bristles, frowning. "What do you mean, fine?"

"I mean yes, you can take me on a date," she says, straightening her back to give herself a more regal posture. "I'll allow it."

He grins, and proceeds to press kisses up the length of her arm, slowly crawling back up onto the couch. 

"Thank you for giving me this privilege, your majesty. A peasant like me, ha!" He throws his head back, briefly startling Steph into another laugh. "The town folk will not believe their eyes, a simple man like me, allowed by the side of a queen." Eddie presses a final kiss to her shoulder, and sits back. As Steph stares at him, he realizes his own outburst. 

"Too much?" he asks with a sheepish smile, fierce flush taking over his cheeks. 

"Just a little," Steph admits, pinching her fingers close together. Her face is tinted pink as well. "You know..." she trails off, falling against the back of the couch, their fingers still entwined. "I hated being called a king in high school, but... Queen sounds so much better." She lets her mouth curl into a small smile. 

 "Like something precious," Eddie catches on, leaning sideways so they can face each other. "Powerful yet feminine."

"Yeah." She nods absentmindedly. 

"How about princess?" he asks next. 

Guessing from how red Steph's face has gotten, she must have liked it. Eddie grins. 

"Well then, princess, I truly hope a humble bard like me can at least make you laugh. I may not know swordsmanship, but I know my way around a lute." He waggles his eyebrows. 

Steph pushes him away with a hand to his face and he falls backwards, cackling. 

"Didn't you say you were bisexual?" she asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Uh... Yeah?"

"So you should know both the lute and swordsmanship.... you know?" Steph extends both her index fingers and crosses them, miming a battle as if they were tiny swords. 

Eddie stares at her blankly. 

"Are those supposed to be penises?" he asks, flabbergasted. 

"Yes." She nods confidently, putting her hands back in her lap. 

"You're perfect, holy shit." Eddie scrambles to sit back up. "You compared dick to a sword and I'm supposed to not marry you?"

She scoffs. 

"Keep at it and you'll be sleeping on the couch." 

Eddie clutches at his chest.

"Already feeling like a married man. Be still, my heart!"

"Yep, it's couch for you." She stands up with finality. 

But when he holds her wrist, she goes back down easily, sinking into a kiss. Maybe the power to win arguments went both ways.

"Fine," she folds. "But we're sharing with Garfield."

"Well, where else would he sleep?"

ko-fi | Steddie masterpost

tags: @wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore  @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16 @ellietheasexylibrarian @sadiea20

[star-suh]

College Boys Just Wanna Have Fun

Huang Guanheng x Male Reader x Kim Matthew

cw: there are obsessive behaviour undertones from hendery towards the reader.

—

yn was running late towards his art classes, “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” he murmured –concerned– when he was some blocks away from the entrance he stopped to pull out a bottle of water of his backpack, unknowingly a little box of tacks fell to the floor, “ah shit today's my lucky day” yn said sarcastically, then suddenly someone in a bike passes through all the scattered tacks, some of them stabbed the front wheel of it, “what the fuck?” the guy gets off the bike to see what happened, finding out that the tacks were the cause of the damage on his wheel. he looks back looking at a yn who tries to act cool, acting as if the other guy wasn't talking to him.

“hey you, your fucking tacks damage my wheels, you need to pay the repairs”, “sorry sorry we'll talk later i'm running late please” yn tries to run away but the guy stopped him, grabbing him by his wrist. “guess what, i'm running late too and it's your fucking fault”.

“aww come on man. i'll give you my phone, you write your number there and i call you later”, the guy did as he was told, “see ya later then” yn waved and resumed his running. the guy stood there, a smirk appearing on his face “such a fool ynnie” he then remembered he was running late to his class too and started to run too.

yn opens the door and goes straight towards his art teacher “nice mr. ln once again late to the class”, “sorry mr. kim something happened on my way here. may i go to the bathroom i don't wanna be here all sweaty and sticky”, “sure but don't take too long, also you have a mark for coming late”, yn turns on his heels leaving the room, mr. kim's eyes never leave yn's clothed ass. the door creaks open again, “guess today is coming-late-to-the-class-day huh?”, “sorry mr. kim won't happen again”, “yeah right mr. huang, go take a seat, you have a mark for coming late too”.

the art class when like any other class, yn forgot about the problem he caused with his tacks earlier this day so he just walked towards his home as if nothing happened.

the next day yn walked towards college again when someone approached him, it was the same guy of yesterday, he cursed mentally at himself remembering how he didn't call him. “you bastard you didn't called me yesterday”, he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, his sweaty forehead and arms –covered in bulging veins– the sight making yn drift off and not listen to whatever the guy said, “hey are you listening to me?” he said, annoyed, “aishh what the fuck is wrong with you, first you damage my bike and now you want to get away without doing something to fix it” he sighs, “i'm going late again today and he'sgonna put another mark to me, it's your fault.. with my bike i would've come in time for classes”. the guilt catching up to yn, the feeling gnawing at him, “let's go to your class, i'll talk to your teacher and take responsibility for it, don't worry”. the guy looked towards the sky with eyes closed muttering a quiet thanks, “let's go” yn led the path towards the entrance with the guy following him, a creepy smirk never leaving his face unless yn looked towards him.

“it's here” the guy signaled, “wait, it's the same class as me, do you study with me?” one of yn's eyebrows raised while he stared dumbfounded at the guy, “took you long enough ynnie” disappointment laced on his voice. yn couldn't believe how he didn't realized that the guy was also on his class, “oh!” is the only thing coming out of his mouth, the guilt being unbearable now, how can he be so absorbed into his own world that he couldn't even recognize his own classmate, “man i suck”.

the next couple of days yn tried to make it up to hendery, how he liked to be called by his friends, at first he was renuent but little by little he started to let go his non-existent grudge towards the other guy. huang was happy, how everything was going according to his plan, if yn hadn't let that box of tacks fall from his backpack maybe all this wouldn't happened, he was lucky was all he could thought that day before going at the maximum speed he could over the tacks, knowing they would damage his wheel, “great sacrifices comes with great rewards” he murmurs.

“hi hendery, i just talked with mr. matthew about those days you came late to the classes so he can erase those marks, after all it wasn't your fault at all” hendery nodded, “hmm i see, so what did he say?”. “he told me to go talk to him after classes”, “i see” hendery scratched his chin with his thumb and pointer fingers, an idea popping into his mind sensing why mr. matthew would want to talk with him alone. “i'll accompany you then”...

the duo was alone in a classroom, everyone else around already leaving the building except three people, hendery knew he has to act quick so he started to put his head on yn's shoulder –something that catches him off guard– then with his finger he starts to draw little patterns on yn's arms, then going up until it reaches his chest, “you see. after all, it wasn't that bad with that stupid accident. we became closer to each other so i guess i can confess you something now” his face getting dangerously near yn's sensitive neck, his hot breath made him tickle, “there's this boy i can not stop thinking about. he's so pretty, so intelligent, so cute, i wanna eat him” he starts to leave little kisses on the other's neck, “any guess who's that guy who's been running around my mind 24/7, driving me so crazy?” the kisses became licks, “mme-me…??” yn asks nervously. then the licks turned into a bite, “bingo!”

hendery’s left hand slids under yn's shirt and assaults one of yn’s nipples while the other is ruffling his hair, “i'm loving those cute sounds you make” hendery adds, still kissing yn's neck –already littered with little hickeys– “stop, or they're gonna see us” yn says worried that someone would walk past the classroom and see them committing profanities on university ground, “no one’s here. everyone left already” he reassures, “also how can we stop when i'm like this for you yn look” he pulls out his dick, springing free from his underwear with a thick strand of precum connecting the tip with the underwear, “look how wet i am for you, take responsibility ynnie” hendery guided one of yn’s hands to grab and stroke his aching cock, “that's it, keep doing that pretty”.

