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stargirlrchive · 2 years ago

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song chord ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: jake sully x female!reader but no use of y/n, arranged marriage, sunshine!jake x grumpy!reader, kind of lmao. angst, jealousy, mentions of death, feelings of insecurities. fluff. <3 i think that is all, pls lmk if i missed anything

word count: 5,112

tìyawn (n) - love

comments: first fic in a few months, first avatar fic ever <3 i really loved writing this, so i hope you all love it too, okay mwah mwah bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You had not wanted your night to end like this, angrily picking at your song chord as your mother whispered to the elders of her desire to have you wed, and to the Olo’eyktan none the less. Every stone, every achievement, you had earned felt as though it was taken from you. Ripped from your fingers just as you were starting to enjoy the fruits of your labors.

Toruk Makto sat across from your mother, listening closely as the elders proposed the idea of uniting your family. Joining forces to strengthen the clan, providing security and faith to the people he led.

You had wished so much more for yourself, to have your accomplishments be only your own. Not tied to a man you would never be equal to. All your life you had fought to be perfect, to be an accomplished warrior and fight for your people. Your eyes welled with tears as your fingers ran across the newest bead on your song chord. An iridescent pearl that your father had picked for you, that you held so dearly and were waiting for the perfect culminating moment in your life to add to your chord. Your Iknimaya was given the grace of bearing the pearl.

Your mind swirled with the prospect of being wed, being mated to a man you knew very little about, a man you had only met in passing. As much as you tried to find a way to fix this you couldn't, it felt like your thoughts were running a millions miles a minute and getting no answer. It was very clear that you had no way to object, your family would be so disappointed and the fear that nestled into your chest far outweighed the fear of sacrificing your future, it was almost debilitating. Either way you ended up losing.

You roughly wiped at your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, quietly counting to ten as you willed yourself to object, to tell them your future was yours and no one else's. You had lost so much due to the war with the sky-people, you did not want to lose this too. The words were on the tip of your tongue but your eyes locked onto Jake’s and his fear was clear as day within his eyes. It comforted you, a bit. Knowing you were not the only one silently suffering, but he was the last person you wanted to find comfort in.

He cleared his throat and the room was silenced instantly, causing a lump to form at your throat. “Before I agree I would like us to speak, privately.”

You nodded as he stood, following after him outside of the tent. He walked outside of the camp, towards the dark forest that was only illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the plants and small insects native to the land. Normally you would question why he was leading you away from everyone, but it felt as though all the energy was taken from you.

Not too far into the forest there was a clearing, a small pond with glowing fish. He grunted quietly as he lowered himself to sit, dipping his feet into the pond as he sighed quietly. None of you said anything for a while, you had stayed standing by the trees and looking up into the sky. Silently praying to Eywa to give you the strength to fulfill your duty with an open mind, and even an open heart.

He turned to look at you, watching as your brows furrowed even more as a shooting star passed by, “Do you mind sitting with me?”

A small huff left your lips but you did as he asked, slowly approaching him and keeping a sizeable distance between the two of you, dipping your feet into the water just as he had. “I did not expect to be mated, the thought had never really crossed my mind.”

You kept quiet, trying to focus on his words as you fought the tears trying to fall from your eyes, he took your silence as a sign to keep speaking. “I know a lot of the Na’vi still blame me for what happened, I do too.” His throat tightened, gruff with guilt and unshed tears balling up, and for the second time tonight you found comfort that you were both suffering. “I am trying to be better, and I will prove to you everyday that I am no longer loyal to the sky-people. Believe me, the Clan’s best interest is my main priority and I would never again willingly do something to harm them.”

Silence.

“I know it is not ideal, having to marry a skxawng like me, but I would like to continue the engagement if you wish.”

You sighed quietly and tucked your knees in, resting your arms on them to lay your head gently, “I do not blame you.”

He nodded and averted his eyes to the pond, not believing your words, “I-I just did not picture my life to be this way. After my father died I tried so hard to accomplish everything he wanted for me, that is why it took me time to complete my Iknimaya, I wanted everything to be perfect.” His ears twitched as he listened to you.

“I just do not know if this is what he would have wanted for me.” Your last words were whispered quietly, almost as if you did not want him to hear.

“I fear everything I have ever accomplished will be stripped from me, and I will just be seen as Toruk Makto’s wife. Expected to be the next Tsahik and I can barely interpret the will of Eywa for myself, how am I expected to do so for the rest of the clan?”

He laughed loudly, as if what you said was the funniest thing in the world. As if your worries were comical and before you could stop yourself you hissed in his direction, making your way to stand up. “I’m sorry-wait I’m sorry-you made me laugh but I did not mean to offend you.”

You stopped yourself from leaving, “See what I mean? Skxawng.”

Your lips barely twitched at the end and you hoped he hadn’t caught it. He did.

“I am a warrior JakeSully, I will not sit back and watch the people fight. I will be front line.”

He smiled at your words, “I would also like to get to know you better, no wedding within the next two-three weeks, yes?”

He leaned back on his arms and looked up at the night sky, millions of tiny stars scattered all across you. “Ok, no wedding soon.”

He sent you a warm smile and it eased the gnawing feeling in your chest, “One final request, I wish to be seen as your equal, taken into consideration when it comes to decisions of the clan, not just your wife but your partner.”

His silence scared you, fearful of what would leave his mouth, “That is all I want.”

A small smile made its way onto your features, feeling far more content then how you expected this night to go.

You were both silent for a long time, just enjoying the beautiful forest of Pandora, “I must go, it is well past Eclipse and my mother will be worried.”

Jake nodded and stood up, leaning his arm forward to help you too. You both silently made your way through the short distance back to the camp, quickly making your way to your tent. You were about to go in, without sparing him another look but his hand reached for your forearm to stop you from walking, “We are in this together, from here on out it is you and me. I am not taking this lightly and-and I will be your friend through all of this.”

Your eyes welled with tears again, having to come to terms with your future in those few seconds as you looked up into his golden eyes. “Thank you, I will try my best too.”

You sent him a small smile before moving into your tent, hoping to sleep away the still overwhelming fear of having no control of your life.

You blinked the sleep away from the night before, trying to relax the nauseating feeling that nestled in your stomach as you recalled the events of last night. Why had you so willingly opened up to JakeSully, why?

You did not know him, and from the whispers that followed him around you were one of the few Na’vi women that did not want to. You had opened up some of your deepest concerns last night, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why. You soothingly rubbed the beads of your song chord, trying to ground yourself and push the tears down that seemed to flow like a never ending river.

Your ears twitched gently as you heard movement outside of your tent, “Who is there?”

Someone cleared their throat as you sat up, fixing your chest beads and loin cloth on your way to stand up. “It’s Jake, um-I wanted to spend some time with you. As friends do.”

You tsk’ed lowly, slowly making your way towards the opening of the tent, head peeking out only to be met with a gentle smile on the Toruk Makto’s face. You refrained from rolling your eyes at the tall man, going back into your tent but leaving it open so he could follow. “Give me a few minutes and I will be ready.”

He hummed quietly as he stepped in, eyes jumping from corner to corner of your tent. Curiously walking towards a make-shift shelf, filled from top to bottom with your trinkets. From your first arrow, to dried flowers and pretty stones you had collected since you were a child. You observed him, feeling your heart jump to your throat as he reached to pick something up. Feeling exposed to him in a way you couldn’t describe.

Your mind eased as he gently picked up the only picture you had on there, one that Grace had taken of your mother and father that she gifted you on a random day during her classes. “My condolences for your father, I never got to meet him.”

You said nothing as you continued to ready yourself, turning your back to him and making sure he was still occupied with the shelf before changing quickly, adjusting the straps on the cloth that fell on your hips as he turned towards you. “What will we be doing, JakeSully?”

His nose twitched softly at his full name.

“Is it your hunting or training day?”

You shook your head no, “Perfect, let’s go for a ride.”

Your eyes lit up softly, anytime you got to spend with your Ikran was so special to you, your sweet Pey’lal. Following behind him happily as he threaded through the forest where the claimed Ikran’s rested. Your tongue instinctively started clicking once you made it to the large tree, looking towards the sky for a large blur of purple and blue.

There was a large gust of wind and a powerful thud as Pey’lal landed gracefully in front of you, nuzzling her head against your cheek as you laughed happily. “My sweet girl, I have missed you.”

You cooed happily as she made happy clicking noises at the attention you were giving her, Jake clearing his throat made you snap out of your happy bubble. Pey’lal looked up as if just noticing him for the first time, moving her head to the side in question, flapping her wings as a warning sign. Your hand reached out to soothe her, letting her know to stand down. She relaxed instantly. “This is Pey’lal, my Ikran. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Your smile reached your eyes for the first time and Jake nodded, “This is Bob.” He patted his Ikran’s head who huffed in slight annoyance and it caused a laugh to ripple from your throat, “Bob?”

Jake’s face flared as his ears twitched, “I think it fits him, he is quite goofy.”

“If you say so, JakeSully.”

There was a beat of silence before you connected your queue to Pey’lal’s, jumping smoothly onto her back, “Well, let’s get to flying.”

In the next instant you were off, looking back momentarily only to see Jake jumping onto his Ikran to catch up.

It had been several weeks since Jake had taken you out to fly, or out on a date as he called it. But ever since then it was as if he was glued to your hip, accompanying you even when it was not necessary. Like when you went to pick fruit or went hunting, Pey’lal was even growing accustomed to him being around. Just yesterday she nuzzled her head against his chest as he called out for Bob, something she had only ever done with you.

You had tried to be annoyed with him, wanting to keep him as far away from you as possible but he had slowly, very slowly, started to crack the walls you had built up and began staking claim.

Like even now, as he sat across from you and smiled at your annoyance towards him, your tail swishing in frustration. “You are Olo'eyktan and cannot even pronounce basic words.”

You tsk’ed quietly as he leaned back on his arms, not focusing on what you were saying. He laughed deeply, one that you could tell started in his chest, “I cannot focus today.”

“You can never focus.”

“You are distracting me.”

Your brows furrowed together, confusion evident on your face. Another laugh left his throat, “I do not like being laughed at, JakeSully.”

“I am not laughing at you.” It continued, the sound warming your chest as you feigned being offended, purposely dropping your ears, “I just think you are so-so-interesting.”

You huffed and moved away from him, “You really know how to woo me.”

His face dropped and you bit back the smile that threatened to crack across your face, tucking your tail away as he scooted closer to you, “I meant that in a good way-I did not want to offend you.”

You turned your face to him, the laugh escaped you as soon as your eyes locked onto his, face full of concern, “I was only kidding you Skxawng. I think you are interesting too.”

He pushed your shoulder with his own, smiling so hard his cheeks felt sore.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, and in the next instant it hit you just how close he was, the side of his thigh pressed against yours and you flushed deeply. Ears twitching as you tried to stop your body from going rigid against his.

Jake's finger twitched softly as he contemplated reaching for your hand, he wouldn’t put it past you to flick him with your tail if he tried to, but even still he wanted to know how your hands would feel against his.

Your face was turned away from him, clearly trying not to face him and he swore you knew what he was up to, your fingers twitched softly as it rested on your leg. Before he could think about it too much he slipped his hand under your own, tangling his fingers with yours and closing, rubbing gently along your knuckles.

Your hand had tensed as he held it, still avoiding his gaze and he almost retracted but slowly your fingers relaxed into his, his tail swished softly in excitement as you folded your fingers to hold his hand.

“Your hands are sweaty, Toruk Makto.”

He refrained from laughing, “Yeah well-you make me nervous. One wrong move and I know it will earn me a tail flick to the head.”

You laughed at his words and turned to him, cheeks still blazing as he got a good look at you. Your cheeks were a soft purple and a smile that reached all the way to your eyes.

“Do not tempt me.”

Your tail gently flicked against his arm and he felt a warm sensation start in his belly and make its way up to his chest, causing goosebumps to rise all across his arms.

After a beat of silence he began speaking again, “So, how do you say it? Kalultal?”

“No-no! Kelutral!”

The weeks had started to bleed into each other the more time you spent with Jake. Your eyes instinctively looked through the sea of Na’vi as you searched for him, a proud smile on your face as you lugged around the Hexapede you had hunted not too long ago.

You had noticed him a couple of feet away, his back towards you and there was an instant smile that made its way to your face, trying to get to him faster. Your eyes were taking in his back, a small heat rising to your cheeks as you let your stare run across his shoulders and down to his arms.

You opened your mouth to call out for him but you clamped up almost instantly, ears twitching in question as his head was thrown back and a loud laugh left his lips. Your eyes finally shifted to who was in front of him and felt a sting begin to settle in your stomach. It was Neytiri.

They were talking animatedly between each other, laughing and you were not sure why it left such a bitter taste in your mouth. Cheeks now flushed but for an entirely different reason, anger bubbled in your chest. You tried to wrack your brain for what it could be, you had always gotten along with Neytiri so why had you started to feel a sense of insecurity in yourself as you noticed how easy it was for them to get along? How easy it had been for them since the beginning.

The realization scared you even more so when you came to the conclusion that it was jealousy, you had started to feel some sort of claim to the Toruk Makto and it hurt. You felt so stupid, how could you think he wanted you when Neytiri had been a part of his life from the moment he was introduced to the clan? She had shown him the in’s and out’s, he had fallen in love with your people, with your home, through her.

You felt a lump rise to your throat as you handed off the Hexapede to be skinned for the feast later in the evening, rushing past the crowd of people behind you. You wanted to be far away from him, from her, from everyone. Your ears had turned inward and all you could hear was the beating of your heart. It came in loud thuds, deep and sorrowful.

You had made it towards your tent, not noticing that Jake had clocked you dropping the animal off. He had called you several times which you had not heard. He had noticed how your shoulders were tensed, a look so unfamiliar to him on your face and he knew something was wrong. His fingers tangled around your forearm before you slipped into your tent, you jolted back against his chest showing him just how distracted you were.

