#so its getting to be its own separate chapter

[itsseohannbin]

hard bangchan thoughts || dark romance

disclaimer: every single time I come across this photo of bangchan, I am absolutely wrecked with the most vile, dirty, inhumane thoughts, so please enjoy this as it's been on my mind for LITERAL WEEKS now and I can't stop.

Warnings: hard thoughts. swearing. established relationship. smut. unprotected sex. voyeurism & exhibitionism. mentions the titles and contexts of several intense dark romance books that are not suitable for younger audiences. (i.e gun/knife play, somno, stalking, kidnapping, bondage. etc etc) (if you choose to research these books, please do so at your risk as they include some pretty heavy and intense topics.) roleplaying (??). I think that's it. let me know if I missed any!

Enjoy! [lower case intended. not proof read]

everytime i see this photo of chan i'm brought back to the same scenario in my head that i've been having for months? years?

like, you and chan decide to go on a little bookstore date where you purchase some starbucks and walk around a popular bookstore chain, both of you browsing and exploring and just enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. at some point, the two of you get separated, chan going off to look through the graphic novel section while you bee-line right to the romance section. or more so, the dark romance section.

you've always been a lover of dark romance novels. you've read your fair share of nasty, vile, intense books, like haunting adeline, the ritual & the sacrifice, and so much more. you use the trigger warnings at the beginning of each book as a checklist that covers all your favorite topics to read about, no matter how crazy or intense they are.

so, hours later, when chan has finally decided on the books he wants to purchase and take home, he comes looking for you. as per usual, he finds you curled up in a chair on the second floor of the building, in the corner near the dark romance section. he greets you with a kiss on the head, but you barely register his actions, too engrossed in the newest instalment from your favorite dark romance author. chan just chuckles, shaking his head as he sits down across from you, sipping on the remains of his drink while he watches you with dark eyes. and he watches you so intensely its amazing how you don't look up to meet his fiery gaze.

he never understood your obsession with the genre. it was too intense for him, too out of bounds for his liking. he's read over your shoulder one too many times to understand what kind of shit you're into, and although he loves you dearly, he could never bring himself to subject his brain to that type of rot. but there's something about the way you're reading so intently now, the nail of your thumb between your front teeth, eyes scrunched forward in concentration. something about the way your legs subtly shift together, as if you're trying to adjust yourself into a more comfortable position, but chan knows better. you only fidget like this when you're really nervous or really turned on, and based on the way you're hiding a cheeky, embarrassed smile behind the cuff of your sleeve, he can only assume its the latter. and that's where his obsession then starts.

he's not obsessed with reading the books, but obsessed with finding out which part in these books is giving you such a physical reaction. he's determined to find out just what is making you squirmy and horny every time you have a relaxing reading night together. so chan does his research. he takes note of all the books he's seen give you that reaction and he researches them. he downloads previews of the chapters, blushing with embarrassment when he reads some of the stuff these books have in them. like being fucked with the barrel of a gun, or being stalked in the safety of your own home. chan is so intrigued and so confused and disturbed at the same time. of course, he would NEVER do anything of this to you, that would be too far, but he wants to plan something to get that type of reaction out of you, to make you moan his name and not zade fucking matthews'.

so that's how you ended up here months later, spread out on the bed with chan slowly and roughly dragging his long, thick cock against your tight walls, the ridges and veins driving you insane with each passing minute. he's got his eyes locked on you, and yours on him, the eye contact making you preen and break under the pressure. little ah-ah-ahs sit at the tip of your mouth, but you can't let them out, not unless you want your mother to hear what's going on on your end of the phone line. she's yapping in your ear about the family barbeque she's been planning for weeks in advanced, and you're really trying to listen and be encouraging, but it's getting really hard to focus when chan is fucking you so slowly, so deliciously, his large, muscular body hovering over you and caging you in.

he rocks his hips upwards experimentally, causing a hiccup to leave your mouth. chan's eyebrow raises in amusement as the horror takes over your face at the noise you had just made, embarrassment flushing your cheeks when your mom pauses her tyrant and asks if you're alright. 'honey, is everything okay?' she asks, concern lacing her tone. your eyes stay glued to chans, his hands squeezing your hips as he bucks his hips forward once more, almost eliciting a scream from your throat. 'i'm fine mom,' you struggle with getting the words out 'i'm just struggling with.... something at the moment.' chan reaches his hand down and inserts his finger into you alongside his cock, alternating his thrusts to match the opposite of his fingers movements. 'do you need me to let you go?' she asks, completely oblivious to the way your sweet, usually innocent boyfriend is completely rearranging your guts in the most glorious way possible. a 'yes' begs to fall from your lips, but you stop it when you see chan shake his head slowly. confusion passes over your features, his finger and his cock bringing you to feel a new level of pleasure. 'no?' you reply back. chan takes a moment to pull his finger out and wrap his large hands around your pretty throat, growling in your opposite ear 'you hang up and i stop moving'. at that, your orgasm crashes over you and you have no choice but to cry out loudly as the waves hit you like a tsunami. never have you cum so hard before. but omg you just came all over chans cock, crying out loudly with your mother on the phone. horror passes over your features once more and you can feel yourself beginning to panic when chan lifts the phone up, showing you the toggled mute button on screen. he then pulls all the way out and unmutes the phone, putting a finger to his mouth to shut you up before he slams back in, the vibrations from your orgasm only adding to the oversensitivity of it all. 'hello mama,' chan then puts the phone to his ear, his hips picking up pace as he begins to slam into your pussy recklessly. you can feel yourself getting brought over the edge again when he smiles down at you. 'what do you want us to bring for the barbeque?'

~~~~~

Taglist: @moonlightndaydreams @channieandhisgoonsquad @newhope8 @noellllslut @queenmea604 @kaiyaba @rxosies @bethanysnow

[sokuuuu]

saw a post on my fyp a few hours ago that got me thinking about the game again. I've also been deep into Greek mythology so forgive me for somewhat combining two of my interests.

A common trope for characters who are gods or deities is their lack of humanity. They aren't bound by the confines of mortality, therefore they do not live by our rules. Our human concepts of community, society, and relationships are utterly beneath them because they exist in the scope of inevitable destruction. The mortal ones are the empathetic ones in the story of the gods, the victims who struggle to cling to our human desires beneath the whims of gods. Slay the Princess, however, subverts this expectation. In fact it turns it on its head by humanizing the deities and complicating the mortal man.

The Princess and Quiet are not people to the Narrator, and he makes that blatantly clear - they're constructs. Objects to be used to fulfill his desires. There's a fragile relationship between the three where the Narrator holds most of the powerful information over these characters' heads. He watches and observes their actions the way a "God" in the most general sense of a word would. In fact, he created the world the two inhabit. For the most part they're just living in it.

It's especially interesting to me that what the Narrator seeks is immortality. He fears death, a concept so meaningless to Quiet and the Princess. Their roles are so uniquely swapped. The powerful mortal man yearns for the strengths of the struggling, clueless gods.

As we expect from someone human - or at least, mortal in this world of this story - the Narrator is complicated. But the story doesn't derive the Princess and Quiet of their humanity either despite their larger roles. In fact, despite the two being two halves of the same larger concept, STP pours so much attention into making the two feel alive. Making their lives matter. We don't want to die even though we know how many chances we have. Each time we die, The Voice of The Hero fears the upcoming. In the mirror, facing the end, they are afraid. It's the closest these two unending beings can get to understanding the Narrator's fear of death.

They share our fears. Do they share our human desires?

The post that inspired me to ramble like this in the first place (I certainly wish I could find it) brought me back to this part of The Princess and The Dragon:

Although they aren't aware of the limits of their own existence, the Princess and Quiet know what they feel fulfilled when they are with each other. Even after everything. The Princess is angry at you in this chapter, both you and your voices, and yet she still wants that part of Quiet back. The part that makes her feel whole again. It's an obvious calling to their connection to each other in hindsight, as two parts of the same god. But they don't fit together anymore. They cannot fit together anymore as two separate entities. Part of their beings complete each other, but they are two separate beings created by the Narrator now. They can no longer be each other, but they know they belong with each other.

It's a... romantic way of thinking about it. We know soulmates, two souls destined for one another. They make each other complete despite their imperfections. Despite their existence as two separate organisms. They are not one in the same and yet they fit perfectly together. It's fantastical. It's unrealistic. It's a portrayal of love only imperfect beings like mortals can strive for. And yet the irony is that the two are anything but.

The Narrator even admits it to himself: he's wrong about Quiet and the Princess (although mostly Quiet in this instance, the same can certainly apply to her). They are not just gods. They are not just constructs. They are people. People with free will, with empathy, with desires, with longing. He's just like them, and we're just like him. The Narrator dwells on this boundary between life and death, mortal being and god, while we find these barriers so unimportant to us. The ending of Slay the Princess is about shedding the boundaries between ourself and the Princess and letting the two complete each other in a perfectly imperfect way. The very essence of mortality and humanity, displayed by two gods.

There's a beauty to imperfection.

[allylikethecat]

The cliffhanger you're crazy 😭😭😭😭

Hehe thank you so much for reading! I promise it won't take me as long to finish the next chapter as this one did! I no longer have the A&E fic to consume my entire being, and I *think* we might have some direction again in terms of Ducklings. The good news is that Fictional!Matty knows that Fictional!Ross knows now... right?

Thank you for sending in this ask and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

❤️Ally

[dallonwrites]

THINK i am halfway through this chapter it just Feels Right, though based on what i know needs to happen i feel like the second half will be longer and the first half is 4.5k so like, laugh out loud !

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[bejeweledmp3]

ok so. good news and bad news regarding totp: bad news is i'm 90% sure i'm going to have to up the chapter count from five to six. good news is that if i do that chapter four is like. almost done

[divinekangaroo]

i thought i saw your mother in the dark - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 01 / Ch 02 / Ch 03 | Mature | Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Charles Shelby, Ruby Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Oswald Mosley, Winston Churchill, the Lawyer who must be Let Go | Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Retrospective Justification a Deadly Sin, Humiliation, Family Issues, Complicated Family Relationships, Post-Suicide Attempt, Road Trip/s, Strained Father Son Relationships, Once upon a time in Margate |

[lecliss]

Ya know, when I heard Vincent was getting his FR finally, I certainly wasn't expecting his partner to be Prompto, and yet. It makes sense.

[oneoftheextras]

lockjaw | j.t

masterlist | tip for the author?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

request: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 2.7k

chapter warnings: a lot of exposition, but trust me

chapter notes: first time writing a hybrid, let me know how i did, this will be multi-chaptered

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord

When your friend had suggested you get a pet, this is not what you imagined. 

A cat or dog perhaps, even a fish would've made more sense, this whole thing started with you coming into the shelter asking for just that.

You’d asked about their cats or even their smaller dogs, but they’d all either been adopted or were reserved by potential owners.

“Have you considered a hybrid?” Those five words, and your inquisitive “A hybrid?” Is what landed you in this situation.

The lady excitedly lead you through a few different doors until you were in a room that overlooked a large spacious area.

“There’s so many of them,” you muttered to yourself, but it was clearly loud enough for her to hear you.

“Not many people want a hybrid, they prefer a traditional cat or dog,” her tone was melancholic, and a pang of guilt hit your chest. That was exactly what you’d done.

“Chances are the majority of these guys will spend their whole lives here,” she sighed sadly.

A high pitched yelp interrupted her train of thought as she perked up to see who the culprit was. It seemed to be a pink haired girl, her matching feline ears were pressed back against her head whilst another hybrid had their hand raised into a fist.

“Jinx no!” Your guide leaned over the small balcony to scold her. All the hybrid’s snapped their attention to where her voice was, but the blue-eared one slowly lowered her fist and skulked off to another corner; content that the conflict was over the rest of the room relaxed and continued what they were doing previously.

However, one pair of eyes remained on the balcony.

You couldn’t place it at first, but then you spotted him. His eyes were so piercing that you quickly avoided eye contact.

“Who’s the one on their own?” You asked quietly as if he could hear you. The vet leaned into you and the excitement was radiating off of her.

“That’s Jayce, our chocolate Labrador hybrid,” she paused for you to ask questions, but continued quickly anyway.

“He’s been with us for about 3 months, he was completely feral when we found him. He’d been abandoned by his previous owner when he was a puppy and was surviving on his own for so long,” her voice lost its usual joyful lint the more she spoke.

“When he arrived he was practically uncontrollable, we thought we’d have to separate him from the others entirely,” she paused as she realised her voice was getting louder, “But he bonded well with one of our felines, Viktor his name was, but he was adopted quite quickly-“.

The entire time she was talking your eyes kept darting back to who she was talking about.

He was sat in a chair with with his leg on his knee, away from everyone else, his annoyed gaze continuously on the balcony as if he knew he was being spoken about.

“-We encouraged them to adopt the two of them as a pair, but they didn’t want a canine, so he stayed with us. Unfortunately, some of his feral habits returned but he mostly keeps to himself now,” she finally finished her monologue.

You furrowed your eyebrows with empathy and glanced towards her, "He's lonely, like me," you commented and put your elbows on the railing to rest your chin on your palms, overlooking the space again.

His eyes were still on the two of you, you could feel it.

"Do you want to meet them?" the vet asked a little too swiftly.

The thought bounced around in your mind for a moment, contemplating if you should even entertain this idea; but as you looked around the room you felt your heart ache for them.

You sighed as a sign of conceding to the idea, "Yeah, why not?" you pushed yourself up off of the balcony and turned to the vet, waiting for her to start moving.

The smile on her face was one of relief and joy. It was clear that not many people were jumping at the opportunity to adopt a hybrid, let alone even entertain seeing them.

It didn't take long to get to the 'sanctuary' door - that's what she called the main communal area for them - she swiped her key card and the door beeped open.

For some reason your heartbeat increase slightly as you stepped over the threshold and into the room.

"Hello everyone!" she said in a slightly elevated voice, not loud enough to be shouting but loud enough for it to carry throughout the room. "We have guest today, she's very nice so don't worry," she warned them.

Although the atmosphere didn't feel hostile, it didn't feel welcoming either. The majority of them observed you from a distance.

There were so many questions you had, but you didn't know where to start.

"If we take a seat over here we can let them come to us," she lead you to a sofa in the middle of the room, but as you sat down she moved away to a cabinet to retrieve a big folder.

The time you were alone was minimal but a spike of anxiety went through you, some of the hybrids moved closer to observe you but never close enough to speak to any of them individually.

The vet returned and sat next to you on the sofa, placing the big folder onto the table, "We have all the information on the residents in here," she didn't open it but left it for you, if you felt inclined.

It didn't take long for the blue haired feline from before to bound over and sit next to the vet, "Hello sweetie," the vet said as the feline put her head on her shoulder and started playing with her hair.

"This is-" she started, but this time you interrupted, "Jinx?".

Both the vet and Jinx looked up at you when you spoke, "Yes! She's quite the troublemaker, especially with her sister Vi," she pointed at the pink-haired feline that was being bapped earlier.

"I see," you spoke slowly as you opened the folder to their joint page. 'Must be adopted together', it read in bold under their photos.

"As they're actually siblings, we can't have them separated, it wouldn't be healthy," she explained as she started to tighten one of Jinx's braids.

It reminded you of her story from before and you instinctively raised your head from the folder to where the Labrador hybrid was sitting before, he was still staring at you.

"What type of space are you working with?" you were thankful she was asking you questions, you felt completely out of your depth.

Your eyelids fluttered in surprise, he must be territorial, you thought.

"Just a one-bed apartment," you eventually answered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the vet lean back to glace at Jayce and her lips curled into a smile again.

"Ah," the noise of disappointment, "That's not a lot of space for play, if you were to adopt it would need to be someone more relaxed,".

She leaned forward and started flipping through the folder, unclipping certain pages and laying them in front of you.

"Unfortunately, they're all a little rambunctious here, but these are who I'd recommend," she'd placed two folders on the table.

"Caitlyn', and 'Ekko", she said aloud even though their names were written down in front of you - Jinx stuck her tongue out and made a 'Bleh' noise when she said Caitlyn.

You spent some time reading their files, they seemed nice enough, two felines; but the whole time you were reading your mind kept drifting back to the one who's eyes you could feel in the side of your head.

"What about-" you started, pausing for a moment to reconsider if you actually wanted to suggest this, but before you could get the courage to complete the sentence the vet interjected with a surprised "Jayce?!".

You glanced up from the pages to ask her how she knew what you were going to say, when you realised there was a large figure basking you in his shadow.

Immediately, your heart started beating quickly again and a nervous rush went through you. "Oh, hello," your voice shook as you spoke.

Now that he was closer you could see that his eyes were a golden yellow, which complemented his chocolatey brown hair pretty well. His nose twitched as if he was also rethinking his approach, or he was catching your scent.

"Jayce, this is..." the vet started the introduction and waited for you to say your name out loud for him, which you did.

His eyebrow raised slightly as he seemed to look you over; from your shoes to the top of your head.

Before, it felt like you couldn't make eye contact with him, but now you were struggling to look away. There was a sadness in his eyes that you recognised all too well, he was lonely too.

Unsure of how to manage the situation, you stuck your hand out for him to shake. He studied your hand silently and without movement, you were starting to think you should put your hand down when he slowly took it.

His hands were large, much bigger than your own and very warm. Although he didn't move his hand, he held a gentle grip on yours and watched where they connected.

"Nice to meet you, Jayce," you tried to say as softly as possible and timidly shook his hand up and down. His brown ears twitched slightly at the mention of his name.

After a few long seconds he let go of your hand and with a quick exhale he walked away.

You blinked a few times and lowered your hand, "Did I do something wrong?" you asked the vet, she chuckled to herself "Not at all, I'm actually surprised he showed any interest at all, he normally never moves from his spot,".

"Oh," was all you could say.

After some time, the vet stood and gestured for you to do the same, leading you towards the exit, "We should leave them to it, we try not to overstimulate them with new people too often,".

Once you were out in the halls again, you asked "Why's his hair so long?". Whilst it wasn't an unmanageable length, it was certainly dishevelled and outgrown.

"He doesn't really let people near him, let alone people with scissors and a razor," she laughed, "Like I said, he still has some feral tendencies, nothing that we're concerned about but it does mean he's a bit scruffy sometimes." she explained.

You nodded slowly to show your understanding. Whilst you felt yourself being drawn towards Jayce, the more you heard about his behaviours the more you were thinking that you weren't cut out to have a hybrid.