“now, don't be shy, give it a kiss” hendery guides yn's head towards his dick. they were sitting on the teacher's desk so hendery made yn go under it, “see now they only would see me and won't think something weird is happening, happy now?”, yn nodded, mouth full of dick, it poking inside one of his cheeks and then pulling it out with a pop sound, as if it was a lollipop yn continued sucking it until the ring of a phone took them out of their moment of pleasure.

“hello?” hendery answered, “mr. huang? why are you answering mr. ln's phone?” on the other side was teacher kim, “why do you need him” hendery struggled to form the sentence due to how good yn was giving him head, ‘fuck’ he mouthed and gave an approving sign to yn to keep doing that. “i was going to talk about your late marks, he wanted me to erase them”, “yeah” hendery furrowed his eyebrows and his lips pouted, nodding and caressing yn's flushed cheek. “so where is he?” mr. kim asked on the phone, “he's b-busy now” hendery answered. “i can imagine it” the older said and hendery could almost see the smirk on the other side of the line, “r-really?” hendery asked, curious. “yeah” the older said, his voice becoming low and seductive, hendery was turned on, his dick growing bigger inside yn's mouth, “so what do you wanna do about it?” hendery wanted to rail mr. kim more, “what i was going to do anyway with him but now with you included i guess”, he hung up, “who was that?” yn asked to which hendery answered calmly with a “we have company”.

mr. kim was sitting on the desk, letting loose his tie that rested above his big chest, his shirt was open letting the pair of students touch his abs, they discarded his slacks that were now on the floor while the duo sucked in his dick and heavy balls. the pair of tongues tracing each vein, they even tried to kiss with mr. kim's dick in between their mouths, their tongues touching with each other's while leaving the dick all slobbery.

hendery fucked yn's mouth while mr. kim railed his ass, his powerful thrust making him gag onto the younger's cock, “mr. yn you don't have any idea how much i wanted your ass, is even more perfect with no clothes on” he spanked it, yn moans vibrating onto hendery's cock, “shit” he mutters, "your nasty mr. kim who would've thought”, the man smirked, i'll shape this ass to be a good cocksleeve, it won't forget the shape of my cock” he blurted out, “won't forget mine too” hendery adds looking defiantly towards his teacher, the older does the same looking at hendery above the frame of his glasses, “sure”.

“stop arguing and just fuck me okay?” yn pressured them both to do him, an idea appearing on mr. kim's mind. he leaned on the desk with yn straddling him, bouncing up and down his fat cock, the bottom putting his hands on mr. kim's big tits, his big muscular arms pressing them against each other, making them look firm and suckable, veins and sweat beads decorated his pecs, fuck!! what a sight. hendery spat one last time on his cock then aligned it against yn's already stuffed hole and introduced it gently at first, yn managed to take it all without any struggle, it seems that mr. kim did a good job stretching him out, after all he's hung and thick so it was no surprise. both cocks pummeled into him in unison, a back and forth that didn't leave yn unstuffed. his insides engulfing all the inches, his hole can't get enough of it, he feels like he's made for this, a cockslut if you want.

the constant sensation of both cocks sliding against each other plus yn's tightness made them cum at the spot, loads and loads of sperm being spurted inside.

hendery pulls out and grabs his backpack, “what are you doing?” mr. kim asks, “looking for wipes to clean us all” the younger answered. “don't, come here” mr. kim sucked hendery clean, “you know how to work that mouth mr. kim huh?” the man smirked, proud of his skills, he then pulled out of yn and did the same to him, milking his dick dry, swallowing every single drop, at the same time hendery was returning the favor, sucking clean mr. kim's cock.

after getting clean and dressed mr. kim assured them that he would erase both marks for both students and that he didn't wanted this to come late ever again to his art classes. “don't worry mr. kim we won't” hendery ensures but then yn speaks, “if we have to do this to erase those late marks i might be coming late more often” he winks at his teacher waiting for a response, the man laughs, “if you want my cock just ask for it, will always be there for cockwhores like you” he closes the door and leaves. “do your cock will always be there ready for me too hendery?” he flutters his eyelashes to his classmate who embarrassed looked the other way, “yeah sure”, “then let's go, i want more” yn said grabbing hendery by his bulge, that grew and became hot in yn’s hand.

[aventurineswife]

Time traveller reader, who can't seem to keep things linear. Always meeting out of order, sometimes knowing stuff that will happen and other times not knowing who they're with. (Kinda like River Song's backwards timeline from Doctor Who)

I'm sure everyone gets somewhat annoyed by it in some form...anyways, reader goes on to be all sappy saying something like "I'm glad you're a constant in my life" or something to that degree.

Semi-established relationships, with Boothill, Dr Ratio, Aventurine and who ever else might fit!

A Constant in My Chaos

Tags: Boothill x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Time Traveler!Reader, Non-linear Relationships , Emotional Moments, Fluff with a Hint of Angst, Slow Burn (Implied), Character Introspection, Found Family Dynamics (Implied).

Warnings: Mild angst, Themes of time travel confusion (non-linear narrative), Reader feeling lost or unsure of timelines, Ambiguity in relationship progression due to non-linearity.

The bright lights of a bustling spaceport flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow on the cold, metallic surface of the docking bay. Boothill adjusted the brim of his hat, his teeth glinting as he smirked. He was waiting, but for who, he wasn’t sure.

“Boothill!” your voice called from behind, breathless but full of excitement.

He turned, his eyes narrowing, the in his pupils reflecting the dim light. You looked different—again. Time had a funny way of twisting you into knots.

“Now, ain’t that a sight for sore eyes,” Boothill drawled, though his posture tensed. “What year is it this time? You know me, or am I just another stranger to ya?”

Your face fell slightly, and he hated how it tugged at something deep in his mechanical chest. “I know you. Of course I do,” you said, stepping closer. “I don’t know what year it is for you, though. For me...you’ve always been there, somehow.”

Boothill’s smirk faltered, replaced by a rare moment of vulnerability. “Always? That’s a mighty big claim for someone who keeps poppin’ in and out of my life like a ghost.”

You reached out, placing a hand on the red scarf around his neck. “I’m sorry if it’s frustrating. I never know when—or where—I’ll end up. But no matter where I go, or when I meet you...you’re a constant in my life, Boothill. And that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

For a moment, the cyborg cowboy was silent. Then, he tipped his hat slightly, his teeth flashing in a lopsided grin. “Guess I ain’t all bad if you keep comin’ back, huh?”

The sprawling halls of the Intelligentsia Guild glittered with intricate designs and cascading lights. Ratio sat at his desk, wavy hair falling over his face as he scribbled notes furiously. He didn’t hear you enter until you dropped into a seat across from him.

“Back already?” he asked without looking up, his eyes briefly flickering toward you. “Or should I say, forward?”

“Depends,” you replied, leaning your elbows on the desk. “Do you know me yet?”

Ratio finally set his pen down, his skin glowing faintly under the lights. “Oh, I know you,” he said smoothly. “You’re the one who comes and goes like the wind, spouting riddles and truths you aren’t even sure of yourself. Of course, it’s maddening.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s fair. I must be frustrating.”

“Unbearably so,” Ratio said, but his voice lacked venom. “Yet somehow, you always manage to pique my interest. I’ve yet to determine why.”

You leaned back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “Because you’re one of the few people who doesn’t treat me like a puzzle to be solved. You let me just...be.”

Ratio’s sharp gaze softened, his fingers steepling under his chin. “Interesting hypothesis,” he murmured. “But why bother coming back here, to me, when there’s an entire timeline out there waiting for you?”

“Because,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes, “no matter where I end up, you’re my constant, Ratio. My anchor in all this chaos.”

