#sometimes i’m like oh no i don’t think i am

[greengoblinswifey]

Only Yours— Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— based on this request.

warnings— jealous!reader, possessive!reader, sub!nicholas, ass slapping and grabbing, praise kink, marking, choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, oral, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff

You had agreed to go to the party, but only because your boyfriend asked you to. Frat parties weren’t usually your scene, but the way Nicholas’ eyes had lit up when he asked you had made it impossible to say no. And besides, having his hand on you while you danced together, his fingers resting on your hip and sometimes wandering to squeeze your ass, made it all worth it.

At one point, you left him to go to the bathroom and grab a drink. You got caught up chatting with a friend, which took a bit longer than you expected. When you turned back toward where you left Nicholas, your heart sank a little. A group of three girls had surrounded him, clearly flirting and trying to get his attention. One was pulling on his hand, another had her hand on his shoulder, and the third was leaning in way too close, laughing a little too loudly.

You watched as he tried to politely shrug them off, his expression nervous. He looked around, clearly uncomfortable but not wanting to be rude. You could see him saying something that must have hinted at you because all three girls suddenly glanced over in your direction. They seemed disappointed but finally backed off, one even winking at him before walking away.

When you made your way over to him, he turned and saw you, his eyes widening. “I—oh my god, I am so sorry, I didn’t know what to do! I tried to tell them, really, but they just kept going and I- I didn’t want to be rude—”

“Nicholas,” you interrupted softly, reaching up to touch his arm. “I know. I know you’re innocent and I know it wasn’t your fault.” You could feel your heart pounding a little, not just from the jealousy that had been building but from how sweet he looked, his face all worried. His cheeks flushed as he took in your words.

The party eventually died down, and you both left to head back to your dorm room, Nicholas still looking at you guiltily every few minutes as you walked. “I swear, I tried to tell them right away. I didn’t even know what to do when they got so close like that.”

“Nicholas,” you cut him off with a sigh, squeezing his hand. “It’s fine. You’re sweet for worrying, but really, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He could still sense something simmering under the surface.

He gave you a relieved smile but still looked a bit nervous. “I just, I don’t want you to think I was interested in them. I only have eyes for you.”

As you both got settled in your room, Nicholas seemed to sense there was still something lingering between you two. He watched you carefully, brow furrowed a little as if he was trying to read your mind. “Hey, uh, are you jealous?” he asked quietly, giving you a knowing look. He knew you far too well for you to brush it off.

You sighed, unable to hold back the truth. “Maybe just a little.”

He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. “You? Jealous?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, trying not to laugh at the way he seemed genuinely stunned. “But honestly, it’s fine, because I’m the one who gets to be with you tonight. Not them.”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked down shyly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I mean, that’s true.”

You leaned in close, your voice low and confident. “And now I’m going to show you who you really belong to, because it’s me, not any of those bitches, or anyone else.”

His breath hitched, and you could feel him tense a little, his eyes searching yours. Before he could say anything, you climbed into his lap, letting your hands trail up his shoulders. You captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, then moved down to his neck, leaving soft kisses and feeling his pulse quicken under your lips. You found the spot where he was most sensitive, and as you started to leave little marks along his skin, you could feel him shiver, his hands coming up to hold onto you, his breaths coming quicker.

He let out a quiet moan as you left a trail of kisses and a few dark red marks down his neck. “When they see you tomorrow,” you whispered with a smirk, “they’re going to know exactly who you belong to.”

As you held Nicholas close, you leaned in with a teasing smile. “Now, be a good boy and take our clothes off,” you whispered, watching his eyes go wide with anticipation. He started with you, his hands steady as he carefully helped you out of each piece, his gaze lingering with admiration. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, eyes soft as they traveled over you.

He reached for the hem of his own shirt, but you gently stopped him, meeting his gaze. “Let me,” you said firmly. “No one else is ever going to get to do this, just me. You belong to me.”

His breath caught, and he nodded, allowing you to take control, each piece of clothing removed with a deliberate slowness that made the anticipation build between you. When he was fully naked, you let him sink back, feeling his trust and warmth radiate as you knelt down in front of him.

You took ahold of his hard cock, stroking while you took him deep. His breaths grew shaky, and his hands instinctively gripped the sheets as you took your time, letting every reaction, every soft whimper he made, guide you.

“Tell me,” you murmured between movements, voice low. “Who’s making you feel good?”

“You are,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his whole body shuddering under your touch.

“Fuck, and who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?” you asked, sliding your mouth slowly off him.

“Ah- only- only you Y/N,” he gasped. You felt his balls tighten and his fists gripped the sheets harder signaling he was close to his end.

“Now be a good boy and cum for me.”

As he finally released, his eyes met yours with intensity. You leaned up, pressing a rough, lingering kiss to his lips, and felt him relax under your touch, his hands finding your tits as you both held each other close.

“Can I eat your pussy?” he asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Why do you think you deserve to taste me?” you teased.

“Um— because I, uh, because I belong to you, you own me and I have to make you feel good, I want you to,” he said, stuttering.

“Wow, you’re learning. Well then get on your knees and do it.”

You switched positions, Nicholas going on his knees and you took his position in bed. You were soaked for him as he pried your legs open, marveling at the sight before him. He attached his mouth to your clit, sucking like he had a point to prove. He did. He was showing you he belonged to you. No other woman would feel what he was giving you.

“That’s my good boy, don’t stop baby,” you moaned, your hips bucking and your hand gripping his hair roughly.

He winced at the pain as you dragged him by his hair on where you wanted his tongue but the pain was his pleasure. He sucked your clit with such ferocity, you couldn’t hold back even if you wanted to.

“You make me feel so good, I’m gonna cum on your tongue baby,” you whimpered.

You gripped his hair roughly, pressing his face against your pussy as it quivered and your release ripped through you. Panting, he sucked every drop of you, gripping under your thighs as your toes curled and his name was on your lips like a prayer.

You pulled him up by his neck as soon as your high subsided, your eyes locking with his. He gasped as you shoved him hard onto the bed, the intensity in your gaze made his pulse race. Though he was used to your dominant side, something in your movements tonight left him wide-eyed and blushing.

You climbed on top of him with a look that silenced any thoughts he might have had. “Let this be a constant reminder,” you murmured, running a finger down the dark red marks on his neck then resting your hand around it possessively, “of who the fuck belong to.” His face flushed, and he nodded, breathless, clearly under your spell.

As you sank onto him, his hands gripped your waist instinctively, holding on like he’d fall apart otherwise. His gaze flickered between your eyes, filled with admiration and a hint of that familiar shyness.

You ignored the burning stretch you felt, bouncing roughly on his cock as his moans grew louder and louder.

“B-baby, please s-slow down, god, I’m gonna—”

“Shut up and take it,” you murmured, your hand squeezing his throat harder and making his head spin.

Your ass slammed onto his cock, the feeling making him gasp and plead, he wasn’t going to last long.

“Please baby, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed.

“You don’t cum unless I tell you to, take whatever I give you.” He nodded his head frantically, not wanting to disobey you. Your hips moved in a circular motion driving him crazy as he focused all his energy on holding back the cum threatening to explode from his cock.

You licked the side of his face making his eyes roll back and he knew if you didn’t tell him to cum soon, no matter how much he tried, he wouldn’t be able to hold it.

“Oh fuck, you always stretch me so well,” you moaned, your hips grinding on his cock.

He couldn’t even form a sentence if he wanted to, all he could do was moan and sniffle, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as the pleasure become too much.

“Hold me Nick,” you moaned.

He did as he was told and your body shook as you came all over his cock. The feeling of your juices drenching him made him sob and plead.

“Please Y/N, please, please, please baby, just let me cum, just this once,” he begged.

You leaned down, your voice soft but firm. “Since you’re begging so nicely, cum inside me,” you whispered, placing a soft bite along his jawline. He drew in a shaky breath, as if he’d been waiting to hear that.

“T-thank you, thank you so much, you’re so incredible.

He moaned deeply, the sound going straight to your throbbing pussy and he squeezed your ass, bucking his hips up as he practically exploded inside you. He whimpered and sobbed, his cum seeming to be never ending. You didn’t think he had ever cum that much in one sitting.

You held him close to you as he shivered underneath your touch, his cock still twitching and throbbing inside you.

“Wow, you came so much, my sweet boy, you did so good for me.”

You kissed all over his sweaty face, wiping the small tears that rolled down his cheeks as he stared at you in complete awe.

Easing off his cock, you both gasped and he watched as his cum oozed out of your pussy. You lay beside him, bringing his head onto your chest and he held you close, his breathing slowly going back to normal.

“I definitely know who owns me now,” he chuckled breathlessly, “and m’sorry again, I’ll do more next time.”

You only responded with a smile, kissing his forehead then his lips, a silent acceptance.

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO REBLOG, I WAS PACKING TO MOVE 🙂‍↕️ always these r my comments on my first AND SECOND read through because im actually obsessed with them ⬇��

also the two songs i've been playing on repeat for this fic is everytime by ariana grande and y.d.l.r by tory lanez. take from that as u will 😌

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

i cannot tell u how giggly i am rn

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

i love this so MUCH SO SO SO MUCH

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

i unfortunately do not know what a slapshot is

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

YOU TOOK MY IDEA AHHHH 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

ohmygodohmygodohmygodddd

Bang!In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

As he FUCKING SHOULD I AM LITERALLY ON THE EDGE OF MY SEATTT

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

choose me love me fuck me (who said that)

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

his jealousy is RADIATING and i’m eating all of it up

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

sometimes yes pls prove how obsessed u r w me

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

my favorite part of hate sex when they r LIARS

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

HES SUCH A DICK

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

OH I FUCKING LOVE HERRR

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

HE DOESNT EVEN LET HER ANSWER why is this so hotttt

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

i’m so quiet bc i’m so into this 🫣🫣🫣🫣

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

ONE FUCKING CHANCE

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

he’s INSATIABLE

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

YKW FUCK U I WILL

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

so u give me earth-shattering smut and emotional angst? screw u

💌 i am absolutely enamored by the way u wrote their tension, how rafe fucking banged against the plexiglass and DARES her ohmygod i melted in a fucking puddle. ur smut was absolutely hot scorning riveting AND I WAS SO SURPRISED BY THIS MANS STAMINA LIKE CAN WE CATCH A BREATHE ugh ☺️💘 u did my req so much justice n gave me sm inspo i must write now

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 5/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [in this chapter: slight dubcon/cnc (?), virginity loss, riding, switch! toji, sort of dom!reader, pussy drunk toji, kind of wholesome, whole lot of yapping], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: two chapters a day, who is this diva !!? nah i had this around and i could not help but post it today. it will either mean you all binge read it, or you all completely forget that either chapter has been posted. curse this damn algo! or maybe i am just overenthusiastically posting. but gaaahhhh!! can't believe we are at the end </3 !! thank you thank you THANK YOU !! for the love, i'm so beyond grateful. thank you for letting va toji and smut writer reader in your dashboards and following them along on their stupid meet-cute journey <3 and, please don't be mad about the epilogue, i SWEAR megumi is not like other guys [he is just like his dad...]. also, if you're confused about the ending, PLEASE!! read persephone. it's not as emotional and funny as this one, but...read it so that you could make sense of the plot? IDKKK. or don't i think it's pretty self-explanatory. but in all honesty, the freaky scene was really difficult to write in this chapter, and i really apologise if it seems..."anti-climatic" or a "letdown" or "not smutty enough" :") it's a lot more yapping and emotion based, not something i do often but i sorta liked writing it? i don't know, sometimes you should take a break from the dirty talk and just talk to yourself...eugh what am i saying, anyways! please, enjoy. and let me know how you liked this - comments, reblogs - i'm spying on them all  

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

your phone buzzes quietly on the nightstand, and you reach over, still half-buried in blankets, to check the message. toji grumbles beside you, wrapping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you right back to him. “don’t even think about leaving this bed,” he mumbles against your shoulder, voice rough with sleep.

you squint at your screen, smiling as shoko’s name lights up with a string of texts.

shoko: mission successful. megumi has been delivered to the institution of learning. shoko: also, fyi, we're stealing the limo for the dayshoko: and no, we won’t be back until we’re legally obligated. don’t worry, we’ll keep gojo under control… mostly shoko: enjoy your alone time, lovebirds 😘

you chuckle, typing back a quick reply.

you: thank you, dearest shoko. keep gojo from being arrested plz 😭 you: we really do appreciate it, but just know i have zero faith in ur ability to contain gojo, lol shoko: fair enough, neither do i

toji tightens his hold around you, grumbling, “what’s so funny? thought you were all mine this morning.”

you turn, placing your phone on the nightstand as you nestle back against him. “just shoko. apparently, she, gojo, and geto did drop megumi off at school. in the limo.”

toji lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “bet those teachers are loving that.”

“oh, absolutely. i’m sure gojo made it a whole production, too.” you laugh, imagining the scene — a horrified teacher watching the three self-proclaimed “cool” adults proudly unloading an amused, completely willing megumi from the limo like he’s some kind of celebrity.

toji’s hand slides up your back, sending a warm shiver down your spine. “good,” he murmurs, a lazy smirk on his face. “means we’ve got all day.”

you bite back a grin. “is that so, mr. fushiguro?”

“damn right, mrs. fushiguro,” he whispers, and there’s that flutter in your chest again. 

mrs. fushiguro — it’s still so new, so surreal. you lean into his touch, feeling that warmth radiate from him, that steady presence that’s been with you for so long, but now, somehow, feels even closer.

“god, that sounds… i don’t know. just amazing,” you murmur, voice almost shy. “it’s crazy how much changes when we’re just… us.”

he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, and it’s so soft, so tender, it’s enough to make your heart do another flip. 

“yeah? feelin’ all mushy on me now, are ya?” he teases, smirking down at you, but his voice is so soft, so genuine.

“maybe i am,” you admit, tracing small circles on his chest with your finger. “just… thinking about how lucky i am. how lucky we are. you… me… and megumi.” the last part brings a smile to your lips, the idea of the three of you, a real family, settled and safe and happy.

toji’s eyes soften, and he leans in to kiss you, slow and warm. “trust me, i’m the lucky one,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cradle your face as he gazes at you. “i’ve got you, i’ve got ‘gumi… i got everything i need right here.”

you look away for a second, laughing softly to hide how much his words make your heart ache in the best way. “if anyone heard you right now, they’d never believe the tough guy act you put on.”

“hey, don’t go spreading rumors,” he warns, but his smile gives him away. “only you get to see me like this.” his fingers stroke along your cheek as he adds, “my best side.”

you look up at him, a rush of affection filling your chest so full you feel it might burst. “i just… i feel like the luckiest person alive. like… what did i do to end up here with you?”

“you didn’t have to do anything, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “just had to be you.”

you both settle into a comfortable silence, his hand finding yours under the covers, fingers interlacing. there’s something so perfect, so still about this moment — just lying together, his thumb brushing idly over your knuckles. the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart — it’s like every worry, every noise from the world fades away, leaving just the two of you cocooned here in the quiet, the morning sun filtering softly through the curtains.

you close your eyes, sighing contentedly. “i could stay like this forever, you know.”

he chuckles, pulling you closer. “good. ‘cause i’m not lettin’ you go anywhere.”

you’re just basking in the warm silence, feeling utterly at peace, when toji leans in, his voice low and smooth in your ear. "so, mrs. fushiguro,” he drawls, a smirk creeping onto his lips, “wasn’t there talk of a… private reading of that dragon king sequel?”

oh, no. 

oh, no. 

you blink at him, trying to keep a straight face. 

this man is absolutely trying to get in your pants with literature. 

who does that? well, toji does, apparently. and damn him for knowing you’d promised him a private reading of that particular book launch. a foolish vow you made months ago, when you didn’t think he’d actually remember. 

but, of course, he remembers everything.

“i… um,” you stammer, your cheeks heating. “that was — okay, that was months ago, toji. i didn’t think you’d actually —”

“you didn’t think i’d remember?” he grins, and it’s the kind of grin that tells you you’re not getting out of this. “i remember everything, sweetheart. especially when it involves… let’s say, romantic storytelling?”

romantic storytelling, huh? right. 

sure. that’s one way to put it.

“toji, it’s not just, you know, romantic storytelling,” you mutter, cheeks warming even more. “i mean, it’s got… dragons. and quests. and —”

“oh, i remember chapter twenty just fine,” he cuts in, that cheeky smirk now completely in control of the situation. he leans closer, his face inches from yours, all smug and mischievous. 

“you know, the one where the dragon king finds his queen and… gives her a real good ‘welcome’?”

your mouth goes dry. 

this absolute menace. he’s got the audacity to remember chapter twenty?

“oh, you mean the ‘epic battle scene,’ right?” you try, feigning innocence. “where they’re fighting for the fate of the kingdom, and it’s super dramatic, lots of… explosions, you know?”

he laughs, low and deep, and god, it’s unfair how sexy he makes laughing sound. “sure, if you’re talking about the fireworks when the dragon king finally, you know…” he raises an eyebrow. 

“claims his queen.”

you are done for. 

“toji —” you start, but he’s already pushing himself up, reaching over to grab a copy of your book from the nightstand. you mentally curse past you for being sentimental enough to keep a copy so close by.

“here we go,” he says, flipping through the pages, and damn it, he’s really going for it. “right to chapter twenty. ah… here. listen to this, babe.” he clears his throat dramatically, as if he’s about to perform the damn shakespearean sonnet of the year. 

“the dragon king leaned in, his voice a whisper like embers in the dark, promising the queen his undying loyalty, his soul, his fire —”

“toji,” you hiss, trying not to laugh because this is utterly ridiculous. but also kind of the most endearing thing he’s ever done.

“— and his lips claimed hers with the kind of passion only a dragon king possessed,” he continues, absolutely deadpan. 

his eyes flicker up to yours, and the next thing you know, he’s leaning in, his mouth soft against yours, playful, slow. “see?” he murmurs against your lips, teasing. “it’s right there in the text.”

you barely hold back a giggle. “toji fushiguro, you are not… using my own book to seduce me.”

he grins, kissing the corner of your mouth. “oh, sweetheart. i absolutely am. and i’m pretty sure you’re enjoying it, too.” his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer, and damn it, you are enjoying this.