"I don't think I’m capable of looking after someone like him," you confessed even though it physically hurt your chest to say.

The vet chuckled again, "When it comes to hybrids, they look after themselves. All you really need to do is feed them, give them a home and attention when they want it.".

She picked up the folder again and flipped through the files, "I know it might seem overwhelming, but we don't just let anyone adopt our hybrids, there's a vetting process to it," she said as she handed you another file.

"What about my apartment? It's only one bedroom, and he's quite..." you didn't know what word to settle on, "Large,".

She nodded at your concern, "Ordinarily, I'd say it was an issue, but for a canine like Jayce, he just needs companionship and intellectual stimulation.".

You took in her words, you were hoping she would agree and tell you that it wasn't possible, that it wasn't meant to be. Then you could let this go and move onto something less demanding.

"Take this home, have a read and see how you feel. If you're still interested we can set up another meeting," you took the file from her and held it close to your chest.

Over the next couple of days, that's exactly what you did.

You read the file over and over, it felt like every detail was engrained into your brain, along with those piercing yellow eyes that were so full of sadness.

He was like you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was your reflection.

"Hello?" you spoke into you phone, the voice on the other end greeted you and asked you to verify your name, which you did.

"How can I help you today?" the receptionist was characteristically bubbly, "I'd like to set up a meeting, please?" you asked hesitantly.

The line was quiet, save for the tapping of her fingers on the keys, "Of course, is that for Jayce?" she eventually said and you felt a bolt of excitement charge through you.

"Yes, please," you confirmed. A few more details were exchanged and the meeting was set, "Perfect, we'll see you tomorrow at 1pm!".

The evening went by too quickly and too slowly at the same time.

Luckily, you worked from home so you were able to be fairly flexible with your availability, despite your morning being relatively unproductive.

Instead of doing your job, you'd spent the first three hours of your shift researching canine hybrids; their needs, requirements and any medical issues.

You'd only just started researching about feral hybrids before you realised the time, 12:30.

When you arrived he was sat in the same chair as before, but this time he wore a black tunic with the sleeves rolled up.

If not for the fluffy ears and tail, you'd think he was a business man or politician of some sort.

As you approached him - with the vet in tow - he stood.

It took you by surprise and your steps faltered. He blinked a few times and his eyebrows softened slightly for a second, before putting his hand out the same way you had a couple days prior.

A soft smile came across your lips as you tentatively took his hand and shook it, he’d copied your gesture to make you comfortable. His touch felt familiar, as if he was someone you’d known for years.

Despite the gentle nature he was showing you, his eyes still bore into you like he was trying to figure out if you were a threat or not.

When he eventually let go of your hand, he sat down and his eyes looked between you and the chair opposite him. He wanted you to sit as well.

You glanced at the soft armchair behind you and side stepped until you were in front of it; before you lowered yourself down, you turned your head back to Jayce to check this is what he wanted.

When there was no change in his demeanour, you plonked yourself into the soft cushions less than gracefully, it was a lot lower and bouncier than you’d anticipated.

“He got this out when he heard you were coming today,” the vet said from behind you, honestly you’d forgotten he was there.

You’d somehow failed to notice that on the table in between the two of you was a chess set, set up and ready for a game.

“I’m sure you’ve already read his file, but Jayce here is very intelligent, he loves these types of games,” the man sounded so proud.

Meanwhile, Jayce stared at him with a displeased facial expression, like he was waiting for him to stop talking.

“I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll be over here if you need me,” the man gave you a small wave as he moved to the other side of the room.

This was the first time you and Jayce were somewhat alone, there was a spark of excitement as well as nervousness.

You just hoped he liked you.

[sonofcelluloid]

Sonofcelluloid’s Top 30(ish) Favorite Devil’s Minion Fics:

In no particular order, this list only includes finished works that are relatively canon compliant (I’ll be making separate lists for AUs and fics in progress.) Anything in italics is a direct quote from the fic or its description. Please remember to check tags and ratings before reading.

You’ll Always Be My Favorite Ghost by lestatslestits: Tales of Armand’s turbo autism as Daniel gets to know and love him. This one is so sweet and had me laughing my ass off.

outcast of all this night by gaypiratedivorce: Modern Devil’s Minion fic of all time. Rewired my brain. "I mean, I don't know how you guys did it in Renaissance Italy, but most people this century get to at least second base before wearing each other's blood around our necks." There’s a part 2: my aid against the boredom of the eternal where they finally hook up. And honestly every fic from this author is a banger.

I’d Break the Back of Love for You by kurow: 70s Armandaniel. A rescue and a sick fic wrapped in one, and I’m a sucker for both.

Like That by GrayGiantess: Fluffy 70s Armandaniel. A tooth achingly sweet first kiss fic, featuring Twinkie’s. Again, every fic from this author is a banger.

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning by trinityofone: Daniel sees a wild vision during his turning. “I deserve this,” Armand said. His hold on Daniel’s throat was almost a caress. “After what I’ve been through, I deserve something of my own, don’t I?”

make a home from a rented house by sleepdeprivedsurgeon: Daniel realizes Armand has never really had a room of his own before. Armand slowly builds his own safe place. Super fluffy autistic Armand stuff. Domestic vampire polycule bonus.

the spiral is unspooling by reedroad: Armand helps Daniel recover their Devil’s Minion years via old video tapes they filmed of their meetings. Absolutely heart wrenching and wonderful and charming and had some of the most jaw dropping plot twists I’ve ever experienced in a DM fic. The last chapter absolutely floored me and rewired my brain forever. May be my #1 fav.

forever’s gonna start tonight by trinityofone: Hate fucking with a happy ending:) Sort of a soulmate fic as well. “I fucking hate you. And you hate me. So something is making us do this.” “I don’t hate you,” Armand pants. “You mean nothing to me. Don't stop.”

care and keeping by katplanet: A surprisingly tender guide for how to step on your boyfriend. Bonus Danlou. Smutty and fluffy and freakayyy. GREAT dialogue. Very funny as well.

hell is: by cannibalenthusiast: Another turning fic. Post Dubai blowout, Armand and Daniel bond over martinis, breakups, and a Survivor marathon. They bang about it. Great ending.

5 Times Daniel Molloy Imagined Killing Marius de Romanus (+1 Time He Actually Did It) by platoapproved: This one is genuinely a masterpiece. Probably my #2 fav. Lots of protective Daniel, some really cool and original vampire-lore stuff, Louis and Lestat being beautifully supportive along with other new side characters. Armand finally gets to process his abuse among allies. A really touching Lestat subplot as well. HEAVY trigger warnings for all Marius related assaults, but obviously we get to watch him die horribly to make up for it:) Absolute banger of an ending, totally sticks the landing.

lesson three: parasitic infections by kanxie: 70s Armandaniel. Armand picks out Alice as a third and does NOT like the way the night progresses. What unfolds is some of the CRAZIEST psychosexual (emphasis on psycho) gremlin Armand shit I’ve ever seen in a fic. So perfectly Armand. Short and sweet, sad ending.

open up your skull, i’ll be there by Anonymous: First time fic. Armand dipped after Daniel’s turning and when he shows up again Daniel ain’t letting him leave. “Your blood is my blood,” Daniel says, and Armand does not flinch. “It’s your blood getting me hard. Your blood that’s pumping through me.” Armand licks his lips, and still doesn’t move. “Please. Armand, Armand, please.” “Beg for it.” “I am begging for it, this is what begging looks like —”

Disintegration by lilacaisle: Daniel goes crazy when Armand locks him in the apartment and tries to burn himself with a cigarette so it will feel like being bitten🙈 Armand does BDSM about it. This one’s actually book Armandaniel but I didn’t notice it until like the third read because it fits show Armandaniel so perfectly.

baby, cry baby by Babeblox: Daniel seeks out Lestat for an interview after Louis’ attack, but he’s being haunted by someone else. Canon divergence. This one legit made me cry. Dark but very sweet. Wild ending.

get in my mind (do you see my heart?) by Marenke: 70s Armandaniel, Armand character study. Armand is pretty sure he and Daniel have never had a problem a little brainwashing couldn’t fix. SICK AND TWISTEDDDDD (affectionate).

The Importance of Being Armand by Siria: Daniel and Armand talk about the power of naming. "If you can imagine a different set of possibilities for me as a vampire, ever think of what you could come up with for yourself, if you put your mind to it?"

Bumpin' That (Bumpin' That Bumpin' That Bumpin' That) by TheAngelsAreWatching: Daniel and Lestat are fuck buddies. They are on a tour bus a la Word Tour. They do coke. They try to bang. And then Armand stops time and walks in. Armandaniel fuck crazy style. Pure filth (affectionate).

Run, Arun! by TheNightColors: Autistic Armand, character study. Daniel learns it was considered a “crime” to turn Armand due to his “mental retardation”. Armand explains what it was like to be an autistic child in the sixteenth century, and an autistic adult for 500 years after. Heavy stuff. Trigger warning for all things relating to Amadeo’s past and for the internalized ableism instilled in Armand by his upbringing.

a haunting just for company by valkyrisms: Post Dubai blowout but pre Daniel’s turning, Armand crashes on Daniel’s couch. A modern Devil’s Minion fic for the ages. These weirdos love each other so bad. Some really memorable tender scenes. This one’s a fan favorite. “You’re fond of me.” “You’re a nuisance.”

The Company of Monsters by ruiqi: A full deconstruction of Marius’ abuse from Armand’s pov as he struggles to keep old patterns from repeating with Daniel. Overall I think this is the most realistic depiction of what it would be like for Armand to come to terms with his abuse in the modern day, especially regarding Daniel’s involvement. He’s totally out of his depth but wants so badly to help. This one made me SOB. It’s honestly a really tough read, but beautifully done. “You said, last night, that he wanted an angel,” says Daniel, “but no one's an angel, Armand. That wasn't fair to you. Besides, who would want an angel when they could have you?” “No,” Armand says. “No, you can’t say that.” “You can’t fucking stop me,” says Daniel. And it isn’t tagged, but this one is incredible autistic Armand representation. Probably my #3 fav.

Smart Boy by heliza24: Just a really good 70s Devil’s Minion era explanation of the events leading up to Armand’s decision to take Daniel’s memories away. Quite a bit of infidelity stuff in this one. Also delves a lot into Daniel’s family history, and an emotional affair is established between them long before they actually hook up. Very emotional. Heartbreaking last chapter.

We Dared Eternity and Won by faerywhimsy: A 70s Devil’s Minion era telling of the four good years they had before everything imploded. Louis has somewhat of a distant obsession with Daniel in this and so is very involved in Armand’s decisions regarding him. Favorite scene is when Armand saves Daniel from a hotel fire and the near loss devastates him because it makes him realize he’s in love with Daniel.

reprise. by SheOfBadIdeas: In Dubai, Daniel demands Armand show him the memories he stole. Armand relays the tale of their romance, but Daniel is begrudged to give Armand the satisfaction of giving in to it. That doesn’t last long;)

Waiting by bandedbulbussnarfblat: 70s fic. Daniel is living with Alice and hasn’t seen Armand in two months. He gets a call from Armand, who just got a proposal from Marius asking him to be his companion again. “I told him I couldn't go back. That I was waiting for you.” Daniel sucks in a sharp breath. Fuck. Armand's voice sounds almost wet, strained and raspy. He finally sounds as vulnerable as Daniel always wanted to see him be. “Should I keep waiting for you, Daniel?” (It’s just banger after banger with this author too.)

The Monster of my Memories by GrayGiantess: In Dubai, Daniel has just remembered his relationship with Armand and he’s PISSED. Armand gladly reminds him he’s waited 40 years for Daniel, he doesn’t mind waiting a little while more, and he’s not so sure Daniel has the same conviction🙈 Phenomenal subby old man Daniel material.

Delicate Machinery by Lilac Tinsel: An in depth look at the 70s love affair that neither man ever saw coming, in all its complicated glory. Really dives into the psychological consequences of Armand’s constant rejections. Amazing take on what the actual memory alteration would look like. The part that broke me: “I’m sorry for– for all of it. I didn’t realize how much I took. I just… wanted to stop thinking for a moment.” Armand blinks slowly and his eyebrows knit together. His voice is small but steady. “Did you take the drugs so you wouldn’t feel me anymore?”

You Taste Like Suburbia by CannibalGender: This is the only unfinished work I’m putting on this list because it’s so fucking good as is and gave me chills when I read it. It’s the 80s, Armand, famously normal about his partners' families, haunts the Molloys. I absolutely love Alice in this. Paints such an intriguing picture of what these years might have looked like from an “outside” pov.

Two parter I’ll chew you up and I’ll spit you out and Oh dear diary, I met a boy by weathermood: Loumandaniel in Dubai, set just after the season 1 finale. Asks, what if Daniel doesn’t want to remember? An exploration of identity while Louis and Armand try to persuade Daniel to allow his memories of their past relationship to be restored. Explores dreams and memories beautifully and with delightful humor. Classic unhinged Armand.

138 lbs, for the metrically challenged by hummingbeeoOo: Fluffy and funny. After Daniel’s turning and subsequent hunting down of his maker, they’re shacked up and happier than ever, but a little something from the interview has kept nagging at Daniel. Or: there is exactly zero way a beanpole like Armand weighed a measly 62.5 kilograms a day in his adult life. The end of this fic had me kicking my feet and giggling. This whole series is great tbh.

This list is my pride and joy. Thank you to the anon who asked for recs<3 Feel free to share your own favorites in the reblogs:)

[itstheghostofmypast]

Awake - (Hyung Line)

separate members Ateez x (F)Reader

Summary: You went to sleep after a HUGE (not really) fight, only, when you went to sleep you were alone, not in the comforting arms of your lover.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4.2k

Est.Read Time: 21 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Maknae Line: Here

A/N: A special thank you to my one and only @edenesth , for helping me out with this- I swear for the life in me Yeosang still confuses me and Hwa seems to sweet to argue with (yeah i know that aint true) .I'll be updating my requests soon and uploading the next chapter of meow soon, too!

Kim Hongjoong

Waking up next to Hongjoong was as rare as going to bed with him. Considering he'd come to bed at an ungodly hour, unlike you, and leave at an ungodly hour, waking up way before you did- in theory, however, the man barely slept four hours. Then there were times when he'd choose to stay at the studio or the dorm. So often, you'd receive a text about his location and that was it- and for so long it was okay- until it wasn't. 

There's no real reason or premise behind how it started, but all she remembers is that he had come home in the middle of the night, and ironically she had been watching a film at the time. Now, the reaction could've been sweet, could've been filled with love, but the words had left her sooner than she could stop them, 

"You know, you should really take care of yourself too."

That was all it took for him to stare at her blankly before turning around and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving her wincing in regret on the couch, the same very couch she had cried on, lying across its expanse, trying to get in touch with him through text or call, only for her tears to dry up and eyes to close, falling asleep on the couch.

What you did not expect was to wake up in your bed, on your back blinking up at the ceiling, shades of golden seeping through the cracks of the curtains, illuminating the dancing specs across the room. With a heavy sigh you turned your head to glance at the usual empty side  when you were greeted by an unusual sight. The same blonde man you had cried your heart out for last night was laying there, knocked out cold, lips slightly parted, hands folded on his belly as he lay on his back- Hongjoong was one weird dude. With a sigh you turn to lay on your side, staring at him, taking in his tired features, the dark circles under his eyes, his chapped lips, the way his brows were slightly furrowed. God, you definitely loved an idiot.

Taking a few more minutes, you thought to yourself, before letting out a sigh, at least he was home now, at least he was resting. With that in mind, you slowly pushed yourself up, sitting up and rubbing your face, trying to erase the remnant traces of sleep. You were about to slip out of bed when something tugged at your shirt, causing you to turn to lock eyes with your sleepy love, his gaze filled with some form of remorse and guilt.

“Don't…go.” his hoarse voice rasped across the silent room, her shoulder slumped at the fatigue in his tone, before shaking her head and moving closer to him, letting him pull her closer, enough for her to rest her head against his shoulder, a hand placed on his heart, appreciating the steady beat- his own rhythm for her. 

“I’m sorry…”

“You should be.” she mumbled, turning to bury her face in the crook of his neck, feeling him draw her closer, the arm around her waist tightening, as if he were afraid that she’d disappear. Not a word was exchanged after that, her lips would often gently graze against his warm skin, curling into a small smile when she’d hear him let out a sigh, her leg now hooked around his, basically tangled around him. He never pushed her away or told her to stop, even when her hand slipped into his shirt, fingers tracing his warm skin, trying to feel him against her, as if she were trying to become one with him. He may not prefer skinship or let anyone else touch him, but she was the exception, she held the key to his heart, to his soul, giving her the free access of a more compliant and vulnerable Hongjoong, who was no longer a captain, but a boy who loved music, and she was but his muse, his inspiration, the rhythm his heart would dance to.

Park Seonghwa

Did she mean to forget it? No. Did she forget it? Yes. Was she sorry about it? Yes. But was she going to accept his berating and taunting? Not at all. She knew he was tired and exhausted, she knew being an idol wasn’t easy, it was a job accompanied with constant stress and fatigue-  you knew what you were getting yourself into, but so did he. He knew you were a full eight to six job, a busy job, a hectic job, and that wasn’t accompanied with a driver or a manager or any other kind of comfort, no you had no one to lean on when it came to someone messing up and expecting you to clean up after them. 

So, is it your fault that you came home all tired and exhausted to the bone, only to flop down on the couch, next to your boyfriend- who by the way did not even bother greeting you- and expect him to show you some compassion? Apparently, it was. Your head lay on the backrest of the couch, the TV acting like a white noise as your turned your head, eyes drowsy and tired to look at the magnificent being fate had paired you up with, someone so loving and caring, so endearing and tender, so pretty and- 

“Did you vacuum today?”

“What?” sitting up properly she looked at the not so loving man, god, how could someone so pretty be so weird sometimes- oh shit. Shaking your head you cleared your throat, “Well umm…I know…I told you I’d do it today since I had to go later to work but I…kinda forgot? Plus you did clean yesterday so the house is pretty clean?” trailing off you averted your gaze, trying not to meet eyes with the man who looked borderline distraught and disappointed. 