For once, Ratio didn’t have a clever retort. He simply nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The luxurious casino shimmered with gold, a symphony of laughter and the clatter of dice filling the air. Aventurine lounged at a card table, his eyes lazily scanning the room. When he saw you approaching, his ever-present smile widened.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little enigma,” he purred, gesturing for you to sit. “What brings you here this time? Or should I say, which version of you am I getting today?”

You slid into the chair across from him, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “I think I’m late,” you admitted. “You already know me, don’t you?”

Aventurine chuckled, shuffling the deck in his hands with practiced ease. “Oh, darling, I know you better than most, but that’s not saying much, is it?” He dealt you a card. “How about you tell me what’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, fingers brushing against the edge of the card. “It’s...hard, sometimes. Not knowing when I’ll see you again. Or if you’ll even recognize me. But somehow, you always do.”

“Of course I do,” Aventurine said softly, his tone unusually sincere. “I never forget a gamble worth taking.”

You smiled, though your voice wavered. “You’re more than that to me. No matter where—or when—I end up, you’re a constant in my life, Aventurine. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

For a moment, Aventurine’s confident mask faltered, a flicker of genuine emotion crossing his face. Then, he grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, aren’t you sweet? But don’t worry, darling—I’ll always be here. After all, what’s life without a little chaos?”

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 22 Can't Live Without You (Momo, Chaeyoung)

You look at the phone, you still have not changed the wallpaper with you and Nayeon. 'Momo...' You quietly say her name.

I close and lock the door before calling Momo back.

You sit down and take a deep breath, then you call Momo again.

'Y/N?' Momo answers you in a shaken voice.

"I'm back, sorry. Are you alright?"

'No, I am not right when I am not with you.' Momo answers you.

'I'm sorry, I really shouldn't send Nayeon the photo.'

"Yeah, thank you for apologizing. Momo, I'm not looking to be in a relationship right now but we can always go out together. How does that sound?"

'You know I love you, I... I just don't want to be one of your causal friends with benefits, I want to be special.'

'I don't need to be your official girlfriend, I just want to have a piece of heart.'

'I'm sorry if I ask for too much.'

"We're going to need to rebuild our relationship Momo. We can't just go back to how things were. We can try. But if you do something like that again it's over."

'How can I prove my love. I really don’t know what to do. All the way before at the gym, I was just using my body to make you happy. I really don’t know, Y/N.'

'But I can't forget the moment We kiss at the shower, I...'

"Are you free tonight, Momo? Let's meet at the park. We can talk better there."

'Why don't we meet at the gym, you can meet me in my room. But aren't you said you need to pick your sister from airport tonight? You will come afterwards, right? I will wait you at the gym.'

"Yeah, I'll come as quick as I can but make sure Daniel isn't there."

'Why? You afraid of Daniel? And I haven't seen him for a long time, so it's ok.'

'I can't wait to see you, Y/N. Be safe when you drive here.' Momo blows you a kiss before she ends the call. You look at the clock, and realize you should head to Airport for Chaeyoung now.

You arrived and waiting for Chaeyoung, suddenly someone grabs your cock from behind, you turn around to see it is Chaeyoung.

"Really Chaeyoung?" I say as I now face her. "That’s how you greet me?"

You don't know how much I miss this big guy, of course you too, Oppa.' Chaeyoung says.

'I want to show you my new tattoo, free tonight? I will come after Dahyun eooni sleeps.' Chaeyoung whispers in your ears.

"I need to meet with someone after I drop you off at home so it'll have to wait."

'OK, we still got lots of time.' Chaeyoung hands you the suitcase and you two walk to the carpark.

'By the way, Nayeon eooni told me that you aren't going to fix it, what happen?'

"I just don't deserve her. She should have someone better than me. Listen Chaeyoung I don’t feel like talking about it right now." I respond.

'Sorry, I didn't mean it.' Chaeyoung grabs your arm and acting cute.

'I just worry did Nayeon eooni know what's between us.'

"No, she didn't know. Oh, and I think Dahyun is trying to have the same type of relationship."

'What? Dahyun eooni?' Chaeyoung is shocked. 'I don't think she is someone who will ask for sex proactively. But did you two start already?'

"No, She's being shy about it. She started talking about wanting to be seen as a woman and wanting to be in a relationship."

'So, what are you going to do?' Chaeyoung asks. 'Well, I wouldn't mind if you do that. If Dahyun eooni wants.'

'Just make sure you don't put all your attention on her. ‘Chaeyoung smirks.

"Already getting jealous?" I ask as I finish putting her stuff in the car. "Come on, let's go home."

'Of course! I can only meet you on holiday as we are in different city.' Chaeyoung answers you when she enters the car.

'Dahyun eooni is staying here, so she could have much more time with you.'

"Yeah, I guess so. Oh there's something else too." I explain Jihyo's situation and the reason she's staying with me to Chaeyoung as I start driving us home.

'Oh, she is so poor, marrying such a bad guy.' Chaeyoung pours as she hears Jihyo's story.

'But why would she trust you, you are a player too huh? You have girls besides Nayeon eooni... Oh, sorry, I didn't mean it.'

"I'm single now, and when I do get into a relationship, I'm ending everything else." I tell her. As I continue to drive, I move over and slide one of my hands into Chaeyoung's panties and rub her. "I'm going to have to punish you for bringing her up again, Chaeyoung."

'If it's the punishment I guess I will speak about her more.' Chaeyoung adjusts her position to let you fingering her better.

'You are not worrying Dahyun eooni will suspect anything huh?' Chaeyoung says while move her hands to your thigh and teasing you.

"I don't think so. I don't plan on letting you cum Chaeyoung." I rub her clit until I know she's about to orgasm before stopping and taking my hand out. "That’s your punishment."

'No! Put it back!' Chaeyoung roars when you denied her orgasm.

'I'm nearly cum, please let me cum. I am so sorry, I won't do it again, please, Oppa.' Chaeyoung begs for your hand. 'I would make you feel good too, Oppa.' Chaeyoung's hands starts caressing your cock from outside of your pants.

"Hands off Chaeyoung, or I'll make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow. What would Dahyun think?"

'Oh, I would love to do that, such a welcome form your right?' Chaeyoung started rubbing the clit herself while her keep squeezing your cock, it begins to harden.

'Plus, the one who should explain to Dahyun eooni is you right? What would she say if she enters your room and see you are fucking me.'

"Chaeyoung stop, you're going to ruin the inside of the car." I finish the drive home and take out Chaeyoung's luggage from the car.

'Ah, ah, ahhh!' You come back to the car with the suitcase and Chaeyoung eventually cums on your car.

'Such a nice ride, oppa' Chaeyoung says while hands your her finger which is cover in her juice.

I grab her hand and pull her out of the car, "You're gonna gets yours soon Chaeyoung. Let's just get inside"

'Yeah, I will see you soon Oppa. Don't back so late, ok?' Chaeyoung tidy up and get the suitcase before entering the building.

You then drive to the gym, you are thinking about what you could say to Momo.

You steps by Momo's room, and you see she is keep walking inside the room, look frustrated.

I knock on the door, and wait for a response.

Momo comes and opens the door, when she sees it is you, she says nothing, just hug you so tightly, not willing to let go.

'Y/N, I miss you so much, please don't leave me again.'

"Why were you pacing inside your room Momo?" I ask as I pat her back.

'I am so worried, I afraid that you won't show up, I afraid that I won't see you again.' Momo looks up at you but still hugs you tightly.

"Yeah, well I'm here." I push my way inside and close the door behind me. "Let's talk a little Momo."

'I think I have said what I want to say in the phone, Y/N. What do you think?' Momo sits next to you while laying her head on your shoulder.

' I really really wanna be with you, I can't imagine my life without you.'

"Momo, I'm not really looking to be in a serious relationship with anyone right now. I did a lot of wrong. I know you don't want to be friends with benefits, and that's fine. I'm just not looking to have a relationship." I tell her. "So that leaves us here, and I'm not sure what to do."