“this is absurd,” you mutter, though your words lose their conviction as he trails kisses down your neck, each one soft and teasing. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculous,” he murmurs between kisses, “for my beautiful wife who writes… excellent dragon king romances? definitely.” he pauses, looking up at you with that glint in his eyes that you know spells trouble. 

“and don’t act like you don’t find it hot, mrs. fushiguro. we both know that’s a lie.”

you groan, flopping back against the pillows. “why did i write chapter twenty like that? i’ve doomed myself.”

he raises an eyebrow, that smirk even more devilish. “hey, i’m just a fan, enjoying a private reading,” he says, leaning back in to brush his lips against yours, soft and gentle at first, but deepening, his hand cupping your cheek in that way that drives you crazy. 

“go on,” he whispers, voice low, “read for me.”

your heart’s pounding now, every nerve in your body alive with the feel of him so close, his eyes warm and mischievous and so damn loving. 

you swallow, taking a steadying breath, and somehow, miraculously, you manage to open the book and start reading in a low, slightly shaky voice.

“the dragon king wrapped his arms around her,” you read, feeling your voice hitch as toji’s fingers trace little patterns along your arm, sending shivers through you, “his breath warm against her ear, promising her… his devotion. his soul. his fire.”

“mmm,” toji murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “keep going. this is getting good.”

you continue, barely able to concentrate because he’s absolutely enjoying every second of this. 

“and as his lips met hers, it was like… like an explosion of heat, consuming them both in a moment so intense it could… melt worlds.” you swallow, feeling his hand slide around your waist, his face close to yours, his gaze dark with desire.

“you know, i think your writing really captures the, uh, tension here,” he teases, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

“you’re impossible,” you say, laughing despite yourself as he pulls you back down onto the bed, his kisses now less playful, more earnest, his hand finding yours, fingers interlacing like they belong there.

“impossibly in love with my talented, beautiful wife,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips soft and warm. “the one who just happens to write the best damn dragon romances out there.”

you let out a breathless laugh, burying your face in his shoulder. “if my readers could see this right now, they’d probably riot.”

he chuckles, pulling you close, his hand running through your hair. “well, they don’t get this version of you. that’s all mine.”

you look up at him, heart swelling with so much love you feel you might burst. “yeah?” you murmur, feeling your voice go soft, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

“yeah,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that makes you forget the whole world, until there’s just him, just you, just the two of you tangled together in this little piece of forever.

you’re deep in the moment, hands tangled around toji’s neck, your heart racing, and then thump! — your hardcover book smacks him right on the back of his head. 

you freeze, horrified, but toji just blinks, a slow grin spreading across his face. where you see a mood-killer, he sees a grand opportunity.

“well, well,” he says, rubbing the spot with exaggerated drama, “guess the dragon king’s under attack.” 

then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he reaches down, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “only one way to counter this… surprise assault.”

before you can say a word, he pulls the shirt over his head, revealing that ridiculous six — or is it eight? — pack of his. you lose count every time. the man’s a walking anatomy lesson.

he leans back against the pillows, arms casually behind his head like he’s just some unassuming king lounging in his castle. 

“so,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow, “don’t you think it’s only fair for ‘equality’ reasons that you join me in my… wardrobe adjustments?”

you stare at him, knowing exactly what he’s doing, but still, the smirk on his face is impossible to resist. 

“oh, ‘equality,’ huh?” you laugh, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “you’re seriously using that excuse?”

“hey,” he says with an innocent shrug, though that devilish grin gives him away. “you hit me on the head. you owe me. this is… reparations.”

“reparations?” you raise an eyebrow, feigning disbelief as you fiddle with the book, stalling, though your heart’s racing. “i think you just want me out of my shirt.”

“yeah, obviously.” his eyes sparkle, not an ounce of shame. “you’ve got the dragon king here, and he’s got a… well, let’s just call it a mighty thirst for, uh, ‘visual balance.’”

you laugh, shaking your head. “visual balance? you’re just making things up now!”

“come on,” he says, reaching out and gently tugging at the hem of your shirt with that smirk that melts you every time. “for equality. and… maybe chapter twenty accuracy?”

you try to hold in a laugh, failing miserably. “oh, now you’re committed to accuracy, are you?”

“absolutely.” he leans in, his eyes meeting yours, that smirk growing softer, somehow more sincere. “besides,” he murmurs, voice low, “i’m not about to let some book have all the fun of a private reading with you.”

his words send warmth straight to your chest, and you find yourself surrendering to his playfulness. slowly, you lift the hem of your shirt, and his gaze never leaves yours, following each movement with that quiet intensity that makes you feel like you’re the only thing in his world.

“happy now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow once the shirt is off and tossed to the side.

toji’s gaze trails over you, his smile widening. “mmm, much better,” he says, voice a low rumble. he reaches out, pulling you close until you’re practically lying on top of him, his hands resting lightly on your waist. 

“now,” he whispers, his breath warm against your cheek, “about that private reading…”

“you mean, before the book tries to knock you out again?” you say, laughing softly as he grins.

“nah,” he replies, pulling you closer, voice softer now. “i think i’d rather hear it from you… no books, no pages. just us.” his hand slides up your back, his touch so familiar, so gentle, and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore, just looking into his eyes, feeling like you’re in your own story, one that’s still being written.

“fine,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder as he holds you close, his fingers brushing through your hair. “i’ll read to you, toji. but only if you promise…” you pause, smirking, “not to bring out any more ‘dragon king’ moves.”

he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “no promises,” he murmurs, voice warm and full of laughter.

you’re lost in the warmth of his embrace, melting into him as your lips meet, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you as you straddle him. skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeats syncing — it's everything a newlywed morning should be. but then… 

oh.

you feel it. 

that very… unignorable reminder pressing insistently against you, and the realization hits like a lightning bolt, your face heating up as if someone turned the thermostat up to a hundred. 

you swallow, suddenly very aware of the “problem” in question, and try your hardest to keep a straight face. 

it’s not like this is new or anything. toji’s your husband. this is normal. completely normal. all husbands feel like this for their wives, right? 

right.

but he’s… so unbothered. he doesn’t even hesitate, just keeps his hands on you, tracing slow circles along your back, his thumb brushing over your skin, his lips curling into a smirk like he knows exactly how much he’s affecting you. and maybe he does. 

of course he does.

“toji,” you manage to whisper, barely holding it together, but he’s already looking at you with that lazy, smug grin, like you’re his personal sunrise, and he’s basking in every single second. 

“you, uh… you sure you’re okay there?”

“me?” he raises an eyebrow, all innocence as he chuckles, his voice a warm, sleepy rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “i’m more than okay, sweetheart. just enjoying my beautiful wife on our first morning as mr. and mrs. fushiguro.” he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone that’s entirely too distracting. 

“besides,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, “i think you’re the one who’s a little… flustered.”

flustered? you? 

“toji, you’ve got a —” you start, but he interrupts, grinning wickedly.

“a ‘normal human reaction’?” he teases, voice dropping to that smooth, low register that drives you crazy. “can’t help it when you’re this close. on top of me. looking like that.”

you cover your face with your hands, half-laughing, half-dying of embarrassment. “stop — oh my god, you’re insufferable.”

“and you love it,” he says, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. his eyes are soft, sincere, with a glint of mischief as he tilts his head. “what’s a husband supposed to do? just look at you? you make it real hard, y’know?”

he lets out a low laugh at your expression and then holds you tighter, his hands warm and steady on your waist. 

“guess we’re not getting out of bed for a while, huh?”

you’re not sure what’s come over you — maybe it’s the morning sunlight streaming in, soft and hazy; maybe it’s the devilish little voice in your head nudging you forward. 

but somehow, here you are, straddling your very, very surprised husband, taking matters (and his pants) into your own hands. 

and, well, let’s just say you got a little… ambitious.

before you even have time to think, you’re, um… fully committed. 

as in, no turning back. 

as in, you’re in.

toji’s eyes go wide, his hands gripping your hips as if he’s trying to catch up to what’s happening. his breath hitches, his head falling back against the pillow, and he lets out something between a sob and what might be a moan. 

his cheeks are flushed, his jaw tight, and for a second, he just stares up at you with a look that’s a mix of reverence and utter disbelief.

“you… y-you just… did you just — ?” he manages to stammer, the words catching in his throat, and suddenly, you’re the one who’s freaking out. 

the reality of what you just did hits like a freight train, and you’re not prepared.

“uh… yes?” you squeak, as if you’re also trying to convince yourself. a nervous laugh escapes you. “i mean… yeah. i just… i thought… y’know, we’re married now, so… spontaneity?”

toji’s lips press into a shaky smile, his fingers tightening on your waist. 

“spontaneity, huh?” he repeats, a breathless laugh bubbling up as he tries to process the situation. “damn, sweetheart, you really know how to keep a guy on his toes.”

your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly realize just how locked into this you are. 

no backing out now, not when you’re quite literally in the thick of it. 

“oh god,” you mutter, half to yourself. “did i just… did i seriously just yolo this?”

toji laughs, his thumb tracing comforting circles on your hip, his voice a little strained but warm as ever. “honestly? kind of the best ones of my life. but if you’re freaking out… we can take a breather.”

but there’s something in his gaze — something soft and genuine, with that signature spark of mischief — that steadies you a little. you take a breath, letting his presence calm your nerves. 

and then, with a shaky smile, you lean down, pressing your forehead to his.

“just… don’t move too fast, okay?” you whisper, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“you’re the boss, mrs. fushiguro,” he murmurs, voice low and tender, and he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you steady. “locked and loaded… best way to start the day.”

you try to summon every ounce of confidence your heroines have ever possessed — the boldness, the sass, the sheer conviction that they know exactly what they're doing. 

but here you are, completely frozen, caught somewhere between exhilaration and abject terror. 

your mind is racing, but your body? not so much. you can’t seem to move.

and to make matters worse, there’s a tiny part of you that’s panicking, the same part that has you wiggling slightly as you try to find any semblance of control. 

naturally, he notices, and, of course, he feels it, too.

toji’s eyes soften, his mouth curving into that warm, almost-too-perfect smile that always settles your nerves, and his hands move gently to your hips, steadying you with the barest of pressure. you’re not sure if he’s trying to keep you from falling apart or if he’s anchoring himself, too.

“hey,” he murmurs, voice warm and so steady it cuts through your internal chaos. “you don’t have to do anything, sweetheart. lemme take care of you.”

he tilts his head back to meet your eyes, and the softness in his gaze is almost enough to melt you. 

“besides,” he teases, a wicked little glint appearing in his eyes, “the last thing i want is you remembering this as the morning you freaked out on top of me. that wouldn’t be fair to you, or, honestly… to me.”

you manage a shaky laugh, trying to focus on him rather than the tangle of nerves twisting in your stomach. 

and maybe, just maybe, you can let go of your inner heroine pep talk just this once.

“okay…” you whisper, breath still catching, but there’s something in his touch that’s grounding you. “just… go slow?”

“yes ma’am.” his voice drops an octave, the promise of patience woven through every word, and his hands tighten just a little, guiding you with gentle confidence. he starts moving slowly, carefully, each motion more reassuring than the last. his thumb brushes your hip soothingly, grounding you.

“and remember,” he whispers, mouth brushing the corner of your mouth as he leans up, “i’m right here. always.”

you’re trying, really. 

but, for all the research you’ve put into this exact scenario, it’s like your mind’s blanking out on everything. 

front and back? sideways? or was it… circular? maybe up and down? 

why is it that the one time you desperately need a mental slideshow, all your research notes abandon you?

to make matters worse, toji’s expression isn’t exactly helping. he’s looking at you with this mix of sheer desperation and restraint, like he’s teetering on the edge of losing it or… combusting. 

maybe both.

“uh, toji,” you murmur, fingers trailing uncertainly on his chest as you try to read his reaction. “am i… doing this right?” you ask, half-joking, half-panicked, but mostly hoping for some kind of confirmation. or maybe a sign that you’re not about to ruin him.

toji’s eyes snap open a bit wider, and the sounds he makes are… well, hardly words. 

more like a strangled, garbled mess of syllables that could pass for something between a moan and a mutter. he opens his mouth to say something and then just clenches his jaw, exhaling a shaky breath.

“babe…” he finally chokes out, voice rough. “whatever you’re doing… just… give me a sec, okay?”

you stifle a laugh, watching as his hands are balled so tight at his sides that they’re nearly shaking. it’s like he’s holding himself together by sheer willpower alone. you swear his knuckles might actually be going white.

he lets out a huff, like he’s trying to recite a grocery list or remember anything that isn’t the feel of you on top of him. 

“satoru’s voice… that dumb soap commercial… yeah, yeah, there it is… ‘leaves you feeling fresh all day’... god help me,” he mutters under his breath.

“toji?” you can’t help it; you lean in, brushing your lips against his jaw as he swallows hard. 

“i think i’ve broken you.”

his head tips back, a strained laugh breaking through as he fights to keep his cool. 

“you… might just have,” he manages, voice rough around the edges, and there’s this flash of helplessness in his gaze that makes your heart skip.

“i’m doing that well, huh?” you smirk, feeling just the tiniest spark of confidence.

he groans, half in frustration, half in what sounds like pride. “yeah… yeah, you are,” he grits out. 

“and if you move… in literally any direction right now, i’m not sure how much longer i can hold back.”

you take a moment to consider, still a little nervous, but now definitely encouraged by the effect you seem to be having on him. 

“well,” you whisper, “you’re my husband now. i think that means we can both… figure this out together.”

he looks up at you, that steady, determined look in his eyes, as he exhales another shaky breath. 

“then let’s figure it out,” he murmurs, voice softer now, but still brimming with that intensity.

his hands finally settle on your hips, steadying you as he starts guiding you slowly, deliberately, and the careful rhythm he sets feels like it’s easing all that tension out of both of you.

“god… toji,” you murmur, feeling every little shift and movement as he keeps you close, never rushing, always guiding.

“that’s right, sweetheart,” he says, his tone softening as he takes his time with you. “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

while toji is supposedly the one who should have all the experience here, somehow you’re the one taking charge — leading the pace, finding a rhythm, and honestly, feeling a little like some overconfident cowgirl until you remember, oh right, this is toji fushiguro, not some wild bronco.

okay, maybe ease up on the cowgirl image, you mentally scold yourself, trying to stay focused. 

but that confidence you’re feeling? it’s dangerous. because just as you settle into this boldness, feeling like you’ve got things under control, toji lets out a whimper.

your eyes fly open, heart practically stopping in your chest. 

oh no. 

was that a sound of pain? 

did you somehow… break him? 

wait, is it even possible to damage internal organs like this? 

“toji…?” you ask, almost scared to hear the answer.

he lifts his head a little, looking dazed and half-lost, his breathing heavy, eyes hazy with disbelief as he mutters, 

“y-you’re…” he doesn’t even finish, just closes his eyes, head falling back as another broken whimper slips out. 

and then it hits you.

oh.

“you… you like this?” you ask, almost stunned. the idea that you’re the one making him sound like that? 

the thought is so potent it makes you feel a rush of something warm and… yeah, okay, powerful.

he’s barely able to respond, his hands gripping your hips now, knuckles white as he nods, lips parted in another helpless gasp as he tries and fails to keep his cool. 

“don’t… stop,” he finally chokes out, like he’s barely hanging on.

“oh, trust me, i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, heart racing. and now there’s this little thrill lighting you up from the inside out, because every tiny movement is pulling more helpless little sounds from him, his restraint finally slipping.

toji’s voice is so rough, barely holding it together as he grits out, “you’re killing me, sweetheart… god…”

“well,” you manage, barely keeping your own composure, “it’s only fair, right? after all the times you’ve done this to me?”

he lets out another shaky exhale, clearly struggling, and for a second you’re genuinely worried he might just combust completely. 

“y-you really think… you’re doing me in, huh?”

you raise a brow, smirking despite yourself. “you sound like you’re the one struggling here.”

he laughs breathlessly, like he can hardly believe it, before he pulls you close, one hand cupping the back of your neck. 

“struggling?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. “i’m just letting you have your fun before i flip us over and show you exactly who’s in charge here.”

your heart does a somersault. because the thrill of this playful push and pull, of seeing him finally lose control? 

that’s the best way to start any morning.

toji’s brain is on a full-blown rollercoaster right now, and not in the way he’d imagined. 

he’d thought he’d be calm, collected, the man in control, ready to take his time with you and make this morning something sweet and a little filthy, just like you’d always hinted at. 

he’d be the one setting the scene, the one doing all the work, the one guiding you gently, like he’d dreamed about doing ever since you let him in on that side of your writing.

he even had a whole monologue rehearsed in his head last night: “to my parents, my friends, and any god who’s listening, thank you for giving me this beautiful woman to love, a girl with fire in her veins and creativity for days.” 

he’d planned on simple, soft kisses, with lots of praise to make you feel adored, even throw in a little dirty talk, just like in your books. 

he’d thought about quoting a line or two back at you for fun — maybe one from that chapter you wrote where the dragon king says, “you’re all mine tonight, and you’ll feel every inch of me, i promise.”

but now? 

all that’s gone out the window, because here you are, on top of him, taking the lead with confidence, and he’s losing his mind. 

every time he tries to open his mouth, all he can get out is a strangled groan, and it’s doing something to him he wasn’t expecting. 

he can barely recognize himself; the words he’d so carefully picked out are just… gone. every time you shift, it’s like his thoughts scatter to the wind, replaced by pure, helpless need.

he wants to tell you, wants to let you know how much he loves this, loves you, how insane you’re driving him, but all that comes out is a barely-coherent mess of sounds, and it hits him that you’re not just in control of his body — you’ve completely stolen his mind, too.

“i… god, i thought i was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he finally manages to whisper, half in awe, half in defeat.

you smirk, that little gleam in your eye sending a shiver down his spine. “thought you liked a surprise every now and then?”

and all he can do is nod, a dazed look in his eyes. 

because in this moment, he realizes he’d gladly give up every carefully planned word, every practiced move, just to feel like this forever: utterly and completely wrapped around your finger, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

the second toji feels your movements stutter, that telltale shiver coursing through you, he knows exactly what’s happening. 

and oh, he’s not about to let you handle all that on your own. 

in one smooth, effortless motion, he flips you onto your back, settling himself on top of you with a grin that’s downright devilish. his muscles flex as he moves, every bit of that gym routine paying off in real time.