“Tch…this is why your mom got mad at you last week.” he mumbled and stood up, walking away, perhaps to the kitchen to get the stupid vacuum cleaner- no, he did not just bring that up! You sat there, too stunned to react, what may have seemed like a minute was perhaps more, especially when you felt something nudge at your feet, causing you to look up wide eyed at the source of hurt, staring up at him with blurry eyes.

Crying?

His eyes widened at the realisation, she had not been sitting there all stubborn while he was vacuuming, no, she was sitting there, crying, too shocked to even notice she was crying- the hell did he just do? He felt his fingers twitch, tongue poking out to lick his lower lip, an apology and more at the tip of his tongue, but before he could say anything, you were gone, the bedroom door slamming shut causing him to jerk back into his senses, running after you, trying to open the door, only to find it locked.

“Angel? Open- I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” he called out, all anger and dominance, instantly flushed out of his being, wanting nothing more than to cradle her in his embrace, trying to hold onto her crumbling pieces. He mentally cursed himself, knowing damn well how your mother’s visit last week ended poorly, an evening that was going great, until his future mother in law found out that he did most of the cleaning, which led you to receive an earful about the duties of a true, good wife.

You don’t remember much of what happened after, you had showered, cried during the shower, changed into something comfortable and snuggled into bed, ignoring the persistent knocking and apologies that flooded the room. Were you being childish? No. You could’ve talked it out with him, but you really didn’t want to and you really didn’t care enough right now to morph an understanding mood.

What you didn’t understand was why you weren’t able to move- oh. Trying to pry his arms off you, you huffed out frustrated and still upset, only for him to mumble something in your hair, pulling you closer as his grip tightened on you, pushing his leg between yours, tangling you in his long limbs. His hair fell of his face, the tips of his silky locks caressing your forehead, tickling your skin.

“Let go.” you mumbled only to hear him whine, about to ask him to ‘get lost’ until you heard a sniffle, followed by a broken, “I-I’m s-sorry.” Honestly, a part of you didn’t want to give in, but when you heard the way he whined, calling out your name like you were a million miles away, your heart clenched at the tone, hand gently squeezing one of the two that were tightly clamped around you. 

“Hwa…” you sighed, leaning back a bit, feeling his lips press against your neck, ghosting up to your ear, whispering unending apologies, before squeezing you closer.

“Its…not fine but…please don’t…say that again.” she sighed, closing her eyes at the feeling of his soothing touches, letting his plump lips press against the shell of her ear before he flipped them over, with him hovering above her, keeping himself steady with his forearms pressing into the pillow on either sides of her head, staring down at her with puffy eyes and a pink nose, “I won’t…I’m sorry.” 

You smiled up at him, placing a hand on his cheek, adoring the way he instantly nuzzled against it, before slowly bringing him down to meet your lips.

“Then make up for it.”

Jeong Yunho

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

Your blood ran cold, staring at what you had just done, oh my god, it was all over now, you were doomed- you had the worst luck known to man! You were also probably the dumbest person to exist- oh my god. The sound of the controller being placed on the table had you freeze up, but it was the loud exhale that had you flinching like a small kitten, ever so slowly turning your head to the source, trailing your eyes off the floor to lock with an unreadable pair.

“Babe.”

“Yes…Yuyu?” meekly responding, your grip tightened on the mop, trying not to run away, knowing that would only upset him even more. Okay, granted, he had told her as soon as he had come home that he was not in a great mood, the new choreography was a bit tricky and everyone was taking a bit longer than usual to pick it up, and that had led the dancer to embrace this sour mood. Even when she was smothering his cheek with kisses, clinging onto him, he had only sighed, turning to meet her lovey-dovey eyes with his tired ones, giving her a small smile before bumping his forehead with hers, “I’m gonna blow off some steam, yeah?” That had meant he’d be gaming the stress away, and she was supposed to act like a good little kitten and not play around. Lord knows why she thought of cleaning in the first place, perhaps because she was bored and needed a distraction- oh god.

He blinked at you, trying to control his expressions, though his hard stare had you shaking in your boots, slowly standing up he walked closer, and you took a step back, enough for your back to press against the wall next to the TV. Yunho had never hurt you, and he probably never was going to, but what he was doing now was uncharacteristic, exactly how angry was he? How upset was he for him to do what he had done? How angry and frustrated was he for him to say those words? For him to pull away with a glint in his eyes, watching you slowly grip your shirts, trying to control the frantic beating of your heart that was pushing the tears that were fighting to stay within your waterline.

He didn't even stop her when she slid down the wall, pulling her knees closer to her chest, his cold, harsh, brazen words slicing deep and bloody. He stared down at you for a moment before slowly moving away, his absence only hit you once you heard the soft click of the main door. It was moments later that you stood up, wiping your eyes you walked back into your shared bedroom, the scene replaying in your mind on loop;

He pressed his forehead against hers, not the way he would do so romantically, no, this was different, he was being mean, he wanted her to feel the anger coursing through his veins. Though his words were what felt like a cold slap,

“Can you do anything right? Or are you built to disappoint?”

Your eyes snapped open at the gentle call of your name, trying to ignore the lingering pounding at the back of your head. Of course, the persistent headaches were about to roll in, especially after that stressful scene followed by an unimaginable amount of crying.

Yunho whispered to you once more, noticing how you had flinched the first time, he knew your migraine would kick in as soon as he had seen your sleeping tear struck face- shit. He really did lose his cool this time, and had blown up on the wrong person. If there's one thing that he had learnt during his time with you, was that his girl was as fiery as a tiger, but her heart was as fragile as a kitten's, and his gold retriever self had managed to mangle it with his bare teeth.

“Love…” he brushed the hair away from your eyes, trying to meet your blank, unfocused gazed, as he cleared his throat, “I umm….I brought…something to eat-”

“Go away.” You whispered, gently pushing his hand away from you and sitting up, holding your head, the pounding getting louder and more difficult to handle, now that you knew he was right next to you. It was bad enough that you even dreamt about him saying that to you, in fact, in your dream he had broken up with you, which is probably why you gave him the stink eye as soon as he woke you up.

“I…I didn't mean to say that to you- tsk- it wasn't even directed towards you.” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair, trying not to rip it out in frustration. He did not mean to take it out on you, at one point he wasn’t even looking at you, he could just see himself and how he was failing - but did that mean he could take it out on you? No, it didn't. 

You looked at him sitting there on his knees, he still looked like a giant, but his hurt puppy dog expressions just had you internally berate yourself, any moment longer and you would give in- “Wait…” you turn to look at the alarm clock on your side table and whine in protest, having his full attention on you. “You woke me up! I thought it was already morning- it's only 3 am.” huffing she flopped back down on her pillow, ignoring him by closing her eyes. This was the only way you could ensure you got your message across- granted you were at fault, that didn’t mean he could turn you into his personal punching bag.

Yunho sat there, staring at you, closing your eyes as his own cast down to his clasped hands, feeling even more guilty for waking you up, but the guilt had been eating him up, as soon as he had uttered those words the guilt had begun to bubble, watching you helplessly. That was why he had walked out, he needed to clear his head, he needed to calm down and think, and other than the monologue of an apology he had even gone out of the way to get you a cake- not sure you’d eat it now, considering you were still mad at him.

“Ah-Yunho” she giggled as her eyes snapped open. 

You looked down at him and snorted, his head was placed on your tummy, ear pressed against your shirt as he looked at you. “What are you doing?” you asked propping up on your elbows to stare at him, wondering what his mind was up to this time.

“Shhh…I’m listening.”

“To what?”

“Your belly.” he stated simply before sitting up and replacing his head with his palm, “She tells me she’s hungry, and that she’d like this idiot to feed her cake.”

“Did you just call me an idiot?”

Shaking his head he cleared his throat, “N-no, your tummy called me the idiot!” he clarified before turning around and crawling to his side of the bed, picking up a tray and turning around to face her, “So…am I forgiven?” he asked, casually opening the lid of the box, glancing up to see her admire the icing, man, he really struck gold with this one, she was as forgiving as she was cute- 

“Depends. If you promise not to have a single bite.”

His eyes widened at your request, trying to see if this was some kind of joke, apparently…it was not. Clearing his throat he placed the tray between them and saluted her with one hand, “Yes Ma’am!” he yelled before taking a spoonful of the cake and pressing it against your lips, “I live to serve and please my lady.” Leave it to Yunho to wake you up at the early hours of the day and feed you cake, a very Yunho way of apologising.

Kang Yeosang

He watched you barge through the front door, looking like a mad woman as you flung your bag somewhere across the apartment, not after kicking off your heels and stumbling into the kitchen, grumbling about how ‘shitty’ your day was and how you hate men, followed by a ‘minus you Sangie, you’re the best.’ His girl really was something else, it truly amazed him how he ever fell inlove with her, especially with her distaste towards most men, hell it took her some time to even warm up to the rest of the guys- except for Mingi, which was super weird because if you ask him, Mingi is the weirdest, but she just said he’s a giant baby who thinks hes cool, like boss baby!

Picking up the remote, he pressed play, leaning back against the couch to continue watching the film. Only a shrill call of his name has him jerking off the sofa and running into the kitchen. Stumbling through the door frame blinks at you, with you standing there with the fridge open, glaring daggers at him, holding onto a container - oh…no.

“Yeosang…” other than your horrifying expression, your overall tone was very calm, which honestly scared him, you were a very expressive person until pushed to a point where you begin to shut out others, and right now, he’d have you yell at him, than completely shut him out. He took a step in your direction, only for you to raise your hand and stop him, motioning towards the empty container, “Did you eat the last slice?” Even though it was a question, it really did sound like a statement, one that was holding back the predestined overflow of emotions, of stress.

With a light sigh, he nodded, clearing his throat as he continued, “I…um…I forgot that you told me to save it for you…I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” His words held a gentle form of sincerity, the tender warmth of love, the calm essence of admiration - and she could not give a flying f*ck about it, especially not right now.

Making sure to maintain eye contact, you placed the empty container - the evidence - back in its place before closing the fridge. Taking a deep breath, you walked away, making sure not to spare him a glance as you walked out of the kitchen, ignoring his calls when you walked into the bedroom. You could hear him run after you, a gentle whine hanging off the tip of his tongue, but he froze when you turned around and looked at him, giving him no expression whatsoever, just, blankly staring at - no, through him. Honestly, it was then when he realised that this was not about the stupid cake, no, this was much more, he had forgotten something that was important to her, something she must have been looking forward to while she was on the bus home, something she must have been craving to eat- selfish, that’s what he was, and he knew deep down how mad she must have been- could he blame her?

He sat on the edge of the bed, ever so quietly, watching you go through your nightly routine. It hurt how easily you could pretend he wasn’t there, but then again, he wasn’t very attentive to your presence within this apartment either. He watched you go into the washroom, peaking through the door left ajar, watching you vigorously rub your face, holding back the urge of telling you to go gentle with the scrub on your skin, but he knew if he did, he’d probably get kicked out of the room- at least you didn’t ask him to leave you. You came back into the room, making sure to glare at him, something he caught onto pretty quickly, averting his gaze to his lap.

After a solid ten minutes of letting you change your clothes he glanced up at you once again, only to find you frowning at him through the mirror as you brushed your hair- at this point he realised you had not shut him out, but had decided to punish him like this. This went on for a while until you finally ripped The comforter from your side, making sure to land on the with an angry bounce, enough for him to jerk, turning to your direction for you to glare at him one more time and turn around as you flopped down on your side with an audible “HMPH”.

He didn't know if he should fine this cute, or be upset, a good part of him wanted to tease you, his inner menace begging to come up to the surface, but his more mature side or being kept reminding him that she was only doing this to avoid blowing up at him- which only added to his guilt, you really were a blessing.

You sat up to the sound of something shattering, heart racing a thousand miles as you turned to look at the place on the bed that was usually occupied by Yeosang, only to gasp when he wasn't there. Slipping out of bed, you slowly crept towards the door, grabbing your handy bat in the process as you tip toed out of the room, towards the kitchen. It was early morning, other than the noise from the kitchen, you could hear the early chirping of the bids- Yeosang had an early schedule today, so he was already out of the house- did that mean he forgot to lock the door? Shit, did someone come in because the door was unlocked, or did someone break in because they saw your boyfriend leaving.

With a bat in hand, you ran into the kitchen, ready to swing at the intruder, only you stopped mid swing when you met a familiar pair of eyes.

“YAH! KANG YEOSANG!”

His eyes widened at the sight of the bat, body frozen, crouched on the ground, waiting for the impact, only for him to jerk into action and fall back on his butt, staring up at her, whispering, “I almost…died.”

With a huff, you placed the back on the counter, pushing your hair back and walking over to your idiotic lover. Glancing at the pieces of shattered glass on the floor, oh, so that's what happened, huh? Giving him a hand, you looked at his face, raising a brow, watching him mumble something before giving your hand a squeeze.

“What?” you asked, leaning closer to hear him better, only he mistook it for you wanting affection, or perhaps he was the one who needed physical consolation. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush into his chest, making sure to squeeze you close. With a sigh you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, a good night's rest clearing your mind of any and all negative thoughts, in fact, now you were just exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to be pampered by your forgetful lover.

“What were you doing here?” You asked, looping you around from under his, placing your palms flat against his shoulder blades, feeling the slightest shift, pressing him closer to you - almost squeezing him like a plushie.

“Was…trynna bake you a cake.” He mumbled, burying his face in your hair, “But I messed up….I'm sorry…I ate your slice.”

With a sigh, you pulled your face back, giving him a small smile, “It's…alright Sangie…I'm sorry I got so upset last night…I just really really really don't like men.”

He pouted at your statement and nodded before leaning closer and pressing his forehead against yours, whispering, “Am I included in that statement?”

A giggled broke past your lips as you glanced up at him through your lashes, “Of course not…you're a fairy prince…not a stupid man…now come on,” with that you pulled away, gently lacing your fingers with his, “Let’s bake a cake together.” He could only smile at this, blushing at your compliment, any other day he'd argue about how he was a manly man, but today, he just wanted to shower her with all his love and tenderness, so he'd take it, and he'd be your fairy Prince for as long as you need him to be.

.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Surfacing

"Power dynamics, they're fluid."

Session 1 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Routine patient visit and care performed. Patient is stable, mostly corporative, and only mildly rowdy today. Vitals are clear, appetite is normal, nothing of interest to report other than slightly abnormal behavior resulting in the [REDACTED] incident, pending Nurse deliberation on how to proceed with patient disciplinary action. 📋 Length of Session (w.c): 5.2k out of "we will cross that bridge when we get to it 🤠" 💊Intake Chart (tags): this is a full-blown AU with a slowww build-up, yandere-ish behavior, pet names, angst, compulsive flirter Gojo (he literally cannot help it), mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️doctor's angel’s note: there’s something very, very special about how this story was born. extended author’s note at the end of this chapter if you’re curious|kk I'm done talking - enjoy Satoru’s Psyche. 🎼 Waiting room music: Child's Play|SZA

They all worshipped the strongest. 

But no one saw the man; no one noticed the cracks until it was too late.

The first appeared after the Star Plasma Vessel mission—Gojo's near-death experience and first awakening. 

Then, it was his best friend, Suguru Geto. His betrayal, death. Murder. 

The blood on Gojo's hands left such a deep mark.

Devastation. Irreparable damage.

No matter what Gojo did after that, death followed him like a loyal dog. 

And when the final crack happened in the Prison Realm, with no distraction from his own thoughts and burdens and painstakingly harsh reality, Satoru Gojo bent..then snapped.

He can't remember what happened after being unsealed. 

All he knew was the blood that came afterward.

Apparently, he went on a rampage, but in his psyche, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

And he didn't feel guilt—not in the slightest. 

They must have gotten what they deserved, right? 

The thoughts were deafening.

But Gojo’s natural tendency to play the hero was even louder and got the best of him. The realization of what he’d done was haunting—plaguing and persuading him like a Devil in his ear until he turned himself in to shut the voices the fuck up. 

Once again, good ruled over evil and the world was safe.

In Gojo's own sick and twisted way, he had once more saved the day.

And as a thank you? He's here, in a fucking straitjacket, seals all around to make his cursed energy dormant. At least, that's what those old fools believe…

Gojo can't help but scoff, recalling all their nonsense. 

“You're unstable. The mind needs to be healed.”

Blah fucking blah. What a load of bullshit. 

However, society never took too kindly to a little mass murder, so fine.

Gojo will play nice... for now.

And for the most unexpected reason why.

His grin only deepens, a borderline predatory look as he hears those familiar footsteps. 

Ah...how wonderful.

“There you are.”

The man waits by the door, shoulder framing your entrance and leaning on the wall. Welcoming, warm and expectantly, before the locks can disengage. 

Like many times before, your eyes meet through the window pane. A dull blue under snowy white lashes, heavy and following yours, but barely piercing the plastic—small and artificial—only a thin layer of careful separation, but you both see right through it. Neutrality on your face but wavering sharpness in your eyes. And a glint in his as the familiar buzz! ushers you into his world.

“How’s my favorite nurse?” he asks like a broken record. All casual-like, as if his arms aren’t meticulously tucked into tight restraints that work hard against his muscled frame. “Missed your favorite psychopath?”

He couldn’t sound more arrogant, but still has to smirk watching you brush past him—expecting nothing less—but feels a different air.

There’s a pep in your step, carrying you into the stark white room and making it impossible to miss the subtle sway of your hips and dangling supply bag on your arm. Naturally fluid as if you’re oblivious to its sensual nature.

Gojo rarely saw you wear any emotion on your sleeve, let alone what he thought was hints of joy, but something was slipping through the cracks.  

And what’s that? A slight grin on your face? 

What exactly do we have here?

This attitude is foreign. Better than the blank slate or frequent exhaustion you usually walk in with, but this was a side of you that was unfamiliar. 

What’s got you in such a mood, he wonders? And what else could it be, if not him? 

It’s all because today is an “okay day”. And in places like your ward, “okay” is as good as gold.

Rounds have been fairly simple in the usually chaotic hospital—a small win if you put things in perspective, but it’s enough for you to feel good about it. 

Hell, with the way things usually go around here, it feels like Christmas came early and you got just what you wanted. 

A big, whopping present called “all of your co-workers showing up to work”. The standard for most workplaces but here, such miracles only exist in your daydreams to get through your usually fucked schedule.

But not today. Today, the angels personally visited your ward to carry your burdens and lighten your load. For the first time in months, you didn’t groan the second you saw your patient roster for the day and instead had to do a doubletake because the list was surprisingly short. Only your regulars sat on it and that could only happen if the ward was fully-staffed.