Jake called your name softly and his brows furrowed together as you refused to look at him. “Is everything alright?”

You hissed in his direction and yanked your forearm from his grip, Jake stepped back in astonishment as he took in the anger swirling in your eyes. “Leave me alone, JakeSully.”

“Woah-what? Did I-what’s wrong?”

You ignored him and walked into your tent, pacing the perimeters as you tried to keep the emotions from erupting into something uglier. You felt like an open wound and hated that it was caused by the man who only a few months ago you wanted nothing to do with. Your tent was opened as Jake stepped in, confusion evident in his face.

Your angry haze landed on him, his hands up in surrender trying to not overwhelm you as he neared you, “I do not want you near me, Toruk Makto. Just go!”

“I am just trying to figure out what’s wrong, yeah? Let me help.”

“You are the last person I would want help from, get out!”

Your hands had reached up to push at his chest and even Jake knew you were going easy on him, but the pushes were persistent. The frustration more evident each time your palms landed on his chest.

His hands reached out to grab at your wrist, the beads of your song chord digging gently into your skin. Your wrist felt like they were on fire at his touch and felt the anger surge through your body all over again. Hands wriggling angrily against his as he stepped closer, concern clear as day on his features but you could not bring yourself to care. All your deepest insecurities rearing their ugly head at you, a sob threatening to escape from your throat as an uncomfortable feeling settled into your stomach. A feeling that you would not be enough, not for your family, not for Jake, not for the clan.

Your anger peaked, a scream was ready to erupt from your throat as Jake was not letting your wrist go, he was still trying to calm you down. You ripped your wrist from his grip in a whip of anger and felt all the air leave you at once. Your song chord had tangled along the leather braided clasps on Jake's wrist and ripped from yours, the beads falling like a waterfall all around the two of you. “No-no-no!”

Your eyes and hands frantically searched around for the pearl your father had given you, not locating it anywhere and a small whimper left your mouth as the tears flowed from your eyes and down to your neck.

Jake was on his hands and knees instantly as you wept, helping you gather the stones that had been placed on your chord, “Please just leave, Jake! Go with Neytiri and leave me alone.”

Your voice was raw with emotion and it made his heart clench, his ears twitched in confusion but he said nothing as he continued to gather all the beads he saw, an uncomfortable sting making its way to his wrist.

He could tell your holding back from sobbing, you had folded into yourself after all the stones were gathered, your back shaking from your tears. “I will help you build it back, I will weave the chord with you. I am so sorry.”

His hand had reached out to your shoulders pulling you up against him and into his chest, there was a strain on his wrist at the awkward way it bent causing a low hiss to fall from his lips. His hand settled on your head, rubbing soothingly as he felt you calm in his arms, a pinch each time his hand dragged forward but he didn’t care. “Will you let me help you?”

You whimpered quietly as you melted into his embrace, “There is no point.”

“What do you mean, tìyawn?”

You felt your heart flutter at the affectionate name, but your heart felt heavy as you realized you had lost the pearl your father had gifted you, “I lost the pearl for my Iknimaya. It was a pearl my father had gifted me, it meant so much to me and-and I waited for something that felt worthy of carrying the stone and now I have lost it. I no longer want a song chord.”

You broke out into another fit of tears, only this time wrapping your arms around Jake’s neck to find solace in him, and he comforted as best he could, wrapping his arms around you as his fingers traced your back to calm you down once again.

He felt the pinch against his wrist again, an irritation settling softly in his chest at the persistent sting. He pulled his arms closer to you so one rested on your hip while the other tried to unclamp the leather bracelets that sat on his wrist. When the bracelet was off he felt instant relief, his ears twitching at the sound of a pebble landing on the floor. He swore a silent prayer to Eywa fell from his lips as his eyes locked onto the pearl. It was iridescent and had small scratches since you wore your song chord almost everywhere. His fingers reached for the stone, picking it up gently as if he feared it would break under the weight of his fingers. “Is this it?”

Your head lifted from his chest, looking into his palm and a watery laugh left your throat, still thick with emotion as you reached out for it. You looked up into Jake’s eyes and it seemed like hundreds of tears kept flowing from your eyes, Jake's lips were turned downwards as he rubbed at your cheeks, trying to erase the evidence of your sadness. He hated it, he hated seeing you hurting and in that instant swore that he would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you happy.

“I do not like knowing you are sad.”

Your emotions consumed you once again as you stared up at him, eyes flickering to his lips for a brief second. Sniffling softly you leaned your face closer to him, pressing your forehead against his and you let your eyes flutter closed. You could not bear to look at him, he consumed you in every way and the clarity hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in love.

You let your lips fall against his in a quick motion, it was soft even though it only lasted a few seconds. When you pulled back his eyes were closed, cheeks a deep purple, ears twinging pink as he reeled from having your lips on his. “I am no longer sad, Jake. Just sorry, and embarrassed for how I behaved.”

He was all over you in the next instant, lips pressing into yours almost bruisingly as if he tried to forever engrain the feeling of your lips on his. Hands gripped at your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him and a small whine left your mouth. He used the gap between your lips to his advantage as he gently slipped his tongue, almost as if asking for permission. Your teeth softly bit down on the tip of his tongue, soothing it by sliding your own across his. He felt the groan come from the center of his chest, he felt all of you as he wrapped pulled you in closer.

You were the first to pull away, Jake’s lips chasing after your own as you sucked in a long breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. You turned from him slightly and placed the pearl with your other stones, turning back to him as your eyes scanned all across his face. “I only want you, my tìyawn. No one else, do you understand me?”

You nodded and let your forehead fall against his again, whispering the words that told him just how you felt, “Oel ngati kameie.”

A laugh rippled from his throat and he placed a kiss to your cheek, “Oel”, a kiss to your nose, “Ngati”, a kiss to your lips, “Kameie”.

You finally pulled away from him, looking at the beads that Jake had gathered for you. “So you will help me?”

He nodded happily, watching your every move as you stood up, picking up a small box that was on your shelf. He couldn't stop the smile that fell on his lips as your tail switched softly, contemplating what material you wanted to hold your beads. You settled on a weaved tan thread, sitting back down next to Jake and you hummed quietly, “You do not have one right, Ma’Jake?”

Jake swore his heart was going to fall out of his chest, “No I do not-no one ever told me to make it so I did not think to do it.”

“You must make one now, we sing the song chord to remember. Each bead is a story in our life.”

Your fingers brushed Jake’s as you handed over the extra piece of string for him to use, placing the box in between the two of you, full of beads, some simpler than others but just as beautiful. The two of you settled into a comfort silence, Jake pausing on occasion to think on certain events that were important enough to add to his chord, digging his fingers into the box.

You had finished your chord quickly, knowing it by memory and Jake noticed you had not added any new beads, until the last one, that one was new.

It was a soft shade of blue, it stood out beautifully against the majority of white and brown of it. “That is new.”

His fingers ran across your song chord, it was so much more intricate than his, showing just how proud you should be of yourself, now a constant reminder how he will always be proud of you. “It is for you, Toruk Makto.”

You flushed and shied away from him as his ears twitched, pulling his own chord out to share it with you, explaining what each one meant. When he reached the last stone, it was a deep red, one that shined if light reflected on, “This one-It’s for you. My tìyawn.”

You reached for his hand and wrapped the chord twice around his wrist, “I am ready, to be mated.”

He let his fingers trace your palm, going over each line and scar, even tracing over the small callouses the tips of your finger had accumulated from training with your arrow. He was smiling so hard, cheeks hurting as he leaned over to pick up your own chord and wrap it around your wrist, it looped three times. “I want a huge ceremony, with a huge feast and lots of music and dancing.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to stop the laughter that bubbled at your throat, “I do not need such a big fuss over me, Ma’Jake.”

He brought you even closer to him, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he announced, “But I do, I want all of the Omaticaya clan to know I am mated to you. Forever you and me.”

Another burst of warmth fell over you, pressing a kiss to his lips before you moved to sit against him, your back pressed firmly to his chest as his arms wrapped around your frame, “Now tell me, what do the other beads represent?”

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daisyachain · 4 months ago

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I’ve made this post before but I can’t be bothered to find it. In what we commonly consider a ‘traditional’/patriarchal European society, the paths in life are: marriage with children (acceptable), bachelorhood (frowned upon, locked out of certain professions/roles), spinsterhood in servitude to parents (probably suffering), religious servitude. An unmarried person is a servant either of the local lord, the Lord, or the parents. The parental relationship has a built-in hierarchy of the senior parents and the underling child. All pressures push down and toward marriage as a form of (highly limited for women) freedom.

One of the few ways around this system is the sibling relationship. Sticking with a sibling can provide an avenue to independence from hierarchy via a peer relationship, a person who moves in with a married sibling is protected under the auspices of that marriage (though somewhat dependent on the sibling) and is not automatically subordinate as with aristocracy/religious orders/parents. I’m interested in the sibling relationship as a kind of lifeline or shield against the buffets of social expectation specially in a world where there is some kind of censure against unmarriage and in which marriage is seen as the final step in growing up. Siblings are the playmates of childhood, they are biological family, to remain part of s biological family unit is acceptable, to remain unmarried is not, the sibling is the last line of defense against a spouse without submitting to hierarchy and/or could be read as the last line of defense against growing up.

This isn’t coherent. I like the idea of two siblings choosing to remain close into adulthood not because they necessarily like each other that much, but because they understand the consequences of abandoning someone to social forces. Siblings as a kind of delayed maturation, a sign that something is wrong, a failed evolution, a vestigial relationship, you’re supposed to be close growing up and then split into different clans, but they have failed to do so and have closed the loop to return to childhood.

#kelsey rambles #have to pull out an example so that I don’t sound insane #nightray sibs—they operate as a unit becuase gil is aware of Vince’s dependence and that very closeness leads gil to hate him #the Alice siblings—Alice becomes alyss’ defense against Jack. the ‘marriage’ option and the sibling are in direct conflict #fma03 vs fmab. the ‘healthy’ ‘good’ ending is where edward goes off and starts a family with winry #the fucked ending is where edward and alphonse want to reunite after their journey and do not want to split up.#minamoto family. the nuclear family unit collapses and Teru and kou band together in a pseudounit threatened by kou’s dalliance with Mitsuba #kageyama brothers. mob relies on ritsu as his bestie/emotional support rather than integrating into the real world. depending on ritsu #is a way to avoid growing up. etc.#basically: sibling relationship as an ‘improper’ perpetuation of childhood in conflict with romance as a ‘proper’ way of growing up #specifically where there are no options except the sibling/romance binary

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aliusfrater · 1 month ago

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sam's early seasons anger is his response to the trauma obtained within the (non)family unit that is john-dean-sam, but most importantly, it's his response to the abuse john had inflicted upon both himself and dean, and it's very often on behalf of dean, who in his own codependent dynamic with john as a parentified child, non-pathologised john's abusive actions and was unable to form any kind of significant pushback against john's abuse. john's abuse is grief and emotion projected outwards onto dean, a child, the son, who gains the unjust responsibility of having to manage his father's emotions. sam refuses to be like dean and cater himself to john largely because he, through his Othering and detachment within his family and hunting, is able to view john's actions as what it is—abuse. he acknowledges this in over and over season one both with reference to the fact that what happened to them was 'not normal' and with specific reference of why john's actions are abuse—"you were just pissed you couldn't control me anymore!" he expresses his refusal to fold into the same mould that dean has through anger, first through character-typical malicious compliance, in which he asks questions he knows he is entitled to (and generally believes in arming oneself with information, due to both the chronic lack of information john and dean had provided him with as a child (3.08)) but knows john will view as disrespect (due to the fact that it strays from the codependent role that dean has folded himself into on john's behalf; he does what he's told and asks no questions, though is generally awarded more information due to his parentification) and then through argumentative behaviour. both john and dean frame john and sam's arguments as sam's fault but this is the most encapsulating abusive aspect of it—john's (the parent) response to sam (the son) is not sam's responsibility.

i don't think his revenge is encapsulated by his anger; his revenge comes from their familial idealistic response to grief, and anger is a part of grief, rather than the other way around. instead of processing this grief, it's channeled into revenge. it's a foundation of hunting for a lot of hunters, which is both a literal and metaphorical representation of the cycle of abuse (and when it isn't hunting, it's represented in blood (re: men of letters)). his conflict with lilith isn't wholly about his revenge for dean's death, especially after dean is resurrected. i think it's more so related to my interpretation of sam's character conflict for that season being that of rejecting what the codependent dynamic of his and dean's relationship¹ had become by season three in favour of his own independence; his conflict with lilith and how ruby plays into this conflict began with revenge then became the nucleus of his rebellion against dean (which does include anger²). he acknowledges this directly in season five—"dean, one of the reasons i went off with ruby... was to get away from you. [...] it made me feel strong. like i wasn't your kid brother."—but it doesn't help that both ruby and the angels were actively encouraging this conflict between sam and lilith largely because of the fact that it 1) re: ruby—represented a course of agency for sam outside of dean and presented an opportunity for her own manipulation of sam (she filled in a dean-like role in the sense that she catered to everything sam wanted the actual dean to be doing for him—namely the acceptance of his monstrosity—while presenting him with a facade of independence), and 2) re: ruby and the angels—provided them with a pawn to break the final seal by dressing up the idea of lilith as free of negative consequence through the omission of information (according to both the angels and ruby, lilith was the one who had to complete breaking of the final seal. to sam, killing lilith was morally righteous).