“thought i’d take over, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and husky, his words wrapping around you like velvet. “just… seemed like you could use a little help.”

you meet his gaze, already breathless, but the excitement bubbling inside you is impossible to ignore. 

“oh, you’re taking over now?” you tease, your hands resting on his strong shoulders, gripping tight, letting him feel the way your fingers tremble slightly. "go on then, show me what you got."

his eyes darken, and the heat between you intensifies as he lowers himself, pressing a line of kisses along your neck that makes your whole body tingle. 

"you don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with that rough, familiar affection, every word sending a thrill straight to your core.

with every frantic movement, every desperate thrust, he’s thoroughly reminding you that this is his world, and you’re just lucky to be living in it. 

the tension that had been building inside you starts winding tighter again, and you feel like you’re seconds away from cumming. every nerve is on fire, and his name escapes your lips like a prayer, like you’re as completely lost in him as he is in you.

“that’s it, just like that,” he whispers, his tone full of encouragement, his breath warm against your ear. “i want you to feel everything, sweetheart.”

and with the way he’s moving, with the heat and the energy building between you, you don’t doubt for a second that he’s going to make good on that promise.

you're clinging to him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, arms tangled around his neck like you’re in some intense love-drunk wrestling hold, and you’re this close, teetering on the edge. 

you have no idea what to do with all that emotion bubbling up inside — are you supposed to say something? shout something? last time, when he went down on you, you practically screeched, and that memory alone is enough to make you blush in embarrassment. 

but, you’re different now, classier, you tell yourself. 

totally changed. 

so instead, you lean up, press your lips to his ear, and let out a quiet, garbled, “i love you.”

toji goes still for a fraction of a second — barely a heartbeat — but it’s long enough for you to feel it: he wasn’t ready for that. it’s a sneak attack, and you see his face shift, his eyes going wide for just a moment before the heat in them intensifies, pure, raw emotion flooding in. you feel his whole body respond to those three words, and just as you think yes, i’ve got him, you realize he’s already cumming. 

finished, before he even had a chance to let out a coherent response. he’s so stunned that he just mutters, “fuck,” breathless and hoarse, the word barely forming on his lips.

you can’t help but laugh, voice filled with a mix of triumph and disbelief. “wow, that got you, huh?” you tease, brushing a hand through his hair, feeling all the tension melt from his body as he tries to catch his breath. “and here you thought you had it all planned out.”

he huffs, pulling you even closer, his forehead resting against yours, that familiar smirk creeping back into place despite the flush on his cheeks. 

“never underestimate the power of a writer,” he murmurs, voice deep and warm. “especially when her words pack one hell of a punch.”

and you grin, sinking into the feeling of having completely swept him off his feet, knowing full well he wouldn’t want it any other way.

toji’s lying there in post-bliss, still catching his breath, when it hits him harder than any of gojo’s early-morning, glass-shattering shrieks: he just took his wife’s v-card. 

he’s your first. 

and then it all unravels, one chaotic revelation after another — he just came inside you. 

came inside you. 

and wait, oh hell, were you even on any contraception?

his eyes widen in a near-panic, and he can feel his pulse skyrocketing again, but this time it’s not from excitement. 

he remembers how much you love kids — yeah, kids. specifically, one kid. megumi. did you two even talk about adding more to that tally?

“uh, babe…” he starts, pulling away as gently as possible. he ignores the mess and all sense of grace as he practically scrambles to his feet, hurriedly grabbing the first thing he can to clean you up, which turns out to be some spare tissues by the bed.

you blink up at him, a bit dazed but smiling, that look of total contentment on your face. but it just makes him panic more.

“are… are you okay?” he asks, voice a bit too frantic. he’s cleaning you up with a gentleness that feels oddly out of character, his hands trembling just slightly as he checks you over, his fingers brushing your cheek, your arm, like he’s making sure you’re really, truly okay. “do you feel… i dunno, uh… like, rested? like, you’re good, right? not too sore?”

you let out a soft laugh, reaching up to cup his cheek. “i’m fine, toji. actually, i’m more than fine,” you say, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone, and his heart does that stupid skip thing again. he can’t let himself get sidetracked, though.

“oh, that’s good — really good.” he nods, grabbing the water bottle that’s somehow on his nightstand, a red iron man one. “here, drink this.” he uncaps it, nudging it toward your lips. “hydrate and all.”

you stare at the bottle for a second, blinking. 

“is that… ‘gumi’s iron man bottle?”

“i don’t know, and i don’t care right now. just drink,” he says, pushing it toward you with a kind of determination, and you obediently take a few sips, though you’re clearly trying not to laugh.

after a few swallows, you pull back, wiping your lips. “toji, relax. you’re the one who told me to trust you, right?”

he’s rubbing the back of his neck now, a bit embarrassed but mostly still caught up in his thoughts. “yeah, well, i didn’t think that…” he trails off, looking at the mess on the sheets with an almost horrified expression. 

“i just… we didn’t talk about… kids.”

you tilt your head, giving him a soft look. “toji, do you want kids?”

he runs a hand through his hair, that panic settling into something softer. “i mean, i’m good with megs, y’know? he’s… he’s all i need, but… it’s not like i’d be against it.” he shifts, the vulnerability clear in his eyes. “just… wanted to make sure that’s what you wanted, too.”

you reach for his hand, pulling him back down beside you, a reassuring smile on your face. “we can figure that out together. maybe we don’t know everything yet, but that’s okay. we’ve got time, don’t we?”

he lets out a sigh, relief flooding through him as he squeezes your hand. “yeah, yeah we do. i guess i just… never thought i’d get to do this. to be… a real family, with you.”

“toji,” you murmur, leaning in close, pressing your forehead to his. “you already gave me everything i could ever want. whether it’s just you and me, or us and megumi… or more.”

he lets out a chuckle, feeling lighter as he finally lets himself relax. “alright, alright. just don’t scare me like that, okay?” he mumbles, reaching for the blanket to cover you both up again. 

and as he lies back down beside you, he can’t help the soft smile that spreads across his face.

two years had flown by since that whirlwind of a wedding, and life with toji and megumi had settled into a heartwarming, beautifully chaotic rhythm. 

megumi, now ten , was in a phase where he’d scoff and roll his eyes at anything even remotely ‘ kiddish ,’ claiming he was far too mature for that stuff now.

but you’d caught glimpses of that little boy spark in him — a reminder that he hadn’t fully shed his innocence yet. 

like the time you’d spent an entire evening painstakingly building a lego dragon together, a complicated model that had you and toji squinting at the manual with a kind of warrior resolve.

where toji groaned, half-buried in tiny plastic pieces. “this better be the last one, kiddo, or your mama and i are gonna turn into dragons ourselves,” he muttered, piecing together the dragon’s intricate scales.

megumi tried to act indifferent, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “well, i don’t need it. dragons are kinda… whatever .”

but the moment the final piece snapped into place, his face lit up with such unguarded delight, and he stared at the completed dragon, almost in awe. 

“actually… it’s kinda cool,” he mumbled, tracing the wings with his finger.

and then there was the iron man phase. 

just last week, you had surprised him with a new iron man action figure — the latest model that even he, the ‘ oh-so-mature ’ ten-year-old, had been subtly eyeing. he’d accepted it with a feigned shrug, muttering something about it being ‘ okay ,’ but later you found him arranging his collection on his shelf with utmost care, placing iron man front and center.

today was a new milestone, though. suguru, ever the romantic, had finally invited his elusive business partner and the woman he was head over heels for: the famed mrs. ryomen , founder of persephone wines, accompanied by none other than her husband, ryomen sukuna . their wine brands were renowned globally, their rivalry and partnership like something out of a novel, and, unsurprisingly, satoru never shut up about how good the wines were.

the moment you laid eyes on her, you understood why suguru was so smitten. she was a vision of grace — calm, poised, with an elegance that felt both timeless and grounded. her wisdom was palpable, like she’d seen the world and learned from it, carrying that understanding effortlessly. 

and beside her was sukuna, a towering figure, his presence demanding attention without a single word. he wore his reputation as the industry’s most formidable businessman like a second skin, but there was a softness in his eyes whenever he glanced at his wife.

and trailing beside them, in her adorable little dress and with a wide, mischievous smile, was their five-year-old daughter, aiko. she looked exactly like her mother but had that unmistakable devious glint in her eyes — the unmistakable ryomen charm that came with a penchant for trouble.

aiko spotted megumi almost immediately, her eyes lighting up as she sized him up with that daring grin. without a second’s hesitation, she skipped over, standing tall in front of him as if ready for a duel. 

“you’re megumi, right?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

megumi nodded, looking slightly intimidated but also oddly impressed. “uh… yeah? ”

“my daddy says you’re gonna be tall like him someday,” she announced with a challenging gleam. “but i think i’ll still be cooler.”

toji, watching the exchange, chuckled, leaning down to you. “she’s got the ryomen spirit, alright. poor suguru, he’s in for a lifetime of keeping up.”

suguru, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave an almost weary smile. “don’t remind me. she’s just like her dad, which is… terrifying.”

over the course of the evening, satoru found every possible opportunity to rave about the wine, which led to a slightly tipsy serenade of praise to both persephone and ryomen wines. 

suguru shook his head, but you caught the faintest hint of pride in his eyes as satoru loudly professed, “the best wine on earth, right here! what did i do in my past life to deserve this ?”

“satoru, we get it,” shoko laughed, patting his shoulder. “but maybe save some of your poetic speeches for the actual wine reps?”

sukuna, stoic as ever, cracked the smallest smirk. “better listen to her, gojo, or next time you’re paying double for every bottle.”

at this, megumi tugged at your hand, pulling you down so he could whisper in your ear, “do you think they’re like… superheroes? like, fancy business ones? ”

you grinned, whispering back, “maybe, but the kind that save people’s sanity after long days with a good glass of wine.”

as the night wore on, aiko became bolder, challenging megumi to little games and teasing him whenever he pretended to be unimpressed. 

by the end, they were both racing around, megumi begrudgingly admitting that maybe having a ‘ little kid ’ around wasn’t the worst thing ever.

and you, watching your little found family and newfound friends all mingling, felt a sense of peace settle over you. life had changed so much, yet, with every piece that had fallen into place, it felt more complete than ever.

toji slid his hand into yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “so,” he murmured, nodding towards the crowd of laughing, chatting, slightly inebriated friends, “how’s forever treating you?”

you squeezed his hand back, leaning into his warmth. “with you? it’s perfect .”

— [epilogue] 

megumi adjusted the microphone, clearing his throat as he began his podcast. the familiar red recording light blinked on, and for a moment, he hesitated. 

but then, that cool, low voice of his rolled out — completely unaware of just how many listeners were tuned in because of that very voice.

“hey, everyone,” he started, with a slight, almost embarrassed laugh. “it’s megumi. welcome back to another episode. thanks for sticking around, i guess.” 

he took a deep breath, leaning into his usual deadpan humor. “today’s a little… special.”

eight years had passed, and megumi was now eighteen, on the verge of starting college. you never could have imagined that the quiet, reserved little boy who once scowled at anything that wasn’t cool enough would be sitting here, in gojo-sonic’s recording studio, with a podcast following that had skyrocketed in the last few months - his own little corner of the internet was a hit.

it was always a little surreal, hearing him speak like that — like an old pro — though megumi had no idea just how attractive his voice was. 

you’d caught snippets of his episodes in passing, and honestly, you were floored. it had that raw, emo, mysterious vibe that made his fans swoon. 

but megumi didn’t care much for that. he just liked talking. 

talking about whatever came to mind, whether it was the state of the world or random deep thoughts about dragons (which his viewers loved).

he paused for a second, then smirked. “so, apparently, it’s the anniversary of the sequel to my mama’s infamous ‘mating with the dragon king’ series, which is, uh…” he chuckled under his breath. “a title i try not to think too hard about, for my own sanity.”

he glanced at his notes, mentally preparing himself for the rest. “but it’s also my parents’ anniversary. they’ve been together a long time now, and honestly, i think they’ve aged pretty well… if not gotten weirder, too.”

"okay, so first things first," megumi continued, tapping his fingers against the mic like he was thinking. 

"i’ve been asked a lot recently — yeah, like a lot — about my parents. so, i thought today, i’d… well, talk about them. for those who don’t know, my mom and dad are basically the best couple on the planet." 

he paused for a moment, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. "and no, i’m not just saying that because they pay my college tuition," he added, voice dry, before laughing lightly. the subtle humor, that ever-present dry wit of his, had not been lost over the years.

“i’m serious, though,” megumi continued, his tone shifting slightly. “they’ve been married almost ten years now. ten years. that’s a long time, right? you know, the stuff i’ve seen them go through — good and bad — has honestly been like watching a rom-com… without the cheesy music. it’s real.”

he leaned back, grinning at the memory of his dad attempting to act cool when his mom gave him the anniversary gift she’d obviously poured her heart into, and how his dad pretended to brush it off while trying not to tear up. 

“i swear, my dad still thinks he’s the heartthrob he was in his youth… not that he’ll admit he ever thought that.”

a comment from the live chat caught his eye, and he read it aloud with a half-smile, “how are the lovebirds doing these days?”

“they’re… good,” he answered, a little softer, before laughing. “honestly, they’re like teenagers sometimes. last week, i caught them dancing to “dancing queen” in the kitchen at, like, two in the morning. my mama insisted they were ‘practicing their moves.’”

another comment rolled in: “is it true they started dating because of ‘mating with the dragon king’?”

megumi groaned, rubbing his forehead. 

“okay, so — yes, my mama’s… work may or may not have been involved in them getting together. which, by the way, is mortifying, but what can you do?”

he continued, “so yeah, every year, around this time, they go through the book again. they claim it’s just to, i don’t know, ‘relive the magic,’ or whatever. but personally, i think it’s just their excuse to laugh over the old cheesy lines and then get all sappy.” his voice softened, and you could hear the fondness there. “it’s… it’s cute, actually.”

as he sifted through more questions, a few regulars in the chat started asking about his dad’s influence on the podcast. 

“so… ‘like father, like son,’ huh?” he repeated aloud. “you all know my dad, toji fushiguro. he’s been a big reason i’m doing this at all. every week he tunes in and listens, usually making some snide comment about my ‘emo’ voice.” he chuckled. 

“but, like, he’s my biggest fan. it’s… weird. and kinda awesome.”

megumi leaned closer to the mic, as if sharing a secret. “sometimes he even gives me topic ideas, and he likes to pretend he’s all smooth about it. last week he was like, ‘hey, you ever think about doing an episode on… i don’t know, how to handle annoying old guys? just… putting it out there.’” 

megumi rolled his eyes. “yeah, thanks, dad.”

one listener asked, “so, are your parents tuning in today?”

megumi laughed. “oh, you better believe it. mama’s probably listening right now, making little notes about everything she’s going to tease me for later. and dad? he’s probably lounging around, acting all nonchalant, but hanging onto every word. he never says it, but… he’s proud. he just shows it in weird, dad ways.”

you, sitting in the living room across the house, smiled to yourself. you and toji hadn’t missed an episode of his podcast, even if megumi was often too cool to tell you exactly what he was talking about on-air. 

this was your son, the one who swore he'd never be like you two, now waxing poetic about your love life. you had to admit, it felt like a win.

you couldn't help but chuckle as you leaned over to toji, who was sprawled on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone. “he doesn’t even realize how much he sounds like you.”

toji grinned, looking up from his phone. “i know. ’m proud, honestly. the kid’s got my voice, and he’s got a knack for talking like a damn pro.”

then, someone commented, “do they still do their anniversary dinner tradition?”

“yeah, every year without fail,” he said with a warm smile. “they go to this little bar where they first met. same table, same drinks….it’s a whole thing. and they always make sure to bring something dragon-themed as, like, an inside joke.”

“is it true you used to help pick out those dragon anniversary gifts?”

“uh, yeah, when i was a kid, i’d help out. it started with this silly little dragon keychain i got from a claw machine. my mama loved it, and dad pretended it was the best thing ever. and now… it’s just something they do. last year, we found this ridiculously tacky dragon-shaped candle holder. they loved it, of course.”

he paused, watching the flood of hearts and happy emojis on the screen. “honestly, seeing them still be so… them, even after all these years — it’s kinda awesome.”

as the comments continued to pour in, he couldn’t help but smile. “you know, when i was younger, i thought all of it was a little much. but now, i think… it’s cool. like, really cool, to have two people who just… get each other, and who make life fun. like, i might roll my eyes, but i wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

“anyway, that’s enough of the mushy stuff,” megumi added with a huff, trying to shake off the softness that had crept into his voice. “the point is, they’ve been together for a decade, and they still act like they’re in their honeymoon phase. but they’re both ridiculous, so whatever works, right?”

one final comment caught his eye: “do you ever think about finding a love like theirs?”

megumi laughed, leaning back in his chair. “i don't really know if I’ll ever be that kind of couple — that couple who looks at each other like it's just… meant to be. but honestly? i kinda hope i do. 'cause if that’s what they’ve got, i want it too. who knows?”

there was a beat of silence before megumi sighed, clearly awkward with what he’d just said. 

"alright, that’s enough of the sappy stuff. let’s move on to today's topic of… superhero movies."

the episode cut into a new segment, but not before you could hear megumi’s voice soften again.

“but if i do… you guys will be the first to hear about it. after all, i learned from the best.”

you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling an overwhelming swell of love for your son. despite all his protests, the way he spoke about you and toji just now? it was more than a little heartwarming.

“ten years, huh?” toji said softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth. “you think we’ve gotten better with age, or are we just getting more ridiculous?”

you leaned your head on his shoulder, chuckling softly. “i’d say both. we’re definitely more ridiculous. but i’m pretty sure we’re still just as in love as we were on day one.”

toji smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

back in the recording room, megumi wrapped up the episode with his usual quiet flair, and just as he was about to sign off, he added, 

"to all the people listening out there — especially the ones who think i'm some kind of “emo, angsty mess” — you’re not wrong. but hey, thanks for sticking around. and shoutout to mama and dad… for being the real heroes of this fushiguro life.”

you heard the final click of the microphone turning off, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell once again, knowing that your little family, in all its weird, loving chaos, was exactly where it needed to be.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[magpod-confessions]

I don’t think enough non-asexuals appreciate how wonderful Jon being asexual is. I feel that lots of people just see it as ‘oh he’s asexual diversity win I guess’ BUT YALL DONT UNDERSTAND.