You thought it was a mistake when you checked the schedule this morning, but no, everyone’s name sat prettily on the sign-in sheet at the front desk—a sight you hadn’t seen since orientation and was confirmed with every familiar and slightly foreign face you passed in the halls. 

There were no call-outs, no extra work, and the best part, no unexpected shift changes. 

Overtime would not get its hands on you today and the thought alone made you feel lighter because enough time is spent in these melancholy walls as is. 

With thoughts on the week’s end, you found yourself drifting through the day on autopilot. Wondering if you should make plans—doubtful you’ll see them through—and time seemed to be flying by with your thoughts. Following the rarely-seen routine you know like the back of your hand helped you blaze through the morning and grow closer to sweet rest for your already aching feet. 

Miracles were coming in left and right, proof that today just might be your day. It’s still early, but no one had broken out of their room or flung any property around yet. Guards sit comfy and reclined at their posts, lounging around more than they’re being called, and you haven’t even had to run off to the lockers to change your scrubs that are usually ruined by now. Luck is keeping you high and dry—free from accidents or patient tantrums, both of which are all too common. And always seem to have your name on them.

But the cherry on top, second to none, pièce de résistance.

Is a possibility.

Just the teeniest, tiniest, sliver of a chance…to walk out of these doors early. 

Be still your beating heart.

Early release?? Unheard of. You almost skipped through the halls thinking about it. Dreaming of the reclaimed time—the deliciously healthy heap of rest. 

With no signs of trouble, aside from forcing yourself to chug a wildly unhealthy energy drink to fight off tendrils of sleep, you just may be in the clear.

Things seem steady in the sleepy ward today. So sure, you’re in a relatively good mood. 

But is it good enough to deal with Gojo? 

It puzzles you, how he always knows you’re coming before he sees you. How he sort of announces your presence before you get the chance. Like the honor belongs to him.

The psychopath. 

Your head tilts at the diagnosis, hearing it come from his lips for the first time. Even if unseriously. 

He’s self-aware, at least. Not that the confession makes your visits any easier. 

Over time, after working so closely with a personality like Gojo’s, you’ve learned to take everything he says with a grain of salt. Especially when it comes from such shameless lips.

Answering his question with an eye-roll, you set your supplies down to pull out your clipboard and check his vitals. Something that once upon a time made your palms sweat and throat dry, but never showed on your face. You knew what the role required, what it would need for you to survive—intimidation and cowardice were not a part of it—and eventually, after you banged that into your head enough, even if you had to fake it til you made it, you became used to the routine.

As has Gojo, complying with each step on the checklist like it was second nature. Walking over to his favorite spot to be taken care of, the bed. Lifting his tongue to take his temperature. Offering his arm to check his blood pressure. Noting that his eyes aren���t bad today—not needing to wear his blindfold due to the security system. Doing it all without needing you to say a word. All within his control.

But the one thing he can’t get a grip on is how his heart begins to beat. Every time like clockwork the moment you lay a hand on his back to listen to it. Racing in his chest—thumping through your stethoscope—while he wears the calmest face. 

Curiosity called you after noticing it a few times once you determined it wasn’t a condition. Guaranteed to start up with the gentlest touch that he was surely used to. 

So, what exactly goes on in his mind in these moments? Despite hiding it so well? 

What could possibly be making Tokyo’s most unhinged, mass-murderer, so flustered? 

You never have much time to think about it because it won’t matter in the next few seconds anyway. Sitting still enough to get through vitals was as serious as Gojo gets, making the quickest part of your visits with him the easiest. 

Everything that follows the second you put your kit away is pure…surprise. 

“So…are you gonna undo the straps this time, sweet nurse? My arms are sore.”

He pouts. Sweetly. So devilishly charming. As he did so often with a flash of those cerulean, blue eyes that could make and break hearts.

You sigh. One could almost forget that by society’s standards, he’s a “dangerously unstable individual.” 

Something you’re acutely aware of. And trained for. Which is why you don’t mind the coquettish jabs he throws your way—and why he keeps on throwing them.

You aren’t aware but these hourly visits, along with his agreement to stay put, are the only reasons why he’s still here despite being Satoru fucking Gojo and simply walking out. It’s not like anyone could stop him if they really wanted to, and he knew that. 

Truth is—it pissed Gojo off, being stuck here. Cooperative. It was fucking irritating, to say the least. 

He’d rather be tortured than bored and might’ve second-guessed his decision to surrender if he knew the punishment would be…this. 

But lo and behold, here you are. Relief in the flesh while he bides his time. One that he wasn’t expecting.

“You sure are possessive today.” You hide a smirk, draping the stethoscope around your neck, his heartbeat returning to normal after losing your touch. “Am I really your favorite?” The leather straps hug his pale skin a bit tightly, but his mobility is good enough to ignore his request to loosen them. That would be suicide. 

He tsks, eyes sparkling at your words—a warning glimmer hidden beneath the icy gaze. 

Chilling. But the least bit surprising. 

Gojo and cattiness go together like love and war—and he wears it with his whole chest. 

Even when unprovoked, he’s known for being….testy. Trying his hand again and again until he gets some kind of reaction. Waiting to see what makes someone bite. 

But there was something disingenuous about this petty quirk. The repetition and how it seemed to lack a goal. How he seemed almost…desperate for interaction—attention—any attention.

Eventually, once you sat in his face long enough to learn how to disassociate with a straight face, you figured out that he just loves to hear himself talk. Like that one kid in class who’s always inserted themselves into every conversation and made it about them. 

He rarely gives you a hard time though—less than most of your other patients in fact—and usually sends more kisses than cuts. Occasionally, when you find them…okay, or tolerable enough, you indulge him and this charade between you two—like the high school crush it resembled. Strict. But harmless. 

And you’re only entertaining him now because he’s one of your last patients for the day. A fact not lost on him, but disregarded nonetheless. Even if you were just playing along, he knew there had to be more depth. All the masks in the world couldn’t hide that smile on your face.

His laugh breaks the tension. “I'm a yapper, not a liar...Am I yours?” He raises a brow. “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

His low tone carries an unspoken weight. Cryptic. Eerie. Needy. Almost calling you like a possession more frequently than ever.

It isn’t lost on you that his affections have blossomed as you’ve spent more time together. Visits are supposed to be 10, 15 minutes tops—collect vitals, serve meals, give meds, and avoid accidents. But Gojo? He drinks up your time. Going on 30, sometimes 45 minutes of routine maintenance and “extra care”. This wasn’t standard practice, but they didn’t tell you that, among other things when you accepted the position.

Every time you cross Gojo’s threshold, you’re reminded that you’re not actually supposed to be here. You’re just a nurse after all, not a therapist, and lacked the credentials to even begin to handle a patient like Gojo. But in the end, qualifications don’t matter when his staff has a famous history of running away. 

A fate shared by his previous nurse and therapist. Both fell victim to Gojo’s whimsical and relentless personality and suffered a mental breakdown from hell before quitting the ward. Capacity for hospitality completely shot, they nailed the coffin shut by ditching the healthcare industry altogether. 

And that was after only a few hours. 

In the beginning, you had absolutely no faith in yourself. Swore it was a sick joke as you couldn’t begin to fathom why they would even consider you for the job. 

You??

Gojo the Psycho’s nurse? It would’ve been easier to turn in your resignation right then to avoid living in hell.

You wondered how your life would change as you got to know the world’s most hated man. 

How long you would last—if he would let you. 

Anxiety and nausea gnawed at the back of your throat as time grew closer to meeting him. But eventually, after running the scenario in your head a million times over and trying to come up with some sort of plan or plea for your life, the day came, and you stood before the unpredictable man who looked like he saw right through you. 

Just the idea of being in Gojo’s presence is enough to let you know it’ll be unnerving. 

But the moment was…odd. 

Naturally, you wanted rely on book smarts and previous patient experiences to get you through what you knew would be a short and traumatic failed attempt at connection. But then you took a second to really look at Gojo, not study, but a kind of look that catches something…a conflict in his eyes—and instantly knew he was no ordinary patient. 

He was something you’d never met before, and any attempts to use a cookie-cutter facade would quickly be chewed up and spat out. 

So, you went with your gut—hoping to escape with some remnants of your sanity at least. 

Who knew you’d end up surprising not only yourself but also the Director and all the other staff in the ward who watched with held breaths? 

Gojo practically welcomed you with open arms. Flashing his pearly whites and dimples in a closed-eyed smile. You could hear a pin drop.

He didn’t bark, he didn’t bite. Only teased, feeding you sultry words with cunning lips until your face visibly flushed with blush. They didn’t warn you about charm. Debatibly the “worst” part about working with the blue-eyed lady-killer. Or that his devilishly handsome face would make you second-guess his sanity and guilt.

But you knew what this was. Or at least what it wasn’t and quickly put on blinders to every distraction he threw. Holding your breath the whole way through and surprising yourself every time you walked out his room. After your trial period had run for a few days with no mishaps—the opposite, really— you were promoted. And given a big, fat new check (certainly not for collateral). 

You didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or concern.

Congratulations! You were now in charge of Gojo’s physical AND mental health. 

Which meant longer, more thorough visits.

The idea was nerve-racking for weeks, to say the least. And because he has the nerve to be a karate-chopping ‘sorcerer’ or whatever it is that makes the man so dangerous, he needs careful safeguarding. Which means having his very own wing and accommodations in the ward. The only barriers between Gojo and doing whatever the hell he wants is one guard stationed near the entrance and some type of security system they can’t disclose to you. It’s supposed to suppress his abilities or something, you don’t quite understand itself yourself, but most importantly, it keeps him tame.

Still, choosing to grace his space almost daily always feels like tempting a snake. 

But somebody has to do it. 

And in a way, by his own means, offering a satisfied grin and all, Gojo had chosen you. 

Even in the confines of a cell, with seemingly nothing left to live for and no room for emotions, you, this wonder, have managed to catch his eye. In a way that made him want to sink his teeth in and soak up your attention. For reasons you couldn’t be more unsure of. 

“It would break my heart if it weren’t true,” he continues, sitting in the only chair in the room, “You’re my entertainment, you know? My doll to play with.”

You scoff, arms folding. The word doll echos in your ear like a chamber. That was a new one. 

“You sure talk a lot of game for someone in your situation.” 

“I love games.” He leans, eyes drinking in his favorite powdery blue scrubs that hug your frame in an all too professional manner. “Play with me, Nurse.”

Time belonged to Gojo, and he chooses to bide it with a little fun until release—or escape. His ever-changing mind hasn’t decided yet but it was far from a concern. Because the truth of this truce was painfully obvious. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever. And is quick to mention that he’d love to take you with him.

“If you can handle me.” He licks his lip. “Unless I’m too much for you.”

And there it is. That cool smile that sends shivers down spines. Irresistibly stirring your core every time he parts his lips. 

You hated it—no one could deny his charm or his intimidating presence. Even in chains, shackled and restrained, he maintains some kind of control: crumbling walls with his charisma, waving around his amorous, overassertive reputation like a big red flag.

But you’ve already proven to not be like the rest, easily swayed or reduced to puddles. Your wall is firm. Solid. He baits you time and time again—a smile here, a sinful gaze there—only to be met with dismissive yawns. Rousing something inside of him that deemed you a challenge. Something worth exploring. You were…difficult.

You’re the one who laughed this time, shaking your head and tucking a hair behind your ear. He oozes confidence from every fiber of his being—and bores you.

“Are you going to tell me what you’d like to lunch today or just keep bothering me?” 

And goddammit he has the audacity to grin. To tuck his lip under his teeth slow enough to make you catch it. 

Your insolence is adorable, yet maddening; a cocktail he drinks with delight before realizing how much he loves the taste. 

You were becoming really good at it, beating up his ego and turning a blind eye to his silly little flirts, but interest never faded from his gaze no matter how careless you seemed. Or were trying to. 

He tsks. “C’mon, Nurse. If I can’t have fun here, where can I? Besides,” Sunlight streams in from his barred window as if on cue. “You’re the only thing here worth talking about.”

Butterflies? Knots? Maybe both fill your stomach.

Neither can be good for you in a situation like this.

The dreamy words whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and stroke your ego with a delicate thumb. Soft and gentle—and from a shell of a man. 

A good turned evil. 

And you don’t have to look too far to remember how he got here—to remember why the enchanting man before you is dressed in heavy white restraints and public enemy number one. 

Guilt tugs at you for even joking around with him sometimes. You picture his victims. The lives forever changed. And how he didn’t seem sorry for it. 

Besides, even if Gojo wasn’t a basket-case, it’s hard to look past how childish he is anyway—something you heard has always been a part of him. Something you couldn’t imagine dealing with for too long, even casually. It certainly wasn’t your taste, and under different circumstances, you’d no sooner fall for him outside of these walls than you would now.

But above all of the boundaries, restrictions, and pep-talks you give yourself, is the simple fact that you aren’t the day-one nurse he once knew. Now, you have a backbone and don’t hesitate to remind him.

“You’re such a flirt, Patient Gojo.” You make sure to catch his eye when you say it, “But compliments only get you so far.”

Patient. 

It hangs in the air. Brisk and stale. A bit sour on the tip of your tongue. And acid in his ears.

With that, Gojo sits back, resting his cheek on a propped-up arm, gaze long and longing. Breathing slow as he thinks and nerves buzz between you two. Then his request comes, simple and direct.

“How about sushi? Raw and fresh.” And a psych ward delicacy.

He’s the only patient in the entire facility with such privilege—envy-worthy and used to his heart’s content. With full-scale unlimited access to all the gourmet treats and fine dining he could ever want, his meals are often better than the ones you bring to work. Gojo is above common hospital dishes, of course, and his indulgent appetite would accept nothing less. 

But it wasn’t just about the food, no, negotiating that was too easy and barely worth mentioning.

This is a conveniently constant reminder that he is still capable of influencing things and making decisions with ease, from those he’s allowed to have access to him, down to his choice of meal.

It intrigues you. How he subdues himself to the masses but finds meaning in smaller wins. What he finds significant.

But none of that mattered right now, you’d finally been given an order and another win, even if it felt like pulling teeth. For now, it’s time to feed him and let him believe whatever he wants.

You pick up his tray from this morning, scanning the room to make sure no cutlery or dishes are missing. “Sushi it is,” you wink and call to be let out.

None of his staff are allowed the room key as a preventative measure to keep his chances of escaping to a minimum. As if a door would stop him but a key does exist and you’ve only seen it on the day the Director introduced you two, and it looked nothing like the keys used for other rooms. 

When you come back with lunch, Gojo grows curious. Noticing how your body has relaxed over time, getting used to his presence every time you come in. Little nuisances like how you breathe a little easier in his space and sometimes smile with your eyes when he tells a stupid joke. The air is…changing. He wonders just how comfortable have you gotten?

“Finally back? I started to miss you.” It’s light but he can’t possibly resist testing the waters. “Would you like to eat with me, pet?” And it takes everything in you to suppress a visceral reaction.

He’s on a roll with the names today and you wonder what his affections might have been like in his life before. Sure, he’s a talker and a flirt, that much is obvious, but you wonder what his actual love was like? How did he show it if he ever got to? And if so, if he ever left anybody behind?

“You know the procedure, Gojo.” You wait with the tray in hand, brushing the thoughts away. Though the temptation savor what you knew would be premium cuisine begs you to do it, you know better than to start breaking boundaries now.

He deflates, brows furrowing. “Is it…really so necessary?” He knows the answer, of course.

You gesture for him to turn around but he holds your gaze, having a little stare down like he enjoys the silent confrontation. You raise an annoyed brow. “The food’s getting cold,” and tap the tray.

“It’s sushi.”

 You huff.

He smirks before finally facing the wall, stilling his body in the tight jacket. When you’re sure he won't move, you set his food to the side and slowly approach to attach him to the latch on the wall. 

Skilled fingers reach across his waist and you have to crouch a little to glide the heavy chain towards the loop at his hip. His skin flushes at your warmth, your proximity, as he can’t help but enjoy the intimacy of the routine power shift. Even if it was a sham, it was still one he reluctantly agreed to. To play nice. To be weak. 

But this exchange, giving himself over to your authority, was oddly invigorating—like placing himself in his victim’s shoes to get a minuscule taste of his own medicine.

“Well, don’t look so happy about it,” he chuckles. Relief finds your face as you gently tug on the chain to make sure it’s secure, amusing the man towering over you.

The thoroughness is cute, all a part of a job well done and strict boundaries that drive a heavy wedge between you two. But it doesn’t bother Gojo. Because he’s certain, he knows, that your guarded walls will crumble sooner than later. All it takes is patience.

“Remember, Nurse,” he doesn’t turn around, “Power dynamics….they’re fluid.” 

And you can almost hear the wink—the implied warning living on his slick tongue that pokes and prods with every interaction and sends heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“You have a way with words, Gojo.” Again your eyes roll as you reach for the key to his restraints. The shackles fall to the ground, shrilling in the mostly empty room to allow him to feed himself.

A mix of groans and relief escapes his lips as he relishes the freedom from the stiff leather. He sighs, “Thank you, Nurse.” and rubs his tender wrists before abruptly filling your space. Nearly knocking you off your feet, but stopping just shy of your face. The monstrous chains strain against the wall, playing tug of war with the beast of a man and the florescent lights cast a spotlight on the sudden distance between you two. 

You had never been this close. 

“But don’t forget, I can turn these roles around. Anytime.”

Twinkles play in his eyes, dazzling you with a shine so bright you can see your reflection. But you also see the unhinged nature behind them just as easily as he sees the quiver of your lip feeling his breath graze the curve of your neck and raise goosebumps on your skin.

This isn’t just idle banter. It’s a stark reminder of Gojo’s capabilities that you had grown comfortable enough to forget. That you thought maybe you had become the exception to. 

As he steps back and leans against the wall he could’ve torn down, there’s an unmistakable silence filling with tension. Hot and sharp like pins and needles. But instead of pushing you to run for the hills, to quit while you’re ahead and savor what’s left of the life you know, for once, your unrelenting mind dares to wonder where this twisted ballet will go.  

It kills you to admit that their is something interesting about cat-and-mouse game he thinks you’re playing. Just as his affections have grown, your thoughts push you to imagine what could happen if you were actually…caught..