'I can wait, Y/N. I just want you to know I would always wait for you.' Momo cups your cheek.

'I can be your secret lover after you got a new girlfriend, or even if you get marry in the future. I want just a little piece of your heart.' Momo says and she leans to kiss you.

"Momo, when I get into a relationship again. I'm not going to do the same things. I want to be a better person, you can have a piece of my heart but I don't want to be cheating on my potential partner again."

'What do you mean Y/N? You accepting friends with benefits in your relationships but not secret lovers? You are not cheating on your future partner Y/N, we love each other, right?' Momo grabs your head to kiss you again.

"Momo I mean that when I'm in a relationship again I won't have any friends with benefits, and secret lovers. I want to do things right. I do love you Momo."

'No, no, no! It shouldn't be like that.' Momo let's your head go and shakes her head.

'Everything was in a good balance before, we 3 are all good, I will have you when she is not there for you. Why can't we be like that?' Momo still can't face the fact that you denied her.

"Because I want to be a better person Momo. I hurt Nayeon, I hurt you. I don't want to be the same person." I put my hand on her head. "I'm just going to have casual relationships right now."

'Casual relationships?' Momo looks up at you in disbelief. 'You mean I could only be with you if I am your friend with benefits? What are you talking about?'

Momo grabs your hand on her tits 'So you only want my body huh, fuck me then! Go ahead! If that what takes you to stay with me.' Momo says while start undressing herself.

I pull my hand away from Momo. "You're not understanding Momo. I'm not doing this because I just want your body, I'm doing this because I don't want to hurt anyone." I Give Momo a hug, "Think about it for a second." I stand up ready to leave. "Look Momo, we could go out on dates sometimes and not have to worry about anything, anyone but right now I'm not going to be tied to anyone."

'You are hurting me if you leave right now.' Momo says while your hand reach the door knob.

' I really love you, but I don't know how to make you love me too. I see you like my body, so I use it to get closer to you but it seems didn't work. I am sorry if I am forcing you.' Momo's tears start dropping.

I sit back down and pull Momo onto my lap. "I do love you Momo. I'm just not ready to be in relationship like that. Put your clothes back on, let's go somewhere." I gather Momo's clothes and help her put them back on. I start to think of where to take her and decide on an ice rink.

You and Momo then leave for the ice rink. You two get changed for ice skating. You grab Momo's hand and slowly guide her to the ice.

You walk on the ice and find that Momo is not following you, you turn back to see she is still standing at the entrance.

'Sorry, Y/N. I don't know how to walk on the ice.' Momo looks at you shyly.

I go back and take hold of her hands. Gently pulling her toward the ice, while telling her how to do it.

You hold both of Momo's hands and guide her to walk on the ice.

Momo seems so nervous and eventually loss the balance, you two fall together while Momo lands on you.

Embarrassingly, Momo's face directly hits your crotch, she blushes and covers her face, 'Sorry Y/N, I can't even do simple things. I am ruining our date again, sorry.'

I kneel on the ground, "give me a second. That hurt." After a moment I stand back up. "Come on, let's try again. Besides this is actually pretty hard."

You help Momo gets up and keep teaching her. Momo strugglely walking but keep falling.

Although Momo is keep falling, you can see she is improving.

'Ah, it's so hard, Y/N. I can't do it.' Momo is frustrated as the lack of progress.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Momo you're doing well. You're getting the hang of it. I see it."

You cheer Momo and slowly free her hands, let her to walk on her own.

'Yes, Y/N, I can do it, I can do it!' Momo finally can walk on her own. She is so excited and rushes to hug you.

You hold her tight, you two spinning on the ice, Momo blushes and close her eyes, waiting for your action.

I kiss her forehead and go ahead of her, "come on, Momo let's see how far you can go.”

Momo pours her face as she is disappointed you only kiss her forehead. 'Y/N, I think I need more motivation.' Then she starts to chase you from behind.

However, as Momo is still a beginner, it's difficult for her to catch you from the back.

'Ah! I will get you!' Momo is triggered by your laughter. She lets out her hand try to catch you, it's so close, but still inch from you.

Momo leans her body too forward, and she loses her balance. You hear her falls, so you come back to get her up.

'Why I just can't catch you, in skating I can't, in real life I can't.' Momo sighs.

"That’s just life Momo. Who knows, maybe you might one day. Life is unpredictable." I skate by her and poke her nose. "Come on, let's go." I help her up and gold her hand as I lead her to the exit.

'Not might, I will catch you for sure, Y/N.' Momo holds your hand and you two leave the ice rink.

Momo still holds your hand after you two get changed, you two walk in the mall and figuring where to go.

'Any idea where to go next? Or we should back home?' Momo asks you.

"Why don't we get something to eat and then I'll drop you off at your house." I answer.

'Yeah, sure, I am hungry too.' Momo nods. 'But you are not staying with me tonight? I won't take any photos this time, really.'

"My stepsister wanted to do something later tonight so I can't." I respond. As I lead us to a restaurant.

'OK then' Momo pours her face while eating.

'Promise me you will stay next time we meet, I really miss sleeping with you.' Momo gives out her little finger before she ready to leaves your car.

Momo kisses your cheek before leaving your car. 'Goodnight, Y/N. Hope we will meet again in your dream.'

[i2rizz]

Life sized plushie

Kaiser, Rin, Sae, Reo, Shidou

| masterlist

Michael Kaiser

The moment you dragged a massive box into the living room, Kaiser was already side-eyeing you. The smug smirk he always wore twitched slightly, intrigued but suspicious.

“Schatz, what the hell is that?” he asked, arms crossed as he watched you tear through the tape.

You grinned up at him. “A surprise.”

The moment the cardboard flaps opened, he saw it.

A life-sized plush of himself.

Kaiser blinked, staring at the overly perfect replication of his features, from the striking blue and gold eyes down to the signature cocky smirk stitched onto its fabric face.

Silence.

Then, laughter.

Not yours—his.

A full, deep, slightly unhinged laugh as he leaned on the wall for support. “You—you bought this?” he wheezed. “Oh my God, I knew you were obsessed, but this? This is insanity.”

You pouted. “If you think it’s so crazy, I can just return it—”

He lunged forward, snatching it out of the box and holding it at arm’s length. “Nope, this is staying. I need it to remind me of how deeply, hopelessly in love with me you are.”

You rolled your eyes. “If anything, I bought it to keep me company when you abandon me for practice.”

Kaiser scoffed, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “Guess I have to make up for it then, huh?” His lips brushed against your temple. “But, Schatz, if I ever catch you cuddling that thing instead of me, we’re going to have a problem.”

You smirked, arms crossing. “Define ‘problem.’”

Kaiser’s grin turned sharp. “Let’s just say you won’t be needing a plush for comfort.”

Itoshi Rin

Rin wasn’t expecting a package when he came home from practice, so when he saw the massive box sitting in your shared apartment, he was immediately on high alert.

“[Name], what’s this?”

You beamed. “A gift.”

Rin shot you a wary look before opening the box—and freezing.

A life-sized plush of himself sat inside, its expression somehow capturing his usual annoyed scowl.

Rin stared at it. Then at you. Then back at the plush.

“This is unnecessary,” he deadpanned.

You pouted. “I thought you’d like it.”

He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do you even need this?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around the plush’s waist. “You’re at practice all the time, so I figured I’d get a stand-in.”

Something twitched in Rin’s jaw. “A stand-in?” His voice was dangerously calm.

You hummed. “Yup. It’s comfy too.”

Rin narrowed his eyes. Before you could react, he plucked the plush out of your grasp and tossed it onto the couch like it was trash.

“You want comfort?” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you flush against him. “Use me.”

Your breath hitched.

Rin smirked, eyes dark with something unreadable. “I’m real. And I’m right here.”

The plush, long forgotten, lay abandoned on the couch.

Itoshi Sae

Sae sighed when he saw the suspiciously large package waiting for him after practice.

