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mynahx3 · 5 months ago

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You Left Me, Like They All Do 6K

Hello lovelies!!! Just a quick Yandere Satoru x Sorcerer reader. This is a dark story so please read warnings and heed tags!!! Warnings for NONCON/ DRUGGING/ DRINKING/ GUILT TRIPPING DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!!!!MUST BE 18+ TO INTERACT!!!

You liked what you had with Satoru. The two of you weren't anything more or anything special and you were happy with that.

Only... He wasn't. He wanted more.

And you tried to run.

"You haven't been returning my texts."

You look up from your desk, the paperwork forgotten at the new arrival in your office. The said arrival, Gojo, stands there with a wide grin, leaning on the doorframe with an air of nonchalance as always.

It had been almost six months since you last saw him.

Of course, he came here to stir things up. You were relieved that nobody was on campus because it was getting late, and the additional paperwork from the kids' missions was the reason for your overtime.

"Gojo, long time no see." You return his grin, despite your dry tone, and return to your desk, the pen in your hand scribbling on the paper.

In truth, you were angry. The last time you had talked to him, not over text or the phone, was when you told him you were done with this "relationship," if you could even call it that. Now he had the nerve to show up at your new job like he owned the place.

Though you could suppose he almost did, considering he was the strongest.

His footsteps are loud in the silence of your office as he walks in, sitting at the edge of your desk beside you. He looms over you as you continue to ignore him, his foot begins to tap at the ground to show his impatience. You can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you refuse to acknowledge him, determined to stand your ground.

The tension rises as he clears his throat, breaking the silence in the room. With a deep breath, you turn to face him, ready to confront whatever he has to say.

Seeing him after so long was a shock to you, but you refused to let it show. The dim light of your office casts him in a soft, warm glow. He looks down at you with the bandages over his eyes, revealing one of them. With his arms folded across his chest, he looks down on you with a childlike pout.

With a grimace, you only raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to speak his mind, the pen left on your desk as you turn to face him. You could feel the tension between you two, but you refused to let it show on your face. Even your cursed energy was in check, not a drop being unmanaged.

"You really had me worried there." He starts, the frown on his face unchanging. "I thought something had happened to you."

"Last I remember, I blocked you for a reason, Gojo."

"And last I remember, I said we weren't done. And stop calling me Gojo; I told you that."

"Stop saying shit like that, WE." You said, motioning a figure between the two of you, the tone of your voice filled with annoyance, "Are nothing. We weren't EVER a thing."

"Fine, you want to play it that way?" He retorted, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer. The air crackled with unresolved tension, neither of you showing any sign of backing down. "You know there was something more."

"Gojo, we had our fun; we slept a couple times together, had amazing sex, I will admit, but I never said I wanted anything more."

"Oh, come on!" He laughed, shaking his head at you with an amused glint in his eyes. "I know you felt something more than just sex between us. We had something."

The two of you continued to bicker, your voices gradually increasing in volume.

Yaga always did say the two of you were as stubborn as mules.

Him insisting on a deeper connection, you denying it with every fiber of your being. It was clear that this disagreement would not be easily resolved. It had all been coming to a head—the boiling of the pot—when you finally snapped at him.

"I know what I want, and it's not you," you declared coldly, holding his gaze with unwavering determination.

He looks taken aback by you, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. His jaw tightened as he turned away from you, distracting himself with a picture on your desk, but you could see something in his eyes as they became glassy with tears.

It was a picture of your high school days. When things were easier.

Seeing his hurt expression, you felt bad, almost wanting to take back what you had said. Reaching a hand out to him, you comfortingly rubbed his forearm, a softer expression on your face.

He has been a friend of yours for such a long time. You didn't mean for things to turn out this way.

"That… That was harsher than I meant."

Gojo stayed silent as he continued to look at the picture, his finger tracing over the engravings of the frame. It was almost like he was reminiscing about something. His shoulders relaxed at your touch little by little, and he finally met your eyes again, a mix of hurt and understanding in his gaze.

"I know," he whispered softly before straightening his back, his hand going over yours.

It was almost like nothing had happened—his playful, goofy smile returning to his face. Still, you could see the pain in his eyes lingering beneath the surface, a reminder of the impact of your words. Despite his attempt to mask it with humor, there was a vulnerability in his expression that you couldn't ignore.

"We're just friends; I get that, but at least let me be in my friend's life. Don't just go blocking me, then transfer to Kyoto without a proper goodbye."

You pursed your lips together at his remarks and averted his look, your throat stiff, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. The pain in his eyes was undeniable, and you knew deep down that you couldn't bring yourself to hurt him in that way.

It was funny. You went from being determined about protecting your distance to feeling horrible for giving him pain. But…

It's not like you just uprooted your life and career and abandoned everything you knew for no apparent reason. Gojo, no Satoru, had become overbearing.

The two of you had begun sleeping together, really as a means to relieve stress, but he became more attached. You thought it was cute at first. But as time went on, his possessiveness became suffocating.

You should have set boundaries, but a part of you did encourage it. Just letting him do as he please.

It was a little nice to be doted on.

He showed up at your apartment with no notice, stayed for days after what was intended to be a one-night encounter, and even went to meet your parents for lunch one day. He was acting like your boyfriend after only wanting a casual relationship with him, if that. It was unnerving how quickly he had become so attached and involved in your life. The breaking point came when he showed you the extra key to your apartment he had made for himself. Smiling like he had just given you a gift, he said, "Now I can come and go as I please."

Like he didn't already.

Looking back at him, you felt the months of anger against him subside; a part of you was disappointed in yourself for what you said next.

"Okay Satoru." You sighed, not missing the way he seemed to glow at you calling him his first name again. "We can be friends."

With that, he envelops you in a hug, pulling your form tightly to him. It had to be an uncomfortable position with how he hunched over, but you couldn't deny the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"Thank you."

His arms tightened around you so much you let out a little wheeze, but you didn't say anything, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. He almost seemed to melt into you, taking in the moment to bury his head into the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath on your skin as he whispered, "I've missed you."

In the beginning, it was going well.

The two of you would text regularly, have lunch when he was in Kyoto or you were in Tokyo, and had still managed to keep a respectable distance from each other.

You still lived your life, and he still lived his.

Gone were the days you had to sneak around just to avoid running into him at Jujutsu Tech. You were content with having him back in your life simply as a friend. You could now visit Shoko or anyone else in Tokyo without first confirming his presence.

But then things started to change.

His hugs lingered a little longer, and his eyes held a different kind of intensity. Brushing it off, you tried to convince yourself that you were just imagining things. He was always clingy, even in high school.

Even now he clung to your side, blabbering away about his day and his students. He had burst into the morgue, interrupting your conversation with Shoko to steal you away instead.

You should have let Utahime be the one to take the paperwork to her, but you had to insist on helping her out.

"So you going to come?"

Satoru looked at you expectantly across the table, having dragged you to a nearby cafe he wanted to try out. You were always the only one to go with him before you left.

"I'm sorry, I can't," you said before you could take a bite of the parfait you ordered, a grimace on your face from feeling guilty for leaving him behind. "I have other plans tonight."

Satoru's disappointment was evident, but you had already made plans. A date, to be exact.

He slouched over in his seat, groaning loudly about how it had been so long since you came. It was a near monthly drinking party that you had always attended, but this time you had to miss it. A part of you contemplated it, but you shook your head no to him, politely smiling at him.

"Come on, you have to come." He urged, trying to convince you to change your mind. "Utahime will be there, Shoko will, even Nanami!"

"I promise I'll make it up to you next time," you reassured Satoru, hoping he would understand.

Scoffing, he began to use his spoon to roughly stab at his own parfait, clearly frustrated with your decision.

"Fine, suit yourself," he muttered, clearly disappointed.

Of course your date didn't show.

You stood in the busy streets, angry and frustrated, as you realized you had been stood up once again. It was almost an hour after the agreed upon time, and your date still hadn't shown up. Every text you sent was ignored but clearly read by the receipt, leaving you embarrassed and feeling foolish for waiting around.

People had begun to bump into you, the night crowd beginning to rush the sidewalk, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave just yet.

They were a fuckin asshole, you thought, sending them a last fuck you message before pocketing your phone in your leather jacket.

Angrily, you wipe your tears before they could fall, turning to stomp back to the train station. You really thought they were interested after a couple weeks of texting. A couple weeks of seemingly being led on only to be stood up in the end. With a huff, you tightened your jacket around you as you moved with the crowd; the brisk fall air began to bite at your skin, especially on your legs, even with tights providing some protection.

You had almost made it around the corner when you heard your name being called out in the distance, which made you stop. Turning with confusion, a part of you was hopeful it was your date, but instead you saw Satoru waving his hand at you from across the street. He was easy to pinpoint with his towering height and stark white hair. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to engage in conversation after what just happened.

Before you could move to go, he made his way across the street, his infinity helping him make his way in the weekend crowd.

"I thought you weren't coming," he asked, tilting his head to you as you both moved to the side of the sidewalk to avoid the bustling pedestrians.

He wore normal attire for the night out instead of the uniform you always saw him in. A black turtleneck, dark wash jeans, and a fur lined brown coat.

God, you hated how good he looked in a turtleneck and that coat.

"I changed my mind," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping he didn't notice the redness in your eyes.

It was a happy accident that the bar they wanted to go out to was a short distance from the restaurant where you were supposed to meet your date. You had decided that even if you weren't going to go on a date, you would have fun tonight with your friends.

Having spent so much time getting ready, it would be a shame to have your dress go to waste.

Now you were with your closest friends, drinking together and laughing the night away, grateful for their company and the distraction from your original plans.

Shoko and Nanami were currently chugging beer, always being the competitive drinkers, with Utahime cheering them on and placing bets on who would finish first. The atmosphere was lively and carefree, making you forget all about the date that never happened. It was a relief to be there, honestly.

You watched on with a genuine smile, chanting along with Utahime as she overly cheered. The redness on her face clearly showed her level of intoxication, but it only added to the fun of the evening. As the two of them finished at the same time, she continued to dance and chant, motioning for another round loudly.

Laughing a bit at her antics, you began to relax a little, feeling the effects of your own drinks. Lifting your cup, you went for another sip before feeling a nudge on your shoulder. Turning your head, you saw Satoru had returned from the bar, lounging next to you with a playful grin.

"Try this." Satoru said to you, pushing the obscenely bright drink into your face.

He didn't drink alcohol, preferring virgin drinks, but he always packed them with sweetness. It was clear from the bright blue slush and little paper umbrella it was garnished with that this drink was no exception.

Shaking your head, you stubbornly refused as he kept trying to persuade you to try it.

"Come on, just one sip," he urged, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You couldn't help but smile at his persistence, knowing that resisting would be futile in the end.

"One sip!" You finally relented, taking a small sip of the overly sweet concoction.

The taste was overwhelming, as you expected. It tasted like a sugary explosion in your mouth, making you scrunch up your face in response. When you go to give it back to him, he doesn't accept it, hands above his head.

"Keep it," he insisted, his smile widening. "It's all yours."

"Come on, just take it back. I can't drink this whole thing."

"I think you need it after drinking so much. Consider it a gift," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Besides, it's a special recipe just for you."

You just shrug, rolling your eyes at him before turning your attention back to your friends, who continued to challenge each other to more drinking games. You didn’t feel like dealing with his complaining.

It wasn't your usual taste, but you couldn't deny it began to grow on you, even if it had an aftertaste. He seemed happy with that, silent for once as you finished it, his arm resting on your shoulders.

When everyone began to leave, it was clear you and Utahime were plastered.

Outside of the establishment, the group was waiting for their rides to come. The two of you hung on each other, her arguing with Satoru about going back to Tokyo permanently.

"No! Get your grimy hands off her Gojo! She's mine!"

You laughed loudly as she pressed your face into her chest, her arms locked around your neck protectively as you both swayed. Thank goodness you opted for heels with a lower heel.

Somehow, Shoko had gotten her off of you, telling her that she needed to calm down.

"Utahime. You'll see her in your hotel." Shoko tried to remind her, ever levelheaded, even with the amount of alcohol she consumed.

"Nooo! She got a different one from me, Shoko!"

You had both been to Tokyo for the yearly Good Will Event, one that was pushed back a bit. You also agreed to stay a bit longer to catch up and aid the Tokyo location with missions, but you had booked a different hotel by accident. A simple miscommunication in text.

Nonetheless, the hotel was a bit of a drive, so it was a headache.

You swayed unsteadily on your shaky legs, almost stumbling and nearly falling to the grimy floor below. Just in time, Nanami assisted you, keeping a hand on your lower back to keep you steady.

"Thank you, Nanami," you slurred gratefully, smiling away at him, trying to lean up to peck his cheek.

Nanami stood still, staring at you in shock as you moved closer, almost in shock. Satoru saw this and almost immediately swatted Nanami away, having you lean on him instead.

"Let me help you," Satoru said firmly, with a protective arm around your waist, ignoring your protests.

Nanami only raised his eyebrow before shrugging, feeling a bit uneasy himself from how much he drunk. It would be wiser for him to ride with Shoko; it was how he got here to begin with.