It’s idiotic, you know. You don’t need a sign telling you not to play with your life.

This is Satoru fucking Gojo, for Godsake. The murderer. The villain. A literal stain on the face of humanity. 

Forget about what he may have been before. You never saw that Gojo, and he’ll never be seen again. 

Your motto has always been that everyone is redeemable—but these types, Gojo’s type, are so beyond saving that it feels more like babysitting than redeeming a mentally unstable murderous toddler who could destroy a city in seconds.

Even for a man who speaks so carelessly, but teases a sugary-sweet tongue, it’s easy to see how and why he ended up here. Life had made him an example.

Proving that too much of a good thing will always spoil.

And as you watch him turn a wink and begin to casually snack on his meal, completely unconcerned with you or your reaction or response, it’s plain to see that his “affections” spare no one. Not even you. 

You clear your throat and steady a breath. With the lightest voice you can muster, you remind him, “Empty threats are the best you can do, patient.” And turn to leave.

“I’ll be back later for your bath. Or maybe send someone else. Since you’re so excitable today.”  

He pauses. “Oh?”

Is that a challenge?

His laugh echoes around the room like something out of a cartoon, fading away just as quickly as it came. He leans back, hair blending into the wall as he licks bits of rice off his thumbs—gaze sharp despite the jest. 

Because the stakes are clear and you’re both aware. 

But in case you don’t know the consequences he asks, “Do I seem threatened to you?” 

You shift your weight. If Gojo is anything, he’s always playful. The man does not have a serious bone in his body, which makes him damn near intolerable sometimes, but it’s something you’re used to it. But not this tone. This tone has rocks in it, hard and heavy as he calls your bluff. 

“Because my threats—,” he continues eating, “—are never empty.” He pops the last roll into his mouth. “You sure you wanna do this?” 

There’s no denying the chill running up your spine at those words—playing out like casual banter over lunch instead of the battle royale it was.

As if the question were rhetorical, he adds, “Okay but like,” and coughs up another laugh, as if finding the entire idea ridiculous. “Who’d be dumb enough to replace you?”

To feed or not to feed? Now was a chance to bail out.

“Don’t worry about that.” And you don’t as you call to the guard, hoping to catch your break on time. “Just behave yourself.” Gojo would keep you here playing 20 questions all day if he could.    

A bemused smile settles on his face and he shakes his head at your antics. 

You were becoming increasingly enjoyable to interact with. And steadily digging yourself into a hole. You’ve been sitting front-row to the darkness within him enough times to be sure it is, in fact, very real, but still it’s impossible to ignore that there’s something driving you to pick up the shovel. 

It isn’t just his pretty face and boyish charm. No.

It’s like he wants to get under your skin. In the best way.

Yeahhhh, this death wish is turning you every way but loose.

It’s silly, so stupid to even think about. Giving Gojo a smidge of an inch just because you feel there may be something more. Like there’s depth to his pretty words and clashing ways. Who's to say any of it is “real” anyway? He is insane after all. 

Your mind and the door shut behind you, and you turn to peer at him through the small window. A mischievous yet bored look rests on his face. 

You think you actually will send someone else. Just to show him what happens when he crosses the line. To reinforce business and boundaries. 

You could also use a break yourself—Gojo is starting to feel… claustrophobic these days and if you aren’t careful who knows what could happen. 

“Choose wisely,” came his voice from within the room,. “Every move you make counts. And cheating has consequences.” Footsteps approach the door. “You may think tagging out is all it takes to avoid our game, but let me tell you something…” He stops. “...you underestimate how quickly I can escape confinement before I’m noticed.”

And suddenly, this isn’t just a game anymore. And Gojo isn’t just some harmless tease.

Your throat is too tight to swallow and you fidget with your lanyard as if responding to his words. 

Of course, he’s capable of breaking free. That’s not what’s worrying. But if it was because of you poking the bear, you trying to get on even ground with him and have the upper hand, would you be responsible if he did?

“No matter where they send you or who they send instead—” And Gojo’s comment makes it crystal clear. 

“—I promise you, you’ll end up right back here.”

extended angel's note: first and foremost, just to give credit where credit is due, this is a chatbot i turned into a short story🧍🏾‍♀️. it was actually my first time dicking around with janitor a.i. back in like...april? and i came across this gojo bot with a suuuuper interesting prompt. [all of the prompt idea and calibration credit goes to the original creator.] i didn’t decide to actually get serious and start creating a story until around the end of part 2 - i realized i was having too much fun and was in too deep 🙇🏾‍♀️. SO after my decision to indulge madness, i didn't want to run up 10000 messages on janitor a.i. and decided to create the rest of the story on my own from there.  everything after the prompt are my own words and i've had to weave every last bit of part 1 and 2 into a coherent story but everything afterwards is all me.

you can find the chatbot and play around with it yourself here but i strongly recomment doing so after finishing this short - think of it as a choose your own adventure afterwards in case you want my head on a stick after the ending 🤠.

tags list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @blkkizzat @kiwismoother @rune1920 @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @startatdawn @heijihatsutori

@inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk @rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping

@sims-4lifers @bratidol @hyunsuks-beanie @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111

@supsiii @natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko

@strawberrymilkshakes-posts @nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow

[awearywritersworld]

do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you

sukuna x reader summary: the higher ups succeed in kidnapping you and sukuna doesn't know if he'll get you back alive. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: fluff and angst. reader is kidnapped and gravely injured. depictions of blood. canon typical violence. "good girl". cursing. ft gojo. aged up!yuuji. fem!reader. not canon compliant. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: and finally folks, we've reached the climax of the series. there will only be one more official chapter after this one, so i hope this lives up to expectations. this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it's certainly better when serving as a culmination to the other chapters. i'm a little nervous posting this, so i'd love to hear your thoughts :) series masterlist // masterlist

brontë

sukuna isn't sure at first why the name is familiar, but he soon realizes that a great many of the books on your shelf are authored by women of that name, including jane eyre.

though he finds your copy of wuthering heights, written by an emily brontë, tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, the headphones you'd asked him grab lying on top of it.

he pulls the book from its spot with care, as the cover is worn and frayed at the edges. flipping through the pages, there are quite a few quotes underlined and countless scribbles in the margins.

while you'd forced him to read jane eyre, he tucks wuthering heights under his arm of his own volition. he isn't sure if it's because you've kept this one separate from the others, or because it might give him an opportunity to know you better, or because he's positive it will make you happy, but he does it all the same.

when he steps back into the living room, he drops your headphones in your lap and takes the seat beside you, wasting no time in beginning the first chapter.

"what've you got there?" you eventually question, even though you know the answer.

he doesn't spare you a glance when he responds, "a book."

"oh, yeah? what kind of book?"

he elects to ignore you, which only serves to encourage your mischievous tone. "i thought romance novels were beneath you and your refined taste."

finally looking at you, he narrows his eyes at your childish taunt. "do you want me to read it or not?"

"of course—"

"then i suggest you be a good girl and behave yourself."

your mouth snaps shut so abruptly that your teeth click as they meet, something sukuna takes note of with a raised brow. you're thankful when he returns to reading rather than saying anything more.

so without any additional interruptions, he delves into the tragic story of heathcliff and catherine. or more precisely, the pain and destruction that follows it.

the further he reads, the better he discerns that while you seem to have a penchant for the brontë sisters, they seem to have a penchant for writing about men that are wicked and callous.

the very notion makes him chuckle.

maybe it explains why he's sitting here with your feet in his lap, while you try and fail (rather cutely) to stifle your giggles at some stupid youtube video.

"what?" you ask, taking out one of your headphones once you notice he's staring at you with a small smile.

"nothing. just enjoying the story."

the way you beam in response makes his mouth go dry.

"hah! i knew it! you're a romantic at heart."

you make a big show of pressing your hands to your chest and swooning.

"settle down there," he chides, his hand patting your thigh. "you're getting ahead of yourself."

two days later, sukuna feels that something isn't quite right. it's barely perceptible, nothing more than a minute shift in the atmosphere, but it grows more palpable as time stretches on.

yuuji's mission takes him farther from home than usual, to a little town about two hours outside of the city.

the curse he exorcises upon his arrival is much weaker than he's grown accustomed to, probably only a third or fourth grade.

yuuji doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least, he pretends not to. sukuna thinks that's the problem with optimists— they don't take action quickly enough, too busy wasting their time hoping for the best.

when he returns home late that afternoon only to find your apartment door slightly ajar, his hand hesitates before pushing it open.

he discovers that the living room is littered with residuals, but it's eerie how nothing else is out of place... save for you, who is no where to be found.

in a disbelieving panic, he begins checking all the rooms, not hearing sukuna's frantic voice even though it's coming from inside his own head. "she's not here... idiot, she's not here. we have to go. we have to go now."

he eventually finds a note lying on the coffee table, but even this he hardly processes— something about surrendering himself and sukuna to the higher ups at headquarters in exchange for your life.

"listen to me, brat... you're wasting time... idiot!"

"what?" he barks abruptly.

"she isn't far, a couple blocks to the east at most—"

"it doesn't matter. headquarters is to the west. that's where we need to go."

"have you failed to comprehend a single thing i've said about the higher ups?" sukuna sneers. "they'll kill us, then kill her too. she knows too much about jujutsu society. they won't let her live, and that's if she's not... if she isn't already..."

he can't get the word out.

"no... no, they wouldn't..."

"now is not the time for your blind faith in the integrity of others." sukuna tries again and again to assume control of his vessel, and while the force behind it makes yuuji's head pound, it's no use. "for fuck's sake— please, yuuji!"

it's the first time he's heard the curse occupying his body say his actual name or use the word please, and in a strange way, it seems to ground him to some degree.

itadori yuuji has always been uncannily fast, but as soon as he makes his way out onto the street, it's like his feet aren't even touching the pavement. he appears as a blur to the people he passes by and it happens so briefly that they more than likely disregard it as a trick of the light.

the ruby decorating your neck leads them right to you, a low hum of frequency that only sukuna can hear.

yuuji comes to a stop in front of an old warehouse building. there are several wooden boards nailed across the main entrance, which splinter and fall to the earth under the impact of his impatient fist.

although the people down the hall quiet themselves upon hearing the crash, he can still sense their energy. he just can't seem to pick up on yours.

maybe sukuna is wrong? maybe you're not here after all.

"no," comes sukuna's voice, cold and hard. "she's here."

he makes his way down the stretch of hallway and to an open door where he stops, both of his feet planting firmly on the ground. everything appears to be frozen as he stares at ten sorcerers who quietly stare back.

it's clear they were not expecting yuuji, but he knows the higher ups assigned so many sorcerers just in case he did somehow figure out where they brought you.

he recognizes many of their faces and even knows some of their names, their familiarity no doubt intended to discourage him from engaging them.

after a few moments, yuuji's eyes land on your figure— motionless on the floor.

he has to admit, the higher up have put together a fairly sound plan. it's just that there's one small detail they failed to account for.

a curious and constraining sensation erupts from the center of his chest, and yuuji doesn't quite understand what's happening until he registers he's no longer the one in control of his body.

the king of curses remains completely still as he studies you from afar with a slight tilt of his head, his mind refusing to believe the scene right before his eyes.

when the gravity of the situation finally settles in, a gut churning agony blossoms in his stomach and bleeds into every part of his body. every bone. every pore. every vein.

the entirety of him burns, both inside and out.

the air in the room is heavy, overburdened with hostility and raw power. it makes the sorcerers' knees buckle and they nearly collapse beneath the immense pressure.

as sukuna takes a step toward the nearest person, the edges of his vision turn white.

he moves with deadly precision, at a speed which very few people on earth could even begin to comprehend.

it's a joke how quickly it's all over.

some of them are in pieces. others have exploded into nothingness. a few are burnt to ash.

in his haste, sukuna nearly misses the final sorcerer. he's probably the youngest of them all, cowering in the corner of the room. his eyes are wide with horror and his body shakes with fear.

"p-please, spare m-me. i didn't touch her," he sputters out.

the laugh that follows is utterly humorless. "do you actually believe that makes a difference to me?"

"i told t-them not to hurt her! i swear. that's how i got this." he points to his bottom lip, busted open and swollen. "she even told me she was sorry that i got hurt... that i didn't have to defend her."

this gives sukuna pause and his jaw clenches as he considers what you would tell him right now were you conscious.

so even as every fiber of his being screams at him to end the sorcerer's miserable, pathetic life... he restrains himself and pins him to the wall instead, pressing a forearm to his throat.

"go back to the higher ups. go and tell them that if anyone lays a hand on her ever again, i will ruin them," he spits, venom lacing each word. "i'll slaughter every last one of them. i'll level their homes. i'll take everything from them. tell them this is a promise they shouldn't take lightly."

when sukuna takes a step back, the young sorcerer crumbles to the ground. "i- i- i will."

"then get out of my sight," he growls.

returning his attention to you, his demeanor shifts in every respect.

you're going to be okay. you're going to wake up. he's going to take you home and it will be like none of this ever happened.

but when he falls to your side, his knees meeting the ground so brutally that it cracks beneath his weight, his conviction falters.

your blood is spilt onto the concrete. your skin is cold. he can't tell if you're breathing. he can't feel your heartbeat.

he determines that the gash across your side deserves his attention first and his hands tremble as they move to cover it.

he puts every ounce of power he has into his reverse cursed technique, but your eyes don't flutter and your chest doesn't rise nor fall.

his palms stain crimson, and while blood has never bothered him before, the fact that it's yours forces the bile to rise from his stomach and into his throat.

and his face is wet.

why is his face wet?

why are his lips trembling?

why is his vision blurred?

he wipes at his cheeks, leaving a trail of your blood across his face in the process.

"no," he chokes out. "please, don't do this. you're fine. please, you have to be fine. please."

the king of curses begs, but he has no idea who his desperation is directed toward. maybe it's you. maybe it's the gods. maybe it's some entity that's unknowable to him.

hell, maybe it's just whoever will listen to him. there has to be someone out there, right? something.

unbeknownst to him, and poetic in sorrowful sort of a way, his next pleas are reminiscent of heathcliff's after he learns of catherine's death.

"be with me always"

"stay with me, angel. please don't go."

"take any form"

"hate me for this if you want, for being the reason you're in this mess. you can't hate me anymore than i already hate myself."

"drive me mad"

"i'll read every single stupid romance novel on your bookshelf. i promise i'll play all of your ridiculous card games."

"only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!"

"just don't leave me here without you. i don't want to be here without you.

"oh, god! it is unutterable!"

"please," he whimpers.

"i cannot live without my life!"

"you're everything. you are everything. you can't leave me with nothing."

"i cannot live without my soul!"

"i love you," sukuna laments. "i love you."

he doesn't even comprehend the words that have been tumbling past his lips, because they're coming from a part of himself that he long believed to be dead and buried.

it's the part of him that can feel suffering and regret and loss and love.

it's the part of him that you've been painstakingly unearthing whenever you send a smile his way. whenever you curl into his side. whenever you press your lips to his.

and he's so undeserving of it each and every time. he's known that. god, has he known that.

he thinks bitterly of the night you'd walked to the park together hand in hand— when you told him the universe had sent you to knock him down a peg.

turns out you were wrong.

the universe gave you to him, but only so it could take you away too.

and it won't just knock him down a peg. it will fucking destroy him. it will completely and irrevocably destroy him.

this is what he does deserve.

how is it that you can be both his salvation and his undoing?

"i love you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

it's ironic that the three words he's never once said in his entire life are the only ones he can manage in this moment.

he hears a quiet sigh escape your lips, but he knows that it's just his imagination— nothing more than the universe playing its final sick joke.

the sun is out and its rays are peeking through the window of your bedroom. sukuna thinks it's despicable.

everything should be cold and dark today.

you're lying in bed half dead and the only thing keeping sukuna's sanity intact is the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

he should go to jujutsu headquarters and deliver a slow, painful death to every single person involved in yesterday's events. then he should turn their headquarters to ash and stand there watching until the wind blows every last bit away.

but more than that, he should be by your side, so that's where he's remained.

it's been nearly a day and you still haven't woken up, so he's taken to performing reverse cursed technique on you every few hours.

yuuji had shoko come by last night and she assured him your body just needs time, but sukuna doesn't intend on taking any chances. aside from the brat, there isn't a single sorcerer he trusts.

so naturally when gojo teleports directly in the middle of your living room unannounced, sukuna moves swiftly to his feet and blocks the doorway to your room.

gojo regards him nonchalantly, hiding his surprise that yuuji is not the one to greet him. "what are you doing... out and about?"

"that's none of your concern."

"right. well, i came to check in."

"that's not necessary."

the two men watch one another carefully, before gojo eventually chuckles. "god, you actually care about her. i guess the whole soul thing should have been proof enough, but i couldn't bring myself to really believe it until now."

sukuna doesn't respond, so the other man continues. "you should know that the threat to her has been... dealt with."

"that so?" sukuna asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mhmmm. word of this spread to the three clans and they agreed civilians have no place in jujutsu politics if it can be helped. not to mention your little... messenger. it all caused quite the ruckus for the higher ups."

"i don't think ruckus is enough to deter them." his tone makes it clear that he feels gojo is wasting his time.

"this isn't the heian era anymore, you know. the higher ups may still be the figureheads of jujutsu society, but they have little say when all three clans concur on a matter." receiving nothing more than a blank stare, he adds, "besides, i'm rather fond of her myself, so i may or may not have made certain threats of my own."

sukuna's eye twitches. "anything else you feel compelled to share before you leave?"

"can i at least see her before i go?" gojo questions, peering over sukuna's shoulder.

"if you do not value your life, i welcome you to try."

a sly grin breaks out on gojo's face.

"eager to make good on your promise of killing me from all those years ago?" he pauses, his hand coming to rest on his chin as if he's pondering something of great importance. "as much as i'd love to see you try, we shouldn't wake our precious sleeping beauty before she's ready, so maybe another time."

with that, he disappears, leaving a very irritated sukuna in his wake.

"our," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. "that unbearable imbecile."

when he turns on his heel, however, the malicious look is immediately wiped from his face because you're awake.

you're awake and peering at him from behind heavy lids.

"hey," you greet in a small voice.