²i do think that sam has a general undercurrent, simmering, and oftentimes outward yet compartmentalised anger that he utilises within his own agency outside of his relationship with john then dean. however, i do think that the very core of it is more related to his Othering, monstrosity, and the loss of control that he feels when his environment responds to his monstrosities. sam admits to this as well—4.16, "well, get angry." / 5.11, "most of the time, i can hide it, but... i am angry. i'm mad at everything. i used to be mad at you and dad, then lilith, now it's lucifer, and i make excuses. i blame ruby or the demon blood, but it's not their fault. it's not them. it's me. it's inside me. i'm mad… all the time... and i don't know why."—and something that really intrigues me about the latter admission is the event preceding it: he's tied to a bed (much like the conditions of the panic room) and his anger is victim blamed with explicit reference to his monstrosity. "you are far too angry to be out there in the real world," is a very pointed and crazy ass line on the 'we kill monsters who fall out of line and into our line of sight' show directly after the season in which he perceivably became the 'them' within the 'us vs them' metaphorical equation. the people that sam bring up are also representations of either his Othering, a loss of control, or his explicit monstrosity. his anger began with his father's abuse and continued long after his death when he passed control of sam's life over to dean who, through his inability to properly handle the past responsibility of parentification, perpetuated it into this request made by john which clashed with dean's existing ideas of monstrosity; sam's existence outside of the existing dichotomy of hunting prompted the stretching of this dichotomy to fit sam (dean’s season two conflict re: sam) rather than the destruction and rewriting of the dichotomy itself and in that way, sam still ended up othered within his existence as a threat to the upturning of their familial hunting beliefs. ruby and lilith (as well as azazel) represent the pretence of control just as much as they represent his unknowing grappling for control (addiction) as well as his monstrosity due to how he employed his monstrosity within his conflicts with them while lucifer represents an entire loss or both perceived or preconceived control—both the idea of sam's monstrosity in an inherent sense, as well as sam's complete lack of control are cemented with lucifer's existence just as much as the preparation (azazel's plans, and it does intrigue me that azazel isn't listed here) leading up to it.

it's foundational to my interpretation of sam that he believes that his monstrosity predated his explicit narrative monstrosity due to the abuse—neglect and isolation most importantly—he experienced as a child and the resulting guilt complex that he's left with, which he then encapsulates within the revelation of his unwilling/unknowing ingestion of demon blood as a baby and i think that with every complex-reinforcing factor that introduces itself into his life, he weaponises/quite simply falls back on his response (anger) to the most original grooming, abuse, and explicit example of a loss of control and Othering in his life—the john-dean-sam dynamic, with an explicit emphasis on john (kind of in a similar way to my idea of dean's reaction to a loss of relationship control, which is to begin recreating the same dynamic). a lot of it comes down to the fact that while he is angry on behalf of himself at these structures—familial, patriarchal, hunting, cycles (of abuse, grief)—he exists within but are both othered and controlled by, the general narrative and sam-dean relationship dynamic pushback against his response to this aspect of his character being that of both adding his response to reasons for/blatant instances of his othering as well as using his response to facilitate the realigning of his non-position within these structures, creates a self-deprecating loop of guilt and results in an anger at himself that echoes exactly the way that these structures demand that his identity be compartmentalised through. basically, it spells either ‘there is something inherently illicit about me. i need information/forgiveness/change (in that order)' or the usage of both this feeling as well as his perceived monstrosity/aspect that he is othered as a result of as agency as seen in season four, five, six, and season eight, is extended onto dean in season eleven, then jack in seasons thirteen through fifteen.

ultimately, these structures' facilitation of sam's non-role involves the depletion of sam's anger and results in his later-seasons characterision that is best (but not wholly) encapsulated within 7.17, "get pissed!" / "i'm too tired," especially when the circumstances of sam's response—in regards to the fact that dean has resouled sam despite his (5.22 and soulless!sam's) explicit doubled lack of consent against it, and while creating the issue that is sam's psychosis, has restored sam/sammy's rightful narrative place within his non-role—not only serve as a perfect example for the abuse dynamics of his and dean's relationship and how it facilitates sam's non-role within said relationship as well as the structures that this relationship is encapsulated by, it also serves as a perfect example for exactly how sam's anger worked, what its purpose was, as well as exactly how and why its depletion facilities his complete assimilation into these structures' atmospheres of abuse. the Whole topic of sam's later-seasons lack of anger (or anger when utilised) is an entirely different post, though.

¹specifically relating to 1) identity and monstrosities relating compartmentalised through the ‘us vs them’ dichotomy of hunting and how it manifests into a relationship dynamic where sam is dean's little brother, sammy, put on a pedestal of innocence because his innocence became dean's responsibility within his parentification and any indication of sam's monstrosity, as something evil encroaching upon Sammy, is therefore viewed a personal failing despite the unequivocal place it holds within sam’s being, 2) and 3).

#i'm at that point in being hyperfixated where i need to put ideas that are basic to my interpretation of a character in text Somewhere #before it becomes so vital that it's also more subconscious than anything #this was written in response to a post chii was asked to respond to a couple weeks ago but i stopped caring about that post #took out of a part of what i was saying and made this #long post #sam winchester #se referat

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haravath0t · 9 months ago

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||𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰:

"ℑ 𝔖𝔞𝔴 𝔐𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔶 𝔎𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔞

ℭ𝔩𝔞𝔲𝔰" ||

𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚏!𝚗𝚎𝚞𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚡 𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚢!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 - 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟸

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : ̗̀➛ you had been sure you had tucked in neuvillette’s daughters to bed as he was celebrating a corporate party on christmas eve. however, curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction surely did not bring it back.

☕🤍🌿 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ! 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 ! ☕🤍🌿

“You are so beautiful like this.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Unwind for me.”

“Do you feel how much I still ache for your touch? How do you leave me wanting you more?”

Neuvillette’s words were so tantalizing, his normally gentle voice hushed and labored as he plows into you, needing himself to be surrounded by nothing but you: your arms, your breaths, your walls. You’d allow yourself to have him, to hold on to every ounce of sin that reeks from your body and his just for tonight. Your own quiet whimpers are all that keeps him going, all the more a reason for him to hold you close to you as the two of you fall into the throes of pleasure, until…

“Daddy? Are you sure Santa will be coming tonight?” Aeife’s voice was heard between the cracks of the door, your panicked eyes looking up at Neuvillette from below. Your skin was as heated as his own, your bodies still meshed together into one. However, the sound of the girl’s voice had pulled you back to reality quicker than a bucket of ice would. Though your face was cradled in his palm, Neuvillette’s gaze was directed at the ajar door, the man hoping that his daughter would not come any further.

“He will, dearest. He’d much prefer if you were asleep,” Neuvillette says softly to the little girl, his tone as even as he could possibly make it to avoid her curiosity being stirred. You suddenly felt a surge of guilt, being underneath the very man whose daughters you care for and cherish. While Neuvillette gently ushers his daughter to bed from his place, your mind couldn’t help but wander and retrace your steps.

You were merely a nanny taking this job to pass the time before you progress to higher endeavors. This was an easy job, but it didn’t help that the very father who had offered you the generous amount of money that he pays was so…kind. Neuvillette was loved by his daughters despite his busy schedule, that much was apparent to any person who saw him with the little girls. All that was missing was a person to fill in gaps in a mundane house life; someone who cooks, someone who could take care of the children while he was at the office. However, Neuvillette seeing you every day, coming in as he leaves, and returning with you in the kitchen when he comes home brought about a routine he could never complain about. It almost felt like you were a part of this unit. A family.

He had come home late from a holiday party at the office tonight, passing by Aeife’s room and hearing you quietly read her a Christmas story. The snowball started to form when you closed the door on your way out, seeing Neuvillette in the hallway waving at you with a shy smile. What was supposed to be a mere gift exchange for the holiday season became one chaste kiss on the cheek. Then a kiss on the lips, then his bedroom becoming a venue for something much more.

Neuvillette rolling off of you pulled you back from your thoughts alongside the click of a door, your bare form feeling colder now before the warmth of a blanket replaces Neuvillette’s own heat. You wanted to ask why the sudden change, wanted to ask if it was your fault, what has become of you both, but Neuvillette’s troubled gaze watching you as he carefully wraps you into his sheets refrains you from uttering anything to him.

“I’m sorry,” He breathes. “I shouldn’t–I can’t.”

You were left in confusion, seeing his mind practically run 100 miles per hour, but his hand lingers on you nonetheless, not ready to leave you alone just yet. But he was right, it would be quite a mess if such an affair continues, but how can you simply move on? How can you even return home tonight, knowing your Christmas was going to be spent alone with nothing but the ghost of his touches on your body to haunt you?

#neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fanfic #neuvillette angst #neuvillette smut #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #neuvillette x you #dilf!neuvillette x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact angst

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probablyasocialecologist · 2 months ago

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In a TikTok from last year, Neeleman forms and fries buttermilk sourdough donuts to a breezy Ella Fitzgerald tune, exhibiting in the process the various accouterments which comprise her signature style: copper utensils and unbleached parchment strewn over a wood-slat table; the kelly green AGA stove that her “family treasures'' adorned with a spray of artfully wilted wildflowers; an audience of flaxen-haired children, perched on a stool, on the table, on her hip. To appreciate the true impact of this scene, one might look beyond the sheer quantity of Neeleman’s 9.8M TikTok and 10M Instagram followers, which indicates less than the kind of reaction represented by the top comment on this video: “I do not want a career. I want this life.” From that phrasing arises the question: what exactly is “this life”? Ostensibly, a life of sourdough starter and adoring children and twenty thousand dollar stoves that is crucially liberated from the treachery of professional striving. Though this translates, more broadly speaking, into a life contained within a little house on a prairie, removed entirely from professional existence or responsibility for anyone outside of the immediate family unit— in other words, tradlife. Certainly, homesteading shares with tradlife a nostalgic orientation, especially when practiced by figures like Winger, who, in her work as a “Homestead Mentor,” encourages “ambitious people to return to their roots.” It is telling, too, that a disproportionate number of homesteader wives on social media are white, conventionally attractive women married to white, weather-beaten husbands, with whom they share a growing brood of children and some form of religious devotion. Elliott described this arrangement in The Atlantic as “the natural form of things in this lifestyle”—a welcome return, she added, to the traditional gender roles with which men and women were “designed,” but that society has “spent so much time and energy fighting.” When expressed as just one part of a broader, free-range lifestyle, this conservative vision becomes obscured beneath its mainstream, palatable packaging—packaging that particularly appeals to the disillusioned career woman looking for some alternative to the maw of capitalism. But how much of that appeal, given its entanglement with tradlife’s conservatism, paradoxically aims to repackage capitalism for her consumption?

26 September 2024

#homesteading #tradwife #conservatism #farming #homesteader

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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To desire, to love, to care (Oneshot)

The Impossible Choice Series Special Chapter

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ description: After years spent in Borros Baratheon's fortress, Aemond chooses his youngest daughter as his future wife. The closer to their wedding date, the more he begins to understand where his real home is. Devastated by this discovery, he consoles himself with the thought that he will finally be reunited with the one he has chosen and create his own family with her, but to do this he has to wait until his wedding night. Or not? ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, kissing, smut, angst, sexual tension, domination, violence, swearing, kind of incest but not actually ]

This oneshot is an alternate reality from The Impossible Choice Series where, according to Aemond’s words in Chapter 49, he is sent to Storm’s End by his father when he is still just a child. It shows what would happen and how it would affect Aemond and Lady Baratheon, what his relationship with Borros, Royce and her other sisters would be like. This oneshot is part two of Brother, Lover, Son story, it's stands apart from the main story and is a big, long “what if”.

Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister

Moodboards before you start reading and want feel the mood:

Aemond and Lady Baratheon • Storm’s End Stronghold • Baratheon Family • Lady Baratheon Gowns • Aemond • Lady Baratheon Mother

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Main story and my other fics: Masterlist

______

He had never been so happy in his life as he was after their betrothal was officially announced. Cassandra and Ellyn had quickly come to terms with his decision, and he didn't care about Floris or Maris' opinions. Borros and Royce seeing his engagement, the glances and quiet words he exchanged at the table with his future wife finally calmed down, reassuring themselves that his decision really did stem from his affection.

His wife-to-be, after what they did almost every night, appeared to him as even more beautiful and even more desirable, and although they allowed themselves to become intimate, letting his fat erection slide deep into her body, he promised himself that he would not undress her or fill her with his seed until their wedding night.

He knew he shouldn't touch her until the day of their nuptials, but he couldn't help himself.

If she had been a complete stranger to him it would have been easier, but they had shared a lifetime together, his years filled with a whole range of feelings towards her that he had not been able to reveal, which now appeared to him like a stream from which she could drink by the handful.

She knew that he loved her.

She knew it even though he had never said it to her.

She could see it in the way he looked at her when, as usual, the three of them practised in the courtyard in the morning, when, hot from the duel with Royce, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

When he stared down at her, panting along with her in a sweet effort of pleasure, with the thrusts of his hips again and again sinking deep between her thighs, experiencing the greatest intimacy that could unite a man and a woman.

She could hear it in his voice when, at her request, he would read to her as he had when she was a small child. This time, however, he let her lie between his thighs and snuggle against his chest, the great book of the complicated history of House Targaryen before them.

She felt that as his future wife she must thoroughly understand and know his lineage.

She could not hide her surprise when she saw their family tree on one of the pages – although she knew it, the number of marriages between sisters and brothers shocked her.

"If you had a second sister, would you marry her?" She asked quietly, her voice quivering with uncertainty, as if she felt that by her not being a Targaryen she was his second, inferior choice that he had been forced into by fate.

He hummed under his breath, leaning in, pushing back her hair with the tip of his nose, placing a soft, warm kiss on her neck.

"As far as I can remember, the Seven have bestowed upon me the grace of having as many as six sisters, though not all of them are as wise as I might wish." He murmured lowly, trailing his nose upwards to her jaw, which he brushed with his lips, feeling the heat at the words he himself had spoken.