"How about you take Utahime, Shoko, and I'll take her?" Satoru suggested, knowing that it would be easier for Utahime to calm down with Shoko. "It'll take forever for Ijichi to come get them since he has to go pick up the first years. They barely finished a mission."

Shoko frowned a little at the suggestion, her eyes looking from you to him. Nanami was not able to drive; she had beat them in their drinking bet, and she was the only one who could.

"I thought you didn't drive?"

Satoru shrugged at her question, "I don't, but I can teleport; easy peasy."

Nanami was silent before nodding in agreement. Utahime had started to turn green, which hastened his decision, "We don't have time to wait for Ijichi. Let's just go."

Her mind seemed to be turning until she eventually nodded, turning to walk towards her car with Utahime in tow after saying goodnight. Nanami was also needed to help; Utahime had begun to walk more unbalanced as she tried to "rescue you," as she put it.

As you stumbled away with Satoru, Utahime's voice faded into the background as she continued to protest about going back to Tokyo permanently. Shoko guided her away, leaving you to chuckle at the chaos you had inadvertently caused.

"She's a handful tonight."

"That's an understatement."

The two of you continued walking, leaving the commotion behind. Once you both got to an alleyway, away from the prying eyes of civilians, Satoru prepared to teleport.

He smiled down at you, pulling you flush to his side, his hand wandering a little lower than you would like. You playfully swatted his hand away, giving him a warning look. Satoru just grinned mischievously before teleporting. It was something he used sparingly; it did take a toll on his cursed energy, but it made sense in the moment.

In an instance, the two of you began to walk through an unfamiliar apartment. With some difficulty, you managed to get out of your heels as Satoru slipped out of his dress shoes with ease, leading you down a hallway.

White walls and hardwood floors lead to a kitchen and living room. It was sparsely furnished, resembling a minimalist apartment for someone who spent barely any time at home. The only signs of life were the dents in the black couch and a few wrappers left on the marble countertops. As he assisted you in moving inside, you couldn't help but stare in shock at him.

"When did you get your own place?"

"Just recently," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "Thought it was time for a change of scenery."

You laughed at that, feet stumbling over the threshold as you took in the modern decor, somehow keeping up with his quick steps. It was a far cry from his messy dorm room you remembered so well.

"I'm surprised you finally left that dorm," you teased, earning a playful eye roll from him. "Seemed like you would be there forever."

"I've decided to upgrade my living situation," he said with a grin, leading you further into the spacious apartment.

Eventually, he deposited you onto a large, plush bed in a large room. One you immediately relaxed into, eyes closed with a content smile, arms splayed around you, with your legs hanging off the edge. The soft comforter enveloped you as you sank into the mattress, feeling the stress of the day melt away. The moonlight was shining brightly from the windows, a long wall that reached the ceiling, the building towering over the city.

You almost wanted to sleep right away.

It was only a second later when the alarm bells went off. He was supposed to take you to your hotel.

You shot up, heart racing as you realized the mistake, brows furrowed together at him. He stood over you at the foot of the bed, looking at you with smile.

A creepy one at that.

"I thought you were taking me to my hotel." You asked, slurring your words still, your mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. Trying to sit straight, you kept yourself upright with your hands planted behind you.

The room began to sway more and more, your vision blurring. Weird, you don't remember drinking that much now that you think about it. Nothing to do this.

"Your hotel is too far for me to teleport. Besides, my bed is way cozier."

That was another warning.

"What do you mean your bed?" You asked, more alert as you survey the room.

There was a pile of laundry in a corner, little belongings on a dresser, and a framed photo of your first year entrance ceremony on the nightstand. The four of you smiled widely with the youthful ignorance of what was to come. It was clear that you were not in a hotel room but rather in his personal space.

"When you left, I thought I could manage; women and men throw themselves at me all the time." He laughed, and a hand reached out to trace your jawline. "But none of them were you."

"Satoru?"

Looking up at him, he only moved closer, sitting next to you with an almost blank look. You felt a mix of emotions as you realized the depth of his feelings for you, unsure of how to respond in this unexpected situation.

It was obvious the feelings he had for you, but you were unsure if you were ready to reciprocate them.

His white hair made it look like a halo around him with the moon behind him; at some point he had taken off his glasses. The blues of his eyes almost glowed in the dim light of the room. It was weird how big they seemed compared to the rest of his face, almost unnaturally so.

Something was off.

"I've missed you." He declared randomly, cupping your face gently, taking his time to admire you. "When you left, I thought I wouldn't see you again. That, you left me alone, like him. But here you are, in front of me. I can't let you go. I can't be alone again."

His touch was surprisingly warm, contrasting with the coolness of his gaze. Despite the tenderness in his voice, there was a hint of something unsettling lurking beneath the surface.

When you made moves to get up but his other hand joined, the grip he had on your face tightened, almost to the point of pain. His eyes bore into yours, searching for a reaction as he whispered, "You're not going anywhere this time."

The realization of the situation was a smack to the face, more like a train. The room suddenly felt suffocating, the air heavy as you tried to focus. You're positive you didn't drink that much now. Your limbs began to feel heavier suddenly, almost numb, as you pushed against his chest. The tears falling down your cheeks did nothing to convince him to stop, nor did your pleas.

But why would he? He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He leans in as you struggle, your fight getting weaker and weaker, his lips connecting to yours in a forceful, unwelcome kiss.

It was soft at first, reminding you of your first kiss with him before it began to evolve into something more hungry. The realization hits you even harder—you're trapped, and he's not going to let you go without a fight.

What would you do against him anyway? A measly grade one sorcerer compared to the greatest of you, the strongest.

It was funny how easily he overpowered you. Laughable, really.

Your cursed energy surged in retaliation, only to be drowned in a second by his. Wave after wave, you felt more and more hopeless. Every time you came up for air, you were crushed once more.

Drowning again and again.

The way he kissed you was rough, teeth smashing against your bottom lip, his tongue dancing intrusively in your mouth. He had easily pried your jaw open for access, the bruises forming on your skin from his forceful grip. Your mind blanks for a second, almost not believing what was happening, numb hands frozen at his chest.

He breaks it on his terms, panting for air just like you. Smiling like he found his lost treasure, in a way he did.

The hold on your face lessens, but you know he could remind you of the power he held. His thumbs hurriedly wiped at the tears falling from your face, shushing you as he peppered your face in gentle kisses.

"You don't need to go back to Kyoto; hell, you don't even have to go back to Tokyo." He starts, leaving kisses along your neck, one of his hands moving your jacket off your shoulders. "I can take care of you; keep you here with me. Just don't leave; don't leave me again."

You would pity the desperate look on his face if he wasn’t doing this to you.

Your mouth moves but doesn't really form words, trying to protest but unable to find the strength to do so. With whatever was in your system and your nerves, you only managed to mumble out pleas. It became harder and harder to form words, your tongue going numb.

"Just let this happen."

He pushed you back against the bed, quickly removing the jacket and dress you had on. The tights you wore were torn in his haste, leaving the tattered fabric to fall to the floor with the rest of the pile.

Impatient as always.

Faster than your mind can keep up, he strips you bare, taking the moment to look down at you. He had seen everything before, tasted you, and been inside you, but you never felt more exposed.

The cold prickled at your skin, making goosebumps rise as he traced his fingers over your body, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes darkened with desire—a hunger that made you feel terrified. You knew this was not how it was supposed to be, but the fear kept you frozen in place, unable to speak or move.

Small. You felt small like this under him.

While he was still dressed, his hands moved across the expanse of your chest, naked and exposed to the cold, exposed to him.

His touch felt invasive, violating the trust you had once placed in him. The tips of his finger ran from your clavicle to your breast, taking it into his large hand, feeling the weight and softness of it in his palm.

You just wanted him to stop.

Lifting your hands, you wrap them around his wrist, your eyes pleading with him to stop. His eyes soften at this, seeing the fear and betrayal in your eyes. Still, he never felt you looked more beautiful. Under him, your hair splayed around you on the white sheets, your lips puffy from his.

"God, I am horrible." He chuckles, taking your hand in his, kissing the knuckles. "Seeing you like this only makes me want you more."

Eventually he strips like you, easily keeping you pinned to the bed with his strength, not like you could fight anymore. Your limbs were heavy to your side now, legs only twitching in response to his actions.

He had his head buried between your legs, taking his time to savor this. It had been so long since he'd done this after all.

Your essence dripped down his chin and onto the sheets from your countless releases. It had been hours since he took you here, but he barely showed any signs of slowing down, his hunger for you insatiable. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, a symphony of moans and gasps that seemed to echo endlessly.

With the help of an old friend, he had been able to borrow a little something to make things easier. The curse was harder to tame, but he eventually managed to get what he wanted from it.

It had been useful in spiking your drink to keep you pliant and easy to control but awake and aware of everything that was happening.

The only dirty work he really had to do was dispose of your date.

With another gasp, you finish in his awaiting mouth, letting him lick you clean once more. You only whined in overstimulation, thighs futily trying to close as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue.

The night was far from over.

Rising up, he smiles down at you, wiping his mouth with his forearm.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss.

It almost sucked the air from your lungs. You somehow manage to find some fight left in you, pounding your fists on his chest. Not like it helped.

It did, however, serve to piss him off.

Breaking the kiss again, he only frowns at you, holding your wrists together with ease.

"Still?" He asks, his voice low and dangerous. "I thought we were past this." His grip tightens, making you wince in pain.

Stubbornly, you only glare at him. Trying to muster up the courage to speak, but your words are caught in your throat. His eyes narrow, a warning glinting in them as he waits for your response.

He tsks when you stay silent, roughly pushing your arms away, squeezing your face together as he made you face him. Your heart beats faster in your chest, and the room almost feels freezing despite everything he's done.

"I hate you." You finally whisper, your throat hoarse from the struggle to get the words out.

His expression softens for a moment before hardening again, and you brace yourself for what comes next. He stays silent, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. He gazes down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sincerity in your words.

Suddenly, he flips you over; a hand pressed to the back of your skull kept your head buried in the sheets, your cheek pressed up against it harshly.

"You don't mean that," he growls into your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

He swiftly moved a pillow under your hips, propping your ass in the air as he positioned himself behind you. The weight of his hand on your head keeps you pinned down, unable to move or escape.

Your limbs still flail, trying to escape him as he groped your ass, gripping it tightly.

Shortly, he grows tired, wanting to move onto more exciting things.

You feel his cock rub between your ass before he moves to the familiar head of his cock between your folds, trying to find purchase. It rubs against your clit in a way that makes your toes curl, an action that doesn't go unnoticed by him.

A moan escaping your lips stops your yells for a second. It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it.

"I love you. I fucking love you. I'll make you love me if I have to. You'll see," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he thrusts into you with a force that leaves you gasping for air.

Right away he slams his hips into your over and over again, not giving you time to adjust to his length or to the intensity of his movements. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, causing you to grip the sheets tightly in response to the overwhelming sensation.

Satoru continues his relentless pace, uncaring if it caused you harm or discomfort at the sudden stretch. The only thing on his mind is fulfilling his own desires, regardless of the consequences to you.

The grip in your hair only tightens as he pulls you closer to him, his grunts of satisfaction filling the room. There was undeniable pleasure, but it had begun to meld with pain. You just needed a break.

You had stayed silent, biting the inside of your cheek so much you tasted your own blood. But as his actions become more aggressive, you can't help but let out a small whimper of pain, causing him to pause for a moment before resuming with even more force.

"It hurts!" You cry out, making him halt momentarily, a look of annoyance crossing his face before he resumes with even more aggression, pushing your head down more, making it harder to breathe.

"If you had just stayed," he says, moving again and again, looking down at your ass ripple with each thrust. "It wouldn't be like this."

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he hits a spot deep inside of you over and over again, your body trembling with conflicting sensations. Your hands grip at the sheets more, your insides beginning to clench around him as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The intensity of his thrusts only heightens the pleasure, making it impossible to resist the impending release.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before trying to leave," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. Chest pressed into your back.

He roughly pulls you up by the hair, stopping his thrusts, looking into your eyes; he wanted to know you understood.

Nodding to him, you weakly cry, feeling beyond defeated.

Your mascara ran down your face, and your hair was messy from his grip, but he never thought you looked better. Smiling insanely, he leaned down to kiss you as he resumed his rough movement.

As much as you tried to push it back, you felt yourself get closer and closer. The fear and adrenaline mixed with desire and confusion, creating a twisted sense of pleasure that you couldn't deny.

With a couple more thrusts, he feels you finish around him, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The action had made him follow shortly after, painting your insides white with his own release. A whimper escaped your lips, feeling the large amount that filled you; some of it had already started to drip down your thigh.

He had been saving it all for you.

With shaky arms, he leaned over you, smiling as he laid kisses down your shoulder blades like it was a normal love making session. When he moved you to lie next to him, keeping himself plugged inside, his arms were firmly around you, and his eyes had a love-sick expression.