I am a sex-repulsed asexual. I haven’t dated many people, but out of those I have, only one hasn’t broken up with me due to my sexuality. It’s soul crushing, thinking that maybe I’m unloveable and undesirable, because sure people will flirt with me, I’ll go on dates, and everything’s fine. Then I mention I’m not going to fuck them. Ever. Period. And sometimes that’s the last time I talk to them.

When Jon was confirmed asexual, it didn’t really register. I just went ‘oh okay’ and carried on with my life. Because cool, a bit of diversity, I don’t really care.

BUT OH GOD THAT CHANGED WHEN HE GOT TOGETHER WITH MARTIN.

because when I saw not just an asexual, but an implied sex-adverse or -repulsed asexual like myself, in a happy, (as best you can with the setting) healthy, committed relationship to someone who doesn’t mind, heck, even loves him for that, I cried.

We don’t really get to see many, if not any, asexual characters in media, let alone ones in relationships. But Martin loves Jon, just the way he is. And that gives me hope. Fuck, that gives me so much hope. Because if Jon can be loved, then maybe someday so can I.

I think some people take representation for granted. It’s just a cool bonus feature to a character that you can relate to. But dude, let me tell you, representation helps. It gives so much hope and heart to people who see themselves as broken or unloveable.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk lmao, sorry for the long post, this just means a lot to me :)

.

[blackknight-kai]

Wukong and Cat

I just think it would be funny to see Wukong dealing with a house pet. Specially a cat. (Maybe a dog but that’s not the point today) - In this Wukong can travel to the modern day to stay with you (before you fully commit to staying in the past with him Edit: yes taking the cat with you).

See, cats are…cats. Yes they can be skittish or friendly, mean or weird as hell. They come in all shapes and sizes both in body and personality. They consistently push boundaries - keeping them off counters am I right? And sometimes as the slightest change they do awful shit to tell you it displeased them - pissing outside the litter box because you moved it a few feet from where it normally is or got rid of their favorite chair.

Cats are entitled and they run the house. You ever been hounded by a cat that woke up from its nap and thinks it’s dinner time but they don’t eat for another 3 hours? Yeah it’s annoying. (We love them)

They are our mini gods basically.

Wukong would NOT do well with one at first.

It doesn’t listen to him, it gives him dirty looks 24/7, he doesn’t know what the hell it’s up to or thinking but he knows it’s plotting harm to him, he knows it’s mocking him as it watches him form its perch across the room. The damn thing even had you on a feeding schedule!!! It OWNS you!

But it will not own him. No. He is a free monkey. A KING! The Great Sage Equal to Heaven and Earth! No house pet will have dominion over him.

You even buy it toys it seems to play with 1 time before and never again. You spoil the ungrateful shit. It also sleeps with you, but not since he came along much to his pleasure. Yes furry asshole, that’s HIS spot now.

He finds it ridiculous that you even scoop up its fucking shit that it leaves for you. At the very least it covers it up but why are you its designated poop scraper? He doesn’t understand why it doesn’t shit and piss outside like every other animal. He may be a king but he’s never had anyone shovel his shit!

So when you ask him to help with the house chores one day, specifically handling the litter box and trash, he is taken aback. Him? Use the tiny shovel to scrape out its excrement? Oh absolute not. Hell no. Not on your life.

He is a KING. He does NOT shovel SHIT. No. He doesn’t budge until you glare at him. He can tell you’re getting annoyed and he doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him.

Wukong, thinking he’s being a genius summons a clone and decides the clone can handle the shitty sand. But then the clone also refuses. Starts arguing with him! The audacity! This goes on for several minutes, neither clone or original giving in until you come into the room having heard the heated conversation.

You tell him with a tone of finality to stop being a monkey cub and grow up, that if he doesn’t sift the litter by the time you come back he’s sleeping on the couch - one night for every turd and pee clump you find in that box. You stomp off to finish the laundry and Wukong & Clone look at the doorway with slight surprise. Clone snickers and gives Wukong a smirk, saying “Looks like our Queen has spoken, the King is on turd duty.” Before offing himself and disappearing with a cackle as Wukong curses his own cheekiness.

After several minutes of staring at the box with disgust he hears you walking through the house and his heart races. Quickly he grabs the weird little shovel and starts sifting, as you step into the room he smiles at you as if to say “See I’m a good boy” and you give him a look before going back to your own chores.

Wukong doesn’t DARE push you enough to ruin his nightly cuddles with you. No. Nothing is worth losing that. So he scoops the damn cats box and as he does so he hears tiny footsteps. Looking over he sees your cat watching him, as though supervising him. It pisses him off to no end that the house pet is looking at him so smugly. “Who’s the king now.”

Grumbling under his breath Wukong finishes his task and finally stands up straight. As he does so he looks at the furry animal. “Is it clean enough your highness?” He asks sarcastically but then his eyes widen as the cat steps towards the box.

To his utter annoyance and anger it takes a shit! RIGHT AFTER HED JUST CLEANED IT OUT? HOW DARE!!!!

He throws a tantrum he will deny to this day about it to you and you laugh saying that yeah, that happens almost every time. It infuriates him to no end. But he loves you and you love the cat. So he can’t do anything that would bring the little asshole harm or he’d risk losing you which is NOT an option.

He hates the damn thing so much.

But one day, while he’s napping on your couch, he wakes to a weird rumbling on his chest. Groggily he opens his eyes and lifts his head a little and is met with the sight of your cat curled up on his chest, eyes half lidded and watching him, its purring. He lays his head back down and tries to be annoyed by it. But the damn purr is soothing….it’s genuinely kinda nice. And his chest is warm. If he ends up stroking your cats fur making it purr louder until the two of them fall back asleep? That’s between him and cat.

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 11

Hey guys! We're back!! It is feeling like this story is almost done, but every time I finish a chapter I go "This has two more chapters in it, I'm almost done!" and I've done that for the last three chapters. So I have given up trying to figure out when it's going to end. Hopefully the answer is sometime before the next Olympics.

In this we have a silly Eddie, Steve and Max are sneaky, and Max and Eddie have their first competition.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Steve continued to have good days and bad days, but always Eddie and Robin were there to help him work through the bad. And then he would spill it all out to Dr. Hughes.

Today he had been able to wade out to Max in the main pool to correct her foot work. The water had come up to his chest, just like it did in the kiddie pool.

“All right,” Steve said gently. “I’m going to touch your leg. If you feel uncomfortable in anyway, I’ll have Robin do it instead, okay?”

Max thought about it for a moment. “But just my leg right?”

“Just your ankle even,” he assured her. “Ready?”

Max waded over to the side of the pool and started kicking her feet to level out her body. Steve gently grabbed her ankle and repositioned her foot so it was more like an extension of her leg.

“Whoa!”

“That’s right,” he said, “now keep it like that.”

Robin and Eddie who had been working in the endless pool came back to the main pool just as Steve was pulling his shirt back on.

Eddie eyed the wet swim trunks and the happily kicking Max and a sly smile spread over his face. “Stevie... you wouldn’t have happened to have gotten into the pool with Max would you have?”

Steve batted his eyelashes innocently. “Who me?” He turned to Max. “Did you see me get into the pool?”

“Nope!”

Eddie knelt on the side of the pool and said, “I’ll buy you ice cream for the next month if you tell me if he got in the pool.”

Robin sneaked up behind him and with Max’s help pulled him into the water as gently as they could, as to not trigger Steve.

It must have worked because when they all came up for air, Steve was doubled over with laughter.

“Absolute menaces the lot of you,” he said once he caught his breath. “I got the competition schedule for next week. Max is in beginner and Eddie in intermediate. I tried to argue for higher, but they because you’ve been out for so long, they want you in there first to see if you have room to grow.”

Eddie wiped the water off of his face. “That’s fair. I don’t think I’m ready for higher yet anyway.”

Steve gave him a fond look. “And then that’s what we’ll do. If you don’t feel comfortable competing at above intermediate yet, then I won’t force you. I just worry they’ll accuse of you of deliberately choosing lower to spank fifteen and sixteen year olds.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment.

“Oh.”

He went to go shove his hair in front of his face, but it was all tucked away in his cap, so he started to sink into the water.

Steve, Robin, and Max all watched as he held his breath under water.

“So how long do you think he can hold his breath?” Max asked after about a minute. “Because I think cell death happens after three minutes.”

“Eh...” Robin said waving her hand back and forth, “about four to five, actually.”

Just then Eddie burst through the water, gasping for air. He wiped the water away and looked around. “So is anyone going to be nice and completely forget that happened?”

All three of them shared glances with each other and then said together, “No.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands. He slunk off to his lane with a sigh. “Woe! Woe is me! For I have been forsaken by my own team. Woe!”

Steve and Max shared a glance.

“Is he always this dramatic?” Max asked, eyeing Eddie splashing about and moaning about his fate or some shit.

Robin scoffed as she pulled herself out of the pool and rotated to sit on its edge. “This is tame for him, if I’m being honest.”

Eddie stopped his sputtering and turned to her quickly. “I? I am dramatic?” Then he made a sweeping bow, nearly face planting into the water. “Why thank you!”

Everyone giggled but Max and Eddie got back into their lanes and started practicing again. Robin got up and went to go stand by Steve.

“I’m glad you were able to help Max on your own,” she murmured. “But just remember, if you can’t, call and I’ll coming running, okay?”

“Okay.”

~

It was their first swim meet and Robin wasn’t sure who was more nervous, Max and Eddie or Steve.

She was sure that that pen lid would be a mangled, tangled up mess by the time this was over with.

She looked around the room, spotting a few friends, the Hell Squad from their own facility, and one very unfriendly face indeed.

Billy Hargrove.

Billy Hargrove was a swimmer from California and he thought living on the coast instantly made you a better swimmer. He even had that bit of surfer boy charm. You’d expect this blond haired, blued eyed, tan Adonis to start singing Beach Boys or some shit, but no.

Billy Hargrove was an ass. And he hated all the comparisons between him and Steve at the last Olympics. Dude went on to barely win bronze in two of five events and not medal in any of the others.

Today he was wearing a red and gold coach’s jacket with HARGROVE emblazoned on the back with two blonds standing next him as he talked them in low voices. One was a girl with strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and bright smile. The other was a guy that looked about the same age as the girl. He looked like he had walked out the pages of Good Christians R Us. Hair neatly cut, blue eyes, chiseled jaw and washboard abs.

Robin hated them both on sight.

She was about to steer Steve away from all that when Billy looked up immediately clocked Steve, who promptly stiffened.

Max and Eddie who were talking to him noticed the sudden change in Steve’s demeanor. And unlike the locker room with Andy, Eddie could tell that this was a different breed of shark coming their way.

“Stevie...” Billy greeted. “When I saw the name Harrington I was wondering if that was you and then here you are. Such a pleasant surprise.”

Robin and Steve shared a bitchy glance. “Pleasant isn’t the word I would use,” Steve scoffed.

“You actually getting in the water, Harrington, or are you going to bitch out again?” Billy went on as if Steve hadn’t said a word.

Steve seethed. Billy had been present the first time he tried to get into the pool after his accident and started screaming.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Eddie said with a grin, “Stevie here doesn’t need to get in the water to beat you. He has me.”

Billy looked him up and down and he looked impressed for all of two seconds before he scoffed. “I didn’t think they allowed boys with such pretty curls,” he said tugging on one of the strands. Eddie swatted his hand away. “Maybe you should be on the girls’ team.”

“Last time I checked,” Eddie huffed, “I have the balls for the men’s team. Can’t say the same for the asshole who came up and harassed a guy that had his Olympic dreams washed away because of faulty equipment that left him traumatized and hurt for life, but still loves to swim so much that he would rather coach then to walk away forever.”

Billy’s face twisted in rage and he opened his mouth to reply when the whistle sounded. He jabbed a finger in Eddie’s face. “We’re not done.”

He walked off and suddenly all the tension built up in Steve escaped like a deflated balloon.

“That guy is a dick,” Max hissed. “My mom used to date a guy just like him out in Cali. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were related.”

That made Steve laugh. “I’ll beat him where I’ve always beaten him, in the water. Now come on, it’s time for you two to hit the showers. The beginners are about to start. You’re in the third heat, Max, first podium.”

She nodded and her and Eddie took off their team shirts and hit the showers. Steve looked over at Billy and smirked. Billy was watching every inch of Eddie’s body as he padded over to the showers that were next to the pool.

Robin handed him his bobby pins and he deftly put his hair under the cap, making it as sleek as any of the other male contestants.

The first set of eight girls lined up and then they were off with the shot of the starting gun. Steve watched, looking out for the girls that would be Max’s competition. So far none of the girls showed real promise and that included the girl who won.

The next heat was the same. None of the other girls had the same spark Max did. He looked up to the stands where the families were supposed to there to cheer them on. Robin’s parents were there. Eddie’s uncle, too. Of course Steve’s parents wouldn’t be there. He hadn’t talked them in so long.

He didn’t see the woman that would come to pick up Max and it made Steve squirm a bit. Then just before Max’s heat, he saw her come rushing in. Her hair was wild as if she had been running and she looked out of breath. She leaned over to whisper something to Wayne. Wayne shook his head and pointed to where Max was getting ready to get up on her podium.

Steve went over to her and pointed up at the stands.

Max’s eyes lit up and she waved at her mom. Her mom waved back. Max got up on her podium and put her goggles in place over her eyes. Steve stepped back and gave the judge with the gun a nod, showing that he had moved back far enough. Then the gun went off.

Max easily kept pace with the other girls and managed to squeak out winning by an arms length, touching her pad first.

She pulled off her goggles and looked at her time. She had clearly won. She started jumping and shrieking in the water. She pulled herself out and ran up to give Steve the biggest hug.

“I told you, you could do it,” Steve murmured into her cap.

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed. “Nerd.”

They went through the next few heats and Max came in third overall in the girls division. Which considering it was her first meet, was very impressive.

Then it was time for the intermediate and as they watched the girls, Eddie began bouncing up and down to warm up his muscles.

“You ready to blow these people out of the water?” Steve asked with a grin. “I gave the organizers one last chance to put you in masters, but they wouldn’t do it.”

Eddie chuckled. “I don’t have the confidence you do in me, but hell yeah, I’m ready.”

Steve slapped him on the shoulder and watched as Eddie got up to the podium. He pulled the goggles over his eyes and turned away from the water.

This is what he loved most of all about the backstroke. Not facing the water or seeing his competitors out of the corners of his eyes. It was just him and waiting for the sound of the gun.

BANG!

And then he was arching backwards into the water, as smooth as silk. His arms and body worked with the water, slicing through like a hot knife through butter. He could hear the splashing of the other competitors but they all seemed so distant to himself. Not that they were that far away. Only that he felt on whole other realm then they were.

He touched the pad and peeled off his googles to look up at the clock.

He was in first place.

He was in first place.

He was in first place.

He looked up at the stands to see Mrs. Mayfield and Uncle Wayne on their feet and cheering for him. He raised his fist and they waved back excitedly.

It came as no surprise that he won best overall.

He was standing next to Steve celebrating with his team, when the judges came up to them.

“We would like to talk to you about moving up to the masters,” the first judge said with a grimace.

Eddie and Steve shared a knowing grin.

“I think that could be arranged,” Steve said, smug. The ‘I told you so’ lingering in the humid air of the pool.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[dadbodbuck]

WE'RE BREAKING UP

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME.

WHY WOULD YOU TYPE THIS WORDS WITH YOUR FINGERS AND THEN PRESS POST.

GET AWAY FROM ME

hi jack unfortunately we got married when you weren't looking so you have to pay for an attorney :/

anyway

Buck texts him I need to talk to you and Christopher knows it’s going to be a bad day. He was actually thinking about coming home over Thanksgiving break—it’s not as clean as going back over Christmas, but he misses Denny (who’s been telling him a lot about his cool new sister during their nightly meme exchange), and he misses his school friends (even if they’re exhausting to be around sometimes), and worst of all he misses his family. He misses his dad, he misses Buck. He even misses Tommy—despite only having met him a few times, he knows he’s been good for Buck and for his dad. 

He liked seeing his dad smiling so much when he first started hanging out with Tommy, before her. He liked the way Tommy talked to him like an adult with his own thoughts and opinions. He liked the way Tommy talked about Buck, even though it was kind of gross seeing a grown man swoon that much.

But then. I need to talk to you. And it all comes crumbling down around him. Buck even has the nerve to follow it up with Can I call you? like some sort of therapist or school administrator. Chris opts for a video call, because he’s not eighty years old, and when Buck picks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, and he’s nestled in his bed like a stereotypical teenager girl after she gets dumped.

Oh. Oh no. “What,” Chris says, and he kind of regrets the video call now, because Buck flinches back like he’s been physically hit.

“Uh, hey!” Buck says, trying to recover and failing miserably. The smile he plasters on his face looks so forced it’s painful, “How’s Texas in November treating you?”

Chris looks at Buck and decides to play nice. Just a little. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you sounded like you had something important to talk about.”

“You’re right,” Buck sighs, “I’m procrastinating. I just wanted to let you know that Tommy and I have decided not to see each other anymore.”

And, yeah, Chris is pretty sure he knew this was coming, but it still makes him want to cry, or bite something, or throw his phone into the lake. “What happened?”

“Well—uh—Chris, I don’t—the details really aren’t important,” Buck says, with a wince, “What is important is that I love you, and your dad loves you, and just because Tommy won’t be around doesn’t mean you won’t have our support. I’m really sorry, bud. I know you liked him.”

It blindsides Chris, and he doesn’t know why. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He never should have sat down to watch The Batman with his dad and Tommy and stolen Tommy’s popcorn and talked shit on Buck’s taste in Star Wars Prequels. 

“What did you do?” Chris asks, feeling a startling rage building in his throat. It’s familiar, now. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows this is Buck’s fault. Buck looks like a dog that pissed on the carpet and is waiting for you to step on the wet spot.

Buck clears his throat, and visibly weighs truth and comfort in his mind. “I asked him to move in with me. It was—it was too fast—”

“You asked him to move in with you?” Chris balks, “He has a house!”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Buck hisses, “Listen, I know I fu—messed up. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Chris. But it—it was the best decision for both of us.”

“You’re lying,” Chris seethes, because he knows so, so intimately the look of an adult lying to protect his innocence. “He made you happy. He made dad happy.”