He felt her shiver all over, a red flush on her cheek, as she glanced up at him in disbelief, her lips parted slightly, her eyes shining.

"− to me you will always be my brother − that's what you told me − isn't it? − have you changed your mind? −" He asked, feeling his manhood pulsate strongly at this realisation, at the fact that he was in fact taking as his wife the girl he had seen as his family for years, that his decision was no different from what his ancestors had done, and he felt a kind of pride at the thought.

For the first time in those many years when Viserys had sent him to Storm's End he felt that his presence here really did make sense.

That Borros was more of a father to him than the King himself had ever been.

Borros knew him and his withdrawn nature, and yet he was still able to reach out to him, to instil in him the values and principles that he himself upheld.

Royce was the big brother to him that Aegon was unable to be, and although he could sometimes be irresponsible, he could always count on him, and Royce always stood by his side.

And so was she.

He realised that he hadn't even noticed how they had become inseparable over the years, that they spent virtually all their days together.

He had tried to pretend, to divide himself into 'himself' and 'them', but he realised that this had never been true, because he had never been excluded by them or repelled by them himself – they moved around each other's orbits like planets, drawing each other close.

"− of course not −" She mumbled quietly, pulling him out of his reverie, ashamed of her own words and their context, of how inappropriate and shameless they were. She lifted her hand and her soft, warm fingers ran over his scarred cheek.

He swallowed loudly, pressing his forehead against her temple, his hand put his book on the cold stone floor and returned back to her body, only to grasp her soft, plump breast with a greedy, thirsty gesture, separated from her hot skin by nothing but just the thin fabric of her nightgown.

She drew in a loud breath, her swollen lips parted in sweet moan. He could see in her gaze what he wanted – hot affection and a boundless, deep desire that only he could quench.

Instinctively, they sank into each other's mouths, wet and thirsty for closeness, sucking and licking with a loud, sticky clicks, silent sighs rippling out of her throat each time his fingers pulled gently at her nipple, playing with it.

"− please −" She whimpered as she grasped his other hand in hers, sliding it lower between her thighs in a slow, tentative motion. He murmured low into her mouth, delighted at how direct she had become, how he had completely opened her up to all physical sensations in recent weeks.

His fingers nimbly pulled the material of her nightgown upwards and sank into her hot, wet womanhood, her moisture slick against his skin as he traced his fingers gently over her folds.

She squirmed before him, thirsting for more intense caresses, but he wanted to teach her patience, taking the greatest satisfaction from the sight of her twitching with pleasure.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled furrowing her eyebrows, rushing him, knowing he was playing with her. He only smirked, feeling that he was completely hard, his length hidden in his breeches pushing against her buttocks, pulsing intensely.

"− not like that − that's not what you called me −" He murmured amused, his fingers merely teasing her puffy bud, driving her to desperation – she quivered silently in his arms, searching for any source of more intense rubbing.

"− please, my Prince −" She mewled, and he shook his head, letting out a loud expression of disappointment and tsked.

She swallowed loudly as if she suddenly understood what he meant and turned her face towards him, running her hand over his jaw in an affectionate gesture, her nose pressed against his cheek.

"− please, brother −" She mumbled and moaned loudly when she felt his fingers dig into her sensitive, fleshy structure, with sure, intense circular motions massaging her pearl, making a powerful shiver of pleasure pass through her.

"− just like that − tell your big brother what you need −" He cooed as he leaned down, placing loud, sticky kisses on her neck, rubbing involuntarily against her buttocks, unable to bear the sheer tension he felt between his thighs.

He heard her cry loudly, simultaneously ashamed and aroused, her moisture running straight down onto his fingers, her slit pulsing hard, all hot, ready to welcome him inside her.

"− inside me − please, put it nside me −" She sobbed, and he lost the remnants of his strong will, letting her go, reaching quickly for the clasp of his belt.

Taking advantage of her freedom, she quickly turned to face him, sitting down on top of him with her arms around his neck and hovering a tad, lowering herself onto his fat length with such confidence and lightness that he groaned, surprised.

"− fuck −" He exhaled, tilting his head back, leaning it against the cold stone wall, clenching his eyes – he placed his hands on her hips as she began to rise and fall onto him, panting loudly along with him.

"− brother −" She moaned out, and he growled like an animal, slamming his cock into her with sure, deep thrusts of his hips, stretching her wet, hot muscles trying fruitlessly to resist him, looking up at her from below.

She kissed him, leaning over him, her hands entwined in his hair, her slick tongue sliding deep into his throat, giving him the feeling that he felt her all over him, that they were one.

He had to slide out of her embarrassingly fast – the speed with which his fulfilment came surprised him and her, but afterwards he took pity on her nonetheless and brought her to fulfilment with his two long fingers, sucking and licking her nipples through her nightgown.

She was his.

The faster the moment of his journey to King's Landing approached, the more Storm's End seemed like home to him. For some reason he had thought he would stay there forever, and now that he realised he hadn't, he looked around the great halls of the Baratheon stronghold with melancholy.

He had wished that he would feel joy and satisfaction at the thought of returning to Red Keep, but this was not what happened.

Instead, he felt a kind of tightness in his throat, the unfairness of it – even if part of him felt as Borros's son and Royce's brother, he could not take part in their inheritance.

He knew every nook and cranny in Storm's End, sneaking off with Royce on expeditions through dungeons and cellars. His youngest sister would sometimes sneak out with them whenever she heard them, threatening to cry loudly if they didn't let her come with them.

That's why they usually ended up walking as a threesome – he and Royce holded torches and illuminated the dark, disturbing views around them, their footsteps echoing down long corridors seemingly endless.

"It is said that the ghost of a servant girl lives here. She was murdered in her sleep, but the perpetrator was never caught." Royce began, glancing over his shoulder at his younger sister, her eyebrows arched in worry, her tightened lips expressing discomfort.

"You're lying." She muttered, but without certainty. He glanced at Royce, who looked at him expectantly walking beside him arm in arm.

"Haven't you heard about this story? She was found in a pool of blood with her throat slit. Everyone knows about it." He said indifferently, stretching his lie, hoping that if they scare her right she'll let them go on their trips alone.

He grinned when he heard her whimper in fear – she looked at them trying to see any sign that they had tricked her, but they both tried to keep stony faces, taking an unspoken satisfaction from it.

And suddenly they heard a loud rumble in front of them – they flinched and screamed, terrified, running away immediately like the most ordinary cowards.

As they ran up the great stone stairs to the floor on which their chambers were located he thought it was pitiful, but he was shaking all over – he could hear Royce trying to silence his sister, who was crying out in terror, holding her brother by his sleeve.

"− I don't want to sleep alone − I'm scared of this ghost − what will I do if it comes to me −" She mumbled between sobs, all wet with tears, barely able to get the words out between loud, ragged breaths.

The three of them ended up sleeping in Royce's bed.

At first he didn't want to stay, figuring it would show that he was scared too, which of course wasn't true, but after that he remembered the awful rumble they heard and thought that lying alone in his chamber he wouldn't sleep a wink.

That's why they all huddled under a thick furs, his youngest sister between them, snuggled into her brother, their warmth radiating in all directions making him feel safe.

He knew that if Aegon, Jace or Luke saw him now they would laugh at him, but they weren't here and he knew they would never know, so he fell asleep at last.

He woke up in the middle of the night feeling someone's small arms wrapped around him, someone's head snuggled into his chest – he knew it was her and thought she had probably mistaken him for Royce, so he didn't push her away.

He embraced her.

She was warm.

He fell asleep again.

The next day he escaped to his chamber in the morning as soon as it began to dawn, she and Royce sleeping soundly holding hands.

He felt something then looking at them, some kind of affection that made him feel ashamed and he left not wanting anyone to know what had happened.

They never spoke about it afterwards but he knew that it was a turning point for them, a moment when they subconsciously understood that they were companions.

Precisely because they were so close they had concerns about what their life would be like in King's Landing after their marriage.

"Will I still be able to train with you? After our marriage?" She asked quietly one day as they stood at a table lined with all sorts of weapons. He glanced at her, completely surprised.

He didn't know what to answer.

It wouldn't bother him, what's more, he felt that her place was by his side in every aspect of his life, but what worried him was that people would gossip about her.

Say she wasn't behaving like a lady from a great house, that she wasn't a woman worthy of a prince.

He knew she would still feel like a stranger in the Red Keep and he didn't want to add to her pain.

"I don't know." He answered honestly. "Perhaps archery. However, I don't want to promise anything."

She lowered her gaze, her whole body filled with sadness and disappointment.

He thought with pain that she would experience more of these feelings when she became his wife, when she saw what they had to face.

His family was not like them.

Aegon was not like Royce.

And while he firmly believed that she might find a friend in Helaena, the most significant thing was that his father was not Borros.

The rainy, at first sight ugly and cold stronghold in Storm's End became, years later, his asylum that he did not want to leave.

His mother, however, had made it clear that his marriage meant his return home.

The day before he was to leave Storm's End to personally oversee the preparation of her chamber for her arrival they met again in the library, horrified that they would be separated for as much as a week.

It also seemed to him that it was becoming increasingly clear to her that she was leaving her home, and although she loved him, she was suffering because of it.

"− will − will we sometimes be able to fly here together on Vhagar? − to visit my father and Royce? −" She asked uncertainly, looking at him pleadingly, needing to hear that she would be able to visit her family, that he would not lock her in a golden cage like an animal.

He lifted his hand and stroked her plump, warm cheek.

"− of course − no one will forbid us from travelling here whenever we want − if my future duties on the council allow, we will travel here as often as possible −" He said softly and she hugged him, clearly comforted by his words, sighing with relief. He kissed her hair thinking only of the fact that she would soon be his wife, that she would bear him his children.

In the Red Keep he was joyfully greeted by his mother and his sister, her children were no longer small newborns and babbled loudly in her arms.

He thought with a squeeze of his heart of his betrothed, who might be holding his child in her arms like this in the future, and felt heat in his lower abdomen, wishing only that she would join him.

As usual, the biggest disappointment for him was his father and brother – the King looked as if he was in agony, pleased to see him, expressing his pleasure that he was back and that he would soon meet his future wife, but beyond that he heard nothing more from him.

Looking at Aegon, seeing at night as he walked down the corridor how he sank between the thighs of the common servants, he felt discomfort and disgust.

He thought then of Royce, of how he would never do such thing to his own wife.

Although Criston had tried to bond with him and he respected him as a person, it wasn't the same. He and Royce understood each other without words.

However, he found with regret that, apart from his future wife, it was Borros that he missed most.

It was only when he was far away from their stronghold that he realised what a charismatic person he was, how much he influenced him with his very behaviour, the way he spoke and gestured.

He still had the daggers he had given him for his Name Day, just as he held in his heart the values he wanted to pass on to him then.

You are not my son by blood, but I made you a man.

His real father remained in Storm's End.

He was only relieved that he would become his father-in-law and his second father by marriage, allowing him at last to openly think of him that way without shame.

He oversaw the preparations for the ceremony and the furnishing of his betrothed's chamber personally. He supervised everything, from the colours of the paintings on her walls, to the choice of flowers, to the books with which her bookshelves were to be filled.

He had everything set up so that her chamber would resemble her rooms in Storm's End.

He wanted her to feel at home.

He also had his belongings moved to the chamber next to hers which were connected to each other by large double doors and could be one large room – which was his purpose.

He had no intention of living separately with her, as his father and mother did, having their rooms on two different sides of the keep.

When the day came on which she and her family were to arrive in King's Landing from the morning onwards he felt excitement and contentment, a kind of pride, as if it was his real family who were to visit him at last, as if it was just what he had been waiting for.

He, Ser Criston and his mother greeted them in person. Borros and Royce got out of the first carriage, bowing to the Queen with honour. They nodded at Criston, not paying much attention to him.

Royce surprised him by extending his hand to him, which he shook. His foster brother drew him in and gave him a quick hug, patting him manfully on the back, and he reciprocated the gesture, pulling away from him and grunting loudly.

Borros stared at him for a moment with such a look that he felt his heart squeeze. He swallowed loudly as he finally approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder, patting him like a proud father, his eyes red.

For some reason, he felt like crying as he looked at his face full of the affection he so longed to see in his king's eyes.

And then he saw her – she was standing at the back waiting her turn, her beautiful gown sewn in the Baratheon colours in the cut she always wore, with buff, slit sleeves and a low waist, with her breasts covered only by a white chemise.

She looked beaming, her face flushed, her eyes shining at the sight of him, big, hot and filled with affection, her hands folded in front of her on her abdomen in a gesture of humility.

He felt like throwing himself at her.

Gods, his sister, his lover, his future wife was beautiful.

His mother welcomed her with open arms, speaking quietly of how she hoped her journey had not been tiring and that everything was ready for their arrival.

For the first time during the supper in the Red Keep he felt that there was any life at all – Borros's low, hoarse laughter, the voice of Royce, Ellyn and his future wife filled the hall along with the voices of his mother and his grandfather.

He had feared that Borros would seem too coarse and straightforward to the Queen, but Lord Baratheon had clearly decided to tame his character in front of her and was at least behaving decently.

It was the first time in a long time that he had seen anyone bring his mother and grandfather to laughter, and he managed it with ease.

He felt relieved.

His fingers were entwined under the table on the armrest of his chair with hers, his thumb stroking steadily her warm, soft skin.

He had only dreamed of touching her, but they had promised each other that upon her arrival at the Red Keep they would not risk anyone catching them, that they would wait with any kind of physical intimacy other than a kiss or the touch of their hands until their wedding night.

Now, having her close to him, he had a feeling that he would die faster than he could last those three days.

He was not mistaken.