You had wide eyes and were frozen, unmoving as he put the blanket over the both of you, still not taking himself out. His touch was gentle, but there was a possessiveness in his hold that made you uneasy. As you lay there, trying to process what had just happened, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

"We'll clean up in the morning, babe." He said, kissing your forehead as he settled behind you, his arms like a vice. He had tried to brush through your hair and wipe some of your tears, but it didn't help much.

A content sigh escaped his lips as he buried his face into your hair, wistful and airy, like a weight had been lifted from him.

Only it was transferred to you, making your chest tight and unmoving.

Satoru quickly relaxed against you; he was finally happy, with you back in his arms, where you should be. He’d have to repay his friend in the future, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the time he had with you.

For the first time since you left, he slept soundly, and you were wide awake. Even though your eyes were burning to go to sleep, you remained awake while lying in his arms on the bed.

Slowly blinking at the window in front of you, not paying attention to anything in particular, calmly breathing in and out.

Only one thing had gone through your mind after all of this.

You never should have left.

#jjk x reader #reader insert #yandere jjk #gojo satoru x y/n #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #cw yandere #cw noncon #cw drinking #cw drugs #yandere satoru gojo #possible yandere satosugu #if this gets a part 2 #yandere satoru x reader #dark jjk #dark satoru gojo #yandere smut

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swarm-of-raspberries · 8 months ago

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when the drink starts tasting like i need to be smothered in his cunt immediately

#queer nsft #t4t nsft #ftm nsft #transsexual musings #intox kink #ftm dom #ftm t4t #cw drinking

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felsicveins · 1 year ago

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I personally think JD should divorce Julian's freeloading ass for good. I bet what they had meant nothing and JD really wants nothing to do with him. Our JD deserves better, I think.

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch #trolls branch #branch trolls #floyd #floyd trolls #trolls floyd #is it morning? or is it night? is branch also drinking? all questions that have no answer #brozone #cw alcohol #tw alcohol #cw drinking #tw drinking #gotta be better with that 👍

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mr-payjay · 2 months ago

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nickel gijinkas organized at the top ❤️ s2 s2 and post s3 he's pretransition in s2

lemon slice is pickle's baby he's a single father now

ulrikke and aislynn are ocs... technically set in the tawog universe

balloon with a drill is, of course, hd balloon. missed her

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bamsara · 2 years ago

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some doodles for some scene ideas for a future chapter in my fic, drunken gods and whatnot. they are so dumb

part 2 of drunken shenanigans

#cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #lambert #the one who waits #cotl narinder #doodles #cw drinking #narilamb #true devotion

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kingkonoha · 1 year ago

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𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

⎯⎯ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⎯⎯

♡ — 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After what happened to you & your son, Satoru couldn’t stop drinking . . .

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: dark content, fem reader, canonverse, amnesia, mentions of death, suicide ideation, violence, mentions of food, drinking, gojo not eating. mention of gojo’s son & the reader struggling with their disabilities. reader wears dress/heels/perfume.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 11K

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hi everyone, thanks for being patient with me! I doubt many of you remember this story and were waiting for a continuation, but I hope everyone who reads this enjoys this series coming to an end, and thank you for the kind comments on the last part.

— MONTHS BEFORE THE REUNION —

“I’m going to throw myself off of a building today,” Satoru Gojo thought as he glared down at his uneaten dinner, sitting alone in the booth of a restaurant called Jeezers, a blue and yellow themed sandwich place that hadn’t seen a spec of cosmetic work since the 90’s.

And it wasn’t a drunken idea; there wasn’t any alcoholic beverage that he could blame the unwanted thought on.

But, could he truly call such a thought unwanted?

His body didn’t flinch when the dark image of his planned suicide entered his mind. He didn’t try to push the negative emotion away, tell himself to snap out of it, or immediately try to think of happy things.

Instead, he thought about how he would do it, where he would go, and when.

But, due to his great power, jumping off a roof wouldn’t kill him — what would?

“Do I have to chop off my own head? Is that the only way?” he thought.

Satoru shoved his unappetizing sub sandwich away. The sandwich itself was rather delicious. The employee wasn’t skimpy when it came to the toppings, and for only five bucks, he also was able to get a refillable soda with it.

But the white-haired man didn’t want food.

He wanted his wife and son to come back to life. Or, he wanted alcohol. And to die.

The glass entrance doors chimed as a person walked through them. The generous sandwich maker — and cashier, as the restaurant was understaffed — greeted the hungry customer who casually strolled toward the counter.

“Welcome in!” The young woman said.

“Thanks,” the customer replied.

And, when Satoru heard that voice — as he didn’t bother to look up and see who entered the restaurant — the former teacher sighed heavily.

The sound of footsteps approaching his lonely booth grew louder and louder. As the person came closer, their steps slowed down greatly as if they were approaching a wild animal, expecting it to lash out.

“Gojo?” The call of his name came from his student — a former student — Yuji Itadori. He hadn’t heard his voice in a long time. It sounded a bit deeper, but he still recognized it.

Satoru looked up. Unsurprisingly, Megumi was with Itadori as well, and Gojo’s eyes flickered over to the boy he practically raised himself.

Satoru didn’t bother with faking a smile, nor an overly enthusiastic greeting — one with a touch of a humorous tone — that would capture the personality of the great Satoru Gojo they once knew.

He wasn’t that person anymore. And, now, he didn’t even have the strength to pretend to be.

“Hey,” Satoru mumbled sadly.

At least he was sober right now. If his students had caught him tripping over his own feet, tears falling from his blue eyes as strong alcohol coated his breath, he would never forgive himself.

Much to the depressed man’s dismay, the two sorcerers slid into the other side of the booth.

“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Itadori said, his voice heavy with worry, but kindness as well. “How . . . have you been?”

Satoru took a moment to truly look at them. They were older. When he had last seen them, they were simply young teenagers, but now, their jawlines had sharpened a bit more. Their voices were slightly deeper. They had grown a couple of inches. Megumi was starting to look more and more like his father, while Yuji — who wore his hair pushed back now — started to resemble Sukuna.

Satoru clenched his fist unintentionally.

Sukuna’s finger destroyed his family.

That’s what the higher-ups told him.

Years ago, Satoru could easily tell the difference between Sukuna and Yuji, markings aside. But, now, it was like he was staring right at the King of Curses.

The only difference was that Yuji’s eyes were filled with kindness and concern, not pure evil.

“It’s not him. It’s Yuji. It’s just Yuji. It’s not him. It’s not him,” Satoru repeated in his chaotic mind.

Looking over at Toji — no, it was Megumi — did him no favors, either.

It felt as if Satoru was staring right at his two greatest enemies.

“It’s been a few years,” Megumi blinked, his face solemn. “We didn’t know if they ever locked you up for that little killing spree of yours.”

The dark-haired sorcerer glared at Satoru with eyes that begged for answers, and Satoru could easily tell that he wanted to ask him about the infamous killing spree since the day someone undoubtedly told him the horrific news.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Satoru clarified. He fidgeted with the paper wrapping of his untouched sandwich. “I was targeting curses.”

“Yeah?” A frown appeared across Megumi’s face. “But you were clumsy, and you hurt a lot of regular people too.”

“Leave him alone, Fushiguro,” Yuji glanced down at Satoru’s sandwich.

The uneaten dinner, along with the plain misery written all over his face, made it utterly obvious that the sad man was suffering enough.

Suddenly, the welcome bell chimed again as someone entered the restaurant. A pair of shoes clicked against the tile as they approached the counter before halting abruptly. There was a brief pause before their footsteps picked up once again, quicker this time as they changed their direction and made their way over to Satoru's booth.

“Gojo,” The young woman said with shock, as both a question and a statement.

Satoru looked up to see Nobara. Her ginger-brown hair was longer, falling past her shoulders, but not yet reaching her mid-back. She wore an eyepatch over her left eye.

She slid into the booth, sitting beside Satoru, who hesitantly scooted over.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she looked at him. “How are you? I could kick your butt for leaving us behind, ya know.”

She smiled sadly as she spoke, her tone soft and humorous despite her words.

“I’m sorry.” Satoru’s leg started to shake.

“It’s okay,” Nobara glanced down at Satoru’s sandwich as well. “I get it. I’m just teasing you.”

“So,” Yuji spoke cautiously, thinking over his words before he said them. “What do you do now? Do you live around here?”

The country music playing softly in the background filled the silence for a moment. His former students simply blinked at him, waiting for a response.

“You guys should go to the counter and order your food.” Satoru stared down at the table. “I think they’re closing soon.”

“Gojo . . .” Nobara frowned, her honey brown eye glistening with worry. “Why don’t you come back to the school with us tomorrow? Everyone would love to see you, and . . . maybe you could talk to the higher-ups about becoming a sorcerer again.”

“The world has gone straight to hell without you,” Megumi added, although truly, he knew it was pointless.

The man couldn’t find the strength to have a proper dinner. He definitely wasn’t in any shape to fight curses once again.

“No, but thanks for the offer.” Satoru managed to glance up at the three of them once again, but it pained him to do so. “It was good seeing all of you, though. I better head home now.”

“Already?” Yuji frowned. “C’mon, Gojo. Just talk to us. Please.”

“What’s there to talk about, Yuji?”

“There’s plenty to talk about!” Yuji raised his voice, speaking louder than he intended, but luckily, the restaurant was isolated for the most part aside from an adorable elderly couple sharing a meatball sub, and the cashier, who started to wipe down the sandwich building station.

“If you don’t wanna become a sorcerer again, fine, but we can still help you.” Megumi stared into Satoru’s eyes. The younger sorcerer was secretly more upset than he let on, but Satoru could see the brokenness reflected in Megumi’s eyes as he started to speak. “You won’t eat your sandwich for some reason, so I’m guessing you’re struggling to eat anything at all. You’re not drunk right now, and yet, you still smell like alcohol. I’m willing to bet that you’re not actually trying to get home right now but to that bar down the street. Am I wrong? Not to mention — you look miserable.”

The silence was deafening.

Nobara thought about kicking Megumi under the table, but she didn’t.

“That was rude, Fushiguro,” Yuji mumbled under his breath, looking down at the table as he did so.

“I know, and I’m sorry, I really am, but kindness isn’t going to help him.” Although he was speaking to Yuji, Megumi’s eyes never glanced away from Satoru.

Satoru stared at Megumi with an expression his old student couldn’t recognize. It sent a shiver up his spine.

“Let me out, Nobara,” Satoru mumbled.

The young woman hesitated, flickering her eye between Yuji and Megumi to see what they wanted her to do. But, she truly couldn’t keep him there. What good would that do?

Nobara scooted out of the booth.

“Gojo, please don’t leave, just talk to us, we care about you,” Yuji's plea fell on deaf ears as Satoru started to make his way out of the door.

“We know you miss your family, but this isn’t how you handle it. Don’t leave . . .”

Satoru tuned out the rest of Megumi’s words.

Both Megumi and Yuji started to get up from their seats and follow their former teacher out of the door, but Nobara stopped them.

The look of sadness on her face spoke for her. It told them that there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped.

The two sorcerers sat back down, and the three of them watched as Satoru left the restaurant and made his way down the street to the bar.

—

— TWO WEEKS AFTER THE REUNION —

SATURDAY

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Ren, happy birthday to you!”

Your boy smiled happily as he leaned over his five-layer chocolate chip cookie cake and blew out his candles. The guests attending his eleventh birthday party all applauded.

“Did you make a wish?” A young girl with dark hair in a ponytail asked.

“Yeah. I made the greatest wish ever.” Ren grinned at his crush from school, a bit embarrassed to tell her what his wish was.

After all, when he blew out the candles, he had hoped that someday, your memories of Satoru would return.

The white-haired man walked up to Ren with a wide grin, wiping away his tears with his thumb. Satoru was wearing a colorful birthday hat, and he looked rather silly, but even so, he was excited to wear it.

“Are you ready to cut the cake?” Satoru grinned. “We can open presents after. How does that sound?”

“Sounds awesome,” Ren smiled back. “This is the coolest birthday I’ve ever had!”

Truth be told, he already had the number one thing he wanted. A dad.

But seeing the enormous pile of gifts in the corner of the venue was insanely cool as well.

The bright smile spreading across your son’s face made you grin too as you watched him interact with his father from a distance.

Satoru had planned Ren’s entire birthday party and didn’t hold back a single dollar when it came to making sure his boy had everything he wanted, from the cake that he started to slice into, to any gift he could ever ask for.

After all, the last birthday Satoru attended was when his boy turned three.

After a day of bowling and arcade games with his friends from school, they all met up with the parents and other adult guests at a local venue.

Blue and black video game themed decorations coated the entire place. His favorite songs blared softly through speakers as everyone ate the food served buffet-style and socialized with one another. During that time, Ren had met several unfamiliar people, such as his dad’s former students.

It might have been Ren’s birthday, but Satoru was just as happy. If the birthday hat wasn’t an obvious sign, then the constant photo-taking was. Every second, he was snapping a picture of his boy. He wanted to take a picture of you too, but he couldn’t build up the courage to ask.

From a short distance away, Satoru stared at you with those pretty blue eyes of his, watching as you chatted with Kento and Yuji.