“Don’t tell me,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Another one of your genius ideas?”

You grinned. “Actually, yes.”

Sae raised a brow and slowly opened the box. The moment his eyes landed on the plush—a life-sized version of him—he visibly froze.

Then, he sighed again.

“You’re ridiculous.”

You crossed your arms. “You don’t like it?”

He scoffed. “Oh no, I love having a stuffed version of myself staring at me in my own home.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the plush and held it against your chest. “Well, I think it’s cute.”

Sae’s eye twitched when he saw how easily you hugged it. “You’re not actually going to sleep with it, are you?”

You smirked. “Why? Jealous?”

Sae huffed. In one smooth motion, he snatched the plush from your hands and unceremoniously shoved it into the closet.

“If you want me,” he muttered, tilting your chin up with his fingers, “I’m right here.”

His lips ghosted over yours.

“Pick the real one.”

Reo Mikage

The second Reo saw the box, he was excited.

“What is it?” he asked, practically bouncing in place as you grinned up at him.

“Open it.”

The moment he saw himself in plush form, he gasped.

“No way.”

His violet eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled it out, turning it in his hands. “This is so extra—” He turned to you, smirking. “I love it.”

You laughed. “Knew you would.”

Reo placed the plush down and turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sooo… do you sleep with it?”

You huffed. “Maybe.”

Reo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “I’m replaced?”

You playfully shoved him. “You’re impossible.”

He laughed, but when his arms wrapped around you, his voice softened.

“You don’t need a plush,” he murmured. “I’m here, always.”

You smiled.

“Good,” you whispered. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Shidou Ryusei

The moment Shidou saw the plush, he cackled.

“Babe, what the hell is this?”

You smirked. “Your replacement.”

Shidou snorted. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute.” He leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper. “But I know you’d miss me too much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Believe what you want.”

Shidou grabbed the plush and examined it. “Damn, they really got my jawline right.” Then he frowned. “But why does he look so tame?”

You sighed. “Because it’s a plush, Shidou.”

Shidou hummed, tossing it onto the bed. “Well, as long as you’re not cuddling it when I’m around, I’ll let it slide.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And if I do?”

Shidou grinned, eyes darkening.

“Then I guess I’ll have to remind you who the real one is.”

His lips were on yours before you could react.

The plush? Forgotten.

Your sanity? Gone.

Lemme know if u want more characters added :>>

[captainshindo]

Autopilot (fluff)

a/n: 95.7% of you guys voted for me to write it, so here I am. Sae might me ooc I’m sorry:’) this is my first time writing an actual fic so bear with me chat

The afternoon sun was mellow, casting a golden hue over the streets as you and Sae walked side by side, the world around you fading into the background. Your feet moved with no real thought, just a soft rhythm of steps in time with his. It was as if your body knew exactly what to do, without any input from your mind.

You had no idea where you were going, no idea how long you’d been walking, but somehow, you didn’t mind. Being with Sae made everything feel… effortless. Your mind had already switched off, and your body moved naturally beside him, like a quiet dance. Every little step, every breath, you were in sync.

Sae, as usual, was leading. You didn't mind that either. There was a sense of safety in it—the way he seemed to know exactly where to go, how to move. It was like he could predict the future. And you? You were perfectly content to let him take charge.

Your hand brushed against his once, twice, and you didn't even think to pull away. The contact was grounding, comforting, and with him so close, you felt completely at ease.

“Hmm…” Sae’s voice cut through the air lazily, breaking your tranquil autopilot state. “You’re really not even paying attention, huh?”

You blinked, trying to focus on him. “Huh?”

Sae glanced over at you, a small smirk on his face. “You almost walked straight into that post.”

You looked ahead, realizing you were about to smack your forehead into a signpost up ahead, oblivious to it until he mentioned it.

Before you could even react, Sae’s hand was already at your waist, pulling you closer with such nonchalance that it felt natural. You immediately felt the warmth of his touch, and without thinking, you relaxed further into him, a small sigh escaping your lips.

“See?” he murmured. “If I didn’t guide you, you’d be walking into every obstacle in sight.”

You laughed softly, feeling a little embarrassed, but there was no tension in the air. Sae didn’t seem annoyed or frustrated, just amused. He pulled you even closer, keeping you tucked safely against him as you continued walking, your steps slower now.

His hand remained on your side, an anchor that kept you from drifting too far into your own head, your body following his pace effortlessly.

“Is this how you always are when we’re together?” he asked, voice calm, but there was a curious edge to it.

You blinked again, unsure how to explain the strange calmness that washed over you whenever you were near him. “I… I think so. I just… feel really safe with you.”

Sae’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but it was gone before you could fully register it. He gave a slight chuckle, his grip tightening just a touch. “Safe, huh? That’s a first.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. It wasn’t like you’d ever had to say it out loud before. It was just how you felt around him. Every interaction, every step you took with him, was like this invisible safety net beneath you. You didn’t have to think, didn’t have to worry. You were allowed to just... exist.

“I guess it’s easy to relax when I don’t have to worry about running into things,” you said quietly, your voice almost teasing but without any real conviction. You didn’t need to worry. Sae had you.

He didn’t respond with words, but the way he shifted his hand to your back, guiding you further into his side, told you everything you needed to know. It was as if he was saying, “I’ve got you” without needing to say a word.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, and as you passed more obstacles, whether it was another signpost or someone else walking ahead, you never once felt the need to adjust your steps. Your body automatically shifted, your movements smooth and unthinking.

But Sae’s presence was ever there, the subtle guidance keeping you from harm. Every now and then, you felt the pressure of his hand on you, subtly guiding you to the left, the right, or just holding you closer when you got too close to something. It was gentle, but firm—like a quiet protector in the background, making sure nothing would disrupt your peaceful, autopilot state.

Eventually, you reached a quieter part of the park, and Saé finally allowed the both of you to slow down. He stopped for a moment and let you rest against a tree, the shade cool against your skin.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever get you to stop following me,” he said lightly, though there was something more tender in his tone now. He stood close, looking down at you.

You looked up at him, a little dazed from how effortlessly your body had followed his movements. “I don’t know if I’d want to.”

His lips curled slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded, more relaxed than you had ever felt. “Yeah. When I’m with you, I don’t have to think. I just know... I’m safe.”

There was a brief pause before Sae chuckled, his eyes looking distant for just a moment. “ I wouldn’t mind you staying in my orbit for a while,” Sae had said, his gaze on you, not teasing but more... tender, if you could even describe it that way.

As you both stood there, your body still in that lazy autopilot state, it became clear that you didn’t need to think to feel at ease.

Your chest tightened, a surge of warmth flooding your body. The words took a moment to sink in, and once they did, the overwhelming feeling of affection bubbled up inside you. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting out an eek of surprise. “Oh my god,” you muttered, flustered, unable to process how much you were suddenly feeling. "Sae, please… give me a break."

He smirked, his usual cocky grin creeping back onto his lips, but there was something that made your heart skip. “What now? You’re not usually so shy.”

“I—I just—” You stammered, feeling your face grow impossibly warmer as the weight of his attention seemed to press against you from all sides. It was as if he’d pulled you out of your autopilot mode and suddenly, you were hyper-aware of every little detail, every small movement, every brush of his hand. “I just… can’t—!”

Sae took a small step toward you, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t what?”

Your breath hitched, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “Can’t… handle how much I like you.” You winced at your own outburst, the confession slipping out too quickly. It was like your body had completely forgotten to filter what your heart was screaming.

But then he was so close, and his hand was gently brushing against yours. The proximity made you squeak, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides.

Sae chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he said, his voice low as he casually closed the distance between you two. His hand moved to your shoulder, giving you a little nudge, his touch now comfortable, but with the intensity of his attention making you feel like you were floating. “You’ve been orbiting me this whole time, haven’t you? Guess it’s my turn to pull you closer.”