The next day, being in the library with her, showing her the rich collections of the Red Keep, he pressed her against one of the bookcases, lifted her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist and slid his erection, throbbing with longing, inside her, babbling that he couldn't stand it when she was this close, fucking her with fast, deep thrusts, panting hard, her face pressed into his neck to muffle the loud moans of pleasure that ripped from her throat.

He had never felt so happy in his life.

He didn't let their wedding day be spoiled by his grandfather once again suggesting that the maester should make sure his wife was a maiden, meeting his categorical objection, or be ruined by his brother shouting during the wedding feast about the bedding ceremony even though he had agreed with his mother that such a humiliating tradition would not take place.

He remembered very little of the Great Sept, standing in front of hundreds of people focused only on him, feeling small and surrounded, ringing in his ears.

He only felt relieved when he saw her, her hand on her father's palm extended in front of her, her gown pearly and shiny, almost white like the colour of his hair, daisies tucked into her curls.

She looked so innocent.

He thought of nothing but her when they said their vows, when they revealed in front of everyone that from now on they belonged together in the face of the gods.

He could hear cheers and applause echoing off the walls, but all he could think about was her shy, warm smile and the tears of emotion that hid in the corners of her eyes.

They left the wedding feast embarrassingly quickly, once they had eaten and drunk, without even waiting for the fifth dance to end. He only growled to his brother that he would cut off his cock if he didn't shut his mouth after he mentioned undressing his wife again and then nodded to her to follow him.

He watched, standing in his chamber, as her servants helped her pull off her elaborate rich gown, untying her sleeves and bodice. One of them reached up to touch the flowers in her hair, but he intervened.

"No. The flowers are to stay." He said coldly with a pounding heart imagining her naked, clad only in tiny daisies entwined in her curls.

He saw her throw him a look full of warm affection and embarrassment, she blushed at his words and lowered her head, looking down at her hands.

"That's enough." He said impatiently as they applied the oils to her skin.

She was already standing in nothing but her beautiful nightgown, richly embroidered with white threads, and he felt that he had to touch her already.

Her maids immediately left her and one by one walked out, closing the door behind them with a quiet click of wood.

He stared at her standing a few paces away, simply admiring her.

The one he had chosen, the one who had been destined for him all along.

She lifted her gaze to him and smiled in her own distinctive way, warm, caring and comforting, making him feel seen, wanted, loved.

He approached her slowly feeling that they didn't need to hurry, they had already made love, and though he had never experienced fulfilment inside her it made them both know what to expect, not afraid of what the next few minutes were to bring.

He took her cheeks in his hands with gentleness and tenderness, pressing his forehead against hers, feeling strangely light, his heart hot, beating fast and hard.

"− my wife − " He whispered, and she made big eyes hearing those words for the first time, as if she only now realised it had happened, that she was his wife, that there was no turning back.

She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, in her eyes some kind of awe from which squeezed his throat.

"− my husband −" She said softly. He felt her words throughout his body, a wave of heat went through him, and in a sudden, involuntary reflex he kissed her, clasping his hands in her hair, slipping his tongue between her lips, drawing a sweet, innocent moan from her.

They kissed for a while, purring and panting, stroking each other's faces, necks and hair, sure that this time they didn't have to be afraid that someone would catch them, that they didn't have to be quiet, didn't have to hide.

He grabbed her hips and lifted her up, walking with her to his bed, laying her on her back.

She looked up at him with trusting eyes as he untied her nightgown, spreading the material to the sides, revealing her bare, plump breasts to him at last. He felt his cock pulsate hard at this sight, raw, final, shameless, of her pure, beautiful flesh.

She moaned loudly, surprised, as he pressed his lips to her breast, licking her hard, puffy nipple with his tongue, teasing it with the very tip, her hands clenched in his hair, pressing him closer, her thighs spread wide before him in some natural, subconscious impulse.

"− please − please, husband −" She mumbled helplessly and that was the end of it – he lifted himself up on his hands and clung to her lips, with firm, sure jerks ripping her nightgown open. She gasped loudly into his throat, her fingers reaching for the buckles of his tunic, unbuckling them one by one.

He couldn't consider that undressing went easily for them, but he didn't think anything of it, helping her to pull off his tunic, shirt and breeches until finally they were both left wonderfully naked. They moved away from each other, giving themselves a moment to admire what they were seeing.

He parted his lips in an accelerated breath when he felt her fingers run over his bare chest, her fingers small, soft and warm, a pleasant shiver went through him.

He leaned in, nuzzling his face between her breasts, kissing her beautiful, firm, sweet-smelling skin, going lower and lower.

"− your husband is going to taste you tonight −" He murmured and felt her move restlessly beneath him, unsure of exactly what he meant.

He didn't stop when she squealed suddenly, seeing his face between her thighs, trying fruitlessly to push him away, startled, his breath surrounded her warm womanhood leaking with her moisture, the tip of his tongue trailing over her sensitive skin, wanting to taste her.

"− Aemond − what are you - oh gods −" She mewled with difficulty as she heard him hum with satisfaction, discovering that her wetness was smelling of her and her arousal – his tongue forced its way inside her without warning as his nose teased her pearl, drawing sounds from her that he had not heard before.

He gripped her hips with his hands and spread her thighs wider, sinking his face completely into her soft flesh, her fingers tightened on his hair holding him close – she was sobbing each time the tip of his tongue teased and massaged a spot hidden deep inside her.

"− come on, little sister − give it to me −" He purred in between the loud, slurping clicks of her juices caused by the flicks of his tongue, and she fell apart in his arms. He moaned low as he felt how much wetness flowed out of her through her fulfilment, licking it all away with devotion.

"− you taste so good −" He cooed, wiping his face with his hand, lifting himself up, resting his weight on his knees, pushing her hips closer to him with one hand, the other jerking his manhood a few times, already dripping with his precum. "− now it's time for your big bother, don't you think? −"

He asked, watching with amusement as she failed to recover from what had just happened to her, her breath heavy, her gaze clouded, her mouth parted wide, her hands lying loosely on either side of her head.

"− I − oh −" She mumbled out as she felt him guide the fat head of his cock to her entrance. He slided into her with one, sure thrust, her oversensitive, hot muscles clenched against him in panic – his wife moaned loudly, clasping her hands at his sides, both of them all sweaty.

He leaned over her and kissed her, moaning and purring as he slid in and out of her with slow, deep, purposeful pushes with the loud slaps of flesh against flesh, their tongues meeting and licking each time he sank deep into her body again.

"− yes −" She whispered with pleasure in a trembling voice, her hands shamelessly slid down to his back and buttocks, exploring his body with as much curiosity as he did – he felt a powerful shiver run down his spine and he sped up feeling that he would not last long.

"− for you to give me an heir as soon as possible − I should fill you with my seed every day − don't you think? −" He exhaled between their sticky wet kisses and felt her walls clench against him greedily at his words with pleasure, his hands on either side of her head, her thighs spread wide before him allowing him to penetrate her as deeply as he wished.

"− yes −" She uttered with difficulty between his one thrust and another – he felt his fulfillment approaching, she was too soft, too beautiful, her naked flesh pressed against him too hot.

"− beg − beg your brother-husband to fill you −" He hissed, looking down at her with satisfaction, feeling from the way her walls throbbed that she was on the verge of a second elation too.

He heard her swallow loudly and gasp, breathing hard, his bed beneath them creaking loudly with each of his brutal thrusts, her breasts bouncing up and down, mesmerising him completely, her face expressing absolute submission.

"− please − please, brother, fill me − gods, I need it −" She mewled helplessly clenching her fingers on his buttocks, as if she wanted him to thrust even deeper into her.

"− just like that − oh, fuck − yes −" He growled out with difficulty, coming inside her so hard that for a moment he went dark before his eyes, the wave of his pleasure completely stupefying him. All he could hear was her moans of pleasure, her walls clenching against him greedily in fulfilment as his warm spend finally filled her core.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled softly, panting loudly along with him, their bodies moving for a moment longer, trying to prolong their pleasure.

He knew that although many men mocked him because of the fact that he was a cripple, they would be envious of his marriage, of who his wife was to him.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing unevenly, feeling her hands immediately embrace him. They laid like that for a long moment, trying to calm themselves.

He thought that what they had done was heard by the entire Red Keep for sure and involuntarily smirked under his breath.

Everything.

_____

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songsofadelaide · 4 months ago

Text

The Loneliest Time

cw/tw: Company heir Gojo Satoru x novelist (f) reader, no curses au, there is only one apartment, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too + the surname Koganei [小金井] which means tiny gold town), mentions of (ex-boyfriend) Ryomen Sukuna x reader, meet ugly, drunken flirting, fluff and smut but no actual sex, falling in love, slice of life, drama, mentions of businesses, crime syndicates and racketeering, codependence and independence— both Gojo and the reader run away from personal baggage and eventually overcome them. ✧ Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. wc: 17.3k

Scraping off the remnants of your earnings from your first book to get yourself that 1LDK in the heart of the city wasn't on your plans, but you were desperate to escape from your hometown… But no matter how alluring the city was, its dangers still existed.

There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk. He insists you are the one trespassing in his cosy little home.

In which the elderly landlady mistakenly offers one (1) vacant unit to you— a down-on-her-luck writer looking for a fresh start— and the infamous, runaway, reluctant heir of the Japanese household name, Six Eyes Enterprises, and all the chaos, falling into love and finding yourselves that ensues thereafter.

— You.

The realisation that the world was messy and imperfect came to you the moment you found out your boyfriend of nearly a decade was an underground kingpin in your shared hometown. His notoriety reached you in the form of a nameless, pretty young woman informing you of your dethronement, stupid as it may have sounded.

It was clear to you by now that the Sukuna you spoke of wasn't the same one you fell in love with before. Sukuna, who was once kind and sweet, now became abrasive and neglectful and he made up for his change of nature by lavishing you with so many presents that weren't exactly to your taste, but you thanked him nonetheless.

Everyone urged you to be patient with the man, to wait— He's making a name for himself, making sure he provides you with a future worth looking forward to— Marriage has always been a bigger deal for women rather than men, but you could live without it, though sometimes you daydream a little. What's it like to wear a pretty ring? To have someone come home to you?

And what about you? Weren't you trying to make something out of yourself as well?

He wasn't there on the day your first book was published and released, but in his place came an ostentatious bouquet of red roses and a simple note of congratulations. Still, the publishing house gushed at the sweet gesture of a busy boyfriend who kept his girlfriend in mind and managed to make time for her by sending her flowers.

It was Yuuji who brought you to the hospital when you came down with a bad case of food poisoning, your family flocking to your side not long after he contacted them. Sukuna was caught up in some business transaction, but apples and oranges and every other sweet fruit that could fit in a basket were sent to your hospital room later that evening.

You disliked how much Yuuji looked like his brother in his youth. In your drug-induced delirium, you screamed at the boy to leave you alone because that's all his brother has ever done for the last few years.

In a perfect world, you most probably would have settled down with him— Sukuna, your long-term boyfriend. Yuuji adored you, too, and he'd have no qualm calling you his older sister for real if you ever did end up with his older brother.

Sukuna was there the day you were discharged. His suit and tie were a gorgeous coal-black and didn't look like something a regular salaryman would don to work. His car was new, too something you haven't seen on him before. He apologised for barely being there for you when you needed him most, chalking it up to the demands of his work. He was surprisingly talkative, too, chattering about how he kept your shared apartment clean and how he'd devote this day to you, to make up for all his shortcomings ever since he took on that job, whatever it was.

How he managed to sweet-talk his way to your bed? You'll never know for sure. He was all smiles as your elderly neighbours cooed over you like mother hens would their newborn chicks after they heard of your last trip to the hospital. When he kissed you goodbye for the day, the older women gushed at him as well.

"He'll be a good husband to you, just look at how he cares for you now!"

And you… could only smile at them. No warmth or truth, just pure disdain for him— and for yourself as well, for putting up with it. For tolerating it.

You were certain the love you shared in your youth was genuine, but what about now? Was he tired? Unlikely. Sukuna still came to you for solace and warmth— to feel your softness in his arms, but only on his terms. He always made sure that his gestures were grand and seen by everyone in your shared circle.

Then it dawned on you— You must have been his front, a good woman to match his image of a law-abiding family man. He loved his grandfather and little brother and he probably loved you, too, but not so much to even consider asking you to marry him. It was clear to you by now that marriage wasn't in his cards, and was he breaking up with you out of pity? You didn't need any of it, though.

The pretty thing expected a struggle, perhaps a bit of hair-pulling, too, but you responded with a sigh and a shrug. "I suppose it's been a long time coming."

Ten years ago, your classmate Sukuna, star of the track and field club and the demon of the third Sugisawa Municipal High School, confessed to you while you were sharing your textbook with him in class. And despite his brashness and popularity, he was a surprisingly kind boyfriend to you.

But now, all he was is a stranger.

Despite your family's dissuading, as well as Yuuji beseeching you not to leave Sendai (poor kid's just caught between you and his older brother's breakup), you packed everything you could take from this town and just left. You could have your latest manuscript sent to you or burned to ashes, but at this point, it didn't really matter anymore. There was little your family and local publisher could do now that you've moved to Shibuya, in the heart of the city, your hand throbbing in excitement as the elderly landlady handed you the key to your own place after handling your documents for the apartment— a cosy little 1LDK that cost a bit more than you originally budgeted for, but for your peace of mind?

Priceless.

— And the other side of the coin.

There were things Satoru Gojo could easily talk his way through: an officer barring his way down the road, a nightclub bouncer blocking his entry, his personal bodyguard Suguru Geto stopping him from making even more unwise decisions, and even his own mother beseeching him to grow up.

As a child, he was given nearly everything he asked for like a typical spoiled brat— wild and wily and absolutely cunning, too, for he wasn't above using the facade of a precocious, charming boy to get what he wants. He was once his family's delight, but all he was now is a menace.