He wished that he could say that the drinking had stopped once he found you again, that he no longer knew misery once you reentered his life, but that wasn’t true.

He was happy that you and Ren were alive, of course, but you didn’t remember him. And, if you didn’t remember him, then you didn’t love him anymore.

That hurt like hell.

His grief didn’t fade away, it only shifted focus.

But, even so, this was the happiest he had ever been since the great incident, and he managed to go five days without having any sort of alcohol as well.

About five minutes had passed before the conversation between you, Kento, and Yuji had ended. Satoru took that opportunity to approach you with a slice of cookie cake in hand, and with every step, his knees threatened to wobble. Hands almost started to shake.

He was nervous.

In that moment, he felt like his former teenage self who — despite his overly cocky attitude — had to spend months building up the courage to ask you out on a date.

It was the same thing all over again; he was trying to earn your affection.

Because if you couldn’t remember Satoru, then he’d simply have to win your heart all over again.

“Hey,” Satoru greeted, extending his arm as he handed you the paper plate with a slice of cake on it. “I had to fight three kids to get it, but I grabbed you a piece.”

With a soft laugh — one that Satoru missed hearing more than he could ever express — you took the plate from him.

“Thank you.” Grabbing the plastic fork, you took a bite. “And not just for the cake, but for helping out with the entire party. It means a lot.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Smiling shyly, Satoru put his hands in his pockets. “I’ve always spoiled him. I just can’t believe I have the chance to do it again.”

“That reminds me . . .” Suddenly, you turned around and sat the plate of cake down on a nearby table, and faced Satoru once again. “We haven’t had the time to talk about everything, and I’d really like to.”

You and Satoru both sat down at the round table, chairs turned to face one another.

For the past two weeks, conversation between you and him had amounted to nothing more than a few text messages being exchanged, all regarding Ren’s party.

After all, your boy was the only thing you both still had in common. Shared experiences and sweet memories no longer existed, and it wasn’t easy for you to get over your guilt, and for him to get over his heartbreak.

It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t remember him — obviously. But, even so, the sight of his suffering — even though he tried his best to hide it — made a lump form in your throat whenever you thought about the pain your absence had brought. And your return did little to mend it, thanks to your amnesia. It only brought another form of suffering.

“Noa-I mean, Ren . . . has really adapted to his new life pretty well,” you smiled a bit. “Well, his old life, which is now his new life, or . . . you know what I’m trying to say. I heard him call your friend Uncle Kento earlier.”

“I heard that too. Kento couldn’t stop smiling, and he never smiles.”

A beat of silence passed. Even now, while you were both trying to focus on yourselves — on your own relationship with each other — You noticed that Ren was the main topic of the conversation.

“Ren was worried that you wouldn’t like him. Did you know that?”

“What?” Satoru frowned. “Why?”

“His limp,” you said. “He thought that you would be disappointed. He assumed that any father figure that would possibly appear would be upset to have a disabled son, and discovering that his dad was a sorcerer, and the strongest sorcerer at that, well, it just made him worry.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about that. I think he’s perfect.” Satoru glanced down at the floor, smiling to himself softly as he thought about his boy. But, then, he came to the same realization that you did earlier: Ren was the main focus of the conversation yet again.

“We should talk about ourselves, though.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Clearing your throat rather awkwardly, you pointlessly shifted in your seat. You waited for Satoru to say something — anything to kick the sensitive conversation off. He broke his staring contest with the floor and looked into your visible eye.

But he didn’t say anything.

His eyes darted away from yours, and then a second later, he made eye contact yet again.

And, somehow, you knew exactly what that look meant. You couldn’t pinpoint how you knew, not exactly, but you did.

The way he stared at you, looked away, and then glanced back at you . . . it was familiar.

“What’s wrong? I know that look.” You frowned a bit. “You look like you wanna ask me something.”

Satoru smiled sadly.

“How do you remember Ren, but you don’t remember me? We were a family. I was away a lot, but . . .”

The unreasonable guilt gnawed at your insides. You shifted in your seat again.

“I only remember Ren because he was with me every single day after the incident. After some time, old memories with him started to come back.”

“What about memories of the three of us?”

“Sometimes, I can remember another person being there, and I can remember feeling loved and cared for, but I can’t picture a face or remember a voice. It really sucks, and I’m sorry. I just don’t remember you, Satoru.”

Your last sentence snapped his heart into pieces — what wasn’t already shattered, at least.

As you could see the pain reflected in his eyes, you sat up a bit, and tried to make the situation a little bit less heartbreaking as you said, “but I could, eventually. Being around Ren is what jogged my memory of him, so, maybe, in time, being around you will do the same. And I’m willing to make new memories as well, you know what I mean?”

Satoru made a facial expression that you couldn’t recognize. His face was as blank as a fresh canvas.

“All that matters is that you’re both still alive,” he lied, giving a fake smile. “I’m starting to become okay with getting to know you all over again. It’s better than thinking you were dead.”

It wasn’t okay. Not in the slightest. He wanted his wife to remember him. He didn’t want to start his relationship over, as if you were both strangers, under the pressure to recapture a love that was now lost.

“Why would the higher-ups do something like that?” You suddenly asked. “Why would they lie to both of us?”

“I can think of plenty of reasons. But I’ll deal with them later.” Satoru clenched and unclenched his fist. He planned on handling those god-forsaken higher-ups soon enough, but right now, his family was his top priority.

Once again, Satoru made that familiar face. The face that told you he wanted to ask you something.

“What is it?” You questioned, tilting your head just a bit.

Suddenly, Satoru’s hands were sweaty, just like they were when he was a seventeen-year-old lovesick high schooler.

“Do you wanna go out with me? On a date?”

A bright smile spread across your face. You didn’t know it, but it was the same smile you gave him all those years ago when he asked the first time.

“I’d love to.”

Two hours later, Ren’s birthday party came to an end. He was certain that come Monday, his legendary event would be the hot topic at school.

That night, after tucking your son in and kissing him goodnight — although he playfully insisted that he was too old now to be treated like a baby — you left his bedroom and walked into your own, collapsing on your bed with a sigh.

You gave yourself about ten minutes to rest before getting back up to wash a couple of dishes, take a shower, and brush your teeth. And, as you got ready to go to bed, you only thought about one thing: your date with Satoru.

— WEDNESDAY —

Chicken stir fry and fresh vegetables sizzled in the hot skillet on the stove, the tantalizing aroma traveling throughout your cozy two-bedroom apartment. A short distance away, you could hear Ren playing video games in the living room, chatting with someone through his headset.

“We got second place! Good job — even though I had to protect you the entire time,” Ren paused, laughing softly as whoever was on the other end of the headset spoke.

“What? This is the third duo match where you got eliminated before I did. You can kill curses, but you can’t aim?” Ren laughed once again.

You found yourself curious about who your son was talking to. He certainly wasn’t friends with any sorcerers.

Giving your meal one quick stir, you turned the stove heat down to low.

“I gotta go, I think dinner’s almost ready,” Ren said. “Thanks for playing with me. I know you’re really busy, so . . . thanks. Bye.”

Ren took off his headset and turned off his PlayStation 5 — a sleek, white, and big console that Satoru had bought him for his birthday.

As you stepped into the living room, your son smiled up at you.

“Hey Mom,” he laid his dark blue controller on the couch cushion. “This game system is awesome. It’s digital too, so I don’t have to buy physical copies of games anymore.”

“Yeah, I saw that in the directions. That seems pretty cool, huh?” You grinned softly. “Who were you playing with just now?”

“Yuji,” Ren paused. “He likes video games too. We were playing Fortnite. He said I used to always try to take his phone and play games on it when I was a toddler.”

“Oh, really? That doesn’t surprise me.” Raising your eyebrows in surprise, your smile widened. “It was nice of him to play with you, though.”

For the college-aged sorcerer to take time out of his seemingly busy schedule to play video games with your son was kind of him.

“Dinner’s ready. Put your controller away and go wash your hands,” you said.

“Yes ma’am.”

A few minutes later, you and your son were sitting at the small dining table, eating dinner together as he rambled on adorably about his day at school.

“I have about a week or two to finish my science project, but Mrs. Willows paired me up with Mae.” Ren took a bite of his egg roll as he spoke.

“Is something wrong with that? Mae’s lovely. She’s your crush, isn’t she? This could be a great chance to get to know her.” You thought about the way your son blushed as he chatted with the young girl at his birthday party.

You took a sip of your water and noticed that Ren didn’t respond. In fact, he frowned and placed his bitten egg roll back on his plate.

You knew what was wrong without asking.

Aside from the fact that he didn’t want to discuss the topic of crushes and romance with his mother, he was also incredibly insecure. Mae was always kind to him — that much was true. But, at his age, girls often went for the boys who excelled in P.E. class, not the ones who had a limp and couldn’t keep up with the physically demanding sports.

If only he could be more like his father, and his father’s old students — that is what he must have been thinking.

Not only were they strong and powerful, but they went to a school created specifically for sorcerers.

He should have been preparing to attend Jujutsu High in a few years.

He should have been getting trained by his dad to fight curses and save lives.

That’s what he thought.

“I wish I could become a sorcerer,” he mumbled.

“Interesting thought,” your fork gently scraped against your plate as you stirred your food around. “Why do you want to be a sorcerer?”

“So I can fight curses and stuff like Dad used to do.” Ren paused. “You used to be one too.”

“And the fact that I can’t remember that is exactly why you shouldn’t want to be a sorcerer, honey. It’s too dangerous. Your dad quit for a reason.”

“Okay, okay . . . you don’t gotta talk me out of it. I couldn’t become one anyway.” Ren stared down at his plate. “I was just saying it would be kinda awesome to be special like everyone else. Even you’re special.”

You frowned sadly. Seeing your boy’s eyes glisten with sadness as the corners of his lips fell into a frown was simply too much. The sight of it broke your heart.

“Ren, you are special.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”

“No, I’m not.” You stared at the eleven-year-old, trying your hardest to hide how much it hurt to listen to your child’s opinion of himself — both what he expressed through words, and what you knew he was thinking. “You don’t need to be a sorcerer to be special. You don’t need to be great at sports, either. You’re incredibly smart — and I know that because I see your report card — and more importantly, you’re kind too. Not many human beings are as good of a person as you are. Do you know how special you have to be to live in a cruel world like this, and only want to help others? And you’re loved too. Everyone who showed up to your birthday party was there because they adore you, and they don’t care if you have a limp or if you’re not playing sports or killing curses.”

You leaned over, ruffling your son’s head of white hair. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, do you hear me? I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else sees you. The way I see you.”

Ren smiled softly.

He couldn’t deny that he was loved. The amount of presents he had received for his birthday — which you both struggled to carry into the apartment — was a telltale sign of that. The amount of hugs from teary-eyed strangers who were relieved that he was alive also confirmed that fact.

His friends had also treated him like family.

As he thought about all of it, picking up his fork and gathering a bite of food, he figured that, perhaps, he was worth loving.

“Oh, by the way,” you suddenly spoke up. “I’m closing the coffee shop at three tomorrow, so you don’t go there after school. You can go to your dad’s house if he isn’t busy, or maybe Avery’s. Unless you wanna take the school bus and come home. Up to you.”

“Why?” Ren blinked curiously, but he couldn’t hide his excited grin over potentially getting to see his dad again. Sorry, Avery.

“I have a couple of errands to run. Shopping. Hair appointment. Stuff like that.”

“What for?”

This time, you were the one who couldn’t hide your smile. You took another sip of your water, and calmly — despite the way your heart raced — you said, “I have a date with your dad this weekend, so I need to get ready.”

Both Ren’s smile and eyes widened with unspeakable joy.

While he was overflowing with excitement over his parents going out together, you were filled with nervousness over your upcoming date.

— SATURDAY —

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Satoru Gojo could barely move.

His limbs were unspeakably heavy as if his bones were made out of pure stone.

The bedroom light was too bright. His eyes squinted, but it did nothing to stop his pounding headache.

Kento’s footsteps back and forth from his closet to his dresser — attempting to put together a nice outfit — were too loud.

But Satoru’s negative thoughts were even louder.

“I can’t do this, Nanami.”

Kento stopped walking. He turned his head to face Satoru, frowning.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Trying to get her to fall in love with me. It’s like we’re seventeen years old again, going on our first date. I can’t do it.” The poor man wanted to cry, a lump forming his throat that made it difficult to speak.

“Would you prefer the alternative? Getting drunk in a bar, thinking she’s dead?” Kento grimaced over his own harsh words, thinking that he might have been too harsh. With a sigh, he stepped closer to Satoru’s bed. “Listen, I know it sucks, but at least you’re getting a second chance. Your family came back, Satoru. They came back. And she might not remember you, but at least she’s willing to make new memories. I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”

“She’s not the same person that she was before the accident, and I’m not the same person either.”

Walking over to the center of the room, the blonde-haired man laid Satoru’s shirt across the ironing board as he listened to the sad guy speak.