You let out another small, high-pitched eek, looking up at him with wide eyes. The sudden warmth of his hand on your shoulder, the way his presence surrounded you, made your heart race. “Sae, please… I don’t—” Your words failed you, and you could only manage a breathless laugh, feeling like you might just melt from all the affection overload.

Before you knew it, Sae was standing right in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face with such ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You blinked up at him, feeling your chest tighten, and he gave you that soft smile again, his thumb brushing across your cheek.

“Shh,” he murmured, the playful glint in his eyes now softened with something deeper. “No need to say anything. I can tell how much you like me.” He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours for a brief, intimate moment. “I don’t mind this at all, you know?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I—I really like you, Sae,” you breathed, feeling utterly consumed by the moment. It was as if everything around you had faded away, leaving just the two of you, locked in this orbit.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he teased, his voice low and soothing. “I like you too or whatever.”

Your chest fluttered again, but this time, it wasn’t out of anxiety. It was from pure joy, the weight of his affection surrounding you. With Sae, you didn’t have to fight it. You didn’t have to overthink. You were safe to just exist with him, even if it meant being overwhelmed by how much you adored him.

And as his lips found yours in a slow, almost teasing kiss, you felt like you could float away in the bliss of it all, completely content in your orbit around him.

a/n: This fic is based on my interaction with my bf btw Some of these words Sae have said did not actually come from him tho lol

i don’t know how to feel about this, so I’ll see what yall think about this first.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Movie Week [review]

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Yandere Scale: 8/10

Overall Rating: 7/10

Fear does exactly what it's supposed to. Not perfectly by any means, but well enough that I don't mind spending an hour and a half in its world.

A very fun world too - cute fashion, a great score, pleasing cinematography and a male lead who slowly becomes more despicable the longer the film goes on. Alyssa Milano, Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon look incredible the entire movie. And I guess their acting isn't bad either.

We start off with a man out on a jog. And we know it's going to be a thriller because a) shaky cam and b) very dramatic music just two minutes in. Great start. After that, we're introduced to Nicole (Reese Witherspoon), a high schooler with a slightly strained relationship with her dad and teenage angst lite.

She's cute. The girl next door with a daddy's girl bracelet and a kid brother who loves her. If she didn't have the bad luck of running into a bad man, I'd say things would have worked out just dandy.

But no such luck. Not for you kid.

Enter David.

He walks on screen to audible screams from the audience (me). He's hot. And the way he's introduced is hot. Shady bar, music in the background, leather jacket delinquents playing pool. From the get go, he screams bad boy. Rubbing (read: jerking off) his pool cue - at hip height - while looking at our female lead? C'mon, that's too easy.

I won't go into detail, but they obviously end up in a relationship. And it's hot stuff. At one point, he has his hand up her her skirt while they're on a rollercoaster. Yeah, we all see the symbolism. Coming (down) must be pretty fun on a ride like that, huh Nic?

It's not great the entire movie - their first conversation is stilted and awkward, filled with clichés. But the build up in tension is what does it for me.

There are plenty of little things that tip you off from the get go. David isn't as nice as he seems, not by a long shot.

It starts with a few tense looks between him and Nicole's dad. Just a father being a bit picky, right? Nope. He turns back the office clock so he can have a little more time with Nicole before curfew. He flirts with her best friend. He tells Nicole to, "Get me a coke." Bossy. Commanding.

I'll be honest, if I didn't know the synopsis of the film, I'd say dear old dad was being overly protective. Nope. Those red flags are about as red as they can get.

When things start going off the rails, the movie handles it pretty well. The scenes are decently tense, even though they're missing that little bit of careful handling that would make them terrifying.

As a yandere, David does everything you'd expect. He's manipulative. He's violent. He doesn't know where to draw the line in anything. Oh, and he's hot. Did I mention that already?

He's a Levi's and t-shirt kind of guy, with a great car, a nice voice, and biceps you want to sink your teeth into. When it comes to deranged stalkers, you can do a LOT worse.

The third act is a ball of a time. There's room for it to have been a bit more tense - it suffers from being a little too short, the twists not having enough time to breathe. The pace doesn't feel quick in the so much happening, I'm at the edge of my seat sort of way, but in the oh no, we only have the budget for thirty more minutes of run time sort of way.

Still, it's very enjoyable. David says and does plenty of very yandere things. I'm absolutely stealing some of his lines.

In terms of style, the movie is a knockout. I think it's a big part of what carries my recommendation. The cinematography is really pleasing, with lots of reds and dark greens. Very 'Seattle on a rainy day.' The sound track is totally 90's, with a nice mix of rock, pop and indie. It gives the movie a sense of place and time that exponentially improves the story.

How does it hold up as a piece of yandere media? It doesn't do anything radical or new, but the classics it sticks to are done well enough that it's worth the watch.

Oh, and David is very hot. I don't know if I mentioned that. 

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Day 2 - Secret Obsession (2019)

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Day 4 - The Perfect Guy (2015)

Day 5 - The Boy Next Door (2015)

Day 6 - The Invisible Man (2020)

Day 7 - Til Death Do Us Part (2017)

[wonboni]

☽꙳❆『MIDNIGHT WHISPERS┆P.SEONG HWA

『•˙synopsis: Late-night calls with Seong Hwa go from casual chats to playful, flirty conversations. As your bond deepens, you both start to wonder if there's something more between you.

『∙˙pairing: Park Seong Hwa x fem reader

『•˙genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life

『•˙word count: 993

『•˙warnings: None

『•˙note: I’m back finally! 🤍

It was almost midnight when your phone buzzed, and as always, you didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was. You smiled, already anticipating the voice that would greet you on the other end.

“Hey, Seong Hwa. What’s up?”

“Just thinking about you,” he replied smoothly, and you could almost hear the teasing smile in his voice.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you felt your heart flutter. “Really? You just called to say that?”

“Nope. I called because I knew you’d fall for it,” he teased, his voice light but somehow serious underneath. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Just… waiting for your call, obviously.” You smirked, knowing it would make him laugh.

“Is that so?” he said with a chuckle, the sound of it warming you from the inside. “Well, I guess I should stop making you wait, huh?”

A comfortable silence fell between you, not awkward but just a peaceful space where you could hear his faint laughter in the background, probably from the other members who were hanging out in the dorm. Yet, in this quiet, it felt like it was just the two of you.

“So, tell me, what’s the worst part of your day?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation into something a little deeper.

“Honestly?” He dragged the word out, making you imagine the thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s when I don’t get to talk to you at night.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t usually this straightforward, and you couldn’t help but tease him back. “Aw, poor Seong Hwa. Did you miss me?”

“I do, a lot,” he admitted, and his voice softened in a way that made your stomach flutter. “Especially when I’m so busy. These calls are the only time I get to be myself. No cameras, no fans, just us.”

The words were heavier than usual, and the quiet between you both felt more intimate than ever. You almost didn’t know how to respond but wanted to keep the connection going. Instead, you tried to lighten the mood.

“Don’t get too flattered, though. I don’t just call anyone at midnight.”

“Oh, so I’m special now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. You could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“Very special.” He paused for a second, his tone teasing. “But if you’re not careful, I might start thinking you enjoy my late-night calls a little too much.”

You laughed, a playful heat rushing to your cheeks. “Well, maybe I do. You’re kind of addictive, you know?”

“Good,” he replied, his voice suddenly lowering, becoming soft and warm. “Because I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, making you both pause. Your heart pounded in your chest, but before you could respond, Seong Hwa broke the silence with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay, I didn’t mean to make things too serious. Let’s talk about something less dramatic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along. “Like what?”

“Like,” he began slowly, his voice full of mischief, “when are you going to stop pretending you’re not totally into me?”

You felt your cheeks burn instantly. “Excuse me? Pretending?”