his eyes grow impossibly soft and he sits on the bed beside you, his hand moving to caress your cheek. your skin is warm again.

"hey, angel."

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[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ⁴ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.9k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho | wyoming (you’re here)

tags: @elliecoochieeater

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: healing!reader, healing!ellie, vulgar language, ellie being avoidant as hell, slow-burn romance, little jj, reader being really depressed at the beginning, little time jump, sexual content but not smut per se, pure sugary sweet ending (almost pissed ME off)

note: omg final chapter!! i didn’t really know how i wanted to end it, so i went through scenic route. i hope you guys enjoyed my little series, because i had fun writing it.

wyoming

For the first time in a long time, you were cozy—absolutely bored and comfortable, and what a delight that was! The settlement in Jackson was everything that you had hoped for. It was warm and welcoming. Not by everyone, but by enough to want this place to feel like home. When the moon replaced the sun and the stars trickled over the night sky, warm yellow lights flickered on. Draping over the center of the settlement, where the establishments flourished. Lighting up a path that was being adorned by the first snow of the year.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen snow in all its icy glory; you were nothing but a child then. Waking up from a troubled sleep, in a spacious home that you could call your own, you shuffled to a frosted window. With your arms wrapped around your body, looking to see minute flurries fluttering from the sky. Collecting in piles on the outer edge of your windowsill.

After a month of already being in Wyoming, at the settlement, reality had set in. You were no longer a soldier, or a slave, or a traveler. Finally, you have made it to the place that was nestled in your mind for endless days, weeks and months.

Relief. Solace. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Except for one thing.

The house was a two-story home, with beige striped wallpaper; mahogany wood accenting arches separating rooms, cabinets, bannisters and floor boards. Upon your arrival, it was already furnished. A long, soft maroon couch. Decorated with quilts and knitted blankets from neighbors. A square wool carpet laid flat under a mahogany coffee table. Lamps in various places, warmly illuminating the room.

A dark wood dining table. Iron cookware. Upstairs, a quiet bed frame with a decent mattress and comforter on top. A couple of pillows. Two dressers. A proportionate closet—this house looked like a home. Minus the adjustments and additions you were planning for. However, it didn’t quite feel like a home.

It was empty… Or you were empty.

Since your arrival, talking with Ellie became a challenge. You rarely saw her; it was like she handed you off to the officials of Jackson’s and dusted her hands from you. It was dramatic to ruminate over a woman who’s only obligation was to get you to Wyoming—to this community. That’s what you tried to tell yourself to stay in line, but it wasn’t working. Even after busying yourself with different jobs and tasks to start earning your keep, you still thought of her.

Hell, you caught glimpses of her. Jackson wasn’t that big. She’d be walking hand-in-hand with a small child, a toddler, talking intimately with a dark-haired woman. You saw them together often. It could only be assumed that they were important—her ex-girlfriend and son. Well, now, you were uncertain if that was her ex-girlfriend… But, again, you shouldn’t be ruminating. You got what you wanted, remember?

It was an early morning when Maria had asked to meet with you, at a coffee shop in the middle of the square. Dressed in an insulated coat with a hoodie underneath, a pair of trusted light-wash jeans and black leather boots; you began a trek from the corner of the settlement in a light layer of snow. The asphalt wasn’t cold enough to let it fester just yet, but the grass held onto the ice. Headphones rested over your ears, playing a tape gifted to you as a housewarming gift from your young neighbor.

Some old rock band from the 90s. Nirvana’s About A Girl played in your ears as your boots crunched the snow.

It took about four songs off the album for you to get to the coffee shop. Pulling the flimsy headphones down to rest around your neck, you entered the shop looking for a head of sleek blonde hair. An aroma of burning coffee beans and sugar infiltrated your nose. Small chatter was heard from people holding warm mugs, looking at old newspapers, reading novels.

From a table in the far corner of the shop, Maria stood to wave you over. A friendly smile spread across your lips, taut and plastered, as you approached the square wooden table. “G’Morning, Maria.” You reached your hand out to shake her hand, professionally.

She looked down at your hand, snickering. Impressed by your insistence on professionalism. After all, she basically was your employer. It was the one thing the fireflies taught you well—respect your superiors. “Good Mornin’,” Maria firmly shook your hand, taking her seat.

The heaters in the shop toasted up your exposed skin, causing you to remove your jacket before sitting down in the seat across from the older woman. Two cups warm mugs were put in front of you, almost on cue, by a young girl with a maroon apron. “Thank you, Melissa.” She smiled at the barista. “I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, so I just ordered you a hot chocolate. Hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, it’s fine. No complaints here.”

“Good.” Maria curtly nodded her head, pulling a black binder from a bag hanging on the back of a chair. “You’ve been sleeping well in that house?” Dabbing her middle finger on her tongue, she sifted through the pages and hand-written documents.

You blink, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug. “There’s good nights and bad nights…” Nodding, you attempt to take a sip of the hot beverage, but it was too scolding. “Not the fault of the house, just me.” The ends of your lips curl as a softener to your words. Being negative in the face of someone who granted you a place to stay felt like a crime.

Maria hummed, looking up at with genuine blue eyes. “Well, I hope there are more good nights than bad nights.”

“Yeah, of course!” You shrugged, answering entirely too quickly. Which certainly gave away the fact that you telling the truth. Her icy blues were intimidating, although you’ve seen much worse than a pair of eyes.

Falling asleep alone, in the dark was another challenge you had to face. After spending months on the road with someone, knowing they’re there… It was an eerie feeling being far from them—being along. Especially, those last few weeks leading up to knocking on the community’s door. Whenever you found a place to camp out for the night, her arms would be wrapped around you. Or your arms wrapped around her. Relishing in each other’s clothed or bare bodies; it had become a tragic comfort.

Your skin burned for her like it did on that fucking pillar. It tingled, ached and wanted for her touch. Her lips. Her eyes. Her hands.

The nightmare’s of your traumas persisted when you closed your eyes. You wanted to blame it on Ellie’s absence, but they rarely surrendered with her around. But at least when you woke up, boiling, sweating and heaving like you’d just run a marathon, a pair of arms were there to lull you back to sleep. Kissing the back of your neck to remind you that you weren’t there anymore—that you were safe.

And, when she had her moments, shooting up from your arms with tears rolling down her cheeks. You coaxed her back to sleep with her head on your chest, and affirming whispers.

You couldn’t help but wonder if those moments meant as much to her as they did to you.

She hummed at your response, pursing her lips. “If you’re having any problems let me know. I have some great remedies to help with sleep.” The blonde woman offers, a soft smile spreading on her lips. You nodded, chewing on the soft skin inside of your lip. “Now,” Maria begins. “I see that you’ve had some time to try out some of the positions we offer. Have any taken your interest?”

Flipping through a couple of pages, she continues. “I’ve heard great things from Ava Marin, she manages the patrols. Uhm, and Mrs Hayworth, from the gardens and greenhouse…”

“Mrs Hayworth is a very kind woman. I enjoyed working with her— she’s great at explaining things.” You compliment, thinking about the few days you spent with her planting vegetables and fruit. Her salt and pepper hair puffed in coils around her cherubic but wrinkled face. Crowd feet leading to a pair of squinty hazel eyes. Mrs Hayworth treated her plants like they were her children, and she enforced you to do the same.

“She is— wonderful woman.” Maria agreed.

Humming, you think about all the jobs your tried—which was a lot. Patrol was something that you were used to. Being out in the world wasn’t a grand change. However, you weren’t certain that you wanted to go beyond the walls so often. You’ve spent lots of time patrolling, surveying, killing infected—you wanted to hang that up. Every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, though. “If I were to sign up to help out with the gardens… Would that mean that patrolling would be off limits?”

The blonde woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “Not at all! For patrol, it’s in a sign-up basis. If you were to mainly do patrol, it would mean going out every other day. If you were to mainly work the gardens, that would be more of a consistent job— but you could still sign-up for patrols if you wanted.” Maria informed. “As long as you’ve been approved to go, and you have.”

“Hm…” You thought, weighing your options. The inner rage that you harbored had remained dormant since you arrived. It had been replaced with rumination and sadness for things out of your control. “Gardening full-time seems serene… I’ve spent enough time out there.” Nodding, with a subtle curl to the corners of your lips, you admitted.

Maria begins to scribble with a pen on a sheet of paper, connected to the rings in the binder. “Sounds fitting. But, of course, you can change your mind anytime.”

After you deal with business, Maria continues conversation with you. Casual, of course. You could tell she was trying to pry without being obvious—wanting to know more about you. Willingly, you gave in, because why not? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real conversation with someone. Maria Miller seemed genuine enough.

However, when she brought up Ellie, the air stiffened. And you could tell she noticed it.

“You and Ellie… Have you spoken, lately? It’s been hard getting a hold of her— it’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.” She chortles, taking a sip of her coffee. Pressing her lips together at the bitter taste.

Stunned by the mention of her, you shook your head. Fingers growing numb around the warm, untouched, hot chocolate. “Uhm, no I haven’t…”

She hummed, leaning her head to the start. “That’s odd.” Maria scoffs, bunching her eyebrows. “She made it seem like you two were very close— being that you traveled so far together…” It’s like she was thinking out loud, making you want to bolt from the wooden chair holding onto you. “I mean, she made sure that you got the best house in Jackson… I would assume that she would’ve at least visited—“

“Well, she hasn’t.” Sternly interrupting her, you inhaled, sharply.

Noticing the mistake, she sighed, looking at with blue eyes filled with pity. It irked you. Trying to fix it, Maria plastered a bittersweet smile on her lips. “She’s more like Tommy than I thought.” Bunching your eyebrows, she continued. “My husband— ex-husband— I don’t know… It’s complicated.”

You know the feeling… Kind of.

Ellie had told you about Tommy Miller. He was a very ambitious man, to say the least. Ambitious enough to send a grieving girl to kill someone in his absence—feeding off her own despair. You caught that much. But, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have ever met her. What a selfish thought. “They’re both hermits in their own right, but they always come around.” She released a wistful sigh. “Ellie will come around… Just give her some time to get all her ducks in a row.”

With tight lips, you nodded. How much time? You desperately wanted to ask, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood up, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. “Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, Maria, but I have to go.” Speaking quickly, you slid your arms into your puffer jacket. Maria abruptly stood to her feet with an inquisitive expression.

“Oh, well, uhm,” She began, rubbing her hands together. “Of course. You’re schedule should be out in the next few days. Consider the meantime your sabbatical.” Her eyes drifted over your frame like a concerned mother. “It was a pleasure talking with you, y/n. I’m glad you could join us here.”

Sending another tight-lipped smile her way, you stuck your hands into your pockets. “I’m glad you let me. See you around.”

Leaving the coffee shop, the cold air was a smack in the face. Pulling you from shackles of solemnity—briefly. Raising your headphones back around your ears, you resumed the tape inside of the Walkman clipped to your hip.

Thin flurries of snow began to fall from the bright grey clouds. Trickling over the strands of your hair, melting in contact. Stuffing your hands back into your pockets, you walked down the icy path of the square.

The main square in Jackson was littered with people. Some were standing around conversing, with cigarettes in their hands. Some worked pulling supplies in large wooden carts, moving them to another establishment. You seen a man on a ladder fixing a broken light on the outside of a pub. And a woman walking a train of small children holding hands—like they were on a field trip of some kind. They laughed and giggled under knit beanies, bundled in their jackets that may have been too big for some.

A smile appeared on your lips as you watched them march by you.

You stopped at an art store, looking up at the wooden sign. Quoting Maria, you were on sabbatical; so, you wanted to use this time to fully explore the settlement. In the month that you’ve been in Jackson, you have visited the local pub more often than you’d like to admit. Entering the store, a bell sounded, and you smiled at the few people walking around the decorated shop.

Organic paints and brushes were located in the back corner of the store, taking up two walls and some floor space. While the rest of the store harbored artwork from the people who lived in the community. And some refurbished work found outside the wall. A sign on the wall read: talk to an attendant for group and private classes. You hummed, impressed by the normalcy. Perhaps, you could sign up for one.

Meandering around, your eyes survey the paintings and drawings. Thinking about your home, it could use some personalization. You came across a landscape portrait of two women. The strokes emulated grass—olive tones—that they were lying on—intertwined with each other. Arms and legs entangled. Lips grazing each others cheeks. The strokes that were made were intentionally blurry and messy. Who were these women? Was their relationship as unofficial and indifferent as your own?

Fingers grazing the canvas of the painting, you couldn’t help but think of that freckle-faced woman you’ve grown to adore.

“You interested in that one? Nice choice.”

Even though your headphones played Nirvana in your ears, you could still recognize the outsourced voice. Her voice was like honey. Soft, warm honey. Luring you like a spell spoken by a witch or warlock. God, you missed the sound of her voice. “Funny thing is… The woman who painted this actually has a husband.” She chuckled, glancing at you with a nervous glint.

You froze at the sound of her voice, eyes glued to the art before you. Just blinking. Buh bum. Buh hum. Your heart beat in your ears, in your chest, in your hands—everywhere! Skin growing hot as if you were sat in front of a furnace. Were you mad or just upset? It was hard to tell, even for yourself.

The smile on her lips faded, immediately. Fiddling with her fingers—she always did that. “How’re you settling in—?”

“I’ve already settled in…” Your voice was eerily calm, side-eying her as you spoke. “I haven’t seen you in five weeks, Ellie.”

She sighed, adjusting the knit cap over her hair. Licking her lips, nervously. “I know—“

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” When you finally look at her, she notices the irateness in your eyes. Crowding over the feelings of yearning and sorrow.

“Can we talk? Please, just let me explain.”

Gritting your jaw, you peer at her. Thinking about hashing it out within a small walk. But, you were tender, sensitive—you couldn’t be sure that your reaction wouldn’t be explosive. What if she told you she was getting back with Dina? Going back to her family. That alone could send you into ruins. And you too far from your house to escape the public once you unleashed hell upon that woman. “You know where I live.” You told, with a pinched expression.

That was your cue to leave the store, pulling your hoodie over your head. Maybe, today wasn’t the day to tour the community. Another day. Plus, you had to spend the rest of the day anticipating a knock at your door.

It was a glum walk back to your place. You had put your Walkman on pause, walking in a depressive silence. Each step you made up your porch was deliberate and slow. An old swing chair swung in the wind, bolts shaking once you put your weight on the porch. It wrapped around the entire front of the house, and it definitely needed more décor.

Entering your house, you hung up your jacket and kicked off your shoes at the door. Stalking up your staircase, leaning in the railing, you made your way to your bedroom. The un-made bed beckoned you; so you kicked the door closed, and jumped under your covers. Hopefully, getting some shut eye could ease your nerves.

The sleep was rocky—you were in and out. In the moments when you awoke, you pulled a book from your bedside table to read—George Eliot—hoping to fall back asleep. But the novel only intrigued you for hours. Distracting from that anticipation long enough for it to come sooner than you expected.

It was dark, but it was no later than six-thirty.

You approached the door with a heavy heart, sliding your fluffy socks across the wooden floor. The reveal of the woman on your porch caused your body to heat up once more. She turned around, still dressed in the clothes from earlier.

“Hey,”

“Hey…”

Pressing her lips into an awkward line. “Nice porch.”

Scrunching your eyebrows at the compliment, you abandoned the door while it was ajar. Telling her to enter without losing your dignity. Ellie stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Shoes off.” You tell her, waving a hand, carelessly.

Walking to the kitchen, you threw onto the stove a metal kettle filled water. While your innate anger was healing, there was still pridefulness about you. You had to have some sort of control over any situation that you’re in. Ellie came to your house; this conversation was on your terms. And it was going to stay that way.

Ellie had navigated around your living room, feeling the softness of the carpet under her feet. I did good. She thought. Ellie taking part in the decision making for your accommodations was true. She wanted to give you the absolute best, because she knew she was going to need some time alone.

Appearing from around the corner, you leaned against the mahogany frame lining the entrance to the living room. With your arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. “You have about seven to eight minutes before that kettle goes off, and when it does, this conversation is over.”

She slid the hat from her head, dragging it down to the place over her belly button. Kneading the fabric with her thumbs. “Do you not want me here?” Her voice cracked, hands smacking down at her sides. “Because we can talk another time—“

“Six minutes.”

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You know, what?” Ellie scoffed, striding past you toward your kitchen. Irritation rushing through her nerves. It confused her how she could be so obsessed with someone who might’ve been more stubborn than herself.

You followed her into the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman reached for the kettle, taking it off the small flame. Flicking off the fire, she turned to look at you. “You’re not gonna give me six minutes to explain myself— I’m not gonna let you rush this.”

“I’m not rushing anything.”

Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms. Leaning her back against the counter, coolly. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” Ellie raised an eyebrow, mocking words that you’ve said in the past.

Squinting your eyes, glaringly, you scoff. “Just… Talk, Ellie.” You waved your hand, leaning on the threshold bordering the kitchen and the small foyer. Perhaps, you were pushing it a bit too far.

The auburn-haired woman sighed behind speaking. Placing her hands on the edge of the counter. “When I left… It was an immediate decision— made in the middle of the night in a farmhouse I shared with my girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, and my kid.” She began, eyeing you intently. “I left my family behind, y/n, including Maria and Tommy and anyone else in this fucking community that I knew.” Her hands moved as she spoke, passionately. “In that moment, I don’t think I ever planned to come back. There was nothing to come back to…

Then, I met you. When I thought I traveled so far for nothing— I met you.” Her olive eyes looked to the ceiling, thinking. While your heart blundered under your ribs. “Coming back was never my intention, and I left that way. So, when I walked through those doors… I had a lot of work to do. A lot of bridges to mend and gain the trust of again— which I’m still doing, by the way.”

Her hand jutted out, before slapping against her thighs. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like that. Truthfully, I was overwhelmed.” The woman confessed, scratching the back of her head. “For the first two weeks, I was begging for Dina to let me see JJ, my son. For the next, I was arguing with Tommy for letting Abby go— it was a lot. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to put any of that on you.” Pursing your lips, you nodded. “You’ve been through enough… I was protecting you. I wanted you to just focus on settling in.”

“Well, it was hard settling in without you.” It almost came out like a whisper—a little louder than a whisper. Followed by a dry, stubborn chortle. “I spent months on the road with you, and it’s like you just hung me out to dry. That fucking sucked.” Averting your eyes, you peered at the shining floorboards.