He always seemed to grow older and more charming but never really wiser.

"What use is all that studying English and arithmetic when we all know for a fact that you can't make any sound decisions?" Suguru, his secretary, all-around attendant, bodyguard and confidant, once scolded him in their youth. "You will have to start making wise ones one of these days."

And his bodyguard was right about that. Satoru was smart— book-smart— but not exactly the wisest. His inability to look beyond his current situations and necessities and his precarious lifestyle were liabilities not just to him, but to the company he was set to inherit. As the sole heir to the Six Eyes Enterprises, he showed up to board meetings when it required his presence and was frequently given a pass for all of his supposedly innocent immaturity. However, the shareholders and board of directors have seen enough.

"I refuse to put my faith in this… boy," said Yoshinobu Gakuganji, one of the company's biggest movers. "If he refuses to step up to the plate, then I will have to take my business elsewhere."

This was something Satoru Gojo thought he could easily talk his way through, but he didn't since he couldn't. Surprisingly enough, his parents were on the board's side with this one. Suguru didn't have to speak at all— the look of disdain on his face was clear as day. Still, the latter would never give voice to his disappointment since that was above his pay grade.

Satoru could get behind the directors talking shit about him, but for them to police his every move, his circle of friends, the way he managed himself and his personal affairs, and then there's that potential arranged marriage with that mad woman, too… What was her name again? Ma… Makima? Whatever. He was partly glad the company didn't have such blind faith in him, because the child in him, whose every whim and demand was granted, would certainly doom the entire enterprise if he so wanted.

And he wanted nothing more than to crush the damn thing to smithereens.

On Suguru's day off, Satoru solemnly vowed to remain home that very day, but he left so soundlessly that they would've mistaken it for a kidnapping. Satoru was worth millions, if not trillions, and the kidnappers would have taken everything the manchild could easily access by himself.

Suguru hadn't an inkling of what his charge planned to do. How could he, after all, when Satoru swore to stay in his sweatpants and out of trouble?

On the day he vanished from his family home, he left all of his credit and debit cards linked to the company and simply disabled his phone's GPS. He took his personal, unlinked credit card, the one he used to buy his sweets and vices with, and paid an elderly landlady a hefty deposit for a tiny, inconspicuous 1LDK in the heart of the city.

Shibuya, the heart of Tokyo. Satoru paid no mind to the moving boxes lined neatly across the living room, bright eyes ever focused on the trees hiding the visible cityscape. The windows were open, too, a cool afternoon breeze blowing into the space.

He may miss Suguru, but probably not all of his incessant chidings.

Oh. There was no sharp interjection after realising he just zoned out.

Perfect.

— Collide.

The excitement of the move and the exhaustion of handling everything that followed afterwards made you incredibly restless overnight, but you still felt quite rested despite all of that. You were awoken by the gentle sunlight that filtered through the flimsy curtains provided by the elderly landlady.

You reached for your phone on the makeshift bedside table made up of more boxes containing your belongings. You recall turning it off before going to bed so that you wouldn't jump at every notification you received. When you turned it back on, a wave of pings and pops greeted you, but you were more concerned about the sound of gentle clattering coming from your kitchen.

Shit. Robbers this early? I thought this place was safe!

One of the many lavish yet useless things your ex-boyfriend bought for you was an unused set of golf clubs. The bag rested on the corner of your still half-empty bedroom and you found yourself slowly tiptoeing to grab one.

Welp. You felt yourself swallow in anxiety. When you twisted the doorknob open and slowly crept out, you found one tall man standing before your newly-stocked refrigerator. His face was uncovered and he was in… sweatpants? He didn't give you robber vibes at all.

There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk.

"E-Excuse me?! Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?!"

The silver-haired stranger spat out the milk in surprise at your remark. "Excuse you! This is my apartment!"

You squeaked in surprise as he made his approach, but you raised the golf club higher as you were backed into a wall. He raised his arm and cornered you before wrenching the club from your hands.

"You—"

But you mustered your strength and adrenaline on your legs and jumped, the crown of your head hitting him squarely on his chin, just enough for him to black out for a moment, just enough for you to make a run for it.

"Tengen-san!" You screamed as you made your way down to the apartment's management office, not at all caring for your state of undress. "Help! Th-There's a scary man in my unit!"

It didn't take long for the three of you to be seated altogether in the office, warm cups of green tea served for you and the tall stranger in his— your apartment a few minutes ago.

The elderly landlady Tengen had nothing but apologies for both of you. "I understand a real estate agent wouldn't have made such an embarrassing mishap, but I'm used to handling tenants and their documents… Perhaps my age has gotten the better of me."

She presented two copies of the lease to Unit 0041, and both of your seals in red signed off on the agreement. "My sincerest apologies. It seems I leased out the unit to both of you, but upon further inspection…"

Satoru held an ice pack to his reddened chin, the grimace on his face still evident even underneath those dark eyeglasses he now had on.

"If I may, Gojo Satoru-san," the older woman started. "It appears Koganei Otome-san signed with me first. I can refer you to another place nearby if you would like it."

You were pleased to hear your name come out as the true owner and tenant of the unit, even though you were the first to run out of it in your encounter. The silver-haired man inspected the papers and found you edged him out of signing by just a few hours. You really did come first.

"…Sure, all right. Only because it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he stated. "But you should know that she assaulted me—"

"E-Excuse you! I acted out of self-defence because you looked like you were about to attack me!" You argued right back at him.

"If I wanted to attack you, I would have thrown the carton of milk at you."

You couldn't tell for certain, but you felt him narrow his eyes at you. "We could have had a perfectly normal conversation without you backing me into a corner!"

And from across the table with the untouched tea, the elderly Tengen could only sigh amid the bickering.

Upon Satoru's approval, Tengen worked to find the young man a new home nearby, but he would have to remain with you in the meantime. The two of you returned to the minimal chaos brought about by your un-meet cute.

"Do you even play golf? You don't look like you have the calves for it," the young man stated as he picked up the wood he dropped earlier.

"No, I don't," you snippily replied. The needless argument somehow drained the energy out of you that you hadn't even the strength to swipe the club from him. "It was a present from my…"

"Ex-husband?" Satoru interjected. "What a strange gift to give his wife."

"No," you shook your head, admiring the shining piece of metal in your hands. "Just an ex-boyfriend."

"And… you moved here after your breakup? What, did he not want to marry you or something?"

You pursed your lips. Oh, I don't need to get all emotional. He's just a stranger! "I don't have to explain anything to you."

"I take it you're about to cry," he went on, his blue eyes meeting your glassy ones. "Please don't."

You bent down and buried your face into your knees, unwilling to show any more to the stranger you shared your space with. You were, however, willing to speak. Seeing as you weren't going to see him ever again…

"I'm a writer from Sendai," you started, voice muffled between your arms. "I'm a nobody here, but Sendai considers me a living treasure for encouraging youths to read through my writing. I might just be some shitty romance novelist here, but I paid for this pad with nearly everything I had."

Satoru sank into the couch where he slept last night, eyeing you in the corner of the living room.

"I'm just trying to restart here, far away from all of the noise back home, with everyone telling me to settle down, even though I'm ready… But the proposal never came and he didn't even break up with me in person," you groaned. "I suppose I've earned your ridicule, so go ahead and laugh."

"A restart, huh?" He said absentmindedly. "Yeah, I hear you there."

You peeked at him through your messy hair. "And you? You look like you can afford better than this…"

"Ever heard of being inconspicuous?" He told you from across the room. "I know I can afford better, but I didn't wanna risk getting caught."

He swore he saw you flinch on the spot. "No, I'm not a criminal."

A sigh of relief. He almost laughed. This was a situation he could talk his way through. He ran a hand over his nape, thinking of the perfect approach. Girl's obviously been dumped, so let's appeal to her emotions a little.

"I apologise for scaring you earlier. That wasn't my intention," Satoru rose from the couch and bent down before you, his large hand now resting on your head, surprisingly gentle with you. "We signed a lease for this unit for the very same reason, so don't you think we should at least restart our first meeting in a more… amicable manner?"

You slowly raised your head to meet his gaze, a piercing bright blue that made you feel both safe and uneasy. "I guess…"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, writer-san," he said with a grin. "I am Gojo Satoru, a… runaway of sorts."

Gojo… where did you hear that name before? Ah, well… not that it matters.

"My name is…" You gave him your name through parched lips. "You're free to stay here for as long as you need, but please replace the milk you drank earlier."

"I'll do that and more, so cheer up," he chuckled. "Does chicken and beer sound good? Let's have some delivered."

Delightful, you thought. I could use some food after all that's happened. "If you're paying, then by all means."

You only realised now that drinking in the afternoon was fun. That playing hooky in the afternoon was fun. The living room hardly felt empty with all the jokes Satoru made and all the laughter you shared in between. Your coffee table was laden with the best fried chicken in town, cans of chilled Kirin Ichiban, and a delectable strawberry shortcake that all went down in the hatch smoothly and easily, but you were probably just hungry after all of that crying.

"I am on my fourth beer now, Satoru. You hardly touched yours!"

"It's because I only opened this out of courtesy," he said, gently shaking his half-empty beer can in hand. "You're probably tipsy, now that you mentioned it."

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" You drew away as he reached to pull your— he counted the empty silver cans on your side of the table— fifth can of beer from your hands.

"That's your fifth. Come on, you've obviously lost count," he stated, his slender fingers prying away the nearly empty can from your hands. "If you're tired…"

"I'm… I'm not," you murmured, breath hot from all the alcohol you consumed. The two of you sat closely on the floor, knees brushing against each other without a care about the sudden closeness you shared.

"Are you gonna cry again?" He asked, jokingly at first, but he couldn't help but brush his index finger on your cheek to cheer you up. You contentedly melted into his touch, his palm warm against your even warmer cheek. His thumb grazed over your closed eyelids, dragging away the burning hot tears that pooled in your eyes.

"You have big hands," you said, holding his wrist in place as though he'd leave.

"I think it's the other way around. Your face is small," he replied, tempering his grip on you. He had this monstrous tendency to break anything he comes into contact with and he didn't want to hurt you any more than you were now.

"I should be proud of myself for this, for moving— moving forward," you felt yourself cry yet again. Ah, how embarrassing. But this man has seen nearly everything you could possibly show in a day— your state of undress, the indomitable spirit that brought you all the way from your little hometown to the heart of Tokyo, and all the hurt you carried with you even though you could have just left that behind.

"Why do I feel so sad and pitiful?"

Satoru didn't speak, only listening to how your voice cracked under the weight of your pathetic self-pitying. He thought you were pretty at first, but why were you crying when you were having such a good time with him? He despised crying while having a good time. The women he usually took out on dates were always shining and fun to be around, no matter how shallow and hollow it may have been. Burying the sadness and self-loathing was easy in the noise his life brought him, but to sit here quietly with someone who wanted to deal with the issues in her life made him feel uneasy. And to think she was about to do all of it by herself.

He didn't want to sit with someone so sad and miserable because now he felt like he was looking into a cracked mirror, a thousand replicas of his own sadness reflected right back at him.

"I'm sorry. I know we're having such a good time, but the sadness is just there, sitting in the damn corner and I just want to kick it further."

"Hear you there," he replied. You only noticed now how broad his shoulders really were with his entire torso facing you.

"What are you running away from?" You asked him, your grip on his wrist slightly tightening.

"Noise," he chuckled. "So I'd appreciate it if you could be a bit quieter."

"Sorry, sorry. Of course," you whispered, nervously licking your lips before pursing them once more.

Getting drunk with a stranger was against your good judgement. Hell, opening up to him was against your good judgement, too, but you didn't have to worry about that since he'll be moving away once the landlady finds him a new place. He will be a stranger again in no time.

Oh, the goodbyes never stop, do they? The tears clung to your lashes, but you managed to wipe them away. "No more crying. For now."

Satoru smiled at you. "Sounds good. Now don't fall asleep here."

"Ah, but I'm st— Oh!" You shrieked in surprise at how easily he lifted you from the floor and slung you over his shoulder like a piece of luggage. "Haha! S-Satoru, please! I—"

Part of you was half-expecting him to throw you on your unmade bed and leave you to sleep, but he laid you down with all the gentleness of a mother cradling her child to sleep. His hand was warm on your back, over the cotton of your clothes, and larger than you initially thought.

"Sleep well, my sweet princess. Rest your weary little heart. I will be outsi—"

You gently tugged at the sleeve of his sweater before he could completely draw away from you. "Satoru…"

His name left your lips so warmly and tenderly that it made him want to hear it again. It was his name. Satoru. Not ouji-san, not Gojo-san, not baby, not brat. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.

"If you can prove to me that you're not as drunk as I think you are…" Satoru had his knee on your bed now, his wide torso looming over you as you sank into your blankets and comforters.

"Did you know that the emperor is the utmost spearhead of the Imperial Family of Japan? Under the Japanese Constitution, Emperor Naruhito is considered a symbol of the Japanese state and the unity of all its people—"

Satoru laughed— low, hearty and surprisingly sweet. You weren't even able to continue your monologue when he leaned down and kissed you quiet. This was against your good judgement, but the day has been incredibly long and you feel like you've known him for years now.

There was no leaving the room now that you coiled your arms around his neck. You drew him in every second he pulled away, but you had nothing to worry about. He smiled between your kisses, contentedly drinking in every sound that left your lips until he's had his fill.

He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, after all.

The morning sun was warm, tickling your eyes open even though you didn't want to wake up yet. Your covers were heavy on top of you, but you moved to reach for the person lying next to you.