Buck looks away, chin trembling, and Chris feels bad for all of three seconds before the rage consumes every other feeling in his chest. “Call me back when you find someone who wants to stay. Otherwise, keep your love life away from me. And maybe you stay away from me too.”

Chris ends the call, and two seconds later Buck is ringing him again. Chris doesn’t pick up, just sets his phone on his desk and buries his face in his arms. He doesn’t want to cry. He did too much of that after he got to El Paso the first time. But he’s going to miss Tommy. He’s going to miss seeing his dad smile like that. He’s going to miss the dopey lovesick way Buck moved through the world.

When Chris finally composes himself, he sees two more missed video calls from Buck, and a string of texts:

Love you, buddy. Sorry you’re upset. Call later to talk? Or call your therapist?

I really am sorry. I thought Tommy was going to stay too.

Text me pls? So I know you’re ok

Chris texts back: im fine. we’ll be fine. i need some time and gets a response almost immediately.

OK. Take the time you need. Your dad says if you decide to come back and you’re still mad you won’t have to see me if you don’t want to

Chris, always being left behind, feels a sick surge of satisfaction at the prospect. He could be the one who leaves. He can cut his losses before they’re fatal, he can amputate the limb before it goes septic. He texts Buck a single k back and does not examine the way something in the back of his head tells him, quite viciously, that this isn’t the first time that Buck’s been left this week.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Four sighed, taking a sip of his beer as he looked at the embers glowing and crackling in Time’s fire pit. “I hate seeing people in pain and not being able to do anything about it.”

Sky glanced at his friend, wondering where that statement came from. Nobody said anything for a moment, and then Legend piped up.

“Yet you chose to work in a surgical-trauma ICU where everyone is in pain all the time,” he quipped with a little playful smirk to take the edge of the sarcasm.

Warriors snickered, leaning back in his chair, beer bottle held lazily between his fingers. Sky almost laughed at the sight of it, recalling that he and Hyrule had been refilling the bottle with water after their friend’s first drink. The army nurse hadn’t commented on the matter.

“Oh shut up,” Four laughed as well. “I know I set myself up for this. But I… I wanted to help. And I wanted to do nursing that made me feel like I was thinking through puzzles and able to focus on as few patients as possible so I could really get into taking care of things. And I like the thrill of it. But…”

He trailed off a moment, looking around at the group relaxing by the fire pit. Twilight paused briefly in the act of throwing another log on the fire, glancing at Four, before finishing the action, sending sparks showering into the air briefly. Time and Malon watched Four quietly, bundled together under a plaid blanket, Malon’s head on Time’s shoulder. Warriors perked up from his slumped position, head tilting towards the ICU nurse while Legend’s playful smile faded. Wild and Wind paused from eating their s’mores to give Four their attention while Hyrule sat up from where he’d been laying in a burrito of blankets on the grass.

Sky watched Four try to ask what he wanted, and as much as he wanted to prompt his friend he knew to wait.

“Does it ever get better?” Four finally asked. “The compassion fatigue. I’ve only been in nursing a short while and I can already feel it. Am… am I done?”

Sky bit his tongue, remembering when he’d asked Legend a similar question. But Sky had been through a war and had been flying sick, injured, and dying patients for years now. Four was still a fairly new nurse, wasn’t he?

He supposed it didn’t matter. Everyone’s exposure and experience was different. Four very clearly was uneasy about this.

Warriors spoke up first, sitting up. “It comes and goes, buddy.”

“Sometimes you just have to stop and remember they’re people,” Legend added. “We… you know, when everyone’s worst day is your workday you have to shut it off. It’s not…”

“We have to protect ourselves,” Sky picked up for his dear friend. “We suffer when they suffer. But if you let it get to you then you can’t focus on helping them. You’re not a bad person for doing that. For…”

Well. Were they bad people for feeling nothing when their patients were in pain?

Honestly, Sky knew there wasn’t a single person in this group who felt absolutely nothing. They just redirected what they felt into something else. Dark jokes to make a bad situation funny, frustration to turn strong emotions into rambling with coworkers… they all felt it somehow.

But it did make it hard to remember who they were taking care of sometimes.

Sky was grateful he just flew his helicopter. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate much more exposure than that, honestly.

“I don’t know if it ever gets better,” Warriors finally said. “It’s kind of just something you learn to live with.”

“I’ve seen nurses who have all the compassion in the world,” Twilight noted. “But I also have no idea how they do it, honestly.”

“Oh, you mean like you, Mr Biggest Bleeding Heart in the Room?” Legend remarked. “I bet you’re everyone’s favorite CNA over there. I don’t know how the hell you deal with sick kids day in and out.”

“It’s a lot easier when you’re the tech walking in and out of the room instead of the nurse responsible for that kid’s life,” Twilight argued mildly. “I mean, I do get attached and I want to take care of all of them, but I’m also so spread out it makes encounters shorter. So like… I don’t know, not as much burnout I guess. Except for the chronic kids.”

“Well, techs make a hell of a difference,” Four noted. “I’d be so screwed without you guys.”

“Back to the point,” Twilight frowned, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure even the kindest nurses have moments when they just can’t let themselves get hurt anymore. You’re not a jerk for being worn out from constantly watching people suffer.”

“What’s important, love, is getting out and having moments like this,” Malon piped up. “You boys all tend to self isolate when you’re not working, and all that does is make work your entire life. Take time for yourself but go out in the world too. We’re all here for each other. That’s why we had this tonight.”

Four sighed a little, glancing down at the fire. Sky elbowed him teasingly, smiling. “Hey. You can’t be any worse than Legend.”

The travel nurse perked up, face flushing and eyes wide with irritation as Warriors wheezed. “HEY!”

Everyone started to laugh while Legend rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. But Sky knew it was just theatrics; after all, he and Legend had talked about this very thing a few weeks ago.

Healthcare broke people. They all knew that. But a little crack here and there could be supported, one person holding the other up. Sky wasn’t sure how long any of them could last in any one area, but he knew they’d try to make it work.

[hannahssimblr]

Winter. 

When did this happen? Was I looking away for long enough for the season to change without my notice? I haven’t spent enough time here watching time, from this old velvet seat by the window that overlooks brutalist blocks, each building identical to the next. These utilitarian slabs might stand like this, grey cubes jutting from the asphalt, for five hundred years. I’m here for five months now. Thoroughly settled, used to this place, this apartment with the tarry flavour of cigarettes clinging to the furniture the landlady never took away. 

Jonas says she’s strange, this woman who has left all of her old things for us to live around. Her lamps, with sun-faded shades, her record collection, the chenille bedspreads stuffed into a closet, and the ancient television I replaced the day after I landed. I’ve never met her. Sometimes, I slip a dusty bottle from her wine rack in the cellar and serve it to my friends at dinner. Surely, by the time she ever notices, I’ll be long gone.

Through the vignette of condensation, the snow drifts, white flecks, across the beam of the streetlights. Kreuzberg is quiet. Sunday. 

I refocus my eyes to look into my face, a mirror reflection in the black window. I look older, perhaps, than in the photographs Jen posted to me in September, the ones from the summer, where the light is hazy and our noses are sun blushed, from that time that feels like another lifetime already, or like fiction. At Christmas, I returned to Ireland, and it rained for two weeks without stopping, and it felt something more like reality.

My grandmother told me that my hair was straggly, and she’s right. It’s been too long since I’ve cut it, but the ends of my hair spent the summer with me. Even though my skin cells have replaced themselves, the parts of my hair touching the collar of my coat and curling around my ears hold the memories that the rest of me is slowly losing. 

I haven’t stayed in touch with my friends from there as much as I would have liked. These days are busy, with friends, with college. I draw and paint more than I ever have, lashing out piece after piece, sketchbook after sketchbook, building a tower upon the desk in my cold little bedroom, though the women in my pieces don���t have green eyes anymore. Now, I choose blue.

The door buzzes, and I stand to answer it. 

My finger on the button, “Yeah?”

“Hurry! Open up, it’s fucking cold.”

I buzz her in, then stand waiting by the open door as she ascends the stairway. Three floors. I hear her the whole way, the snap of boot heels against tile. There’s an elevator in her building, and I feel acutely guilty about my building’s lack of one, despite being entirely powerless to do anything about it, as I am an art student, not an engineer, and was not yet actually born during its construction. 

She appears on the landing, shivering, with snowflakes clinging to her hair, and sitting on the structured shoulders of her trench coat. 

“Ugh, oh God, those stairs. I hate them.” She says. She unzips her boot and tosses onto the pile of shoes next to the door, and I notice immediately that she’s barefoot, toes balanced on the tiles like a ballerina. 

“You didn’t wear socks?”

She’s not wearing tights either. Her long, pale legs poke, completely exposed beneath the beige gabardine. 

“Did you take the U-Bahn like this? It must be five below zero.”

Her second boot hits the tile with a clatter, and she backs me into my apartment. As the door clicks shut, she pulls on the tie of her coat.

She’s wearing nothing but black lingerie. 

“Ah,” I am enlightened. This now makes perfect sense to me, in much the same way it does to her. Astrid has a way of bringing me around to her way of thinking. 

This was actually an excellent idea. 

“I was bored,” she says, which makes sense too. She is always bored. This is why she does what she’s seen people do in films. It’s a way to keep herself entertained. An unwelcome thought flashes into my mind, as I wonder if she has done this specific thing for previous boyfriends. I hop off that path. With Astrid, it is important to dwell only upon the present. Anything before this, now, me, us, is nothing worth worrying about. 

I slip my hands under her coat, onto the soft, downy velvet of her skin. 

“Nice and warm,” she murmurs. 

“Astrid, you shouldn’t have gone out like this.”

“It was only thirty minutes.”

“I know, but,” Her hands are freezing between mine as I heat them with my breath. “It’s too cold.” I’ll have to give her something of mine to wear when she goes home, but begin to worry that nothing is clean. I have been avoiding taking my dirty clothes to the basement since I flew back in ten days ago, too cowardly to face the seizing cold of the communal laundry room and that ever present leak in the ceiling surely turned to an icicle by now. 

These are not sexy thoughts. 

It’s like she can tell just by looking at me. “The point is, you will heat me up,” she says, a bit slowly, like I’m thick.

I don’t want to be the guy that lacks spontaneity. That would make me anxious. She pulls her hands from mine and pouts at me, as though at a little dog. “Look at you, you’re so nice.”

It’s not intended as a compliment, and I understand I should be doing something a bit wilder, like, I don’t know, taking my own clothes off already. Why on earth haven’t I started to do that?

Ah, because I am nice. 

“Okay, fuck your hands then. They can freeze.” Often, jokes are a mistake around Astrid. She rarely laughs at them. In fact, she rarely smiles at all, and only indulges us when she feels like doing it. It’s never to be polite. She knows her own mind. I’m obsessed with her. 

I’m obsessed to an ever greater extent now, because, once again, she’s not laughing. She’s not trying to please me. It’s me, always, trying to please her instead. I tug on her coat and it pools to the floor, then I kiss her. 

“God, I love you.” 

I murmur it, the truth. 

I knew it the third or fourth night we spent together, in November, as the last stubborn leaves clung to the branches. She wasn’t like anybody I had ever met before. She reminded me of nobody, and that was the point. 

I felt it, that weakness, my molten insides, and the deep fear of it in the early hours of one morning as she lay on the sheets with moonlight spilling across her back. She has a tattoo between her shoulder blades of a heart pierced by three daggers. She says it’s from a tarot card, and she was younger and stupider when she got it. That night, as she slept, I uncovered some kind of symbolism in it that moved me, but in the morning light I had forgotten all the profound thoughts I’d come up with except one: That I loved her. It surprised me. I ignored the tiny pang of sadness I felt, like mourning for a part of my life that was already long gone. It was useless to miss it.

I chose Astrid instead. 

I choose her now, love her in the same way I kiss her and touch her and fuck her, by doing what she wants me to do. It’s not a submissive situation. I’m not into that stuff. I am a man clocking in and doing as he's asked, thoroughly, diligently, excelling at his job. Eager to please. Employee of the month.

“Will you put your hand on my throat?” She breathes. Beneath me, her hands claw the bedsheets. 

Yes, I think. That would be nice. 

I am interested to discover that I like it too. I don’t think the other girls I’ve slept with would have let me try the things that Astrid does. They couldn’t picture themselves doing it, I’m sure, and neither could I. Back then I didn’t think about sex the way I do now, but Berlin has been bringing it out in me. 

She comes first. That’s mandatory. Then afterwards, when I have, and thoughts return to my brain, I’ll lay here, haunted by the years I didn’t know about this golden rule, and all the time that I thought I was good at sex but wasn’t. Dwelling on the disappointment I brought upon women and girls will make me spiral a bit, I’ll feel it rising, but I’ll feel better when I fuck Astrid again, in some new, fascinating position, and she’ll tell me I’m pretty good, in fact.

She’ll be loud enough about it that Klaus from downstairs may complain, and point out that such volume levels are forbidden on Sundays. He’ll threaten to raise it with the building management, so I’ll bring up the fact I know it was he who put cat food containers in the recycling bin. Neither of us will do anything, and the cycle will repeat until one of us moves or dies.

“Klaus is a miserable, jealous old fool,” Astrid says. “He probably doesn’t have sex, so he’s furious at people who do. I think it’s basic psychology.”

“He lives with his wife, you know.”

“Oh, that doesn’t mean he’s having sex. Married people don’t do it. Or at least hardly ever. That’s why I’ll never be tied down like that.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You think Mr and Mrs Klaus are fucking like rabbits down there?”

I scrunch up my face. “I’ve never heard them. Maybe they do it very quietly while I’m out of the apartment.”

“They never do. I bet they hate one another. Surely they sleep in separate rooms and only speak when they have to.” Astrid invents this story with glee. She is describing what is to her an indisputable fact of life. Her parents, and her mother’s relationship with her stepfather, too. I think she believed these things about marriage before meeting me, but the confirmation that my parents are the same has solidified it. 

“I don’t like to think about things in such a black and white way,” I say, and hold my palm against hers. Her fingers are long and slender. “Just because a lot of marriages are bad, doesn’t mean they’re all doomed. I believe some people are happy.”

“Trapped,” she whispers. “Like canaries in a cage. Maybe they don’t know any better.”

“If I was married, it’d be because I loved that person completely. I wouldn’t do it unless I was sure, and if I loved someone that much, I think I’d still have sex all the time. I can’t really picture that changing. When would I ever not be doing it, you know?”

She hums gently. “So you would never join a monastery.”

“Ugh.”

“And if you married me, you’d want me like this forever?”

This isn’t a serious question about marriage. That would be ridiculous. This is a test for me to pass, and am about to, with flying colours.  

“Yeah, you’re so appealing in every way. I can’t imagine not being completely crazy about you forever.”

“You definitely wouldn’t get over me if I left you.”

“Nah, probably not. In my grief, I might even refuse to sign the divorce papers or some shit.”

She nods, satisfied, and rests her head on my chest. It slots nicely beneath my chin. “I want to go to sleep,” she says.

“Alright, me too.”

I switch off the light and listen to the pitter patter of the snow on the window, drifting slowly away with it.

Astrid shifts, restless. 

“Tomorrow, I have a lecture at eight.”

“Unlucky.”

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“Ah, yeah, probably because of the lingerie stunt.”

A pout. “It was a gift for you.”

“And I loved it. I can find you something to wear.”

“To my class? Your clothes? I’ll look ridiculous. Can you get me a taxi to my house so I can change?”

“Yeah, of course. If you wear my clothes in the taxi.”

“I won’t be naked under my coat in front of a strange man, Jude.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll arrange a taxi, then.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She adjusts her position again, and the subtle contact of our bodies sets off a chain of sensation. I rake my nails lightly over her back, and she shudders. 

“You’re so pretty,” I say. “Did you know that?” I know she does, but I like the smug way she always says yes. 

“It’s okay if I leave my underwear here?”

“If you want to, yeah. Why? Do you think I wanted to carry it around in my pocket or something?”

“So you can wash it for me.”

“Yeah,” I press my lips to the back of her hand. “I’ve been meaning to go to the laundry basement for too long now. I’ll just add them to the pile.”

“No, you need to hand-wash them. They’re made of lace.”

“Oh right. So like, in the sink, or something.”

“I thought you might have known that.”

“Nah, see, in Dublin, we had a cleaner who washed all of my lace underwear for me.”

“Mm…”

“... That was a joke about the lace underwear. We did actually have a cleaner, though.”

“You’ll take care of it? They were quite expensive. It’s not as though I have a lot of that kind, so if it got ruined…”

“I will.”

She slips a hand into my hair and seeks my lips in the dark. She kisses me with such affection that I melt into her. “I love you, Jude. Thank you.”

“I love you too.”

A low chuckle as I bite her earlobe. “You really would never be a monk, would you?”

“Oh, my God. The thought makes me sick.”

I roll over her, and we give Klaus one more thing to complain about.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[honeyjars-sims]

3.37 Soulmates

Today I’m spending some time with Pops. While I was camping, he found out that the LGBT center where he’s been working forever will be closing in just a couple weeks and he’ll be out of a job. It wasn’t unexpected–they’ve been having funding issues for a while–but it still sucks. Unfortunately, Dad is in San My for a gig this weekend, so I figure Pops could use some company.

“I’m really sorry about your job,” I tell him as he finishes washing the dishes. “Are you guys gonna be okay?”

“We have a good amount in savings, and I’ve already been in contact with someone at the LGBT center in Del Sol. They’ve all but offered me a position there that pays more and has more flexibility.”

“Wow, that’s great! So I guess you won’t have much of a reason to stay in Evergreen Harbor, then.”

“Not really. We could probably find a smaller place closer to the LGBT center.”

I know what that means. There’s no reason my parents should have to pay for another 3 bedroom house when their kids are grown. “I guess it’s time for me to find a place, too.”

“I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, but I think you’re ready for it.”

“Yeah, I am. I really appreciate you guys taking me in for as long as you did.”

“You’ve come a long way, Johnny. You’ll be just fine.”

“What about you? You’ll be all alone when Dad is traveling.”

“That’s the good thing about this job. I’ll be able to work remotely some, so I can travel with Dad sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s good then. I know it’s not easy for you two to be away from each other.” I pause. There’s something that’s been on my mind since I came back from my camping trip, and Pops seems like the perfect person to help me figure it out. “Do you think you and Dad are soulmates?”