“Well, I don’t think you should be worried about that,” Kento said in response as he ran the hot iron over the shirt, smoothing out every wrinkle. “She knows that everything you’ve done, and who you’ve become, was just a result of thinking you lost your family. The Y/N I know would never judge anyone for being depressed over something like that — and she hasn’t changed that much.”

“But I was more than just depressed.” Satoru looked up at Kento as he spoke. “I hurt innocent people. I spent the last seven years of my life in a bar, and all I want right now is a drink. And you’re right, she wouldn’t judge me. But that doesn’t mean she’d want to be with me, either. I just want a drink, just one goddamn drink.”

The sound of gentle steam being released from the iron and the swooshing noise it made as it went across Satoru’s fancy shirt was what filled the silence.

And, during that silence, Kento stared at Satoru with an unreadable facial expression, one that sent a chill up Satoru’s spine.

His best friend was always so intimidating.

“So that’s it, huh?” Kento suddenly spoke. “You got your family back, but you’re still going to drink yourself to death because it didn’t turn out exactly how you wanted it to?”

“You don’t know how it feels to be forgotten by your soulmate.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I know it’s better than your soulmate being dead. I said it once, and I’ll say it again: you’re getting a second chance. Most people would kill to have their family come back, even if the love of their life had amnesia and their child couldn’t remember them either. And you’re going to throw it all away because-”

“Nanami, she doesn’t know me.” Satoru’s voice quivered. He stared into Kento’s eyes with a glassy, tearful gaze. Unbeknownst to him, he started to dig his nails into his palm hard to hurt himself. Hard enough to draw blood. “She doesn’t remember anything about me. She looks at me like I’m a stranger. Not only that, but all the pain I went through for all of those years was for . . . for nothing because she was alive this entire time and I had no idea. How can you say I got my family back when they don’t remember us ever being a family?”

Kento turned off the iron.

He approached Satoru, kneeled in front of him, and placed his scarred hand over Satoru’s — a hand that was only so scarred from having to pick up more outrageous missions due to Satoru’s absence from the sorcerer world.

“So, let’s say she did remember you, Satoru. What then?”

“What do you mean?”

“What would you have done if she did remember you? Because if I recall, your relationship wasn’t perfect. You were away a lot, and it broke her heart. If she could remember that, then you’d still be in a similar position to the one you’re in now, because either way, your relationship needs some serious work. Do you really want her to remember how long she had to wait each day for you to return home from your work trips? The special events and holidays you missed? Right now, you have a chance to start over. And, who knows? Starting your relationship over might turn out to be easier than trying to repair it ever would have.”

When Kento finished speaking, Satoru looked sad.

Heartbreakingly upset.

The sight of his frowning face and teary eyes made Kento’s heart ache. He was brutally honest, but even so, he spoke to his friend softly. With love and care.

But maybe he was still being a bit too cruel.

“Hey . . .” Kento softened his voice even more and tried to make Satoru look him in the eye, but Satoru avoided his gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, and you weren’t a bad husband, just a busy one. You had a lot of responsibilities and I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty about that. I’m sorry, Satoru. This is supposed to be a good day.”

Satoru nodded as a way of saying, “It’s okay.”

Kento sighed.

Standing up, he made his way towards Satoru’s bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it.

Then, he returned to his previous kneeled position in front of him. Gently, he dabbed the fresh scars decorating Satoru’s palm.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” His sudden question broke the silence, but that silence returned rather quickly, as Kento didn’t respond.

Not immediately, at least.

He spent a solid thirty seconds trying to figure out what to way.

“It’s like I said earlier. She knows who you are now and what you’ve done, and that hasn’t deterred her away yet, has it? And for all we know, she could be worried about the same thing too. You’ve both changed, and that’s okay.”

Kento finished cleaning the little blood stains off of Satoru’s pale skin. He removed the towel, and kindly, he said, “Come on. Time to get ready.”

—

Your knee-length dress was red. It was tighter than the clothes you wore regularly, but not too revealing — the perfect balance of classy and sexy.

Your heels clicked against your floor as you stepped into the bathroom, checking out your hair and makeup one last time.

After spraying a bit of perfume on your wrists and collarbone, it was time to grab your coat and purse, leave your apartment, and meet Satoru at the nice Italian restaurant in town.

Living in a safe, walkable town had its perks, certainly. But with every step you took, you couldn’t help but wonder if Satoru was just as nervous as you.

The sheer panic you felt — it made you want to cancel.

After all, he was handsome. He was the world’s strongest sorcerer, even if he was out of practice. He was the father to your boy. He had memories of you that he was looking to recapture or recreate — the pressure of it all didn’t help ease your misplaced guilt.

The incident wasn’t your fault, but even so, that familiar lump formed in your throat and couldn’t be swallowed down.

Your nerves didn’t begin to settle until you walked into the romantic, warmly, yet lowly lit restaurant and spotted Satoru.

When he smiled at you, it felt . . . familiar.

A wave of calmness washed over you, and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

As you made your way to your table — Satoru getting up to pull out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was — you were feeling relaxed.

You couldn’t recall any specific memory, but somehow, you remembered that you had done this a hundred times with him.

Dinner began with a complimentary bread basket and nervous compliments being exchanged.

Five minutes in, you smiled softly at your lost lover.

“So, what was our very first date like when we were younger?”

Your question made Satoru smile too. He took a sip of his water, glancing at the white tablecloth as his mind wondered back to the sweet, cherished memory.

“It was similar to this, kinda. We had dinner together. It was an Italian restaurant as well, but it wasn’t nearly as nice. You, uh, you wore red then too. I remember you saying that you wanted Alfredo, but you ordered spaghetti in case you spilled it on your clothes.”

The look of love in his eyes as he spoke about the past made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, I get it,” you nodded slowly. “Red sauce would blend in with the red clothes. Seems like something I’d say. I can’t believe you can remember something like that.”

“What’s funny is that I was the one who ended up spilling something,” Satoru paused. “I knocked over the bread basket when I was reaching for my drink.”

“Really?“ leaning forward a bit, your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke. “For a guy with the four-eyes thing, you’re pretty clumsy.”

“Six Eyes, and I’m not that clumsy. I was just nervous. Even now, years later, you still make me nervous.”

You leaned back in your seat. Your eye glistened with a peculiar kind of sadness — an expression that Satoru didn’t recognize.

“No need to be nervous,” slowly, your beautiful smile faded away. “I’m down one finger and an eye, and this facial scar isn’t doing me any favors. I’m not worth all the effort and worry.”

Satoru stared at you.

A look of insecurity. That was your unfamiliar expression.

He furrowed his brows, the corners of his mouth drawn downward as he put his laminated menu on the table.

“You decided to quit being a sorcerer the minute you found out that you were pregnant with Ren, but before that, you and I went on a mission together to exercise some curses inside of a mall. It wasn’t an easy mission either. I was exhausted, and you were injured. A curse was about to attack you — you had your back turned, trying to treat a civilian’s wound — and I jumped in the way to save your life.” Satoru started to fiddle with the cloth napkin lying next to his menu. “I was fine. I killed the curse. But you were angry with me for getting in harm’s way. You said to me then what you just said now — that you aren’t worth the effort and worry. And that’s not true at all. You’re worth everything to me.”

“You saved my life once?” The sad gaze in your eye softened into a look of pure admiration. “That’s so . . . I mean . . . until recently, my entire life has revolved around my son and my coffee shop. And then you appeared, along with these old friends I can’t remember having, and now I’m always hearing wild stories about me fighting curses and being madly in love with you. It’s crazy.”

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe another human being loved you this much, in such a romantic way.

The waitress appeared — a kind woman with red hair who jotted down your orders in a tiny notepad. You ordered pasta, and Satoru couldn’t help but smile.

Certain aspects of you have changed forever, but some things still stayed the same.

Once the waitress walked away with your noted order of fettuccine alfredo and his order of ravioli, you shifted in your seat, sighing softly.

“I have another question, and I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while.” Cluelessly, you blinked at Satoru. “What was our marriage like?”

Satoru’s blue eyes shifted away from yours. Truth be told, he considered lying for a moment.

“It was perfect. We were perfect,” he would have said. “I was always there, and we were always happy.”

He could see the satisfied grin on your face now.

But he couldn’t lie to you. If he won your heart back with a string of lies, he would never forgive himself.

The honest truth wasn’t the perfect fairytale love story that you both would have hoped for, but it was good enough, as what really mattered — what was undoubtedly the most important thing — was that you both loved each other deeply.

“We were pretty young when we got married,” Satoru started, staring at you. “We were young when we did everything, actually. Not just getting married, but moving in together and starting a family too. All we knew was that we wanted to be together. We had movie and dinner nights every other Saturday, but it was hard being a husband, father, and sorcerer. I was away often, and you were always worried about whether or not I’d make it home. You wanted me to quit, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t think anything bad would ever happen to me, and I needed to protect non-sorcerers and mentor my students. It got to a point where I started to miss important events, and you weren’t happy with me. I wasn’t happy with myself either. My very last mission was a few weeks before Christmas. You begged me not to go because you said you had a terrible feeling about it. I just thought that you wanted me to stay home for our holiday traditions. We got into a big argument that night, and I left anyway, telling you that I’d be home before Christmas Day. I felt horrible about it, so I finished up my mission quickly and came home about two weeks early to surprise you. That was when the incident happened.”

Your initial silence made Satoru worry. He looked at you, trying to read the look on your face — attempting to stare into your visible eye and take a peek inside of your brain and see what thoughts were circulating in there.

The quietness was deafening. It was almost worse than you saying that you were no longer interested in rekindling your love, because the silence provided no answers. No closure.

Satoru started to involuntarily shake his leg underneath the table. He so desperately wanted a drink.

“Oh. . .” You finally spoke up, but your empty words, ridden with disappointment, offered little relief.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru said softly, briefly staring down at his half-empty water, the dots of condensation among the glass dripping onto the white tablecloth. “I know it’s not . . . I’m probably not what you were hoping for, but I loved you more than anything. Please believe that.”

Suddenly, that soft smile that Satoru once fell in love with reappeared on your face. Reaching across the table, you grabbed ahold of his hand — the one that was fidgeting with the napkin. You ran your thumb across his fingers.

“Satoru, if there’s one thing that my condition has taught me, it’s that the past doesn’t matter as much as we think it does. I just wanted to know because of plain curiosity, okay? I’m interested in our future and the man you are now.”

This time, following a small sigh of relief, Satoru was the one who smiled. It was the grin that you once fell in love with, even if you couldn’t remember ever doing so.

The date was filled with soft laughter, delicious pasta, and heartwarming stories.

You and Satoru sat at the dining table long after your meals were eaten and paid for. As the hours flew by, other couples and families coming and going, you both didn’t leave until the employees started stacking chairs and mopping the floors.

Together, you both walked down the street of your cozy little town, grinning down at your shoes stepping on the fallen orange and brown leaves covering the sidewalk.

“So, where’s Ren? Is he at home or . . . ?” Satoru questioned.

“He’s sleeping over at his friend’s house.” You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “That reminds me. He came up with an idea the other night, and I wanted to run it by you.”

“What is it?”

“A family dinner,” you glanced up at Satoru. “Just us three, sitting around a table, all having a meal together. The whole domestic vibe. What do you think?”

“I’d love that.” With a smile, Satoru started to blush a little.

“Okay, great. I’m thinking seafood, maybe? Hm . . . I don’t know. Kinda don’t feel like dealing with an apartment that smells like shrimp and crab. You know what? I’ll just open a window and spray some Febreze, it’ll be fine. Seafood it is. You’re not allergic, are you?”

Listening to you ramble made Satoru’s heart pound rapidly. It made him want to kiss you and mourn your lost years. But he couldn’t let on the effect that you had on his mind, body, and soul, even if you knew how he felt.

He had to keep all of that inside and remind himself that to you, he wasn’t the love of your life, but a mere friend.

“I’m not allergic. I love seafood, or all kinds of food, really.” Satoru glanced up at the stars for a moment, thinking about how over the last few years, eating was a chore. He went from being a food lover to a man who had to be forced to eat. But now that you reappeared back into his life, so had his love of all things sweet, spicy, and savory.

You brought back the parts of him that were human.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Satoru suddenly spoke up.

“Of course.”

“Have you . . . had any other partners? Since the incident?”

Your shoulder gently bumped against his arm as you both walked. Based on the tone of his voice, he hadn’t asked you that question out of jealousy per se, but curiosity.

“A few, but nothing that lasted very long. Mostly fantasy-obsessed weirdos who just wanted to brag about dating someone who wears an eyepatch, like I’m a fictional character or a damn pirate or something. But, uh, what about you?”

Satoru laughed a bit, but not humorously.

“Nope. I could barely function like a normal human being, let alone be in a relationship.”

He didn’t mean to make that burden of guilt reappear.

Catching a glimpse of you staring at the ground, he opened his mouth to apologize, but you started to speak before he could do so.

“I hate knowing that I caused you so much pain. I should have done something. I should have never let the higher-ups force me to start a new life, or at least, I should have tried to figure out who Ren’s father was. I’m sorry.”