It was Satoru, the morning sun beating over his bare back. He was still soundly asleep, pale lashes fanned out even though his eyes were closed. You gently reached for him, taking a lock of his hair in your fingers. Silver. The strands curled around your finger easily. "Pretty…"

What time is it? You barely checked your phone after your encounter yesterday and it's completely dead now. On the floor were clothes from yesterday and a few used condoms which Satoru carefully wrapped in tissues. You didn't dare count anymore.

Strong arms coiled around your waist as you attempted to slowly creep out of bed. Satoru drew you back closer to him, your back softly colliding against his chest. He nuzzled your neck, effectively tickling you breathless. "Come on now… You can't just call a man 'pretty' and expect him not to do anything."

"Sorry, sorry! H-Hey!" You laughed. "Satoru! S-Stop! HAHAHA!"

He'd usually be in a hurry to leave after trysts and flings, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the warmth of your bed and the feel of your laughter reverberating in his own chest.

Funny how you were threatening him with a golf club at this same time yesterday.

"Ah, no, please! Let me go for a bit. I-I'm going to the supermarket to buy some stuff," you wheezed at him while gently squirming away from his hold.

"What, seriously? I wanna go, too!" He stated, rising just as you did.

"Then let's get a move on!"

You were used to going to the supermarket on your own, so it was a bit strange having someone following you around. Satoru made himself helpful by carrying the shopping basket for you and reaching for items you couldn't.

"What would you like for lunch?" You asked, not at all turning to him but knowing he was just right behind you. You picked up a bottle of mirin and checked its price. "How about some fish and miso soup?"

"Sounds good!" Satoru replied. You could tell his eyes vanished into his smile even through his dark sunglasses. Every once in a while, he would take your hand in his and beam at you with so much affection that it elicited whispers from the other women in the area.

Well, he is super good-looking, you thought to yourself. Even in casual wear, the silver-haired man commanded the attention of the room even by just standing impeccably still.

You ran a quick inventory of all the items in your basket before eventually turning to its carrier, satisfied with its contents. "Oh, are you not getting anything for yourself? Like sweets? You should grab some while we're here."

"Ah, well, I wouldn't want to impose…" Satoru said, a little taken aback by your consideration. If it were someone else, they'd just order whatever they wanted without even thinking of me.

"You know, the cake was the only thing you touched last night," it was your turn to smile at him. "Oh, let's grab some gummy candy or something!"

It was you who took him by the hand this time, leisurely pulling him to the sweets and snacks aisle. "How about some cola gummies? Or fruit gummies?"

On a normal date, Satoru would let the women order whatever they wanted, no holds barred, and many would take the opportunity to try out things they haven't. He was used to that sense of entitlement from other people, but consideration was a rather new concept for him.

"Fruit gummies would be nice."

"Let's try these yogurt gummies, too," you stated, happily dumping a few more packs of the said sweets into your shopping basket. When you lined up at the cashier to have your items rung, you were so busy making sure you didn't forget anything that you didn't notice him taking out his wallet from the tiny cross-body bag on his chest. He was already at the supermarket entrance with your groceries in hand.

"Ah, wait! I haven't paid—" You exclaimed, hastily pulling out your own wallet from your purse.

"Your husband paid for your groceries with his card, okyaku-san," the kind cashier stated.

"H-He's—" You squeaked at their remark, only for Satoru to beckon you to come over, the same Cheshire Cat smile on his face.

"Let's go home! I'm starving!"

Neither of you paid mind to the shadow that followed your trail because of your preoccupation with planning your meals for the day.

In your old apartment in Sendai, there was a small money box that contained funds for grocery shopping. Sukuna often refilled that box without even looking if you've spent the money beforehand.

It's been two years since you stopped opening the box because you've only been buying food for yourself. It still sat there along with his other belongings.

You probably didn't notice the twinkle in your eyes while unpacking your groceries from earlier, but you bought food for two people today.

Well, Satoru paid for it— and without even telling you. "You know I can wire you the money—"

"Nope, not happening," he interjected, closing the refrigerator door behind him after helping you restock it. "Please, you're letting me stay over at no cost. The least I could do is buy us some food."

"O-Oh," came your response. You didn't really have a rebuttal for that.

"Mm, all good," Satoru stated with a long-drawn stretch of his arms. "Would it be all right if I take a shower first?"

"Ah, sure. I'll go after you, then," you replied, running another inventory in your head as you started preparing your brunch. "Let's see, the mackerel, the salt, a bit of mirin… Oh, and the miso and dashi…"

"Orrr… We can conserve water by showering together," he said, placing his hands on the kitchen counter and trapping you between his arms. He leaned down and brushed a warm yet faint kiss on your nape, prompting you to turn back and face him.

"S-Satoru!" You sputtered, a hand on his chest as you tried to avoid his bright gaze. "P-Please take your bath!"

"All right, all right," he slowly backed off, but not before brushing another kiss on your burning hot cheek this time. "If you can wait for me, we can prepare lunch together. More hands make work easier, yeah?"

"I-I suppose so…"

"Great. Then wait for me and I'll wait for you."

You decided to check your phone and emails while you were waiting for Satoru to finish his shower. Among the many missed calls you received was from Tatara san, your editor from Sendai. What could they want?

And so you rang them. "Ah, hello, Tatara-san! Yes, it's me…"

"Koganei-san! I'm so glad you got in touch with me. How have you been?"

"I've been well, thank you for your concern."

"That's good to hear. Listen, I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore because I don't know when I'll get in touch with you again, but it seems the publishing house isn't ready to let you go just yet."

Oh? "Oh. I-Is that so?"

"We're reaching out to some associates in Shibuya who can pick up my work and become your editor. Of course, I would prefer being the one to work with you instead, but I suppose a local editor who can meet with you more often is still the better option."

"I see. Thank you for letting me know about this, Tatara-san. I appreciate it."

"You're a treasure of Sendai, Koganei-san. Many young people have taken an interest in both reading and writing thanks to your influence. Please do keep it up."

"Of course. Thank you for taking care of me and my work as well."

"Ah, here we are. An associate publishing house will get in touch with you soon, so please make sure you're reachable."

"Yes, certainly."

Your phone was hot on your cheek despite the short conversation, but you could tell that it was just your elation. It feels good to be wanted.

You scrolled through the rest of your messages and social media before eventually tossing your phone on your still-unmade bed. "Okay, let's tidy up a bit."

Among the clothes on your bed was Satoru's sweater from last night. It was from a popular high fashion brand and that further strengthened your theory that he must be some kind of trust fund baby. You were halfway through folding the thing when you decided to slip it on, hands trembling as you did so.

"As I thought, his torso is insanely long," you absentmindedly remarked. Your hands didn't even make it completely through the sleeves yet.

"Well, if you want one in your size, I can—"

"Eep! S-Satoru! I— Th-This isn't what—" You jumped in your spot, startled by his entry to your room. He was clad in nothing but his bath towel, silver hair still dripping with warm water as he stood by the doorframe.

That insanely long torso was ripped, not that you really noticed it in the dark last night.

"You look good in that brand," Satoru said as he made his approach. He took your shaking arm in his and smoothed out the sleeve until your hand made it through. He brought your wrist to his lips.

Ding-dong. "Good afternoon! Delivery!"

The two of you exchanged glances before you managed to tell him, "I didn't order anything, though…"

"Neither did I," he stated. "Wait here. Let me check that."

"H-Hey, at least put a shirt on!"

You were contemplating getting another golf club from your bag as Satoru opened the door. We didn't have anything delivered… Could this be a scam or something? The crashing noise from the living room confirmed your suspicions, so you grabbed the nearest one you could get. "Satoru!"

The door was wide open, and to your shock, a tall brunette held the half-naked silver-haired man in a headlock.

"Waka!" The dark-haired stranger exclaimed. "You little shit! What the hell have you been doing?!"

"L-Let him go! Let him go!" You grabbed the man in the suit by his arm and tried to shrug away his grip on your roommate. He eventually relented, Satoru falling on his back as he was unceremoniously dropped.

"Satoru! Are you okay?!" You got to your knees in near tears as you shook him by his bare shoulders. "Satoru!"

"I'm all right, Otome," he said with a sigh. "Took you long enough, Suguru."

The tall brunette in a neat ponytail grimaced before eventually removing his blazer and dropping it on Satoru. "What? Did you think I wouldn't try everything to find you and your irresponsible ass? Did you think I wouldn't have this city staked out after you ran out on me so many times now?"

"Eugh, it reeks of cigarette smoke," the silver-haired man threw the coat back at Suguru, who then turned his dark gaze to you.

"Who are you?"

"I-I… Uh…" You raised your hands in defence. "I-I'm just—"

"Ugh, whatever," he slipped on his dark coat as easily as he took it off moments ago. "Surely you're just interested in this guy's money like every other girl he's taken out and paid attention to."

Your brows furrowed in annoyance at his remark. "Wh—"

"Suguru, I don't appreciate you speaking to her that way," Satoru interjected, finally standing up from the floor. "She's important to me."

The brunette snorted. "Important? Since when did strangers you picked up become important to you?"

"On the contrary, it was her who took me in."

An unknown ringtone sounded through the living room. It was Suguru's phone. "I have to take this. Please put some damn clothes on."

You hurriedly removed the oversized sweater you still had on and handed it to Satoru. "H-Here, put this on for the meantime."

"Yes, I found him," you heard the brunette remark from the hallway. "I'll send you the address. Please bring one of his suits… I don't really care which one, just bring it over."

He had a frown on his face as he took his sweater from your hands. "I'm sorry. I haven't been completely honest with you. I didn't think they'd catch up to me so soon."

"Nanami and Haibara are on their way, so finish your business here," Suguru stated as he entered the unit once more.

"Still, I hope this doesn't colour your opinion of me and our… friendship," the silver-haired man took both your hands in his. "I am Gojo Satoru, heir and future president of the Six Eyes Enterprises."

What? "Eh?"

"Waka, stop making grand introductions to strangers!" The brunette exclaimed once more.

"Wait, you're that Gojo Satoru? The only child of the famous supermodel Endou Arisu? Who retired from her life on the runway after marrying into a rich family to raise her son? That Satoru?" You furrowed your brows once more. Why are you telling me this?

Satoru nodded at you. "Sums it up."

"Okay, cool. I don't get why you're telling me this, but if this information falls into the wrong hands, who knows what could happen to you?"

"What?" He blinked his blue eyes at you as though he was confused. I think he really is.

"What?" You shot back at him. "You didn't tell me you had an actual job. Let me get lunch done in a jiffy."

"Well, sure. If—"

"And your, uh…" You trailed off, cautiously looking over at the glaring brunette. "What is he, exactly?"

"Suguru is my bodyguard, secretary, all-around babysitter… Basically, the guy who keeps me out of trouble."

"Then he can stay for lunch, too."

Satoru's pale blue suit was in stark contrast to Suguru's dark set. It was crisp and well-pressed, topped off with a little splash of Versace Eros and paired up with shined mahogany brown dress shoes.

The blue-eyed man sat across you from your dinner table, happily digging into the grilled mackerel you painstakingly cooked under Suguru's watchful glare.

"What's your deal? You even welcomed me for lunch," he started, arms crossed over his broad chest. "If it's a ransom or reward you want—"

"I want nothing from Satoru," you stated plainly, not even looking at him as you placed a piece of steamed broccoli over Satoru's rice. "He's the first… friend I've made here in the city."

Friend was a strange thing to say, for you weren't entirely sure what you two even were. I mean we did sleep together, but… "And he's obviously unhappy about something in his life if he's running away all the time."

From his left breast pocket, Satoru's phone rang. He checked who was calling before eventually picking it up and excusing himself from the table.

"What do you do for a living?" The brunette asked all of a sudden.

"I'm a writer," you replied. "A romance novelist, to be more specific."

"Well, writer-san, you see that man over there?" He pointed to his charge still happily chattering on his phone. "That man is my job. I pick him up from whatever disaster he gets himself into and make sure it doesn't follow him around."

"Okay?"

"So name your price," he told you. "I know you're no different from them. As soon as they know who he is, everything just clicks and changes."

"You know, what I'd want is for you to stop being an ass," you shot back at him. "I don't care if he's the next Emperor of Japan or what. I want nothing from you, and I definitely don't want anything from Satoru."

Suguru raised an eyebrow at you. "What?"

"So he bought me dinner. He bought groceries, too. But I could have done that without him, too. He did all of that out of goodwill because he was staying with me in the meantime."

"So you're telling me that you want absolutely nothing in return for sheltering him? You've got to be fucking joking with me."

"What I'd like is for you to eat the damn food," you stated before stabbing a piece of the fish with your chopsticks, splitting it in half. "And take your damn assumptions elsewhere."

Satoru caught you placing the unevenly sliced fish on top of Suguru's still-untouched rice. "Ah, glad to see the two of you getting along."

You could only grin in response to his remark, stuffing your mouth with rice so you didn't have to reply to him.

"Tengen-san called. She said she found me a place I could move into," he started, taking his seat across from you again. "I said I didn't need it anymore."

You nearly choked at his statement, coughing up a bit of the rice and fish you just ate. "What?!"

"I'm going home, after all."

"Oh, I see…" came your flat response. Alone again, then? I suppose that's fine.

"But I'm personally asking my family if I can move out—"

"No. Absolutely not," Suguru interrupted. "Waka, may I just remind you of your oblig—"

"All right, all right, I won't move out, then. Geez," Satoru replied, reaching for the fish his guardian hardly touched, but only for his hand to be swatted away. "Ow!"

"If it's a little escape you want, then we can arrange that," the brunette stated, finally taking the bowl and chopsticks in his hands. "Your new friend here would be happy to accommodate you, right?"

Oh. "I-If Satoru needs a place to crash, then he can definitely stay as much as he wants."

Satoru caught the twinkle in your eye. Adorable.

"Good. Stay in one place so you're easy to look for, waka," Suguru started. "We'll cover your expenses—"

"I said I didn't need help with that," you interjected.