“Soulmates? Hmm.” He stops for a moment to consider. “No, I don’t think we are,” he finishes.

“Really? Why not?” I'm taken aback by his answer. What does he mean, they're not soulmates?

“Well, you remember how Dad and I met, right?”

“Yeah, you saw each other at a protest and sparks flew or something cheesy like that.”

“Mm-hmm. But I don’t think I’ve ever told you the full story of what happened that night. Before I ended up at the protest, I was at your mom’s apartment–she told me she needed to talk to me about something. Instead, I told her I was gay and couldn’t be in a relationship with her anymore, and I left–without finding out that she was pregnant.”

“Oh. She was going to tell you that night?”

“Yes, until she decided that I wasn’t the kind of man that should raise children. If things had been different–if she had told me she was pregnant before I came out to her–I would have stayed.”

“You would’ve kept pretending to be straight?” I can't imagine what his life would have been like but it sounds pretty terrible. And to think he would have chosen that because of me and Chantal?

“For a while at least. And who knows, maybe eventually I would have found someone else to love and I’d still be happy. But I wouldn’t have met your dad that night.”

“Ok, but that didn’t happen. What does that have to do with being soulmates?”

“Because, Johnny, if I’d stayed with her a little longer then the things that happened to you and Chantal at your mom’s house wouldn’t have happened. I would have been there to keep you safe and well cared for. I just can’t believe that your Dad and I were meant to be together when the circumstances that led to us meeting were also the circumstances that led to my children being hurt and neglected.”

“Well, maybe it’s fate and you would’ve met a different way.” I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around what Pops is saying. A world where he and Dad aren't together just doesn't make sense.

“Maybe. But I don’t think any of these hypotheticals really matter. Like you said, that’s not what happened. What matters is that today, in the here and now, I can’t imagine my life without him. Any reason in particular why you’re thinking about soulmates?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

“I guess it’s more that I’m wondering how you know if someone is the right person for you, but it kind of sounds like it’s not that simple.”

“Well, a sign isn’t going to drop down from the heavens that says ‘This person is the one,’ but it doesn’t have to be complicated. Find the person you can’t imagine your life without. I don’t know if that’s what you were wanting to hear, but I hope it answers your question.”

Find the person you can’t live without. Maybe there aren’t signs falling from the sky, but those words are about as close as I’ll get. “It does," I tell him. "It may not be the answer I was expecting, but I think it cleared something up for me.”

“I see. Do you want to talk about it?"

Normally I would jump at the chance to get some input, but now I don't feel like I need it. I shake my head. “No, I think I can handle it from here.” The thought makes me nervous, but I can’t avoid this. I need to talk to Lacey.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[tomorrowxtogether]

SOOBIN: “I thought I should just try to shine as I am.”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.11

He once strived to become a lush, towering forest. But he realized that people will love him for exactly what he is—a deep, rolling ocean. And so, he decided to remain as whom he always has been: an ocean named SOOBIN.

You took a trip to Vietnam earlier this year with BEOMGYU. I heard you planned the whole thing. SOOBIN: I’m usually the kind of person who just goes around without a real plan, but since we don’t get much vacation time, I figured we’d better go all out and do everything we could in one go, so I tried planning it all out. (laughs) BEOMGYU just wanted to go with the flow, but there was a ton of stuff I wanted to do.

I’m sure it’s not easy taking a trip or spending your off time with the same people you spend all your time with. SOOBIN: I hang out a lot with the rest of the group on my own time too, though. Three of us were all hanging out together just yesterday. To be perfectly honest, it doesn’t feel like anything special since we’re always together 365 days a year, but I’m also most comfortable around them for the same reason.

Sometimes people start bickering with each other when they get too comfortable with one another, but you’re always so kind—like how you gifted BEOMGYU with a nap in that “The Perfect Way to Rest” video when you remembered he was feeling tired. SOOBIN: I think I’m good at picking up on things. I don’t know if I can do it with everyone, but at least with the other members of the group, I’m pretty good at telling how they’re feeling or if they’re not feeling well. As soon as I see one of them, I can tell, Oh, he looks a little rough today, or, He’s sure in a good mood today. (laughs) If they seem down, I go over to them to find out what’s wrong and talk it over.

Your kindness also comes across when you’re with animals, like in the “OUR TOMORROW” video, where you took care of one dog who was so nervous that it didn’t get a chance to eat any treats. Have you always been drawn to people and creatures that are small and left out? SOOBIN: So, so much. In fact, I was really shy and struggled to fit in when I was a trainee. I was really lonely at first. So when time passed and I finally got accustomed to things, if I saw another trainee who was shy and couldn’t adjust, I felt like looking out for them. Kai was among them. (laughs) That’s how I ended up becoming really close with him.

You talked about the cat your sister adopted recently, explaining how it used to be shy because it had a hard life in the past but that it finally opened up this year. SOOBIN: I went to see the cat when my sister first got it, but I couldn’t even see it that first time—it just hid under the couch. It was so shy that I thought I’d never get to pet it, but the last time I saw it, it came right up to me and started purring, wanting to be petted. It was able to overcome its painful past and open up to my family thanks to all the love they show looking after it. Love really does have the power to change anything. (laughs)

You also said on weverse LIVE recently that you made a new friend who you can talk about dramas, movies, and books with. SOOBIN: For me, dramas and movies don’t end with watching them—after you’re done watching, that’s when things are just getting started. I always look up reviews and analyses online. People can watch the same thing and they’ll all have their own thoughts on it, so I’m curious about all those different views, and now I have someone to talk about that with. They know a lot more about books and movies than I do, so I end up learning a lot when we’re sharing our thoughts together. Just having a friend to share my interests with is really fun.

You mentioned talking about Inside Out 2, and you looked at how it features a place to store things you’ve heard that you want to keep for a long time, which got you thinking about what sort of things you would want to hold onto. SOOBIN: I kept recalling things my friends say after we hang out—things like, “SOOBIN, I’m so happy we’re friends,” and, “I feel great whenever I’m with you.” Hearing things like that really touches my heart. Seriously, how often do you get to hear things like that in life? I used to find expressing things like that awkward and weird, but thanks to my friends, I’m getting used to saying I love and appreciate people. You empathized with how Anxiety works harder and feels more anxious than others because they want to be good at things. Are there things you feel you should work harder at than other people? SOOBIN: I’m actually slower at learning choreography compared to the other members. I assumed I’d get a lot better after debuting and regularly performing onstage, but progress was slower than I expected. I didn’t say anything about this before, and I even kept it a secret from the other members, but I actually got separate choreo lessons on the side when we were doing “Chasing That Feeling” and “Deja Vu.” We’d take lessons as a group, and then once I was alone I’d always spend about an hour dancing and working on the little details. I tried so hard with those two most recent songs that I even practiced on my own like that. Seeing as I’m slow, I have to work harder to keep up with the other members. If I have more time, I want to practice more for this comeback, too.

With all the touring you’ve done and the encore performances you have coming up, it must’ve been really hectic getting ready for your Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback. SOOBIN: The schedule was really tight this time around—we even had to record vocals in Japan in the middle of the tour since we were in and out of the country—but now that we’re in our sixth year, the five of us were all really fast about things. I could sense that we had grown compared to before since we were faster at recording than we could’ve expected to be in the past and it took us less time to work out the details of the choreography.

The album’s subtitle, SANCTUARY, is a word that’s appeared in TOMORROW X TOGETHER albums before. What’s been your sanctuary these days? SOOBIN: I never used to have a sanctuary, which made getting through tough times hard, but I do now: simple things like working out or reading. It feels like the things that break me away from overthinking and let me immerse myself in something else are my sanctuary.

You were complimented on your previous promotions for your improved vocals and high notes. What about on this album? SOOBIN: Actually, every other album we’ve done had a song in a genre I wasn’t confident in, but not this time. The single “Over The Moon” is really laid-back, and I felt like it was perfect timing for us to try out a song like that. What’s unfortunate is that I caught this horrendous cold during recording. We started practicing for live performances recently, and the director said, “SOOBIN’s singing better than he did when recording. He makes it sound effortless.” So I couldn’t help but think about how much better I could’ve done if only my throat had been in better shape.

You always focus a lot on lyrics. Were there any on this album that have stuck with you in particular? SOOBIN: This album isn’t so much about telling some big, sweeping story as it is about everything we’ve been through together. Now that we’ve been through all that chaos, it’s about the universal emotion of love, which everyone can relate to, and I liked that about it. There’s a line in “Higher Than Heaven” that sticks with me that goes, “I think I kinda get what forever means now.” I even once said, “I never used to believe in the word ‘forever,’ but I think I can now, thanks to our fans.” I didn’t write that part, but it’s like it was written to perfectly capture my feelings.

The other members have probably had an impact on your belief in the word “forever,” too. SOOBIN: I’m pretty sure we’re going to grow old together and that we’ll be together till the day I die. We do the same thing and basically live the same life day in and day out, so we know what makes each other cry the most during concerts, too. Whether it’s my tears of happiness or BEOMGYU’s tears of disappointment from a leg injury, having friends to understand and share those feelings with is nice. They’re all just really kind people—calm and clear, like a stream. None of us is domineering or splashing around, disturbing the peace, and nobody’s dirtying the water, so I think we’ll be able to stick together for a long, long time.

You said before that you had found being onstage tough while touring. Now that you’ve already wrapped up your third world tour, do you still find that to be the case? SOOBIN: I think I’m getting better over time. I still can’t say that I completely enjoy myself, but the worries I used to have before going onstage have gone away entirely. There used to be times where I found it hard to watch myself onstage because I didn’t like how I looked, but now I see myself up there and I think I look cool. (laughs)

The way you have a different outfit on for every sound check when you’re on tour is definitely cool. SOOBIN: For fans who come even though they’re busy, showing up hours before the concert just to wait, doing it purely out of love, I wanted to be more stylish, so I bought a lot of clothes just for sound checks. The glasses-plus-cardigan combo was something I bought in advance for summer, and the reaction from the audience was amazing! They showed me on the big screen and MOA was screaming their lungs out—like, not the usual “wow,” but, “aah!” Like shock and awe. (laughs) I was worried I went overboard with the look, but they showed they liked it, so I was happy.

There’s no way not to bring up your cover of the Choi Yu Ree song “Forest” when talking about you. You said that the people around you are like tall trees in a forest and that you thought you’re one of them, but that you figured out you’re actually more like the ocean. SOOBIN: It’s easy to find people around me who are better looking and sing and dance better than I do. I actually started thinking about that at Lollapalooza. The other members looked so happy and like they were having so much fun onstage, but I couldn’t. I felt eaten up inside seeing myself not being able to fully enjoy it because of all the pressure. Then I heard Choi Yu Ree explaining that “Forest” is about feeling like you’re not good enough and I thought, “Ah, so that’s what I’ve been going through.” I started to understand my emotions a little bit better. Everyone ends up comparing themselves to others at some point in their lives—it’s unavoidable. And they have times where all they can see are the things they hate about themselves, but it’s ridiculous. I was overflowing with negative feelings when I was working on my “Forest” cover, and I wanted to sort of deal with those feelings and express them.

The music video echoes your thoughts that someday you’ll come to shore and become one with the forest. What does the forest mean to you? SOOBIN: Just being a singer who’s good at singing and dancing, interacting with my fans, enjoying performing, and being able to do it all with complete sincerity. I think I was showing how the forest to me means being happy with the other members when they’re happy. Nothing big—just simple things I’m not always that good at.

Do you feel more like a forest now that some time has gone by? SOOBIN: Umm … I saw a ton of comments from fans after I covered “Forest.” My mindset when I was doing it was, Right now I’m like the ocean, but I’ll become a part of the forest just like you guys—so wait for me until then. But once I saw what fans were writing, I changed my mind and thought, Do I really need to become a part of the forest? I could be similar to the forest, but I don’t have to change myself to be one. My fans kept saying, “The whole reason we liked you in the first place is because you’re like the ocean, not because we hoped you’d become like a forest. If that were the case, we’d like somebody else. Why do you think it was you?” The ocean comes with its own perks, you know. You need to have some ocean near a forest to add to the scenery and have more things to do. Now I think maybe I tried too hard to fit in by trying to be like the forest. Now I feel like I can shine bright just by being myself.

That lines up with what you recently said in an interview you did in Japan when you said that your 20s, the best and most energetic time of life, are dazzling and fun thanks to knowing MOA. What do you think you’ll see when you look back on this youthful period of your 20s? SOOBIN: Joy. Every moment of our lives is packed with good times and bad times, joy and sorrow, but in the end, I think, I’m on a path towards joy. Even things that are so agonizing that you want to die—so bad you feel like the whole world is against you, and so bad you’re certain they’re weighing on you forever, eventually pass.

Doesn’t it almost feel funny sometimes, looking back after all that? (laughs) SOOBIN: Yes. It ends up feeling so trivial somehow. Things that felt massive at the time are like a speck in the distance once you get even a little space between them and yourself. Even after all the hardship I went through being a trainee, I can look back now and see there were a lot of good times. Maybe we tend to romanticize the past a bit? (laughs) Even some of the stuff I’m going through now can be tough, to be honest, but I’m never going to give up. There’s still so much I want to give. The amount of joy I derive from doing this is way higher than the amount of difficulty. I think my life’s amazing, even right now.

So amazing. (laughs) SOOBIN: I think so too! (laughs) As time goes on and I get older, when I look back on my youth, my time with TOMORROW X TOGETHER, I wonder if it’ll look that much more shiny and amazing. Maybe I’ll feel I was even cooler at this time than I feel I am now.

[ask-lps-staff-au]

Russell: To deepen the bond we have with our customers *cough cough* and to get our sales up *cough cough* we created this blog for you all to get in touch with us. Today, I’m going to introduce the rest of the staff here so you know who to address your questions to. Starting with-

Vinnie: ME ME ME!!!!

Russell: Yes, Vinnie, You.

Russell: What you do.

Vinnie: Ohhh! I like to dance :) 

Russell: No, what is your job?

Vinnie: Man, you should’ve just said that! My job is… well I lift heavy things sometimes? Like dog food and kitty litter. That kinda thing. Mostly just chill, though. That good?

Russell: You know what? Yes. That’s perfect, Vinnie

Vinnie: Sweet.

Russell: Minka, sorry to cut you short but can we have your name and job please?

Minka: I was just getting to that part! Anyways, my name’s Minka Mark, and I’m the cashier here, you hear?

Russell: Loud and clear, Minka.

Russell: They aren’t lines, just say it how you normally would!

Vinnie: Yeah, you just gotta say it Zoe-ey!

Zoe: Zoe-ey? Oh, that’s it!

Zoe: *singing* Yeahh Yeaaahhh~ The name’s Zoe~ And now you know-y~

Zoe: *back to talking* Oh, yeah. I’m in charge of grooming the pets.

Russell: Ohhh-kay. Let’s move on.

Pepper: Serious as I can be. Number 1: what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs at night?

Russell: A man.

Pepper: Correctomundo, but are you ready for riddle number 2? What gets wetter the more it dries?

Russell: A towel. Are you just reading off a list of the top ten most basic riddles or what?

Pepper: I’ll answer that but you’ll have to answer three more riddles. Last one: the man who invented it doe-

Minka: HER NAME IS PEPPER CLARK AND SHE TAKES CARE OF THE DAYCARE PETS!!!

Pepper: Dangit.

Russell: Thank you, Minka.

Russell: Probably like 10 people at most.

Vinnie: But, hey! You never know if the algorithm could pick it up! You could be talking to millions of people right now!

Sunil: Millions?! Eek!

Russell: *sigh* That’s Sunil. Talk to him if you ever need help finding anything. I promise he’s more helpful than he looks right now.

Russell: … that’s it?

Penny: Was there supposed to be more?

Russell: No, this is just the smoothest interview I’ve had all day. I’m kinda shocked.

Penny: Well, I’m glad I did good.

Russell: Yep.

Both: …

Blythe: Ruff ruff!

Russell: Oh, yeah, that’s right! Don’t forget to check out Blythe-Style pet clothes which you can find on the racks in the front of the store (which are made by a different Blythe and not this Blythe. A human Blythe. Obviously because why would a dog make clothes!! That’s absurd!!! Almost as crazy as a group of people who can understand ANIMALS hahahaha!!!)

Russell: Those questions aren’t- Whatever. Ask us anything, I guess.

---

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[starchaseriseverything]

You can’t hold me here, Mother!”

“I am your mother, Regina!” Walburga yells back. “You will listen to me!”

“I can leave any time I want!” Regina yells. “Sirius and Andromeda did! So why can’t I!?”

“You have no one to go to, Regina.” Walburga walks up to her. “Absolutely no one. No one cares about you. Not even I.”

“Fuck you, Mother . I hate you.” She sneers. “I will always hate you. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”

Walburga smacks her daughter’s cheek. “I can and will.” Regina holds her cheek and runs up the stairs. She slams her door and locks it so her mother can’t get in. She flops down on her bed and stares at the letter sitting on the desk. She hasn’t read it yet, but she knows if she wants closer, she’ll have to. She stands up and sits down in the chair, gently grabbing the letter and slowly opening it. The first word she reads is, Regulus. Regina takes a shaky inhale and starts reading the whole letter.

Regulus, you can get away. You can run from that house. I did and I made it. You can, too. Andy and Uncle Alphard made it. It’s time for you to get out of there, too, Reggie. And I know mother still calls you by your deadname. That’s not right, Reg. You have been going by Regulus since you were twelve and it’s time you get away from people who still call you Regina. I know James would love to see or even hear about you living your best life, even if it’s not with him.

Either way, just tell me what you’re feeling. If you don’t want to run, that’s fine. You still have me to talk to. But if you do run, Effie and Monty have a room for you and your friends are waiting here for you, too. They wait by the door or even sleep in your room sometimes waiting for you, and even if they don’t admit it, they miss you and want you out of that house just like they got out of theirs. I know they’d be happy if you just ran and didn’t stop running until you decided to call someplace home, even if that wasn’t with them. So, just, please, get out of there and live your best life whether that’s with us or without us, it doesn’t matter, just get out of there.

Love, your brother, Sirius

Regina smiles at the letter and stands up and grabs a suitcase from her closet and starts shoving clothes in it. Which is weird because she’s a neat freak and hates when things are all messy, especially when people just throw stuff, but her brother is right, it’s time she gets out of that house and away from her parents. So, instead of weeping in her room all day, she decided to get out of there, forever.