Satoru grabbed your hand. He didn’t think it through — didn’t pause to wonder if such a display of affection was okay, but you didn’t seem to mind. Your warm fingers curled around his.

He couldn’t wait to tell Kento about it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Satoru stared at you, paying no mind to anything that might have been in front of his walking path. “I picked working for people who would destroy my life at any given chance over my own family. None of this would have happened if I had been home like I should’ve been. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

At this hour, all of the small, local businesses were closed, cute little brown buildings showcasing nothing but darkness when you glanced through their windows as you strolled by.

However, one place was still open.

It was the bar.

Walking past it, you held Satoru’s hand a little tighter.

The white-haired man couldn’t see it, but as he made his way by the entrance doors, the bartender could see his former customer walking by with a small, sober grin.

The bartender smiled to himself as he washed a glass.

He was incredibly happy for that man, and he hoped to never get another dollar from him again.

“So what happens now?” Your sudden question made Satoru hum in response and tilt his head a bit. Continuing, you asked, “Are you going to go back to being a sorcerer?”

“No,” Satoru shook his head. “I passed the torch on to my students a while ago, and I think they’ll be just fine.”

As you both unhappily arrived closer and closer to your apartment, a sad frown appeared on Satoru’s face. He didn’t want the date to end. He wanted to keep walking with you forever.

Letting you go with the promise of seeing you again soon never came easy after the incident.

Your footsteps clicked against the hard ground as you made your way to your front door. With a shy smile, you turned and faced the white-haired man.

“Thanks for walking me home. I’d invite you inside, but it’s getting late, and I have to head to my coffee shop in the morning. I was able to get a few bookshelves put in. Can you believe it?” Digging through your purse for your house keys, you smiled at Satoru. “I just gotta spend my Sunday actually putting books on the shelves now before we open on Monday. Boxes are sitting everywhere right now.”

“I’m happy for you,” Satoru said. He couldn’t help but wonder if this newfound passion for books, coffee, and entrepreneurship came after the incident, or if you were always interested in such things, and he never noticed.

He would have bought you a two-story bookstore and coffee shop years ago if that was the case. Was that always your dream and you kept it hidden from him? Why? Did it have anything to do with having to raise Ren and run the house while Satoru was off fighting curses and training his students?

He wanted to ask — and he almost did, his lips parting a bit — but he knew you wouldn’t remember. You wouldn’t have an answer.

“You should stop by sometime!” Your smile brightened. “Do you like coffee? You seem like the kinda guy who’d like something on the sweeter side . . . a mocha, maybe?”

Satoru couldn’t help but lovingly mimic your bright smile, his eyes flickering from your eye to your lips, and his heart skipped a beat.

Most people would assume that a guy like Satoru hated sweets. Back when he was a sorcerer, others figured that he avoided sweets and sugary things to keep himself as healthy as possible. Truthfully, though, he was the kind of person who would have dessert for every meal if he could. Both because it helped energize his overactive mind, and because he simply had a sweet tooth.

But you knew.

Was it something you remembered, or was it nothing more than a lucky guess?

Satoru couldn’t say. You couldn’t say.

However, no one could deny that your old personality was starting to return while in his presence. You had never known yourself to be the kind of person to ramble on and on, but here you were, spending your night talking so much that your jaw had started to ache.

After one proper evening together, the gorgeous man was bringing out a side of you that you had never known — or, perhaps, had forgotten.

“You could serve me a cup of toilet water and I’d drink it,” Satoru said with a gentle, brief chuckle. “But yeah, I have a sweet tooth.”

“So I was right.” You paused. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

The smile on his face faltered as uncertainty flooded his mind, as he didn’t know how to properly say goodbye. You held hands earlier, and you had hugged once before, but should he initiate one now? Should he shake your hand? No . . . too professional. The last thing he wanted was for your reblossoming relationship to amount to that of a business transaction.

He decided to play it safe. He mumbled a quick goodnight, gave you a soft smile, and started to walk away.

“Wait,” you called out.

With a little hum of confusion, his brows raising slightly, he turned and faced you.

Reaching up, your hands gripped his shoulder, pulling the taller man down a bit before planting a soft kiss on his cheek, which instantly reddened the second your lips came in contact with his soft skin.

“Goodnight,” you mumbled.

When your face was still a whisper away from his own, Satoru kissed your cheek back.

It was a subconscious act — as natural breathing. You’d kiss his cheek, and he’d kiss yours back.

“You used to kiss my cheek all the time.” He pulled away from you, blushing.

“Really?” You wrapped your fingers around your house key, turning towards your door briefly to place it in the lock. Looking back at him as you twisted it, you said, “That’s probably why I wanted to do it now. It just felt right, I guess. I don’t normally kiss my dates on the cheek.”

“Right, well,” Satoru, once again, started to walk away. “Goodnight.”

That night — after soaking in the bathtub and texting Satoru to make sure he got home safely, although you felt silly doing so, being that he was the most powerful man in the world — you rested your head against your pillow and started to drift off to sleep.

In that state, in which it felt as if your mind, body, and soul were stuck somewhere between falling asleep and staying awake, Satoru’s face appeared in your mind.

Only — he was younger.

He wore dark sunglasses, and a dorky smile, cheeks pink as he blushed . . .

“Y/N!” He called out, waving for you to come over and join him where he stood in a shady spot underneath a big tree.

As you approached him, the cocky teenager put his hands in the pockets of his school uniform, trying his hardest to seem cool and calm. But despite his best efforts, he was still a blushing mess.

“Hey,” you greeted politely, smiling up at your tall classmate. “Everything alright? I’m gonna be late for training.”

“Y-Yeah,” he awkwardly cleared his throat following his stutter — which made him wish that the ground would somehow open up and swallow him whole to ease his embarrassment. “I just . . . wanted to say hi. I’m sorry I didn’t call you after our date. Well, I did, but I hung up before you answered because I got nervous. Not-not that I normally get nervous or anything, I’m pretty chill, but it was late and I didn’t know if you wanted to talk, or if you’d think I was weird for calling you after we had just hung out. I’m not weird, I promise. I’m not as cocky as everyone says I am, either. I’m just a normal person. You’re not, though. I-I mean, you’re normal, but you’re really strong and pretty, you know what I mean? So, uh . . . yeah.”

An amused grin appeared on your face. Meanwhile, Satoru’s own face reddened even more with every shaky word he spoke. The gifted sorcerer couldn’t look you in the eye.

“You’re adorable,” you chuckled softly, watching as he fidgeted around, unable to stand still in your presence. “And it’s okay. You make me kinda nervous too.”

Your eye darted away from him. Satoru glanced down at your hand and saw that you were fiddling with the end of your sleeve.

“Do you wanna go out with me again?” Satoru’s words were rushed, rolling off of his tongue and falling from between his lips much quicker than he wanted.

“I’d love to.” Your sweet smile made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. Glancing down at your watch, you said, “I gotta go, but maybe we can have lunch together tomorrow. Diner down the street?”

“Okay, that’s cool,” Satoru couldn’t fight the urge to grin, his cheeks starting to burn. “I’ll see you later.”

You started to walk away, but suddenly, your footsteps came to a halt. Turning back around to face a puzzled Satoru, you approached him once again, motioned for him to lean down, and you planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Bye,” you grinned.

Satoru couldn’t speak. Your lips touching his red, blushy cheek had seized his ability to communicate like a normal human being. His body froze, his throat dried to a crisp, and his overactive mind was incapable of forming a coherent thought.

As he watched you start to walk away, eventually snapping out of his trance, he shouted, “Wait!”

The happy teenager leaned down and quickly kissed your cheek. Then, he ran off to locate his best friend, Suguru Geto, eager to tell the dark-haired boy about the heartwarming interaction he just had with the woman he was certain he’d marry someday.

—

— THURSDAY —

Less than a week has passed since your wonderful evening with Satoru. During that time, your coffee shop was now a fully operational bookstore as well. You and Satoru stayed in your shop well past closing hours, sipping on beverages and chatting. On Tuesday night, you, him, and Ren enjoyed seafood and board games.

It was wonderful.

Spending time with him often led to dreams when your eye fluttered shut and the moon was shining through your curtains.

However, the dreamlike images of that beautiful man didn’t feel like dreams at all.

And your therapist agreed.

She suggested that, perhaps, they were memories.

But there was only one way to truly differentiate between what was real and what wasn’t.

And that was by asking Satoru. Only he could tell you if the beautiful scenarios that appeared were missing pieces of a life you had forgotten.

That Thursday, the setting sun began to darken the baby blue sky, and faint stars appeared above the school in which a science fair was taking place.

In the big school gym, several students had their artistic projects on display for judges and parents to walk around and admire. Ren and Mae had created a presentation about power and electricity.

He looked so proud as he stood there, pointing at several different wires surrounded by Mae’s detailed drawings of lightning bolts, explaining the scientific process to curious guests.

However, what he was proud of more than anything was his mother and father, who stood behind the group of judges and parents and snapped pictures of him. The young boy would occasionally dart his eyes away from the crowd of strangers admiring his presentation and smile at his parents.

He had two of them.

A mother and a father.

Later on, as the judges gathered to discuss the winners of the science fair, Ren walked off to chat with his group of friends. While everyone had to create a project for a class grade, submitting it to the science fair was completely optional. Only true science-loving geniuses took it that far. Even so, Ren’s friends — the ones who attended his birthday party — all showed up to support him. They didn’t know a thing about science beyond what they could scribble on a ripped sheet of paper and hide under their sleeves during tests, but they knew one thing: they wanted to be there for your boy.

Approaching Satoru with a white paper cup of water, you smiled at him softly.

“Hey, do you have a minute? Can we talk outside?”

“Of course,” Satoru matched your smile with a grin of his own. Even if he was busy, he’d make time for you now. Always.

Walking through the see-through doors and stepping outside into the darkening surroundings was a nostalgic experience. It was an entirely different school, but hearing crickets chirp and seeing families walking home after their own events ended as the falling sun finished off another beautiful day reminded Satoru of your after-class walks from way back when.

He faced you with a look of curiosity.

“What’s up?”

“I was just wondering . . . do you remember what our second date might have been like?”

Satoru’s eyes darted up at the stars for a moment — he remembered, of course.

“Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure I remember every date. Why?”

“Just curious,” you lied. The last thing you wanted to do was give him hope that your memory was returning, only for it to turn out to be nothing more than a pointless dream.

“We planned it right when we saw each other in person again after our first date. I was nervous and apologetic about not calling you the night before — either I was nervous or I forgot, I’m not sure — but we went to a nearby diner, one close to the school.”

You shifted your stance a bit, much too excited to stand completely still. Could it have been a coincidence?

“I think I might have remembered that.” As you spoke, Satoru’s eyes widened. “I had a dream — or I thought it was a dream, but it felt too real. We were standing outside of a school, wearing uniforms. We were both still so nervous around each other, but you were rambling a bunch, and . . . I’ve just been having a lot of similar dreams like that lately. To know that they actually might have been memories . . . I can’t believe it.”

“Wh-What else do you remember? What were the other dreams about?”

You went on to describe what you had seen.

Satoru’s eyes started to water as you recalled some of your shared memories. The stars appearing in the sky above seemed brighter.

Although you couldn’t remember everything, for now, it was enough.

“I know it’s not a lot, but those little memories are something I’ll hold onto forever. Some of them came back, and I don’t plan on letting them go anytime soon,” you said. “I might not remember our first kiss or every anniversary, but I’m starting to remember how it felt to love you.”

Satoru’s world stopped. It was a feeling similar to the day he first found you and Ren at that one grocery store.

It was a combination of shock and love running through his veins.

Satoru’s large hands cupped your cheeks. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

Satoru lost you once. Then, you reappeared. However, kissing you softly, yet passionately in this moment is what led Satoru’s soul to believe that he had finally found you.

Your sweet lips moved against his with a familiar pattern one would only have while kissing their soulmate. Even if your mind had forgotten much, your soul knew. It just knew.

The entrance doors belonging to the school opened and closed. Parents were heading back inside after ending phone calls or smashing their cigarette butts because the awards ceremony was about to start according to their watches.

Sadly, you and Satoru had to pull away, breathlessly, though, and after reuniting for two or three more little kisses.

“I’m starting to get jealous of the old me who used to kiss you like that every day,” your beaming smile was too cute.

“No reason to be jealous, you can still do it every day if you want to,” Satoru’s face was only inches away from yours as he spoke.

“Well, come on, let’s go see if our boy won first place. We can talk about our new every day later,”you said, grabbing ahold of Satoru’s hand.

You led him back into the school, where Ren would later accept his first-place trophy.

As the three of you celebrated his victory — together, as it should be — being a family started to become your new every day.

—

— TWO YEARS LATER —

White dresses and fancy cakes were on your mind, the old, sweet memory of walking down the aisle, glancing up at your teary-eyed husband, had recently come back to you in great detail.

You could taste the classic vanilla cake flavor on your tongue. Smell the special cologne Satoru wore that day. Feel the swaying rhythm of the song played during your first dance.