She nodded, frowning at your downcast expression. But, there was an element of proudness. Give or take a few weeks back, you’d argue her down over anything. However, this time, vulnerability leaked from you. Poured from your words and demeanor like liquid gold. “I know, and I’m really sorry. It was fucked up. But it will never happen again— I swear to you.”

“What if something else comes up?” You question, chewing on the skin inside your lip.

“I’ll clue you in— every time.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the status on you and Dina?”

Ellie rubs her nose with her index finger, ready to answer your rapid-fire questions. “Cordial co-parents.”

“Does she know about us?”

A goofy smile spreads across her plump lips. “We’re an us?”

Narrowing your eyes at her, fighting a little grin, you responded. “Answer the question, Ellie!”

“Oh, my God! Yes, she knows about us, and she’s happy for me.” With amused features, she begins to slowly approach you. “Now, are you done with the twenty questions game? Because you haven’t accepted my apology once…” She pouted, sliding her hands over your arms, pulling them from their crossed position.

Batting your eyes at her, feigning thought. The touch of her fingers on you sparked a fire, setting your skin ablaze. Even if it was in your best interest not to accept her apology, you probably still would. The way her eyes looked into you with such gentleness—it couldn’t be replicated by anyone else. “I accept your apology…” You admit, grazing your fingers up the sleeves of her flannel.

“Fuck, yes!” She wasted no time to embrace you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Tightly, you wrapped your arms around her back, leaning your head over her shoulder. “I missed you. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you?”

“You have no choice but to make it up to me.” You spoke against her exposed skin, pecking the side of her neck. “For the sake of lost time.”

Ellie giggled at the brush of your lips, pulling away with raised eyebrows. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot— be right back.” She runs to your front door pulling it open, and leaning to the side to grab a flipped canvas that was leaning against the outside brick wall. It was the portrait you were considering buying at the art store. “Housewarming present!” She grinned, presenting it in front of herself.

You matched her smile, reaching out to take it from her. “That woman is totally gay for making this.”

“So gay. I feel bad for her husband.”

Sharing a laugh, you look back at her, setting the canvas to the side against the wall. Walking up to her, you grabbed her face, caressing the skin of her cheeks. Musing at her earthy features, taking them all in like you’d never see her again. The last time you saw her, it’s like you took it for granted—not knowing if it was going to be a while before you got to look at her the way you wanted to. Leaning into her, you pressed your lips against hers, unabashedly. Her hands found comfort at the divot of your waist, pulling you flush against her.

Sliding your hands down to the nape of her neck, the kiss deepened. You whined into her mouth when she slipped her tongue between your lips. With the combination of her grip on your waist and the taste of her lips, you wanted to merge your bodies—so she could never leave your side again. You’ve survived enough tragic loss; was it so bad to want this one thing? The touch of your troubled lover.

Ellie backed you against the wall, muttering against your lips. “I wanna take my time with you…” She began to trail hot kisses over your cheek, down your jaw, to the sensitive parts of your neck. “Show you…” Smack. “Just how much…” Smack. “I love you.”

Under the waistband of your jeans, you throbbed, but the thing beating inside your chest swelled and beat louder. “Y— You love me?” The tips of your fingers scratched at her scalp, comfortingly. As she pulled her face from your neck, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I do.” Her thumb came up to caress your jaw. “I really do.”

That was your cue to completely devour her. You pulled her upstairs, into your bedroom, to ravish her—to ravish each other. Stripping from your clothes to come unto one another with a sickening love. Her lips traced every part of your body; suckling, nibbling, tonguing down the most sensitive parts. Pulling moans from your diaphragm, seamlessly. She cooed for you and spoke filthily in your ear while touching you with a gentle firmness that only she could replicate over and over—making you come undone hard. As if the universe came from within you.

Stars, planets, galaxies—celestial bodies!

You and Ellie were two halves of one whole. Everything that led up to that beach happened with the purpose of bringing the scorned together. To cancel it out, blossoming something much greater. Somehow, you proved to each other that you were both worth saving. No matter the sin. No matter the guilt. It was all worth it to end up wrapped in her arms, skin to skin, caressing her battered epidermis.

As months progressed, gearing up for the spring season, Ellie had long moved her stuff in. Her easel and unfinished works nestled in the guest room. Her clothes were stuffed beside yours in the drawer before your bed, and the closet beside your door. Bringing in sunrises with sleepy, feathered kisses and innocent touches. It was a dream you both got the chance to live out.

This wasn’t enduring or surviving—it was living. Experiencing life.

With your hands covered in dirt, replanting a radish, joyful voices were behind your back. Looking over your shoulder, a tiny frame was trotting toward you, calling your name. Ellie in his trail, with her hands in her pockets.

Gasping, you turned around with a grin. “Hey, buddy!” You opened your arms for him to promptly land in them. Keeping your hands far from his jacket so the soil wouldn’t dirty him up.

“Careful, JJ, she’s working!” She tried, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, Ellie, it’s fine.” You waved a dirty hand, sliding them off your fingers, dropping them onto the grass. So you could reach under his arms to hoist him onto your hip. The sun landed just right on his little head, sparkling off his small growing teeth.

Ellie’s lips curled at the sight. “He wanted to come visit you at work before I dropped him off.” She meandered toward you, pecking your lips.

“Just JJ? Or you, too?”

“Both of us, whatever.” Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Plus, I had to remind you of our dinner date tonight— its mandatory. You can’t be late.” Her fingers pushed fallen pieces of your hair from your forehead.

Once you had gotten into the grove of gardening, time flew by. It would go from seven in the morning to eight in the afternoon like it was nothing. Causing you to miss out on some of the plans you made with your generous lover. “You’ve been reminding me since I got up this morning. Trust me, I remember, Ellie.” You squeezed his chubby cheek, cooing at him. “Ugh, I love him.” You gushed, peering between him and your girlfriend.

“Oh!” You pulled a folded-up paper from your back pocket. “JJ, you wanna do me a big favor?”

His eyebrows lifted, grinning.

“Give your mama back this recipe for me, all right?” He takes the paper in his hands, preparing to unfold it. “Promise me you’ll give it to her…”

“I promise!”

“Okay, bud. Tuck it tight into your pocket until you get there.”

Instead of unfolding, he pushed it into the pocket of his coat, messily. Patting it, to let you know it was inside. Kissing him on his cheek, you put him back on the ground. Eyes glancing at the watch on your wrist. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Your hand found hers by her side, leaning your body toward her arm. “Thanks for visiting me, babe. Letting me see that beautiful face of yours.”

Ellie blushed, averting her glazing eyes. You leaned your head closer to hers, warmly kissing her cheek. “My pleasure…”

“I’m sure.” You teased, inconspicuously biting her ear. Quick enough that it went unseen to the surrounding people, and JJ as he played with the leaves sticking out of the garden. Ellie released an airy sigh, narrowing her eyes at you. She whined your name as if she were embarrassed. “Don’t be like that— you know I love you.”

“I love you more… But you have to chill. Mrs Hayworth is right there.”

“You don’t know Mrs Hayworth like I do.” You snicker, waving a hand to the older woman a few bins away. The salt and pepper haired woman waved, sending a teasing wink. Ellie looked back at your with confused, and slightly horrified, features. “I’ll tell you about it later. At the dinner I’m not going to be late to.”

“And you better not.” Ellie poked you, with pouty lips.

“Ellie, I won’t.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She kissed you one more time. A little longer. A little deeper. “I won’t keep you from the vegetables anymore. JJ, say buh-byes.” He jumps from a squat, waving his hand with a smile. “I’ll see you later. C’mon, kid.” Ellie hoisted him up into her hip and began walking back the way she came to deliver him to Dina’s. Leaving you with metaphorical heart eyes, pulling your gloves back onto your hands.

And, when later came; over a hearty chicken dinner prepared by Ellie Williams herself, a shiny silver band was presented to you in the pages of a book. Laying over an underlined and highlighted excerpt of the book—something you highlighted. It was a novel you had finished sometime between the end of December and early January.

“‘What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?’” Ellie had recited, evenly. With not a speckle of wavering, or awkwardness, or pause—unless it was intentional. “Adam Bede. Your favorite book… I hope it’s your favorite book.”

Jumping from your chair across from her, you leaped into her arms after placing the book into the dinner table. Pecking your lips across her face. “Yes! Yes! Ellie, a million fucking times, yes!”

“I didn’t even ask the question.” She laughed in your ear, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

Pulling back, you narrowed your tearing eyes at her. “You don’t have to. I already said yes.”

“But isn’t that the exciting part… Popping the question?”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “I thought the exciting part was me saying yes to marrying you…?”

Ellie spent days studying George Eliot, hours setting up the dinner, and minutes shaking with anxiety. Working herself up to saying those magic four words, only for your to swipe the chance right from under her. And, honestly, she loved you more for it. “All right, can I at least put the damn ring on your finger?”

“‘Course, you can, Els.” You pull the book toward you, opening it up on the page with the ring. Ellie takes it from your fingers, glancing at you with opalescent olive eyes. She slid it onto your ring finger, delicately twisting the band around. You grinned, hopelessly, with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Her hand trailed up your arm, squeezing. “My lucky charm…” She muttered, thoughtfully.

“I’m all yours.” You lean close to her lips, glancing at them. “And you’re all mine.”

Neither of you were able to finish the dinner while it was hot.

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Eight

note! thank u for everyone's patience! i'm sorry for the late update and rushed chapter but i hope this makes up for the wait! u all are so silly and i've been enjoying all your comments <3 thank u so much for the love and support!

masterlist

kenji stood on the base plate, calling for the baby kaiju's attention as she chirped. you stood near by him with mina hovering beside you as well. the atmosphere of the warmly colored park held a sweetness to the air.

"okay, just like this." he fixed his stance by separating his legs shoulder length. lifting the wooden bat in his hands, he showed a slow back and forth swinging motion. the baby kaiju chirped more as she raised the cute, but comedically, giant blue bat.

you didn't know where ken pulled it out from but it sure was handy to have it stored. pulling yourself out of your thoughts you focused on the both of them. "elbows up." they both raised their elbows up.

the baby kaiju was absolutely adorable to look at, her arms a perfect chunkiness, making her look rounder as she help the bat upright. kenji put his bat down, making a sound of contempt at her.

"uhuh, get ready." he waved the baseball that he now had, showing it to her. "okay, here it comes." kenji crouched down slightly, with a swift but soft motion, he threw the ball from below, heading towards the baby kaiju.

the ball hit her face, making her let out a cry from the impact as her face jolted. her once happy expression turned sad as she looked at kenji and you in pain. her fins that laid on the side of her head, frilled down in sadness, as tears welled in her eyes.

giant droplets poured out from her as kenji and you looked at each other in worry. "no no no no it's okay." the both of you ran up to her, trying to sooth her tears. she began to cry out, slightly jumping back and forth on her feet.

"oh baby, come here." you said as you reached out to her. she looked down at you, slowly leaning her head to you. you grabbed her forehead, pulling her to you as you placed a small kiss on the spot she got hit on. "see, all better!" you said smiling, making her feel better at the comfort.

you stepped back as her tears dried up, letting ken step up to her next. she looked at ken as she sniffled. he gave her a small smile. "hey, it's okay, it's okay. it happens sometimes, you just got to work at it." his voice was gentle with care, trying to keep her calm and happy.

ken took some steps back to the base he was at originally, now that she seemed calmer. "now get ready, keep your eyes on the ball." he raised a peace sign to his eyes, moving it back and forth between his eyes and the ball. you stared at him as he gently talked towards the baby. he held a soft but handsome smile on his face. you never really took notice of his features.

his eyes were sharp, but full of warmth. his nose was perfect in its own way, it was hooked nose, the arch of it reminded you a greek god in a sense. there was a small black piercings on his ears as well. it almost felt like you were staring at him for the first time all over again.

a blush rose to your face as you continued watching them. "ichi, ni, san, ball!" he yelled out as he threw the ball. it happened so quickly as you watched the baby have her bat smack against the ball, sending it flying across the sky. "woooo! yes! whoo!!" kenji yelled out in joy as he jumped. you and mina shouted out in joy as mina span around cutely with her little robot arms out.

kenji ran up to the baby kaiju, grabbing her loving by here hands. "come on girl, we gotta run the bases!" it was clear as day of his excitement. baseball was his passion, it was his sanctuary. and for the baby he's raising under his care, enjoy the one things he grew up living, it made him feel joy.

he pulled her gently, as she began to follow him. he let go of her, waving you and mina to join him in running and the baby kaiju ran behind him, copying his trail. you all laughing in joy, a special memory being created.

the baby cooed as kenji jumped back on the base, making a home run, as she stopped and leaped to it. a cloud of dust and dirt came from her feet with the force as you all celebrated.

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after the events of the day in the park, you and kenji sat in the living room as mina took care of the baby kaiju. he told you of his plans to go out in a couple of hours for a scheduled interview with ms. ami wakita. you smiled and told him to not worry as you and mina would take care of the baby in that time.

now you both sat comfortably on the sofa as he played random videos online for the both of you to watch. the your frog plushie from the night before sat on your lap, rubbing its head affectionately.

kenji eyed you from the side of his eye, admiring the way you innocently stared ahead of you. there was a soft smile on your lips, enjoying every second of what life had to bring you. it was almost funny how life had brought the two of you together because of the baby kaiju, and he was grateful.

and so were you. you were grateful to have been able to take care of the baby as you grew closer with kenji. he smiled to himself as he scooted closer to you, your body turned to look at him, to which he gave you a awkward smile. you smiled back, in a way saying he could get closer.

and so he did. he closed the gap that once existed as the two of you watched the tv. it was a comforting feeling, to feel his warmth pressed against you. it wasn't long before kenji reached for the remote, slightly lowering the audio. he turned to you, you copying his actions with curiousity.

"hey, i know i say it a lot but thank you again for all the help with the baby kaiju. the extra help has been so nice to have." his voice was soft, but loud enough for you to hear. you smiled back at him, "of course, she's like family at this point, i honestly enjoy being near the both of you."

kenji looked up happy. he reminded you of a dog wagging its tail, like those 'golden retriever boyfriends' you've heard about online. "yeah me too, i like being with you too." he said smiling wide.

"do you mean the 'both of you'?" you asked, referring to the baby and you. he shook his head. "no no, well yes, but no. i meant you. i've been really enjoying my time with you. it's been really nice to get closer to you throughout the process." his voice was almost hypnotizing, it was undeniably alluring.

"oh well- i've been enjoying getting closer with you as well." you said, slightly caught off guard by his sweet words. kenji turned more towards you, he gently reached for your hands that rested on your lap, pulling them a little more to him. your face turned red at the action, but let him continue.

kenji felt his heart swell seeing you smile softly at him. the two of you have been working together to take care of the baby kaiju, and he couldn't deny the fuzzy feeling he felt everytime he felt when he looked at you.

there was just something so alluring about you that he couldn't deny himself of. the life you both had right now felt domestic, it felt sweet. it was then that he realized that domesticity didn't sound that bad. the idea of sleeping and waking up to you, making food together, watching movies and shows.

even just the idea of cleaning together sounded sweet. he could imagine dancing and singing with you as you both cleaned with music in the background. he knew what he felt. he wasn't oblivious to what he felt, but he didn't know. he didn't know if you felt the same.

he's seen you blush but whose to say it's not a reaction from being nervous instead of being interested. the idea of you maybe feeling the same lingered, holding onto the fact that the two of you have begun to get closer, physically and emotionally.

his eyes moved towards your face, watching as you gently stared towards him. your eyes were full of love and maybe, just maybe, that love was for him and only him. taking a breath, he began to talk. "y/n, i've been enjoying our time together, like a lot. this might sound weird but i have been loving waking up to you and taking care of the baby with you. it's something new for me but i'm happy to be doing this with you all. my point is that i'm happy to have you so close to me and for us to keep getting closer and-"

a soft and gentle hand cupped kenji's cheeks, distracting him from his rambling. his eyes snapped up to yours, nervous of what you would say. "i've loved every moment with you as well, the feeling is reciprocated." you said as your thumb softly caressed his cheek.

that was all the confirmation he needed. the way you stared at him so lovingly as you gently held him, almost like you didn't want to hurt him, brought him over the edge. kenji's arms reached over to you, pulling you closer into an embrace. the distance between you lessened as he stared at your eyes.

you watched as he stared at you, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips. a pale red dusted his cheeks. your eyes trailed to his lips, not going unnoticed by him.

kenji leaned forward, the gap closing as he leaned slightly to your height. the feeling of his lips molding with your own sent you chills as he kissed you with love. you kissed him back, almost urgently as kenji leaned into you, making you fall back into the couch as his body now hovered over you.

one hand near your face help him stay up as his other hand rested at your waist, softy rubbing the skin under your shirt. his fingers were cold, making you shiver into the kiss. kenji was kissing you and you enjoyed it.

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. kenji groaned softly into the kiss as his hands glided up and down at your waist.

you felt his tongue prod at your mouth, making you slightly open your mouth for him. you hummed in delight as he explored your mouth with his own. the kiss felt like it went on for a while till he pulled away, gasping for air.

you stayed laying down, flushed from what had happen as kenji stared at you, who was still under him. it was then that everything that happened set into you. you had just kissed kenji. you didn't know if it was too soon but a part of you was jumping with joy.

kenji smiled at you, leaning down an placing a small peck at your lip, to your nose, to your cheeks, and forehead. he smother your face with kisses and you felt yourself turn gooey.

he pulled away, sitting up as he helped you get up. pulling you into his arms as he rested your back against his chest. his body wrapped around yours as he rested his head onto your shoulder.

"that was nice." he said softly. you knew he meant more with that, it was a sweet feeling that you both unconsciously had growing inside of you both.

he held you close, enjoying the time he had with you before his interview later. "y/n, i like you. it may come off as straightforward but i would really like to get to know you better." he softy spoke, it was different than his usual bold and prideful attitude.

you could tell he was nervous, with the way his body slightly shook from his nerves. you reached for his hand that laid at your side and grabbed it. "i like you too kenji, and i would really like that." kenji hugged you from behind, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

it was quiet for a while till you heard kenji talk. you almost didn’t hear him, thankfully being able to make out what he was saying. and gosh, did his words make you feel like putty in his hands. " we can finally say we're a little family of our own now."