She runs down the stairs with her suitcase in hand and just runs, runs right out the door and doesn’t stop until she finds someplace hidden. She then pulls out her wand and apparates where she’s been many times, The Potter residence.

She smiles at the door before ringing the doorbell and putting her wand away. An older lady answers the door. “Hello. I don’t think we were expecting anyone today.” She backs up. “Come. Come in.” She then walks to the steps and yells, “Kids! Were you expecting anyone today!?”

“No, Mum!” A boy yells back and Regina closes her eyes, recognizing it immediately, James’s voice.

The older woman hums and turns back to her. “Well, then, what is your name?”

“Regi- Regulus. Regulus Black.”

The woman gasps. “Oh my. Should I call Sirius down? Or Barty? Or any of your other friends?”

Regulus shakes his head. “No. I think I'll surprise them.” Regulus sets his suitcase down by the door. “Just a quick question.”

Effie stops and turns around. “What is it dear?”

“How many of my friends are here? Living here?”

Effie hums and starts counting on her fingers. “Well, there’s Lily, Dorcas, Barty, Pandora, Evan, Sirius, Remus, Emma, Aurora, and my son, James.”

“Why do you let everyone live here?”

“Because it’s the nice thing to do and that’s just how my parents taught me.” Effie chuckles a little. “Well, not this nice, but that’s just how I am and how I raised James to be. Some people don’t have good homes like James does, so they need someplace to live or even stay for a few days and that’s what I give them. A place to stay or one to live. Most choose to live but some, like Peter and Alice and Frank, they choose to stay for the summer or a few days because they have nice homes and would miss their family too much. It’s just what this family does, sweetheart, and I hope you get to be a part of that.”

Regulus smiles. “I hope so too.”

“So, I need to make another bedroom?”

Regulus nods. “Yeah, I’m living.”

***

“My sweet,” Regulus says, lovingly. “We are not having another child.”

“But-”

“Three is enough.”

James sighs and flops down in the chair behind him. “I think we should.” He mumbles.

“No.” Regulus replies, sternly.

“Why can’t we-”

“It’s not your body, now is it?”

James’s face falls and he leans his head on his hand. “You know-”

“No, James.”

“Fine!” James groans. “I won’t put another baby inside you.”

“Good.”

“Guess that means we can never do the fun stuff again.”

Regulus’s head whips up from his book. “What?” James looks to the other side of him. “James,”

“What?” He asks, turning his head back to him. “What is it, love?” Regulus opens his mouth but closes it again. He doesn’t even know what to say to that. James sighs and stands up to stretch. “Well, better get to bed.”

“James, It’s ten.”

“So?”

“AM.”

“So?”

“It’s still morning.”

“So?”

“You just woke up.”

“So?”

“You are not going to bed, James.”

“Are you bossing me around?”

Regulus nods and goes back to his book. “Yep.”

“You said I can't do that.”

“That’s you.”

“So, it’s different when you do it?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

James hums and walks towards his husband. “Really?” Regulus hears the change in his voice and gulps. Regulus nods back, not being able to get anything out. James takes Regulus’s book and sets it on the stand beside him. When Regulus doesn’t look up, James guides his head up to his. “How is it different?” He whispers.

Regulus gulps again. “It just is.”

James hums and nods. “Yeah?”

Regulus nods. “Yeah.”

“Papa! Daddy!” Euphemia screams, running towards them. James straightens up quickly and looks over to their daughter.

“What, dulce chica?”

“Can we go to the park?” The black-haired girl asks, jumping up and down in excitement.

James looks over to Regulus, he shrugs in return. James looks back to the girl. “Of course. Go tell your brother and sister to get ready.” Mia smiles and runs off, yelling for her siblings. James chuckles and turns back to Regulus. “We can’t ever have any peace, can we?”

Regulus shakes his head at his husband. James leans down and kisses his lips before walking down the hallway to make sure they’re ready in time.

***

Regulus laughs as both him and James lift up their daughter that’s in between them and she squeals. Leo’s walking beside Regulus and holding his other hand while their oldest daughter is walking beside James. Regulus looks in front of them to a woman approaching them. Regulus inhales a breath when he realizes who it is. Walburga.

She glares at the two before looking at the three kids next to them. She bends down in front of the girl in between them and smiles. “Hi.” She says as James tries to hold their daughter back but she just pulls his hand to make him stop. She’s still holding onto her fathers hand when Walburga speaks again. “What’s your name?”

“Euphemia. But Papa and Daddy call me Mia.”

She smiles at the young girl. “Hello, Mia.” She turns to the young boy by Regulus’s side after glaring at the man holding onto his hand still. “What’s your name?”

“Leo.” He mumbles softly.

“Hi, Leo.” Finally, she glares at James then turns to the red-haired girl beside him. “What’s your name?”

Rose holds up her hand in front of her father and he takes it, putting their entwined hands beside them. “Papa said not to talk to strangers.” Rose mumbles.

“But I’m not a stranger.” The older woman says. “Your parents aren’t doing anything to tear you away, are they?” Rose shakes her head. “So, what’s your name?”

“Rose.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m Walburga, but you can call me Wally.”

“Wally?” Euphemia asks, giggling.

Walburga smiles at the girl.

“Isn’t Wally who grandma always talks about?” Rose asks, looking up to her father. James looks down at her.

“I wouldn’t know. Your grandma doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that.” She looks over to her dad this time. Regulus doesn’t answer, still in shock. Rose turns back to the lady as Mia and Leo laugh. She made them laugh. Regulus thinks. She made my kids laugh.

Regulus snaps out of his daze. “Come on, let’s go to the park.”

“But, I wanna stay.” Leo whines.

“Let’s go see Aunt Lily and Aunt Pandora, then.”

“Eclipse and Luna?” Mia asks, looking up to her dad.

Regulus nods. “And Harry, Lillian, and Lewis.”

Euphemia jumps up and down and pulls her fathers down the sidewalk past Regulus’s mother. Regulus looks back to her as they pass. She smiles at him and turns around to walk away. Regulus turns his head back in front of him. She smiled? What kind of sick bitch smiles?

-

Walburga kept a straight face throughout the whole funeral for her husband. She didn’t cry once because ‘Black’s don’t cry’, at least that’s what her mother always said. So, she hasn’t cried since she was seven. She didn’t want to get crucio’d again. She didn’t even cry when she married Orion, her cousin, when she wanted to marry someone else. They were even talking about their future together when her mother brought up her engagement. Her engagement that was set from the time she was born. The one where she couldn’t get out of it even if she tried. And oh did she try, but her mother always brought her back, time and time again every time.

Euphemia was the love of her life and she couldn’t ever marry her. Ever. So, instead of telling her about the engagement that was set before she was born, she decided to just break it off. And it wasn’t the best way to go about it, either. They had a horrible fight over something she can’t even remember now. Probably something stupid, maybe something important. Walburga couldn’t remember even if she tried.

A few months after their break up in Hogwarts, she was dating a Gryffindor. A Gryffindor that's nice and generous, unlike her, he’s perfect for her. She’s kind and generous and so much more. He doesn’t deserve her and neither did she. After Hogwarts walburga got an invitation to a wedding, one called ‘The Potter Wedding’. Walburga rolls her eyes at the ridiculous name. (Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous) Potter always was like that, one for stupid things. But I guess there’s two Potter’s now. She thinks.

Walburga was surprised by the invitation, not because Effie remembered her, but because she wanted her there. Walburga sighs and slouches in the arm chair, dropping the invitation on the floor as she pulls her hand to her forehead and holds up her head with it.

She can’t go. She never could. She can’t be associated with a blood-traitor, but Salzar does she wish she could. She wishes she cried then, but she didn’t not for years after that. The first time she cried since seven was when Sirius left. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to accept her daughter as the heir, it was because she wishes her daughter went with her son. To get away from this family even though she couldn’t. She was happy one child didn’t turn out like her and she knows her children talked about not turning into her.

She wishes she could’ve stayed with her promise. The one where she promised her brothers to not turn out like their parents, but instead, she did, and so did her youngest brother. The middle brother, though, he got out just like her niece and son. That was the first night she cried over her brother, her niece, her son, and her daughter all in one go.

The second time Walburga cried was when Regina left right after their argument. Their argument that was supposed to be a simple conversation in which Walburga subtly nudged her to leave the house, but turned into a full-blown argument. At least she left. Walburga thought.

So, when Walburga was walking in the park one day and sees someone who looks exactly like her daughter, she realizes her daughter isn’t her daughter, they’re her son. Walburga smiles and about walks away to cry, but sees the smile on her son's face as he lifts up a girl with another man. The little girl laughs and gets set back on the ground. Her son is holding a little boy’s hand and the other man is trying to get the other girl to hold his other hand.

She decides to walk up to them, but doesn’t show her smile. She’s gotten good at that over the years, having to hide her excitement and discomfort. She couldn’t when she was with Effie, though. She always brought out the emotions in her. All of them.

She glares at the two men, not wanting to show them she actually cares and squats down in front of the girl and smiles. “Hi.” She says. “What’s your name?”

“Euphemia. But Papa and Daddy call me Mia.”

Named after her grandmother. Walburga thinks. She smiles again at the young girl. “Hello, Mia.” She turns to the young boy by Regulus’s side after glaring at the man holding onto his hand still. “What’s your name?”

“Leo.” He mumbles softly.

“Hi, Leo.” Finally, she glares at the other man, not wanting to reveal she cares, then turns to the red-haired girl beside him. “What’s your name?”

The red-haired girl reaches her hand up to her fathers to hold hands. He does and puts them at their sides. “Papa said not to talk to strangers.” Rose mumbles.

“But I’m not a stranger.” She is, but her son isn’t doing anything. “Your parents aren’t doing anything to tear you away, are they?” Rose shakes her head. “So, what’s your name?”

“Rose.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m Walburga, but you can call me Wally.”

“Wally?” Euphemia asks, giggling.

Walburga smiles at the girl.

“Isn’t Wally who grandma always talks about?” Rose asks, looking up to her father. Walburga looks up also. The man looks down at her.

“I wouldn’t know. Your grandma doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that.”

“Mia, Leo.” Their heads go over to her and away from the other conversation. “Why did the scarecrow win an award?” She asks.

“Why?” Leo asks.

“Because he was outstanding in his field.” The two kids laugh at the joke that their grandmother taught her and it’s stayed in her head ever since sixth year.

“Come on, let’s go to the park.” Walburga's son says. Walburga nods and stands up, understanding that he’s trying to get his kids away from her.

“But, I wanna stay.” Leo whines.

“Let’s go see Aunt Lily and Aunt Pandora, then.”

“Eclipse and Luna?” Mia asks, looking up to her dad.

He nods. “And Harry, Lillian, and Lewis.”

Euphemia jumps up and down and pulls her fathers down the sidewalk past her. Walburga sees them walking away and then her son's head turns to her. She smiles at him, hoping he gets the message that she still cares no matter what. She then walks away, not wanting to disturb them anymore than she already has.

She closes her eyes as she leans against her front door, slides down, and sobs on the floor.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The many husbands of Agatha Harkness

The stranger cleared his throat, then said, “I have seen you around these parts for some time, yet never have I seen your husband.”

Rio snorted, murmured the word 'husband'.

“Oh,” Agatha said. "Ate him."

The normal fighting and flirting while they're still together dynamic. Agatha is tsundere, Rio would really like more romance. They're both very in love.

“Excuse me, good lady,” the man said, and that form of address was so inappropriate it took Agatha a moment to understand she was the one being spoken to. She stopped on the street, Rio, always a step behind, almost running into her.

“Yes?”

The stranger cleared his throat, then said, “I have seen you around these parts for some time, yet never have I seen your husband.”

Rio snorted, murmured the word 'husband'.

“Oh,” Agatha said. "Ate him.”

Rio burst into delighted giggles, while the stranger stared blankly at Agatha. “Excuse me?”

“The last one? I ate him. Baked him into a pie. Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t eat him all by myself. That would have been gluttonous. I split him with some friends.”

“The…last one?”

Agatha nodded, her tone still serious and sober, while peals of hysterics she was starting to suspect the stranger couldn’t hear at all happened directly next to her ear. He hadn’t looked at Rio once, she noted. “Time before that, I poisoned him, so he wasn’t fit for consumption. Shame, really. Had a lot of good meat on him. Learned my lesson from that one.”

The man had gone the color of bleached bone. “Oh. I—see. How many…?”

“Six. Is that all, good sir?” she smiled, a simpering, sickly-sweet smile. "Or were you perhaps wishing to spend some time with me, now that you know that I am naught but a poor widow, one who could use the company of a good, solidly built man?”

“N-no,” the man said. “Good day to you, madam.”

He sped past and Agatha watched him go, noting that it was probably best that Death didn’t need to breathe or she would have asphyxiated some time ago from laughter. “Lot of help you were,” she told Rio.

“I think you had it under control. Besides, how could I interrupt that?” the other woman said, then continued snickering, murmuring ‘six’ to herself.

Agatha couldn't stop the pleased smile that stretched across her face, listening to that. She reached out and took Rio’s hand in hers. ”Best to cut off that kind of thinking early. I wouldn’t want anyone imagining I am eligible.”

“You aren’t,” Rio agreed.

“Because I’m a busy witch who has no time for romance, of course,” she said, striding along until, predictably, her forward momentum was stopped by Rio suddenly anchoring her, refusing to go farther.

“…Ags,” she complained and now it was Agatha’s turn to snicker.

“Hmm?”

Arms wrapped around her from behind and she did hope Rio was still invisible or they would cause terrible scandal in this small town. Which was generally not a problem, but she had hoped to stay here for a few more days, until she finished what she was working on.

After that, they would likely be leaving quickly regardless.

"Stop that,” Death, the great equalizer, the final destination, whined in her ear. “It hurts my feelings.”

Agatha couldn’t stop her own laughter, tinged with cruelty. “So sensitive,” she mocked.

"Heeeey, Agatha,” Rio murmured. “Say something nice.”

“Something nice,” she said on autopilot, aware she was testing Death’s patience, not a good idea but always a thrill. She had to get her kicks somehow.

Rio groaned against her, nuzzled into her neck, which did make her lips part, her breathing get faster. "Beloved, sometimes…" she said, then trailed off.

"Hmm? Not going to finish that sentence?"

Rio's teeth pressed against her neck. "Do you really want me to? Reaaaaally?"

No, she really did not. Unfortunately, Agatha had a chronic inability to back down. She shrugged, pretending indifference. "Go ahead, then."

"Agatha Harkness, you are such a trial sometimes," Rio said, her tone flat. "You throw your contempt for our relationship in my face, and then when I dare to protest, you mock me for it."

Suddenly, this wasn’t even a little bit amusing. Agatha found she had gone cold, a spreading numbness starting at her fingertips and cascading up her arms. "…Rio," she protested. "You're taking this too seriously. You know what I'm like."

"Mmhmm. Cruel, callous, heartless, indifferent…"

"Yes, all right, that's enough," Agatha said quickly, not needing to find out how many adjectives Rio could list in that particular category. She suspected it was quite a lot. "You know I…"

"Hmm?"

"…am fond of you."

Rio laughed again, but this time it was less amused, a sound much closer to the shrieking of the damned. "Coward," Rio said, even as she nuzzled and mouthed Agatha's hair. "You love me. You adore me. I'm all you think about. That's what you meant to say?"

Sometimes Agatha would have liked to be able to stop and have a stern conversation with herself before she spoke. "I really don't think it is," she said.

Rio clicked her tongue in frustration. "Ags, come on. Why? Whyyyy?" Before Agatha could answer, she continued, "I know, I know, you've always got to be the one in charge. You've always got to win, you've got to be invulnerable, you can't admit you've got any weaknesses. You've got to push me away before I leave, so that you don't get hurt."

Agatha wished she were having this conversation somewhere other than the corner of a street in a dusty little village, looking like a madwoman talking to herself. Better yet, she wished she weren't having this conversation at all. "That's not…"

Rio squeezed her harder, pressing into the boning on her dress. "I'm not going, Ags. I'm never going. I'll never leave you."

"Once again pointing out that you say that like a threat."

Rio snickered against her ear. "Take it as you will, my love. I'll be with you until the end."

"And presumably beyond?"

"That, too," Rio agreed, her teeth scraping Agatha's earlobe.

Agatha sucked in a breath and continued to say all the wrong things. "What if I get bored of you?" She didn't look back as she said it, heart pounding in her chest.

Rio didn't answer that for long enough that the silence grated on her, so she kept talking, saying more things she suspected she would regret later. "I'm only saying, tastes change and life, especially my life, is long. I might want to try other flavors."

She couldn't actually imagine that would ever be the case. She had never thought herself the kind to fall in love at all. It was a terrible weakness, to love anyone that much, to trust that they wouldn't turn that love back on you, use it to bind you to a post and try to burn the life out of your body.

"Too bad," Rio said. "You're mine."

"Ah, so it has been a threat all along," Agatha said, but she couldn't keep the delighted smile off her face. She turned to face her lover, barely noticing that people were crossing the street to avoid her. None of those people mattered in the least.

"If you like," Rio agreed. "But you do love me, Agatha, even if you have to be a terrible chore about it."

"If you say things like that, my feelings will get hurt," Agatha simpered.

"What feelings," Rio said, looking at her with disdain, and Agatha burst into wild laughter, clapped her hands on either side of Death's face and met wide brown eyes, big enough to drown in.

"Rio, my heart," she purred, and delighted in how much wider those bottomless eyes could get. "I love you. I adore you. Stay with me all the way to the end and beyond."

"You're not getting out of it that easily," Rio said, but Agatha could tell from the way her lover's lips parted and her pupils dilated that she would win.

She always did, but it was a thrill every time.

"I really will look crazy if I kiss you here," she pointed out.

"Ags," Rio murmured from close enough to make Agatha ache with the desire to kiss her. "Do the thing."

"Which thin—oh. It's a waste of power—"

Rio's mouth firmed into a hard line and Agatha decided she might actually be risking Rio's patience running out. "Fine, fine, fine." She stirred her fingers through the air, a faint hint of purple energy spinning with them. "Sanctum mortem, venalis mortem, da locum."

"Such terrible Latin," Rio murmured, but she completed the ritual, green power intertwining with Agatha's, blending together to make something different than either of them. “Mortem das locum, mortem omnia."