“Come on,” he teased. “You know I can tell. The way you talk to me, the way you laugh at my dumb jokes… admit it.”

“I—” You stammered, trying to come up with a witty comeback. “Okay, fine, maybe I enjoy it. Happy now?”

“Very,” he grinned, sounding pleased with himself. “Though I think you’re a little more than ‘into’ me, don’t you think?”

The playful banter felt like it was taking on a life of its own now, and it was hard to deny that the line between friendly teasing and something deeper had begun to blur.

A few moments passed, both of you in comfortable silence before Seong Hwa spoke up again, his voice softer this time.

“You know… sometimes, I wish I could be there with you, in person. These calls are great and all, but I feel like I’m missing out on seeing your face when you say stuff like that.”

You weren’t sure what to say. There was an undeniable longing in his voice, and it mirrored your own feelings. It wasn’t just the calls anymore; it was more than that. You wanted to be there, too.

“I get it,” you said, your voice quieter now. “It’s weird, right? How we’ve been talking like this for so long, but still so far away.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, the playfulness gone from his tone. “It sucks sometimes.”

“I wish I could make it easier,” you murmured, feeling a mix of frustration and longing.

“You already make it easier, though,” he said, his words reassuring. “Just by being you.”

A soft silence fell between you, the kind that felt comfortable yet charged with something unspoken. You weren’t sure if either of you was ready to fully address the feelings growing between you, but for now, you were okay with the way things were.

“I have to go soon,” he said reluctantly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Already?” you pouted, though it was all playful. “But I was just starting to get used to this.”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait for tomorrow, won’t you?” he teased, his voice light again. “Same time, same place?”

“You bet. You better not keep me waiting too long.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a chuckle. “Goodnight, You. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, Seong Hwa.”

As the call ended, the quiet stillness of the night settled around you. But unlike before, it didn’t feel empty. The words you’d shared and the connection that had grown between you both left you feeling strangely full.

Tomorrow would come, and so would the next call—but tonight, you’d drift off to sleep with the sweet sound of his voice still echoing in your mind, and the promise of more late-night whispers yet to come.

© WONBONI

[discordiansamba]

good afternoon, have some more assorted thoughts about the time travel AU:

rin: so do you have any advice about how to pass the certification exam?

noctis, who never actually took it: uhhhhhhhh. go ask your uncle?

shiro walks in to find noctis and rin collapsed on the couch, both with the most ungraceful sleeping posture you can imagine complete with their eyes half open. he just snorts. like father, like son, he guesses.

(shiro, later on: oh wait. that was because they're the same person.)

if you think for one second that noctis staying youthful means that rin won't call him 'old man' you are so wrong. he absolutely does. it's karma. the first time he does it, it's just a critical hit.

the exwires @ rin and yukio: ...so you two are definitely second generation nephilim, right?

yukio: most likely, though father won't be honest with us.

rin: ...maybe he doesn't want to set a bad example? you know, cause he was like sixteen when he had us?

it took noctis a long time to get used to calling his younger self 'rin', when that still felt like it was his name.

it takes him a long time to stop responding to rin, but for all that, he can't really pinpoint the moment he stopped responding to it entirely, nor can he pinpoint the moment he started to respond to noctis without fail.

(ugh. he really wishes he'd picked a different name, though)

just. noctis looking in the mirror one day and realizing he's an adult now and that none of his friends will ever have the chance to grow up.

noctis: listen, rin. if you want to get piercings, get them now. you won't be able to do it later no matter how much you might want to.

yukio: aren't you supposed to tell us not to do that stuff?

rin: shut up yukio, don't make him change his mind!

the only times noctis hides his tail is when he has to go to the twins' school for any reason. hiding his horns is a little more complicated, once they start growing out, but he manages.

noctis at a parent teacher conference. what will he do.

(wish shiro was doing this instead.)

noctis listening to some mom prattle on about how rin attacked her son unprovoked, all while vividly remembering said incident from his childhood and knowing he sure as hell was provoked

shiemi looking at noctis post reveal, with the knowledge that rin is going to grow up to look like him one day and just. turning beet red.

rin: huh? no way! I'm going to look way cooler than him!

noctis: literally impossible, kid.

rin: don't call me kid! you're me!

noctis: yeah, but I'm like 32 years old and you're 16. so. kid.

rin and yukio are just. so weirded out by the fact that they've been calling an older version of rin 'dad' for years.

noctis: yeah, welcome to the club. i tried to get you two to call me nii-san, but you wouldn't listen.

rin: and you just went with it!?

noctis: shut up. you literally can't criticize any of my decisions.

yukio: he has a point, nii-san.

(rin squinting at noctis like. is he going to get a tail and horns when his seal breaks?)

noctis starts carrying kurikara around again after his true identity is exposed. he's also very clear to the order that if they try a single thing against either of his kids, he won't hesitate to turn on them in an instant.

(doesn't ask him when he started to think of rin and yukio as his kids for real. like a lot of things, it just sort of happened before he knew it. it is sort of funny watching them come to terms with something he's just sort of learned to roll with.)

juzo asks noctis for parenting advice, which throws him for a fucking loop. huah!? i mean, yeah, he guesses he did raise two kids but how is he still finding weird positions to be in??

rin: wait. so who raised you?

noctis: huh? shiro did.

rin & yukio, looking at shiro: grandpa...

shiro: NOPE, not doing that.

noctis, sensing a chance to mess with him: you're right! this is your grandpa shiro!

shiro: give me a break! i refuse to be called grandpa! i'm not that old!

[nikito0x]

My first impressions of the tgcf characters before I properly entered the fandom.

What brought me to tgcf was initially the fanart. I just kept on seeing beautiful art of two people who looked absolutely smitten with each other.

The first impression I had of HuaLian:

"Oh, they are the eternal soulmates type of ship." Because I saw fanart of only the two of them together and never with anyone else. I didn't even know their names or the fact that they aren't a ship - they are canon. I compared them to couples like AshEiji , the Ineffable Husbands, Catradora and Merthur. I just loved the fanart because just looking at it you know the artists were trying to portray the love in their eyes.

The thing is, there isn't as much HuaLian fanart where they are kissing as there is of them just looking lovingly at each other or just them laughing together. That's how you know you're dealing with a soulmate couple. You don't need to have them be physically affectionate in art to know they are soulmates.

Anyway. Moving on.

Feng Xin & Mu Qing:

Xie Lian always had two friends/guards of some sort that just kept yelling at him (but also yelled a lot at each other for some reason) to stop going through other people's trash cans and to please stay away from the suspicious dude in red.

And then Xie Lian would be like:

"But the trash is shiny and the guy in red is kind of shiny too..."

And they would be like "Dianxia, no!!" and try pulling Xie Lian away like they were trying to stop their dog from eating something random it found on the ground.

I figured out pretty early on through short comics with them that Xie Lian is or was a prince at some point. I had no idea for the longest time, however, that the books (which I didn't know the name of) were even about gods. Fanart didn't exactly mention that xd.

The realization went something like this:

Phase 1: Oh cool, so one of the soulmates is a prince.

Phase 2: Huh, okay so I guess they are both royalty of a sort.

Phase 3: Ghost city? I mean sure. Humans and ghosts. Sounds interesting.

Phase 4: Gods??? Where did the Gods come from?? Were there always Gods!?... The prince is a God?!?!?

So when this well dressed guy, who obviously had a position of power came around, and was acting all concerned (in fanart) about dear old Xianle but wasn't doing anything to better his situation, I got immediately suspicious of him. But Jun Wu wasn't portrayed that often in fanart with Dianxia from what I could see, so while I was suspicious, I didn't really think much of it.

Characters' names

I was soo confused for the longest time. Everyone had at least two names, some had more than that and then some had additional titles.

When I realized Hua Cheng alone had four different names, I was just about to give up. What is this secret identity bullshit?? This looks worse than Miraculous!!