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[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage. Contains two endings; which one will you take- Abandon them & move on with someone else. Or Take the long road to slow-burn groveling bcs Reader won't forgive them easily.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Polyamory Gone Wrong, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Unplanned Pregnancy, Body Horror, Gaslighting, Infidelity, Isolation, Unhealthy Relationships. As for --- it's for the scene split. And /// is for the splits in between the same scene. Like example a charecter decides to do something, so their multiple attempts could be separated by ///.

Chapter 1: Home Is Just a Place You Leave

The clock blinked 3:27 a.m., its red numbers bleeding into the suffocating darkness of the room. The faint creak of the front door shattered the silence, though it only emphasized the hollow ache in your chest. You didn’t look up from your laptop, though the spreadsheet in front of you blurred beneath your tear-clouded gaze. They didn’t call out to you. They never did anymore.

Gojo’s laugh filtered through the quiet, hushed but unmistakable, its usual warmth now slicing through you like shards of glass. It was followed by Nanami’s deep shush—an attempt at reprimand still laced with the remnants of amusement. They were trying to be quiet. Trying not to wake you. Or worse, trying to avoid you altogether.

Your chest tightened as the bedroom door clicked shut. The finality of the sound pressed against your ribs like a vice. You closed the lid of your laptop, extinguishing the only source of warmth in your home office.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Months ago, Gojo would have bounded through the door, sweeping you off your feet with his endless energy, spinning you in the kitchen as you brewed coffee at midnight because you had work to get done with your international clients in different time zones. Nanami would’ve sighed, exasperated but indulgent, chastising Gojo with his usual composure only to steal a sip from your mug when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d press a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring that you worked too hard and should rest. Nights used to mean laughter, warmth, and their insistence that the world could wait just a little longer while they held you close.

Now, the bed was cold. Empty. And when it wasn’t, they were.

The first time you noticed, you convinced yourself it wasn’t real.

They’d been out late again. Gojo’s shirt was rumpled, his cologne faintly overpowered by the acrid bite of whiskey. Nanami’s hair was damp, the scent of cheap bar soap clinging to him. You’d stayed up, the effort evident in the tea set carefully on the table, your hands trembling with hope as you handed them their cups. You’d tried to salvage something, anything.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Gojo mumbled, his brilliant eyes fixed anywhere but on you. “Work stuff.”

Nanami grunted, brushing past you with a brief, impersonal nod. His silence chilled you more than the winter air seeping through the walls.

You told yourself they were tired. You told yourself it was fine. You told yourself it was ok if they had touched each other without you; maybe the missions they were on had been rough. You told yourself you were just being clingy. You’d uprooted your life for them, moving to Japan, where the language was foreign and the culture even more so. You had no friends, no family here. Your subordinates at work were polite but distant; forcing them to spend time with you wasn’t your style. You’d thought they—Gojo and Nanami—would be enough. They’d promised you would never feel alone.

But weeks passed. The crumpled bar receipts in their pockets became harder to ignore. The hickeys on Gojo’s neck and the sight of Gojo’s blindfold hanging from Nanami’s hand like a bracelet every night sent bile rising in your throat. Then there were the texts you glimpsed on the house iPad, where Gojo’s account was still logged in:

Nanamin <3: Tonight again?

Nanamin <3: Same place?

Nanamin <3: Don’t let her find out, Satoru.

Your stomach twisted violently as you read them, the bile in your throat threatening to choke you. You wanted to scream, to throw the iPad across the room, but instead, you exited the app and set it down gently, hands trembling, heart racing. You told yourself there had to be an explanation. There had to be.

But there wasn’t.

They hadn’t even touched you in two months. No kisses, no lingering glances, not even the casual brush of fingers over dinner. The absence of their affection was suffocating, a void that seemed to grow larger every day, swallowing you whole.

You buried yourself in work, accepting every trip, every meeting, every grueling hour. It was easier to drown in spreadsheets and product launches than to face the gnawing loneliness. But even then, their absence clung to you like a shadow, an ache that refused to fade.

At night, the bed felt cavernous. You’d stretch your hand out, desperate for some part of them—a hand, a breath, anything. But all you ever found was the cold emptiness where they used to be.

Tonight would be different.

You’d returned home early, determined to surprise them. You’d made their favorite dinner, lit the candles Gojo liked, and even played the old metal records Nanami swore helped him relax. But as the hours stretched on and your texts went unanswered, your hope dwindled, and the wine bottle you’d opened sat untouched.

Now, you sat in the dark, scrolling through your phone mindlessly until the glow illuminated a photo on Instagram. Your breath caught in your throat.

Gojo and Nanami, seated in a dimly lit bar, laughing like they hadn’t laughed with you in months. Gojo’s grin was wide, his head thrown back in unrestrained joy. Nanami’s lips curved into a rare smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. They looked happy.

Without you.

The photo shattered something inside you. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Your hands trembled as you gripped your phone, your chest heaving.

You’d given up everything for them. Your home, your friends, your career—everything. You’d built a life here for them, endured the isolation, the cultural barriers, the crushing loneliness. And for what? To be forgotten? To be cast aside like you meant nothing?

The front door creaked open suddenly, and you froze. Their voices were softer this time, but you could still make out the unmistakable warmth in Gojo’s laugh, the familiar cadence of Nanami’s low murmur.

You stared at the empty wine glass in front of you, the room suffocatingly silent once more. For the first time, you wondered if you’d made a mistake—if you’d ever meant as much to them as they had to you.

Nanami froze when he saw you, his tie loosened, hair disheveled, half his shirt untucked. Gojo’s ever-present charm faltered under the weight of your stare. You could smell the alcohol from ten feet away on them.

“We didn’t know you’d be up,” Gojo offered, scratching the back of his neck.

“You never care if I am,” you replied lowly, your voice trembling but resolute.

Nanami opened his mouth, then closed it, guilt flickering across his face but offering no solace.

“Do you even love me anymore?” You whispered, tears burning your eyes. “Or am I just the third wheel in my own marriage?”

Gojo’s hands twitched at his sides, but he said nothing. Nanami couldn’t even meet your gaze.

Their silence was louder than any answer.

They didn’t try to explain or comfort you. Instead, they went to bed, leaving you in the drawing room with nothing but your thoughts and the cold, untouched dinner and wine.

You stared at the blank television screen as your mind replayed every moment—the laughs, the touches, the love—that had slowly faded into nothingness.

At some point, the quiet turned unbearable. You wandered into the bedroom, where they lay side by side, their breathing deep and even. It should have brought you comfort, but instead, it only deepened the ache.

Gojo’s arm was draped over Nanami’s waist while Nanami cradled Gojo’s head in his chest, their bodies turned toward each other in unconscious intimacy. The sight made your chest tighten. You covered your mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to escape.

By the time the sun rose, its pale light spilling into the room, you felt no warmth. Only emptiness. You didn’t sleep.

When they finally stirred, you were gone.

You couldn’t bear to interact with people who clearly didn’t want you around, so you moved to the guest bedroom for the morning. It was your leave day, and you had nowhere to go. You had no friends in this country you’d moved to because of them. You’d learned the language somewhat, but it was still hard making connections given your introverted nature.

Their voices filtered in from the living room, low murmurs mixed with occasional laughter. You didn’t dare listen too closely. They were so consumed in each other they thought you weren’t home.

It was easier this way. Once they left, you got up to do your regular skincare and eat something. Not sure what you were looking for when you checked the fridge, you remembered Nanami always left you something to eat. These days you craved his cooking—but nothing this time. You scoffed at the sight as a single angry tear rolled down your cheek.

.

Two days later, you collapsed onto the cold bathroom floor, your knees pulled to your chest, your body convulsing in spasms you couldn’t control. Every breath felt like it was being pulled from your lungs, sharp and shallow. The weight of it all was suffocating, pressing down on you from all sides. The doctor’s words reverberated in your skull, haunting and relentless.

Twins .

Your trembling hands slowly found their way to your stomach. A cold sweat broke out on your skin as your fingers pressed against the swelling, the tiny lives inside you moving, shifting. It felt wrong. The movement, too much, too fast. It shouldn’t have been like this.

"I’m all you’ve got," you whispered, voice breaking, the words splintering as they left your lips. A sharp, painful sob wracked your chest. Your body betrayed you in ways you didn’t know were possible after your hysterectomy.

You hated it. You hated how their lives were tied to Gojo’s cocky smirk and to Nanami’s quiet strength; you hated how you could already feel them—tiny, fragile, their little bodies twisting and growing inside you. It felt like they were crawling under your skin, stretching and shifting in ways that didn’t belong, but more than anything, you hated how much you loved them already, how their very presence in your body was slowly becoming a part of you, tearing you open from the inside.

You had practically run from the hospital when they wanted more bloodwork, when they suggested deeper tests. The thought of them poking and prodding, of finding out what was inside you, made your stomach churn. If anyone knew—if anyone found out you were carrying the children of the most powerful sorcerers in existence, children who could potentially tip the power scales further—it would be a death sentence.

You couldn’t let them see. You couldn’t let anyone know. The world didn’t need to see what was growing inside you. They wouldn’t understand, so they didn’t need to know what you were tied to.

Because if they found out, Gojo and Nanami would stop at nothing to take them from you. And so would their enemies, who’d tear you apart, piece by piece, to get to them. You could already feel the blood pulsing beneath your skin, the strange, unnatural warmth of it all. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t human.

You couldn’t let that happen. You wouldn’t let anyone take them from you. Even if it meant you had to burn the world down to keep them safe. You had the money for it. The only thing you didn’t have was their support. 

You gritted your teeth, eyes stinging with the unshed tears you refused to let fall. You should’ve told them. Should’ve screamed it at them the moment the doctor’s words had settled in your chest. But no, you couldn’t. Not after everything. Not when they didn’t want you, the mother of their child, around.

They’d been avoiding you, disappearing into their own little world, their own secret, leaving you to watch from the sidelines like some unwanted ghost. They’d been too busy with each other, tangled in their own twisted dance of pleasure and control, while you stood there, like the mistress in your own marriage. They didn’t need to know. Not now. Not when they were too busy fucking each other senseless to even look your way.

It wasn’t like they cared anyway.

Gojo had made it clear from the start: he never wanted kids. The idea of leaving behind an heir to carry on the Gojo name—his name—was a joke to him. He hated the clan and everything they stood for. He’d burn it all down before he’d let them turn his own flesh and blood into a weapon for their cause. He’d never allow it. 

And Nanami? Maybe he’d considered it once, in a quiet, fleeting moment when the world wasn’t always on the brink of death. But not really. Not enough to change his mind. The reality of their lives, in his eyes—of sorcery—was that they could die at any moment. Kids? They’d both be dead before the kids ever grew up. It was a risk they’d never take.

You had never wanted children either, so you never had any issues; in fact, it was even better that way. You never asked for this. But now they were here. Now they were all you had left, all that mattered. You pressed your hand harder against your stomach, feeling the strange, unnatural pulse beneath your fingers. It was as if something was clawing its way out from within you, desperate to be born.

You weren't even sure why you bothered thinking about it. It wasn’t like they’d ever wanted you to be the mother of their children. You were just the one who got stuck with it, the one left holding the weight of it all. The one left standing while they pretended you didn’t exist.

You’d seen the way Gojo’s eyes barely lingered on you anymore, and Nanami’s were just as guilty—cold, absent, like you were some afterthought. They’d been treating you like the other woman, like you didn’t belong in the life they’d built.

You were expendable.

And yet, here you were, holding their children. Your children. You weren't sure if it was the rage or the pain that made your decision so clear, but you knew you couldn’t give them that power. Not now. Not when they were too wrapped up in each other to care about you.

If they didn’t want to see you, you’d let them stay blind. If they didn’t care, you wouldn’t force them to. You’d keep the secret. You’d protect them—your children—on your own.

Your husbands didn’t deserve to know. Not anymore.

.

After some nights, the bedroom door creaked open sometime past 3 a.m. You were already under the covers, turned toward the furthest wall, hiding from the world. You’d only stayed in your shared bedroom because you knew they wouldn’t come home; they never did on weekends.

Your breath hitched when the mattress dipped, the weight of it familiar, but this time it felt like dread clawing at your skin. Gojo slid in first, followed by Nanami. A blade twisting deeper into your chest. You felt the weight of it settle in your bones, pressing you further into the bed, as though the world was slowly collapsing on top of you.

You could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of their kisses, their breaths, so painfully intimate and shallow it felt like a physical violation. Gojo’s muffled whimpers, Nanami’s barely audible groans—they echoed in your mind, tearing away the layers of the lies you’d been telling yourself. Your hands clenched your shirt, knuckles white with the effort to hold yourself together, but every rustle of fabric, every quiet chuckle that followed, felt like it was shoving you further into the abyss. You weren’t just an observer; you were a prisoner, locked in your own home, trapped in a marriage that was no longer yours.

You heard the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being released. “Not here,” Nanami muttered, his voice low but lacking any real conviction, as though it were a half-hearted protest. You could almost hear the disinterest in his tone, as if your presence had become a dull ache he’d long stopped caring about.

“Why not?” Gojo’s voice was smug, teasing, as if daring the universe to intervene, daring it to stop him. “She’s asleep.”

You weren’t asleep. You hadn’t been able to sleep for days, but the idea of letting them know that—of confronting them right now felt disgusting—felt like it would tear you apart. The bed shifted slightly with their movements, and you felt each small shift like a punch to the gut. The sounds of their clothes rustling, the soft murmurs of each other’s names, the desperate, needy gasps—they all melted together into a sickening symphony that filled your ears, but you could hardly hear them over the sound of your own heart breaking. It was obscene. It was intimate. It was everything you weren’t anymore.

Tears burned down your cheeks, hot and stinging as they fell. Your body trembled beneath the sheets, every muscle aching with the effort to keep yourself from breaking down completely. You pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, desperate to stifle the sobs that clawed at your throat, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t hear you. They never would. Gojo’s words sliced through the air with cruel simplicity.

“See? Nothing.”

It was the final blow. The words rang in your ears, each syllable heavier than the last. The suffocating silence that followed felt like it would swallow you whole. Your chest ached with the weight of it, a hollow emptiness growing where your heart used to be. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, the metallic taste of blood spreading across your tongue, but it didn’t stop the pain. Nothing could stop it. Nothing could make it stop.

The bed shifted again, the weight of their bodies moving in rhythm, their shared gasps filled the air. It felt like you were being suffocated, the room closing in on you, pressing in on all sides. You wanted to scream. You wanted to turn around, to confront them, to demand answers, to demand some shred of decency, but you couldn’t. You stayed silent. Unmoving. Paralyzed by a combination of rage and heartbreak so deep, it left you hollow. You wanted to crawl out of your skin with the way you felt disgusted with them, with yourself being next to them.

You stayed silent because you had already made your choice. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do. You had been here before, alone in your marriage, surrounded by their indifference. And yet, it was never more apparent than it was now, with their laughter still echoing in your mind, their skin brushing against each other as if you were invisible.

The air in the bedroom was suffocating, thick with the stench of unspoken words, broken promises, and  sex. You could feel the ghost of their presence on the bed beside you, a haunting reminder of what they’d once been, of what you’d once thought you had. But now, it was just a shell.

Your eyes were wide open in the dark, staring at the wall in front of you but seeing nothing. You couldn’t sleep. Not now. Not after the cruel mockery of your existence that was playing out in front of you. Their bodies moving together—everything about it was a slap in the face. You weren’t there, you weren’t needed, and you never had been.

You had thought you’d gotten used to the isolation, to the distance they kept, but tonight had shattered whatever fragile illusion you’d managed to cling to. You had never felt more invisible, more worthless, than you did in that moment. They hadn’t even cared enough to hide it. They hadn’t even cared enough to pretend.

You didn’t know how long you’d been lying there, trembling beneath the sheets, your body wracked with sobs you couldn’t stop. You were still in the same bed you’d shared with them, the bed that once felt like a symbol of everything you’d built together, now a mockery of your place in their lives.

Your body felt wrong. You pressed your hand to your stomach, feeling the faintest flutter of movement beneath your skin, the tiny lives growing inside you—their children. The children they had never wanted. The children you hadn’t wanted. And yet, here they were, their presence growing inside you, relentless and undeniable. Their actions next to you made you feel like these children were a disease, a curse, spreading through your veins, feeding off the pain, feeding off the isolation. It made you feel alive in a way that made your skin crawl.

You hated it. You hated that you were carrying their children, that your body was betraying you in the worst possible way. You hated that the only part of them that still mattered—that was what had been left inside you. And yet, no matter how much you hated it, you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of them. You couldn’t. They were the only thing you had left; it wasn’t their fault they came from such fathers.

You weren’t even sure why you stayed anymore. You had given them everything—your time, your body, your trust—and all they had given you in return was distance, neglect, and betrayal. Gojo, with his smug, untouchable arrogance, always so sure of himself, never even noticing the cracks in the façade. Nanami, the stoic, the silent one, always too focused on his work, too focused on keeping his distance. They were too wrapped up in each other to see you, too lost in their own world to even acknowledge that you existed.

This was beyond anything you had prepared for.

And yet, when you closed your eyes, all you could hear were the sounds of them together. The muffled groans, the wet kisses, the sound of their skin against skin. Every breath you took felt like it was pulling the air from your lungs, suffocating you in the weight of it all. You wanted to scream, to shout at them, to demand that they see you. But you didn’t. You stayed silent because you knew it wouldn’t matter. If they cared, they wouldn’t have left you for days without a word after you had begged them to tell you if they loved you. You were just a ghost in their lives now, nothing more than a bystander in a marriage that had already crumbled.

.

The next morning, when they left, as they always did, before the sun had even risen, you lay there, unmoving like you had the entire night, too afraid of the humiliation, unable to shake the image of them slipping away from you once again. The bed was still warm, but it wasn’t enough. The scent of their cologne lingered in the air, a reminder of everything you had lost, of everything they had taken from you.

You stared at the ring on your finger, the symbol of everything that was supposed to be but never was. It felt heavier than ever before, like a weight pulling you down into the abyss. A reminder of how much you had given up and how little they had given in return.

You were nothing to them now. Nothing but a placeholder. A person who had been used, then discarded. And still, you had stayed because you had no choice.

So you made your choice.

You left the ring on the nightstand.

You locked the door behind you and didn’t look back.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts: Who do you think is more unforgivable, Gojo or Nanami? Or is it both? Please leave a comment; your chaos fuels mine.

Chapter 2 - Home is just a place you leave (Tumblr/Ao3)

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