"Not the point," Agatha said and let herself—

She'd invented this spell, but she still didn't understand it, not completely. She'd been experimenting with her power and Rio's one afternoon and stumbled on it. Teleportation was not an easy witch spell, so any kind of transportation was valuable. Unfortunately, this one did need both her and Rio's power, but she secretly found that just a touch romantic.

She fell through the earth. And they were out the other side, at the little garden Rio had planted outside their cottage and Rio tackled her, knocked her to the ground and kissed her, fierce and unrelenting as a tidal wave.

When they broke apart, Agatha gasping like a drowning woman coming up for air, Rio grabbed her by the shoulders. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“The other thing.”

Agatha swallowed. “…Stay with me.” Then, softer, uncomfortably honest, “Please stay with me.”

She flinched back from her own words, expecting mockery or triumph, Rio’s shrieking laugh filling the air.

Instead, Rio collapsed against her, deflating like a spent balloon. She nodded with her head buried against Agatha’s shoulder. “Forever.”

She swallowed, discomfited by where this conversation had gone. Emotional honesty was never her preferred arena. “Even though I’m a trial and a chore?“

“No matter what.”

“Why?” Agatha asked, then immediately regretted asking. Too vulnerable.

“Because, my sweet, of all the other things you are.”

Agatha felt her cheeks heat and didn’t press for clarification. “…Ah. Can we go inside now, instead of sitting in the dirt?”

“Yes.” Rio bounded to her feet, hauling Agatha up with her by the wrist, then stopped and studied her. “Promise not to bake me into a pie?”

“No promises,” Agatha said, bringing Rio’s hand to her lips, delighting in the unblinking way the other woman watched her do it.

“I’d let you, you know.”

“…Is that supposed to be romantic?” Agatha asked, letting Rio lead her inside.

“Isn’t it?”

”Every once in a while, darling, your facade of humanity slips completely.”

Rio glanced back, clearly pleased by the pet name. “Agatha, say it again. Tell me you love me.”

“Noooo. That’s enough of that for this epoch.”

Rio pivoted to stare at her with a hint of her previous exasperation. “Heartless,” she murmured with a shake of her head.

“That’s me,” Agatha agreed, then leaned up and brushed her lips softly across Death’s, enjoyed hearing her lover's breathing catch. “But you know you love it.”

Rio shook her head. “I tolerate it. I accept it. The price I pay to have the rest of you.”

“Yes, yes,” Agatha murmured, giving the other woman soft, sweet kisses that were slowly making Death, the final hour, the last goodbye, melt against her. She hooked her arm around Rio's waist and pressed a kiss to her jaw, which elicited a lovely whine. “But let me take you to bed and I promise by the end, you’ll be saying much nicer things about me.”

Rio nodded immediate agreement, which prompted Agatha to do what she always did, push her luck. “Say please,” she teased.

Rio’s fingers dug in with more force, almost painful. “I own a lot of knives,” she pointed out.

“You know what? That counts,” Agatha said hurriedly, nuzzling at the other woman's throat.

“Agatha. One more time. Say you love me.”

Agatha groaned. “Didn’t I just—“

Two fingers, surprisingly strong, guided her head up to meet Rio’s eyes. Death's mask had fallen away, and what stared back at Agatha was something utterly inhuman, a piece of the sacred balance given form.

“…Goddess, you’re beautiful,” Agatha said, cupping Death’s lifeless cheek, her thumb caressing bone. “I love you. You know that. Now please, please stop making me say it and come to bed, all right?”

Death broke into peals of hollow, bone-chilling laughter that slowly transitioned into Rio’s shrill giggles, and now it was Agatha’s turn to look exasperated. “Happy?” she asked.

“Yes. Will you ever get better at that, I wonder.”

“Think how concerned you would be if I did.”

“It’s true. I would worry about what magical entity had replaced the woman I love, to make her able to admit her feelings for me aloud more than once a millennia.���

Agatha disentangled from Rio's embrace and crossed her arms across her chest, trying to look intimidating. “I’m considering rescinding that offer to take you to bed.”

Rio only snorted, shaking her head. “You are not. How else would you flaunt your power over me?”

Agatha could never decide if it was terrifying or comforting, to be known like that, to have someone see her for who she truly was and choose not turn away.

“True enough,” she agreed. Her lips quirked in a crooked, twisting smile as she met Rio’s eyes and found that, for once, all she could see in them was her own reflection.

Good, she thought. Don't look away.

She turned and headed toward their bedroom, quirking her fingers to motion the other woman after her. “Come to bed, my heart. Let me make it all up to you.”

Rio sighed with something suspiciously like affection and followed Agatha. And, as always, Agatha did manage to more than make it up to her.

Want to read Rio running into Wanda? Try Death and the Scarlet Witch

Want to read a time Agatha tells Rio she loves her without even putting up a fight? Try the apple

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[webanglikethat]

first of all, fuck you anon.

the whole "Radha wasn't groomed because she’s smart" argument is so incredibly stupid (I had no idea people THIS stupid even existed) and honestly, insulting not only to her character but to victim of grooming in general. just because someone is strong, smart, or independent doesn’t mean they are immune to manipulation, and to suggest otherwise is to completely misunderstand what grooming actually entails. do you know what grooming is? or did you just read some age gap dark booktok novel and think you know everything? you think because Radha is educated and knows how to lead, she’s impervious to manipulation? newsflash: that’s not how it works and to suggest otherwise is so foolish and fucking insulting. I hope you never meet a victim of grooming in real life, I pray for that — and I’m an atheist.

just because Radha’s mother, Vidya, taught her to be strong and aware of manipulation it doesn’t magically shield her from every predator who might come along. let me ask you this: do you think every smart, powerful woman is automatically immune to the nuanced, long-term manipulation that comes with grooming? do you think having a strong brain is all it takes? you will never get hurt? ever? spoiler alert: this is not about being naive, or stupid — it’s about power dynamics. age differences, control, and subtle psychological manipulation don’t always look like someone forcing you into a corner or brainwashing you into doing something. sometimes, it’s all about slowly wearing someone down and making them think they’re in control, even when they aren’t. according to psychologist Dr. Jennifer Freyd’s research on betrayal trauma, individuals who experience manipulation and betrayal, especially in close relationships, often suffer from a delayed recognition of the abuse. why? because the trauma is internalized so deeply that it takes time for the victim to even acknowledge they’ve been manipulated. mind you anon, I’m smart. I’m studying psychology. I can speak 5 languages. guess what? I was abused and manipulated. do I not exist in your world? am I not a victim? no seriously, do enlighten me.

the entire premise of grooming is that the victim doesn’t always realize it’s happening until it’s too late. and yes, Radha may have been aware of men using their power in the past, but this was a different kind of manipulation. Raj was clever enough to exploit the very things she thought were keeping her protected. and let’s not pretend the age difference doesn’t matter just because they both feel something. Raj is 30 and Radha is 18. no one is raising alarms?? so you want to tell me that a 30-year-old man, no matter how charming or appealing, is on equal footing with an 18-year-old girl trying to make her way in a world that already doesn’t want her to succeed? REALLY? do you even go to school, genuinely? like OH MY GOD. let’s make one thing clear: an 18-year-old has nowhere near the life experience or emotional maturity of a 30-year-old man, and that's exactly what makes this relationship so problematic.

at 30, Raj has had years of life experience, training, and wisdom (though apparently he’s not smart enough to realize what he’s doing is wrong). he’s been through the emotional ups and downs of adulthood, taught by the best, navigating the world who sucks his dick for simply being a man and having power, he’s most likely been through a bunch of relationships, and experienced different power structures in ways Radha—at just 18— simply hasn’t. he knows how the world works. he knows how to manipulate situations, how to get what he wants, and how to pull on someone’s heartstrings to make them believe they’re in control. no matter how strong or intelligent Radha is, she doesn’t have the same years of experience to see the emotional manipulation at play.

when you’re 18, and a man like Raj tells you he loves you, you believe it. why wouldn’t you? you haven’t been hardened by the disappointments and betrayals that come with adult relationships. at 18, love feels intense, all-consuming, and real—and it’s easy to mistake that intensity for something pure and meaningful. you WANT to believe it. you want to believe this man loves you for who you are. Radha, at 18, is still figuring out who she is. she’s in the middle of a MASSIVE transition: she’s learning how to step into leadership, abandoning childhood and entering adulthood, and figuring out how to exist in a world that already doesn’t give her the respect she deserves because she’s a woman (look at how people treat Devi despite being the heir). she is still trying to understand her own power, her own worth.

and here comes Raj, a man with years of experience, presenting himself as her lover, her confidante, and possibly her protector, feeding her the narrative she wants to hear. he knows exactly what to say to reel her in. he knows how to appeal to her vulnerabilities, how to use his experience to make her feel seen, heard, and loved in ways no one else has made her feel. and she, in her youthful exuberance and inexperience, believes every word of it. why? because she’s still learning what love should look like. for fuck’s sake I AM 18 TOO and guess what? I too am more likely to want to believe that someone older and wiser is acting in my best interest.

so anon, don’t sit there and pretend like this is some simple, equal partnership. the psychological power imbalance (hope this isn’t too complicated for your tiny brain) in this relationship is massive, and Raj knows exactly what he’s doing.

what you’re glossing over is the fact that Amrita’s fiancé is not some passive character in this scenario— he's a grown-ass man with agency. Raj is not some idk fucking helpless puppy who couldn’t help himself from falling for Radha. he’s an adult who made an active decision to continue a relationship with Radha while also being engaged to Amrita. you’re blaming Radha (18-23) for being involved with a man (30-35) who willingly pursued her and continued to do so despite being in a committed relationship. that’s on Raj. not Radha.

now, let’s talk about the so-called “friendship betrayal.” first of all, it’s never implied they’re close friends. just because you grew up around someone, it doesn’t make you close friends. this idea that Radha is some villain for having a relationship with Amrita’s fiancé is completely ignoring the bigger picture: Raj is the one who betrayed Amrita’s trust, not Radha. he is the one who made a COMMITMENT. the real question is: why is Raj still pursuing Radha while already committed to someone else? but hey, let’s just blame the teenage girl in the relationship and pretend Raj was a passive bystander who couldn’t possibly help himself, right? let’s blame the other woman! THE TEENAGER.

also, imo Radha’s decisions cannot be analyzed through a modern, 21st-century lens. she wasn’t in a position of true equality, free to make choices without external pressures. the fact that Radha is being criticized for a relationship with Raj, who is a much older man, completely disregards the power dynamics of their time. you think Indian women have it easy? the concept of a woman having autonomy over her body, her emotions, or even her relationships wasn’t something widely accepted back then, and still isn’t! (I’m desi, don’t try to argue).

AND. Oh. My. God. are you seriously going to sit here and say that making Radha a victim of grooming somehow makes her a “boring” character? that is the most tone-deaf, reductionist thing I’ve heard all year. congratulations, you won this.

-> so, what, the moment someone experiences harm or exploitation, we should just discard their emotional arc because it doesn’t fit some heroic, flawless narrative? that’s not how human beings work. just because a character experiences something painful or difficult doesn’t make them any less interesting. in fact, it makes them more multidimensional, because we’re seeing how they respond to those situations, how they grow from them, or sometimes how they struggle with them. Radha being a victim of grooming doesn’t flatten her—it makes her MORE interesting because we’re watching her navigate a complicated, manipulative relationship where she’s being used by someone more experienced and powerful and by the end of it, she even gets pregnant and WILL BE FORCED TO SLEEP WITH DEVI’S UNCLE.

the argument you’re making is essentially saying that only perfect, unscathed characters are worth caring about. that’s simply ridiculous. being a victim of grooming doesn’t make Radha “flat”. YOU are reducing her to some simplistic trope of the “innocent woman who doesn’t know better” and missing the point that her journey is about finding out what’s been done to her and coming to terms with how to reclaim her agency. THAT is the heart of character development. if Radha’s journey were simply about being a perfect, flawless leader without any emotional depth or complexity, that would make her boring.

and honestly, the fact that someone would even DARE to suggest that a character’s experiences of trauma or manipulation somehow reduce their value or depth shows an actual shocking lack of empathy. my bad for thinking you guys have a heart.

also back to “Radha is too smart to be groomed” // cults are an obvious example here — people in their 30s, 40s, and even older have been lured into these toxic environments and guess what? those people are often not some naive, uneducated “fools” but highly educated, well-established adults. I mean look at the many documented cases of people far older than Radha who have fallen victim to manipulative tactics. there are countless stories of educated, rich, established successful adults being groomed by people who know exactly how to prey on their weaknesses. manipulators don’t just target “dummies.” they target people who are seeking connection, people who are vulnerable to flattery, or people who have been conditioned to doubt their own worth or instincts. manipulation doesn’t care about your age or your IQ.

when we (and with we, I mean cunts like you) dismiss victims' stories based on ignorant assumptions—whether it's about their intelligence, age, or any other arbitrary factor—we're doing the predators' work for them. we are telling victims that their pain doesn’t matter, that their reality is somehow invalid, that they must have deserved it, or that they’re too smart to be manipulated.

so no, Radha isn't 'too smart' to be manipulated, just like no one else is 'immune' based on their age or intellect. you don’t need to be an idiot to be preyed upon. you just need to be human. so, before you throw around judgment, maybe take a minute to think about what you’re really saying about the victims of manipulation—because, honestly, the way you’re talking about Radha makes me wonder if you even understand what true strength looks like in the face of abuse or if you know what abuse even entails.

snippet from my wcs analysis

Okay so I saw the post about Radha, Raj, and Amrita and I want to say something about it but I am afraid to contradict some of the people because they seem a bit unreasonable and would attack you for your opinion. The also are insulting people who agree with it. So I am going to explain why that person said what they did or potentially why. This comes from somebody who is an avid reader I read visual novel games, fanfiction, and books I have 10 plus years of reading with critical thinking of details in stories and understanding of characters.

Okay let’s start with the whole Radha is groomed I am of the opinion that did not happen based on how the Basu family is described. You think Vidya, Doran, or Sara would allow Raj to live if any of them believed he manipulated and used Radha for his gain. Grooming victims are described as being naive easy to manipulate that is not Radha at all she is being taught how to become a leader in time when women in power were looked down upon. You think part of her education from Vidya wasn’t about being able to spot manipulations from men who would want to use her and manipulate her. You think Radha wouldn’t do anything to a man who thought he could use her as an example of why not to mess with her like what Sara did to Rati when Rati insulted Sara. To me to say that Radha is a victim of grooming by Raj is an insult to Radha and her intelligence and her capabilities of being a leader you are saying that when a good looking guy comes into the picture all of Radha’s training disappears. My interpretation of how this relationship started was that it happened when Devi was in Bombay which made Radha 18 when this relationship started I can’t find information on how old Raj is but the oldest I think he is is 30 which is not a great look but from the interaction that we see while they are at the mountain retreat is that Raj is trying to end their relationship because even though BOTH of them have feelings for one another it is not the time for their families bloodlines to unite Radha is the one who says no let’s continue this affair in secret because I am what you want and we should be together. In grooming relationships the groomer has all the power in this relationship it looks like equal partnership with them. Also we know that Sara and Radha believe that men are tools for their entertainment you think a women who think men are like animals for their amusement can be manipulated and controlled by one. You guys don’t think Sara wouldn’t kill Raj if he groomed and used Radha her twin Sara straight up killed someone to protect Radha’s secret which means that Sara knows that BOTH Radha and Raj went into this willingly together. I want everyone to know that in my opinion guys Vidya knows about Raj and Radha. When Vidya tells Raj you are practically like family to me she is saying that she knows Raj is the one who got her daughter pregnant and she is not happy at all. I believe that part of the reason there is tension between the Basus and Doobays is because Vidya knows about the affair and is mad at both Raj and Radha then that anger multiplies when Radha gets pregnant. I also believe the reason that Vidya is not passing the reins to Radha is because she knows about the affair with Raj and believes that Radha needs more training before she becomes leader of the dozen and the Basu family. Vidya loves her daughters and I get the impression that if anyone hurt or used her daughter she would kill them no matter what and I guarantee that Doran would be there to help Vidya.

Let us move on to another topic people who say that Radha owes Amrita nothing. You do remember that Amrita is/was friends with the Basu twins. Which means that Radha slept and had a relationship with a friend’s fiancé. I could never justify doing that to someone who was a friend to me. Also the reason that Amrita is not close to her friends is the fact she is engaged and is learning about her future role along with getting to know her future husband. I also don’t understand how Raj can get to know his fiancé as a person and continue seeing someone else. Raj has hurt Amrita she knows that Raj doesn’t love her and she will be trapped in an loveless marriage, but can you imagine the pain of knowing that someone who was friends with you was sleeping with your fiancé behind your back and your fiancé cares about them more than you. I also love Radha as a character but I can hate and be critical of her choices this is what makes her multi dimensional and a fascinating character making her a victim of grooming makes her more flat and not as interesting of an character. I also believe that everyone missed the point of what the poster of the post was saying Radha and Raj are BOTH to blame for this situation they both knew better but continued it and now there is fallout because of their actions. Radha and Raj both hold blame on this no one forced this relationship they both willingly went along with it. Raj being the older one who also wanted to stop his relationship with Radha should have stuck to his original intentions Raj is older and is already a leader he knew better then to continue the affair, but it doesn’t excuse Radha because when she became older and almost became the the official leader Radha knew better as well then to continue her affair with Raj. Amrita is truly the only one who has no blame in this and everyone loves to hate on her when in reality Amrita is a victim in this and is going to experience unbelievable pain and betrayal from this. Some people missed the point on the post both Radha and Raj deserve equal blame in all of this no one is saying Raj is an angel because he is not but not enough people point that out the fact that Radha is 23 when she gets pregnant she knows better then to continue this affair and face possible repercussions of her affair with Raj. People treat Radha like she was forced against her will to be in this relationship when she wasn’t at all Raj and Radha were equal partners in their relationship. Therefore the both hold equal blame for what happened. Radha is no angel and that is okay because no one is in this story is and that is what makes everything so interesting.

Well that's a big confession 🤯

Sorry but we cannot edit such a big confession, even if we try would be a mess ( fun fact: we did try and turn out to be 5 images 😬)

This is something to have in mind before sending a confession, the length of the confession shouldn't excess 100 words, thanks!

-mod lyn