Today, as you drove your thirteen-year-old to school with him in the passenger seat — the middle school was too far of a walk compared to the elementary school — you touched the knob of your radio and turned up the music a few notches.

“What song is this?” Ren questioned, listening to the unfamiliar ballad.

“I think it’s a song from my wedding. I’ll have to ask Satoru later.”

Ren smiled. Another potential memory was unlocked.

“I’m also hoping he can take you to get a haircut tomorrow because I gotta-”

“Whaaat? No, Mom, no haircut, okay?”

“Since when do you not like haircuts?” You made a swift right turn as you spoke.

Ren scratched the side of his white hair, feeling his growing strands.

“I’m trying to grow it out until it looks like Dad’s, so not too long, but a little longer than it is now. Plus, Mae said that she likes longer hair. Oh, and can you take us to the movies Friday? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“Sure,” you agreed with a soft smile.

Your son and Mae had officially been dating for about a year, and it was beyond adorable.

Turning into the drop-off lane in front of the school, you pulled Ren’s packed lunch out of the backseat, along with his backpack. He was a growing boy — a realization that brought both you and Satoru to tears — and, naturally, his stomach was a bottomless pit right now.

“Bye Mom,” Ren started to open his car door but paused. “By the way, I hope you and Dad get remarried soon.”

And with that final thought, he closed the door and limped away.

—

Three days later, Satoru proposed.

Just like he once did years ago, Kento helped him out with planning the details of a perfect proposal.

It was in a beautiful, forestry area lit up with fairy lights — a gorgeous local walking trail you both strolled down together often.

He got down on one knee. Pulled out a mesmerizing ring. Cheeks red from being nervous, an emotion only you could bring out of the extroverted man.

There was no greater joy than when you wrapped your arms around him after saying yes.

God, he loved you. He loved you, and he loved you.

And, once again, you had promised to spend the rest of your life with him, because, god, you loved him. You loved him, and you loved him.

Satoru kissed you deeply after you accepted his proposal, tears streaming down his face.

“This ring isn’t just an engagement ring.” Satoru’s lips hovered over yours as he whispered, “It’s also a promise ring, too. Because I promise you that I’ll be the husband you deserve this time around. You were always so scared back then of falling in love with someone you could lose, and I’m letting you know now that I’m here, and you’ll never lose me to anything, especially a career path. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“Don’t worry, the past doesn’t define us as much as we think it does, trust me. You, me, and Ren are going to be just fine, okay?” You ran your thumb across his blushing cheek. He was so beautiful. “Let’s just focus on our future. On our every day.”

Satoru kissed you softly, mumbling a subtle, “Okay.”

He had his worries, but whenever your lips touched his cheek, and his lips touched your cheek, he had a gut feeling that, perhaps, everything would be alright.

—

— DECADES LATER —

“This color looks pretty, Grandma.”

Your eldest granddaughter gently rubbed one of her favorite lipsticks across your lips. “Brings out your eyes.”

“I only have one, honey, but thank you.”

Softly, she laughed. Growing up, she loved hearing the made-up stories about how you got your eyepatch. You being a pirate on an adventure to save captured mermaids was her favorite tale as a child.

She was Ren’s and Mae’s firstborn, the oldest amongst their three children, and the only girl. Your granddaughter was sweet and kind enough to help you get ready for a family brunch.

Ren, who was in his forties now, stepped through the front door of his lovely home with his wife and two sons.

He walked into the living room and greeted you briefly as he kissed your forehead before heading into the kitchen and sitting down a big brown bag filled with groceries.

Then, several more kisses followed from your fellow cherished family members.

You smiled with pride. Ren was a successful surgeon who married his childhood sweetheart and had created a beautiful family.

Suddenly, you frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Your youngest grandson asked, tilting his head a bit.

“Where’s Satoru?”

You glanced around for your husband. You missed him. Where did he go?

Your granddaughter held your hand.

“He’s in the bathroom, remember? He left a few minutes ago. He’ll be right back.”

You gave an unsatisfied nod.

Memory loss has always been a struggle for your entire life. Be it object permanence as a baby, amnesia as an adult, or plain ‘ole forgetfulness as an elder.

But at least you remembered love.

That much was obvious when Satoru returned to the living room, eyes crinkly as he smiled, and your mood suddenly changed into complete and utter happiness.

“You look pretty,” Satoru ran his hand across your cheek. “That’s lipstick, hm?”

“Brings out my eye,” you joked.

As Satoru took a seat next to you on the couch, Mae shouted from the kitchen, “Hey, come help us.”

Your three grandchildren left the living room to assist their parents, leaving you and Satoru alone to enjoy each other’s company by chatting and watching TV until brunch was ready.

He had his arm wrapped around you, his body heat warming your entire soul. There was no greater joy than being with him.

That night, you and Satoru were snuggled up underneath your thick comforter, facing each other in bed.

“After all these years, you still make me nervous,” Satoru said, staring into your eye, his cheeks becoming the faintest shade of pink.

With a warm smile, you slowly kissed Satoru’s cheek. He kissed yours.

You touched a strand of his gray hair. Then, your lovely, wrinkly fingers graced his cheek, the warm lighting from his bedside table lamp highlighting his aged, beautiful face.

“Thank you . . . for another great day, and for all the memories. I love you, Satoru.”

A little yawn escaped you. As you drifted off to sleep, Satoru mumbled, “I love you too, Y/N.”

In time, you will once again start to lose all of your memories. Slowly, it will all fade as you grow older and get closer to your impending demise. Satoru had grown to accept that expected outcome. However, this time around, if you passed on before the retired sorcerer, he wouldn’t be a sad man stuck in a bar, mourning. He would be at your bedside, holding your hand and kissing your cheek.

Then, he’d wait for the day in which he too would pass on and join you in the place of eternal happiness and rest, where, finally, both of your souls would be at peace after what happened.

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

🏷: @sad-darksoul @sircatchungus @gojossocks @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @star-toruu @yobabymama @s7armin @minmin-minnie @jexx233 @roninishere @dreamsarenicer @starzcoffeelvr @delghoul @buttercupmuffins @dijaicar @tuliptoot @sweet-yzabelle @creative1writings @lympha @malikazz243 @bforbiblio @galagarts @enesitamor @luffysfav @chilichopsticks @misscellaneousisme @1plwushie @blackjou @gfmima @dazedflvr @safiest58ravenclaw @dyna-mights @honestlywtfisgoingon @pnkoo @levin4nami @frogtee @myhomeworksnotdone @ushygushybaby @wooasecret

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remxedmoon · 3 months ago

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IT’S GIFT POSTING WEEK BABY. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!! this holiday season i bring you drunk odile :3

this!! was for the isat gift exchange!! @abyssal-author-and-artist was my giftee :3. i was originally going to make a whole comic involving mirabelle and cast iron pans but… too ambitious i fear. so drunk odile it is!! hope you enjoy qwuauauaua!!

gradient mapped version below the cut 👍

#marshdoodles #isat #in stars and time #cw drinking #cw alcohol #YIPEEEEEE. tttried to channel sasssysuzume’s old odile drawings from when i first joined the fandom while making this #i dont think i quite got the harsh lighting there but shhhh im still proud of this #i think the isat redraw project has made me draw odile waay better. she’s fun to draw i fear #also the reaction my friends had to this drawing is still really funny to me #i’m sure everyone here will be completely normal about odile!

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erestuuu · 26 days ago

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Doodle you get no context for. I am a DoorKeay enjoyer

#eres.dibujando #doorkeay #gerrymichael #michael shelley #tma micheal distortion #tma micheal shelly #tma michael #gerry keay #tma gerry keay #tma gerard keay #gerard keay #tma fanart #tma podcast #tma au #cw drinking #cw: drinking

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jazeswhbhaven · 3 months ago

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What truths would kings reveal to mc while being drunk?

Assuming the kings could even get drunk....I have quick thoughts about this:

Satan: "I may miss him, but he's nothing like you.."

Mammon: "If you wanted to throw me away because I lost value, I'd change myself so you'd cherish me again."

Beelzebub: "I wish I could remember what you mean to me, it's annoying that my heart keeps hurting when I'm away from you."

Leviathan: "I don't want to kill you, but you scare me. I don't like what I feel when I'm around you. Not even that man could do this to me..."

Lucifer: "I wish my brothers could be with me right now. I want them to be devils...so we can be a family again."

Belphegor: "Wanna know sumthin' funny? I jack it Agares' room when he ain't there. His bed is soft 'an clean..." (Also another one for him: "Beleth is more like a wife than he is a noble, naggin' me and such. He fucks like one too.")

Asmodeus: "Sometimes, I just wanna fuck hard and slow....forever so you never leave....so I can forget everything..."

What do I mean for each:

S: He's referring to Solomon. He does still miss MC's ancestral grandpa, a lot in fact. He just knows it's pointless to dwell on it and ignores those feelings because it takes focus off of MC.

M: He's still dealing with the trauma of his childhood, he feels he needs to be accepted by MC and feel wanted and if he fails then he has to keep trying.

B: His memory laspes are his worst enemy and aides to his lingering loneliness. He doesn't like feeling sad, if he can remember how to be sad in the first place.

L: MC stirring up feelings inside of him gives him anxiety. He doesn't like showing weakness, but MC makes him want to be vulnerable. He's never wanted to be so helpless and be protected. He's always had to be the strong one.

Lu: He doesn't regret his choice, but he regrets tolerating his brother's actions and the will of God for so long. He wishes he had done something different, and he wants them around. It genuinely hurts him that they aren't there.

B: He's honestly goofy and says whatever he feels like when drunk. That's why nothing he admits is to be taken seriously and he laughs a lot during while slurring his words.

A: He just admitted to MC that sex for him is like a coping tool most times, because he's still hung up on Solomon's rejection...and the passing of his wife.

#whb #jwhbasks❓#whb headcanons #whb kings #cw drinking #drunk kings #I wonder how much you have to give them to drink before they are drunk #i imagine the strongest liquors are in abyssos

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gorryb · 3 months ago

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Sleepless night

#welcome home #wally darling #myart #cw smoking #cw drinking #actually its just apple juice #but just in case

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catscidr · 7 months ago

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// what's the difference between scotch and whisky anyways //

i. note — /edit/ i said i would fix the formatting later and Now is later hi hellooo. sorry for not posting, i suddenly couldnt bring myself to write for more than five minutes at a time lmaoa ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) but i hope the dottore enjoyers like this at the very least. rn im working on chapter 3 of fbbts and a darker, separate dottore/reader one shot and a couple of jjk fics if anyone would even be interested in reading them lol. but in the meantime, here's drunken shenanigans ft everyone's favorite war criminal ii. includes — dottore x gn!reader, webttore (beta) and omega cameos. various mentioned harbingers iii. cw — fluff, crack sorta, alcohol stuff, dottore is ooc because he's Not Sober, everyone is clingy. fun stuff yk iv. wc — 3,5k -> ao3 link

It’s a popular stereotype that Snezhnayans are heavy drinkers, but the fact lies within the fatui. They’re shameless; whether it’s showing up to work inebriated or drinking on the job, they’ll hold onto the ‘snezhnayans have a high alcohol tolerance’ stereotype with clenched fists and a bottle at their lips.

However, that fact only applies to the lackeys—agents that are stationed for hours on end without a break, agents that, at times, need liquid courage to face the horrors that come with the job. The Harbingers are an entirely different case.

They balance each other, in a way. Where Tartaglia can down three shots of fire water and come out virtually unscathed, Damselette would rather not be caught within a hundred meters of a drop of alcohol. Where The Knave occasionally enjoys a glass of wine in her office, The Balladeer sneers at the choice of drink.

None came together to go out for drinks, if not because of their job taking up a lot of time out of their days. No, none of the Harbingers were really close enough to let themselves be seen so vulnerable, if one dared drink themselves to the point of being unable to walk in a straight line.

Thus, there had only been rumors circulating the halls of Zapolyarny palace. Hushed speculations spoken between coworkers, told with an air of excitement. No one has ever seen their Lords in a state other than wholly glorious, so it’s only human nature to wonder just what they would be like if their dignity were knocked down a peg—how they would be if they indulged in simple human vices.

There are two kinds of Harbingers; ones that lack any rumors about their drinking habits, and ones that are so intriguing that if you were to strike up a conversation with a fatui agent, you would start theorizing about what kind of drunk they’re like before saying hello. Tartaglia and The Knave are part of the former, along with The Rooster and The Fair Lady. The latter consists of (unsurprisingly) The Balladeer, our sweet Damselette, and the two big shots at the top.

Rumors of The Captain’s drinking habits are usually quite short-lived. People either have too much respect for him to speculate about something as childish as how he acts when he’s had too much to drink, or fear him too much to risk spreading rumors.

But regarding The Doctor...

It’s no secret that, even if he is eccentric and has a penchant for unconventional research methods, he has quite the loyal following. Agents will rally to defend him if they hear anyone slandering him, insisting that he’s reasonable and logical. ‘If you simply do your job, you have nothing to worry about’ is what they’d say.