Like, let's count together.

Hong-er, Wu Ming, San Lang, Hua Cheng, Chengzu, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, a Calamity, a Supreme, a Ghost King.

Can you count them? I don't even want to. And of course his husband-to-be has to match him too, in titles at least.

Then there is the rest of the cast like:

Feng Xin -> Nan Yang

Mu Qing -> Xuan Zhen

Pei Ming -> Ming Guang

Nangong Jie -> Ling Wen

And then there was a sword with the name Fang Xin for some reason and I was wondering how it connected to that Feng Xin guy.

I was so lost. For such a long time. But I didn't have time to read the books so...

Anyway those were my first impressions of the tgcf fandom and characters.

[missus-ackles]

Movie Night Gone Wrong

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Type: Fluff, Tension

Summary: Dean insists on horror movies, but you get too scared and end up clinging to him—exactly what he was hoping for.

Word count: 1,365

And maybe—just maybe—Dean doesn’t mind that at all.

You should’ve known better than to let Dean pick the movie.

“You sure you can handle this, sweetheart?” he teases, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth as he stretches out on the couch. “Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over a little horror flick.”

You roll your eyes and grab a blanket, tucking your legs under yourself. “Dean, I literally hunt monsters for a living. I think I can handle a movie.”

Dean smirks but doesn’t argue, just hits play and settles in next to you.

The first half hour is fine. A little suspense, some creepy music, a couple of jumpscares—not bad. You even find yourself getting into the storyline.

Then things take a turn.

The monster—a grotesque, twisted-looking thing with too many teeth—lunges out of the shadows, and without thinking, you shriek and grab onto Dean’s arm, nails digging into his skin.

Dean bursts out laughing. “Oh, sweetheart, really?”

You immediately let go and glare at him. “That was a cheap jumpscare!”

He’s still laughing, his body shaking next to you. “Damn, I wish I recorded that.”

“Shut up, Dean.” You grab a piece of popcorn and flick it at him, but it only makes him laugh harder.

Another scare makes you flinch, and without meaning to, you scoot closer. Dean notices, his laughter dying down as he glances at you.

“You sure you’re not scared?” he asks, amusement still lacing his voice.

“I’m fine,” you insist, but your grip on the blanket says otherwise.

Dean smirks and stretches his arm across the back of the couch, subtly closing the space between you. “Y’know, if you are scared, I’d be happy to—”

Another jump scare. You yelp and, before you can stop yourself, bury your face against Dean’s shoulder.

He stiffens for half a second, then you feel a low chuckle rumble through his chest. “Damn. Guess I am your safe space, huh?”

You groan, refusing to lift your head. “I hate you.”

He grins, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Nah, sweetheart. You love me.”

You don’t respond, but you don’t pull away either.

You don’t pull away. In fact, you snuggle deeper into his chest, pressing your cheek against his shirt as the warmth of his body wraps around you like a blanket. “Shut up. It’s just… loud,” you mutter, embarrassed but not enough to move.

Dean keeps quiet for a few moments. The soft hum of the movie is the only sound filling the room. But you can feel his gaze on you, even as you keep your head tucked against his shoulder, hoping he won’t notice how your heart is beating a little faster than usual.

You finally pull away, just enough to look at him, eyes narrowing. “If you start gloating, I’m leaving.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Gloating? Me? Nah.” He smirks and pulls the blanket over the two of you. “Just sayin’… you could do worse than cuddling up with me.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s something in the way he says it that makes you second-guess everything you thought about this being just a movie night.

The movie continues, but every sound in it feels a little louder now—the creaks of the house, the high-pitched shrieks of the monster, the beating of your heart, which you’re sure Dean can hear.

Another scare comes, this time the monster’s face appearing suddenly on the screen, just as the lights flicker.

You scream again, but this time, it’s not just your reflexes—you fling yourself into Dean’s side, practically in his lap.

Dean lets out a startled laugh, but it quickly fades into a low chuckle as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. “Guess I’m not the only one freaked out, huh?”

Dean’s hand strokes your arm lightly, almost absentmindedly. “Yeah, yeah. Real tough hunter.”

You huff, but there’s a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to hide it. “I am a tough hunter. But I don’t have to like loud noises.”

Dean’s thumb brushes against your skin, slow and soothing, and for a brief moment, the world feels smaller—just the two of you, wrapped up on the couch, with the movie forgotten in the background.

"Better?" he asks, his voice quieter now, a little more serious.

“Yeah,” you whisper. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not just the monster that made your heart race.

The tension between you both hangs in the air for a moment—something soft and undeniable, but neither of you acknowledges it, not fully.

Then the monster on screen does something particularly grotesque.

You jump, and Dean laughs again, this time pulling you into his chest with a grin. “Damn. You’re cute when you’re freaked out, but you gotta admit, this is way better than a boring rom-com.”

You can’t help but laugh with him, the nervous energy fading as you let yourself melt into his side. “Sure, whatever. I’m still not letting you pick the next movie.”

“Deal.” Dean grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you settle into his warmth, realizing that this—this chaotic, imperfect, and somewhat terrifying movie night—is exactly where you wanted to be.

Dean’s arm tightens around you as the movie continues, but neither of you really pay attention to it anymore. The tension that had hung in the air moments ago has shifted into something lighter, something comfortable.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Dean says after a while, his voice low and teasing. “You keep using me as your personal cushion, but when are you gonna admit it? You’re actually scared.”

You shift a little, reluctantly pulling away enough to look up at him. “I’m not scared. I just—” You pause, biting your lip. “Maybe I just like being close to you.”

Dean’s expression softens at that, the usual cocky grin replaced by something a little more vulnerable, a little more real. For a second, it’s just the two of you, the quiet intimacy of the moment taking over.

But then the movie makes another loud sound, and you jump again—this time you don’t just grab onto him, you climb into his lap, pressing your face into his chest to avoid the screen.

Dean bursts out laughing, the sound rich and deep. “Now that’s more like it.”

You groan, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, but you don't move. Instead, you let yourself stay there, inhaling the familiar scent of him—leather, bourbon, and something distinctly Dean.

“Couldn’t just let me have one win, huh?” he teases, brushing your hair out of your face.

You sigh dramatically, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m not scared, Dean,” you mutter, though your voice is muffled by his shirt. “I just don’t appreciate being startled every five minutes.”

He chuckles, the warmth of his body radiating through yours. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Then the movie hits another creepy scene, the lights flickering on screen, followed by an eerie noise that echoes through the room.

You gasp, gripping onto Dean tighter, but this time, you don’t even care. Not when you can feel him so close, his steady presence grounding you. You tilt your head slightly, peering up at him through your lashes.

Dean’s eyes are soft, and for once, the teasing expression is gone, replaced by something more sincere. “You know, you don’t have to be tough all the time,” he murmurs, brushing a finger across your cheek. “I’ve got your back. No monsters in here.”

You meet his gaze, heart suddenly skipping a beat. “Yeah… I know.”

For a moment, you just stay there, the weight of his words settling between you. No more jokes, no more teasing. Just this—just the two of you, sitting together in the aftermath of a scary movie and an unexpected moment of vulnerability.

Dean leans down slowly, his lips grazing your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss. “So,” he says, his voice still soft, “you really think you can handle the rest of this movie?”

You smile up at him, the warmth in your chest spreading to your fingertips. “I think I can manage, as long as you keep holding me like this.”

Dean’s grin returns, but this time, it’s different—it’s not cocky or teasing, it’s real. He pulls you even closer, pressing his lips gently to your hair. “Deal. You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

And despite the horror flick still playing on the screen, despite the creepy sounds and flickering lights, you’re okay with that. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

tags: @pieandflannel @cevansbaby-dove @thekhloediary @sunnyteume @sam-winchesters-soul16 @blondegoth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @chevroletdean @losers-clvb @soldiersgirl