Although he’s amassed his fair share of fans within the fatui, they’re unlike The Captain’s loyal following; The Doctor’s subordinates are the first to whisper theories about their boss’ drinking habits. He’s only part human now, so maybe alcohol doesn’t affect him the way it does normal people like Tartaglia. Oh, but he seems the type to need to unwind occasionally, so maybe he has a secret stash of wine somewhere in his office? What if, in his free time, he creates various concoctions and cocktails to drink?

Seeing as he understands science deeper than anyone else, mixology should be a walk in the park for a scientist as lucrative as him.

Wrong.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

The glare sent your way is nothing short of vicious. There stood in front of you one of his segments, the one with the infamous short fuse. “Why are you here?”

You internalize the sigh you want to let out, deciding against making him mad when it seems he can’t even stand straight for longer than a few seconds.

“Lord Pantalone dismissed me early.” You strategically omit why he let you go in the first place. “Where’s Prime?”

As per anything retaining to Il Dottore, your relationship was unconventional at best. The term closest to what you were, if you wanted to describe said relationship, would be lovers—but... not quite? Still. Neither you nor Dottore cared enough to put a clear label on it, so you’ve resorted to letting people speculate— it can be quite entertaining to listen to people guess while being loud and wrong, anyways.

You used to work under him as one of his many researchers. When you both started taking your relationship seriously, he threw in the idea of promoting you to being his personal assistant; that way he could (give you special treatment) have someone more competent than his last assistant take care of “menial tasks” like his tedious paperwork.

You refused the generous offer, insisting that it would be unprofessional to work under him as his partner. After many late-night discussions (and stubborn headbutting of differing opinions) you both have come to an agreement in which you would work for Lord Pantalone as a financial planner.

(You finally managed to convince him by bringing up how you could, hypothetically, pull some strings on your end in his favor—that you could persuade Pantalone to allot more funding for his research. If he had any shame left, it would have been embarrassing how quickly he shook your hand to accept your conditions.)

Now, while you spent most of your time in an office in The Regrator’s office building near the Palace, you occasionally came by to drop off documents. Of course, you would use your short trips as an excuse to go see Dottore (even if you could do so at any time anyways, given how much authority he had.)

However, sometimes you just want to work.

You’ll leave the comfort of your cubicle to go see him and the extensions of himself, sure, but you still had a job to do. Papers piled up, clients grew impatient, and even your boss wasn’t immune to their nasty attitude whenever he held a meeting with a particularly irritating client. Thus, sometimes you wished you could truly focus, lose track of time and work until your wrist forced you to take a break.

This wouldn't happen today, clearly. Seeing as one of Dottore’s lackeys rushed to your office to bring you to the Haeresys, you most likely won’t be seeing your desk until further notice.

Now you were stuck with a cryptic Beta, trying your best to use what little knowledge about the clones’ machinery you managed to wring out of your stubborn lover.

“Where’s Prime?” You run a hand over your wrinkled coat sleeve, keeping your voice calm and steady. Patient, else you’d be subjected to the segment’s indignation.

“Dunno.”

You sigh. Is he a scientist or a child? “You do know. Where is he?”

“I told you I don’t know!” He throws his hands up, accidentally striking his mask in the way—effectively leaving it to rest at an angle on his face. Most of his mouth showed now, instead of the half you’re used to seeing. And the holes for the eyes don’t quite go where they should...

Blinking, you take in the sight in front of you while he calms down. His crimson eyes were glassy, and his lips formed a permanent pout, vastly out of character for a segment that supposedly represented The Doctor at the most volatile stage of his life. Azure locks curled around his cheeks, though they were usually tucked out of the way. His clothes were all wrinkled, in a way that left you wondering if you shouldn’t tend to him instead. Dealing with his attitude is annoying, but it’ll be amusing to think about later, I guess.

“Do you really not know...?”

“No.”

“Then, do you know why I was called to the lab?”

“No. Yes... probably not. Uh,” he crosses his arms over his chest and loses his balance for just a second, “I think I do.”

You raise an inquisitive brow, silently encouraging him to continue.

“Give me a second.” Beta shuts his eyes, shoulders slumping. His mask was still crooked—you had half a mind to fix it, but held back the twitch in your fingers. After a few seconds he pipes up, uncrossing his arms to reach out to you.

“Come.”

The segment grabs your wrist and drags you into the hallways of the Palace, ignoring your yelp of surprise and the stares of various agents lingering in the halls. You pass by ornate statues and paintings, the sight more unfamiliar than not.

“Beta, where are we-”

“Hush, I can’t walk when you’re talking my ear off.”

...Right. Something is definitely wrong.

After about five minutes of running around like headless chickens you tug your arm back, making Beta turn around indignantly. You lift your hands up in front of you before he can speak.

“Did you mean to bring me to Lady Signora’s office?” you ask, lips curled up into a small smile seeing his mask still laid crooked on his face. With a gentle hand you fix it, cold fingers grazing his burning cheek.

“...”

Beta’s brows furrow as he avoids your gaze, huffing dramatically. Poor guy, you mused.

“Alright, let’s go to the lab, then. He must be there, right? Where was Prime last time you saw him?”

“...his office, probably,” he murmurs.

With a nod and a smile akin to someone doing some gentle parenting, you place a hand on his back and help guide him to Haeresys. The stairs were hard to walk down, but with just a bit of patience and a bit of Beta clutching your arm while shouting that you were trying to assassinate him, you make it down in one piece.

You remove your gloves and place your palm into the scan, then input the lengthy password to open the laboratory’s large doors. They slide open, revealing the absence of normal researchers and noise. You spot Omega standing over the remains of a ruin machine with a clipboard in his hands and look back towards Beta.

“Go sit, I’ll go ask Omega about Prime’s whereabouts.”

The clone nods, trudging his legs along to lay down on the leather couch tucked away in the lab.

As you put away your large coat and hang it up in the small rack near the doors and make your way towards Omega, you notice the slow rhythm of his handwriting—when he’s usually seemingly speedrunning writing down notes, he’s now leisurely writing away, unaware of your presence.

“Omega.”

The latter turns to you, masking his surprise with a small smile instead. “My dear,” he practically purrs, putting away the clipboard in a swift movement, placing the pen in his coat pocket.

“I was alerted that something was... off, with Prime. Do you know where he is?”

And where you thought Omega would pick up on Beta’s lack of decorum, you were sorely mistaken. The clone walks up to you with that same smile brightening his features, placing both hands on your shoulders oh so gently.

“He’s in his office. But enough about him, I haven’t seen you in a while, beloved. Why must you keep me away from you?” he muses, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You tilt your head to avoid being stabbed by his mask’s beak, raising your hands to press against his chest to make some distance. The action proved to be futile, of course.

We saw each other yesterday, you murmur. “I’m sorry, I’ll get back to you in a moment, alright?” You offer him a warm smile in hopes that he’ll listen, seeing as he seemed to be quite... mushy.

It works, and he lets you go with a curt nod, retreating to go... somewhere. You didn’t linger around long enough to figure it out, since you knew where to go now.

Walking across the lab, you note how things seemed to be more out of place than usual. It couldn’t have been a researcher, they always had to clean up after themselves, courtesy of their boss. So, the mess had to be caused by them...

You finally stand in front of his door, raising a fist to knock. A yelp leaves you as you’re whisked away, the door slamming shut just as quickly as it swung open.

“Dottor-”

“Can you fucking believe how inept these agents are? They dare speak to me with such disrespect after delivering the lousiest job I’ve ever seen.” Dottore rambles, pulling you deeper into his office. You observe the state of his workspace, namely the papers scattered onto the ground and the... bottlecap on the floor, right next to his trashcan filled with crumpled up paper...?

“Showing up in the lab with their damn hands empty save for the half empty bottle of scotch they tried to hide. Idiots were too shitfaced to notice how I noticed.”

“Okay, Dottore, what are you-”

He gestures wildly as he speaks, his hands the only way for you to read him as his mask hid most of his features. The blue lines taunt you; though you’re tempted to take it off, you feel like he might just lunge at you if you did.

“And then they had the gall to insist that the bottle was theirs when I confiscated it.” Dottore pushes you down to sit on the couch, a small oof leaving you in consequence. “Anything that enters this fucking lab belongs to me, I’m the boss, I decide what flies and what does not.”

Absolutely unaware of your muffled giggles as you piece things together, he keeps ranting, turning his back to you as he stomps away towards his desk. “Not to mention these damn lackeys have had multiple warnings up until now,” he spits out. “Lord Harbinger, we’re sorry! We’ll clean up the lab to make up for this offense! Lord Harbinger, it won’t happen again! Who do they take me for, a moron?!”

The higher pitch he uses to imitate (and make fun of) the agents almost makes you lose it. But you keep your composure, sitting demurely, listening.

Dottore comes back with a bottle in hand, orange liquid swirling around the thick glass as he stumbles closer to where you sat. He joins you without warning, creating a dip in the sofa next to you—almost forcing you to lean onto him for support. His free arm drapes over the back as he sighs loudly, making you stifle a laugh behind your hand.

A pregnant pause stretches between the two of you as his anger simmers down to embers. You lean forward, attempting to take a look at the label on the bottle in his hand.

“What’re you holding there, love?” you ask sweetly. Glancing up you’re able to steal a peek at his eyes from underneath his dark mask—Archons was he absolutely gone.

It takes him a second to respond, almost as if he forgot you were even there in the first place.

“Whisky.”

“I thought it was scotch.”

“Same thing.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s n-”

“It is.”

Maybe it wasn't the brightest thing to do, messing with him while he’s this inebriated. But it sure was entertaining.

“Alright. Well, how much did you drink?”

“A sip or two.”

As if on cue, he brings the bottle up to his lips and takes a swig. Your grin widens, thoroughly entertained by the show; who else had the privilege of seeing The Doctor so drunk he could barely formulate something that made sense?

You bring his attention back on you as you place a hand on his knee, leaning close. Dottore immediately snaps into place, gaze flickering down to your lips from the proximity.

With a swift hand you grab the scotch from his hands, inspecting the amount still left in the bottle. If he said it was half empty when he confiscated it, then...

“Dearest, did you drink a quarter of this bottle?” You're not even supposed to drink it straight from the bottle, either is what you wished to add, but seeing how defensive he was already, you figured it would just make things more complicated than they needed to be.

As if stung by the Tsaritsa’s delusion, he immediately stiffens and defends himself. “I did not, I told you I only had a sip.”

The way his bottom lip jutted out was almost cute, if you dared to describe him in such a way. Compliments could wait though; you had answers to seek.

“Mhm, a sip. Well,” you put the bottle down on a coaster on the coffee table and turn to face him properly, “what happened to the segments? They’re all a little... woozy.” Your fingers trail his arm, tracing circles in their wake.

Dottore swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he opens his mouth to speak. “We’re connected, albeit loosely. They could be affected by the few sips of scotch I drank, though I would have some work cut out for me if that were the case. I can’t let them be so weak after all.”

The way he spoke sounded, for lack of better words, pouty.

Was he... sulking?

“And since we’re connected, I know you spoke to Beta ‘n Omega earlier.”

He most definitely is. He's even slurring his words, now...

“Yeah? I was asking them where you were so I could check up on you, baby.” You chuckle softly, taking the liberty of putting his mask away. Bright, glassy red eyes stare down into you, and you hold back the urge to smother his face in kisses.

“You didn’t have to talk to them, you could have just asked me.”

“I was looking for you, so I couldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

You scoff, smiling as you adjust yourself on the couch. Dottore notices and takes the liberty of pushing you down, laying his head down so his ear is on your chest, cheek pressed up into you. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask you next time,” you respond.

That satisfies him, enough to render him silent for a handful of seconds before he speaks up again.

“...I need to get back to work,” he huffs.

You bring a hand up and run it through his disheveled locks, careful not to tug at the small knots in the hair at the back of his neck. Twirling the hair of his mullet you hum, noting how his weight seemed to grow heavier as the seconds passed. No way is he going to get any work done if he falls asleep here.

“Take a break, you deserve it. In the meantime, you can think of a suitable way to punish those stupid agents from earlier, right?”

A quiet hum is all you get in response. You look down expecting to see his unnerving red eyes to be staring up at you, but you’re met with the sight of his features completely lax instead. Azure hair pools around his face, settling on your chest where his face rose in time with your breaths.

You would have dimmed the lights and turned off his computer if you knew he was going to keep you hostage on the couch. Though you can’t really complain at the turn of events; it’s rare for Dottore to be the one to initiate skinship in the relationship.

It was quiet, but you managed to hear the low dear? that left his lips. You hum, not wanting to speak as to not break the quiet atmosphere lulling you to a sense of peace.

After a minute of silence, you decide to repeat yourself—this time a little louder than before. “What is it?”

Another minute passes, just as quiet as the last. The sound of his slow, deep breaths fills the room, accompanied by the low scratches of your nails on his scalp. His hair parts where your fingers tread through it, and you quietly note that you should trim his hair soon.

Il Dottore’s poor alcohol tolerance will always be a mystery to the public, because there’s no way you would ever let anyone in on the way he cuddles up to you when he’s had too much to drink.

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