"Apologies, but we can't just dump waka's insatiable appetite on an outsider. If you truly consider him a friend, you'll let us handle at least that."

"Mm, he's right about that, Otome," Satoru smiled at you. "I insist."

"Only if you're staying, then," you said with a small sigh of defeat.

Before he could leave and close the door behind him, Satoru hurriedly pulled you in for a hug. "I'd probably stay forever if I could, so don't get tired of me yet."

"Do you always do that?" Asked the man in the black suit as he opened the car door for his charge. "Hug your flings goodbye."

"If she's just a fling, then I'm definitely not seeing her again," Satoru chuckled as he sat comfortably in the backseat of the grey sedan Suguru brought with him. "But I…"

He brought a thoughtful hand to his chin as he concluded, "I think I like her."

"That'll be the day," the brunette buckled himself up in the driver's seat.

"So what's the situation? Is it something so urgent that you had to put Nanamin and Haibara-kun to work in tracking me down?"

"The president wants you to look into this," Suguru handed his charge an unlocked tablet with a number of spreadsheets open. "There have been some anomalous numbers in certain cities."

"Natori, Hitachi, Iwaki… they're all coastal cities," Satoru stated as his hand glided through the tablet screen. "And the old farts certainly had something to say about this?"

"They know nothing about it yet. Which is why the president thought it'd be prudent to let you handle it."

"What, like some kind of redemption arc?" The silver-haired man chuckled as he locked the tablet screen. "If this will keep them off my case, then I suppose I can look into it. Let's get Yaga-san and Ijichi onboard."

"Will do, boss," Suguru chuckled as well, finally driving off.

"Ah, Shoko! It's me," Satoru spoke into his phone with his easily recognisable cheer. "Do me a favour, would you please?"

For a writer, it's always the lack of inspiration that kills momentum. It's either you're writing endlessly or not writing at all, and the in-between is the most painful part, for there's a world you want to bring to life, but you don't have the right words for it.

So instead of agonising over your lack of inspiration, you decided to spend most of the day unpacking the rest of your things and cleaning the apartment. It was oddly cathartic placing everything in its rightful spot— framed photos of you and your family, a potted plant from one of your co-writers in Sendai, an incense burner from Tatara-san, and your laptop on your desk just overlooking the hidden skyline. Every once in a while, you would scribble a few words into your blank manuscript before starting another task, your frustration serving as fuel to get things done.

In the midst of your afternoon writing blitz, which was mostly just a lot of sighing and crumpling, and your third coffee, your doorbell rang.

"I'm back!"

And you could hardly hold yourself up when Satoru happily crashed into your arms. Slung on his shoulder was a duffel bag full of his personal belongings and articles.

"O-Oh! Welcome home!" You raised your arms to embrace him back. "I, um, made some space for your things in the bedroom, so…"

"Thank you," he managed a small smile. "And thanks for earlier."

"I'll take that as thanks for lunch and the other thing," you said with a chuckle before eventually releasing him.

"I suppose I owe you an apology as well for roping you into my business," he replied, fishing out something from the pocket of his pale blue pantsuit. It was a baby pink velvet jewellery box, and inside it was a simple silver string of diamonds he carefully strapped on your dominant wrist.

"Oh…" Came the faintest reaction from your lips. The bracelet was absolutely gorgeous, the kind worn by beautiful celebrities on Lookbook and Stargram. "Wait, a-are you sure about this? Giving me something so…"

"I had a friend choose this for me. I'm sorry if it doesn't suit your sensibilities."

"N-No! I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful!" You raised your hands in defence. "It's… very pretty."

Very pretty was the best you could think of, with the writer's block still thrumming in your head. You knew it was a gesture of thanks rather than affection, but it was still unnecessary.

"I'll be in your care, for now, wifey," Satoru said with a laugh. "Likewise, don't hesitate to ask me for anything."

"You know I'll never ask for anything," you shook your head at him. "Though I'd appreciate it if you can tell me beforehand that you're coming over. Or not."

"Why don't we exchange contact details, then?"

"Sure, okay," you nodded this time. "For dinner, I'm thinking of something light, like egg rolls and more steamed vegetables. You okay with that?"

"I will have whatever it is you want to cook," he told you with such a tender smile before leaning down to brush a kiss on your temple. "So knock yourself out."

You enjoyed Satoru's company more than you let on. You'd expect rich men like him to have short attention spans, but he was surprisingly attentive. He tried to help with the housework, too, to the best of his abilities, but all he could do was shadow you as you prepared your dinner, handing you whatever it was you needed.

Speaking out your mind to him and expecting him to do so in kind was all natural between you two. It might have been the sadness, but you appreciated his presence nonetheless.

You sat across each other once more today, Satoru in more comfortable clothes again after playing the businessman today.

"How was work today?" You asked as you helped yourself to a serving of steamed vegetables, placing a piece of broccoli on the man's rice before he could forget.

"It was all right. Suguru and I will be looking into some discrepancies reported to the president before the rest of the board can sink their teeth into it. We have to work on a tight deadline, though, and I want to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible before we're accused of manipulating sales."

He was a bit startled by your perplexed expression. "What?"

"Did no one notice you gone for the last few days?"

He shook his head. "Suguru knows the drill when I, quote on quote, go missing all of a sudden."

"So did you rent an apartment with full knowledge that you might be found anyway?"

"I always hope I'm never found again," he said with a small laugh. "But for some reason, I'm glad you stumbled upon me."

You lowered your eyes to avoid his gaze, obviously embarrassed by his bold declaration. He followed up with a question for you. "And you? How was your day?"

"Oh, same same. Answered some emails, wrote and rewrote some stuff, spoke to my new editor, talked about some deadlines… Things really do go fast here in the city, huh?"

"Hear you there," he nodded, stuffing his face with the egg rolls he helped prepare earlier.

"Eat your vegetables, Satoru."

"Yes, boss," he chuckled, helping himself to some steamed marble potatoes this time. "You only added salt to these, right?"

"Mm, yeah. No added flavours, just all-natural goodness."

"It's actually been a while since I had a home-cooked meal. It's always either dine-in or take-out for me, but…"

He spoke about the posh restaurants he's been to, his circle of friends which is composed mostly of the people tasked with looking after him, and his part-time stint as a baseball coach for a local high school where he has to use an alias to conceal his identity. You adored his candid anecdotes and stupid jokes in between his tales and even found yourself slightly kicking him underneath the table because of your own uncontrollable laughter.

"Satoru, I have a confession to make," you started, sitting up ever so slightly. "There's a void you're currently filling."

"Oh?" Came Satoru's curious reply, no hint of hurt, but only intrigue. It didn't take long for him to start wiggling his eyebrows at you. "I'm happy to fill whatever void that is, and any other holes that need filling, too."

You buried your burning face in your hands at his statement. "S-Satoru! Oh my gosh!"

He eased you out of the kitchen when you attempted to wash the dishes, insisting he can do things by himself, too. By the time you were done with your shower that evening, he was bringing out the blankets he brought with him from his house earlier.

"What are you doing?" You asked as you ran a towel through your hair.

"I'm bunking here in the living room."

"But you can sleep with me in the bedroom, though."

"Really? I thought last night was a… One-time thing."

"I think I need another warm body in bed, but only if you're up for it," you told him, leaving your door ajar. It didn't even take him a minute to change his mind. You raised the covers to let him in and he contentedly sank right next to you, long arms coiling around you and drawing you close. Warm. "There's still some more I want to confess to you."

"Hmm?" He murmured, his voice thrumming in his throat. Warm.

"I meant every word I said earlier… when I called you my friend. I'm glad you consider me such…"

"Can I make a confession, too?"

You nodded.

"Thank you for treating me with so much… decency, I suppose. Suguru must have spoken of the women, right? I dislike the playboy image I've been painted with over the years. I don't always have sex with them and I don't have sex with all of them. Some are rather happy to get a pricey thing or two from me, then they'll just leave me alone like I'm some kind of means to an end."

"Oh…"

You felt him hold you closer, as though you'd vanish into thin air all of a sudden.

"Disgusting, I know."

"I don't think you're disgusting, Satoru," you raised your hands to cup his face. Warm. "Some women will really put themselves out there if they want to, and I don't judge them for that, either. I'm a woman, too. Just so happens that I don't really like depending on men when I want something."

Satoru fell quiet, but he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with anything at all. He felt completely at ease. Safe. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.

"I will never ask you for anything," you whispered, just enough for him to hear. He finally smiled again. "I just want you around. Always, if possible."

"And have me, you will."

You contemplated leaving the conversation there. Another incredibly long day has passed and you were once more in the arms of a man who adored you. Let's forget about the fact that I've only known him for a few days… But something bothered you, and it bothered you so much that you couldn't just sleep things off.

"What about sex with me? Was it… pleasant for you?"

Silver lashes fluttered open again, his lips curling to a small smile. "Absolutely pleasant."

"Would you like to… do it again?"

"Only if you want to, sweet thing," he cupped your cheek this time, pressing his lips to your brow.

"I'm probably just like everyone else who wants something from you, but you've filled the gaps in my life so… so easily. But you're so warm and shaped so differently and I…" Your voice cracked once more at the weight of your guilt. After all, what you wanted from Satoru at that moment was worth more than—

"Like what I said earlier, I'd be happy to fill that void for you until you're bent and shaped to my size," Satoru slowly sat up, prompting you to follow suit. He held you by the wrist and led your movements without breaking eye contact with you.

I guess nothing can stop me from falling further and further into this, you thought as he hoisted you onto his lap, his strong hands sinking into your skin almost needily. His affection for you was certainly intoxicating.

"Let me love you, all right?" He murmured against your cheek, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips. Warm. Maddening. "Until I'm the one you're looking for. Until you're completely mine."

You could get behind that train of thought, but he made it hard to think with his lips on yours, coaxing them open to let him in. Oh, his hands were hot. Or was it you? Satoru's hands snaked under your shirt, gently pawing at the flesh he gained access to.

"Hng… Ah… Y-Yes, p-please—" You whimpered against him, jolting upward as you felt his fingers dip into the fiery moistness between your legs. "Ooh…"

Your voice cracked in utter shamelessness this time, but it sounded ever honey-sweet to him.

"Satoru…"

He licked his lips, curling to another wicked grin. "Yes, say my name. Say it like it's the only thing you know."

— It was love.

Sukuna had no idea why his little brother was so mad at him. It only dawned on him when he came home to your empty apartment after spending most of his week in Hitachi.

Yuuji became the light of his world ever since their parents died when they were younger— too young for his little brother to even recall them, but they honoured their memory by sticking together through thick and thin. After being passed on from relative to relative, the pair of brothers was eventually raised by their paternal grandfather with all the love and care an ailing old man would give to his grandsons. They didn't have much, but they had each other.

And for Sukuna, that was enough.

Though he barely had the time to be a kid since he had to be an older brother to Yuuji foremost, he held no grudges and made the younger boy swear to him— tell me anything, everything that's bothering you. Big brother will always have time for you.

Yuuji grew up into a good and honest kid and was insanely proud of his big brother's resourcefulness. With nothing to live on but their grandfather's pension, the older brother had to step up and make sure they'll never go hungry.

Sukuna relied on his own resourcefulness to get himself through high school without starving. It was a slow boil of eating half a breakfast and trying to survive the rest of the day with snacks handed to him by his friends. He took odd jobs like doing deliveries and waiting tables— heck, he even modelled for a magazine once when the rough and rugged rockstar look was all the rage— all so he could put food on the table for his little brother.

He managed all of that in high school and even ended up the star athlete of the track and field club. He enjoyed the prestige that came with his smarts and skills and his popularity grew to the point where he was never lacking in friends.

No wonder Yuuji was insanely proud.

When Sukuna was 17, five-year-old Yuuji was nearly killed in an accident involving a certain trucking and transport company. While the truck managed to swerve and avoid running him over, the whiplash and stray debris injured him to the point where he needed a lifesaving operation.

And Sukuna would sell his soul to the devil if it meant saving his little brother's life.

When the trucking business owner Jogo heard of the big brother's desperation, he agreed to pay for Yuuji's medical expenses in full in exchange for Sukuna's full cooperation.

"You'll be working for me now, street rat," said the old man, who dressed like your regular driver but smelled of expensive cigars. "I'll let you finish high school, but forget about college. Learning from me will cost ya, kid, so you better put yer back into this."

Sickening, Sukuna thought. But there was no way out of it now.

After striking that deal with the shady businessman, he found one of his classmates speaking to his grandfather outside their home.

"…sei and everyone else are worried about Itadori-kun, so… Oh, hello."

"…?"

"I'm, ah…" The girl, still in her uniform, gave the boy a short bow before handing him a paper bag full of handouts from class. You gave him your name in hopes he might remember. "I'm your seatmate, Itadori-kun. We heard about your little brother from our sensei. We're all hoping he recovers soon."

"Thank you…"

"Anyway, I just stopped by to drop the handouts sensei collated for you. I hope your little brother gets well soon. A lot of people are waiting for you to return to school. Goodbye!"

By the time you were out of view, the old man whacked his grandson by the arm with his day-old newspaper. "Why didn't you ask her to come in?"

"Ow! Ji-san!"

"I'm sure Jin never would've wanted you to grow up so soon, but you're practically an adult now. You even negotiated Yuuji's medical bills on your own," Wasuke stated. "But you have to live for yourself, too, child."

Live for yourself, huh? Easier said than done. "I'm living the best I can, ji-san."

"Relationships are the most important thing in the world, Sukuna. Yuuji will love you and be eternally grateful for what you've done for him, that's already a given," the old man sighed. "All the money in the world can win you prestige and popularity, but you'll see who's real and who's not in your life when you have nothing to give. People will vanish, but there are those who want you around for who you are, not for what you can give. That is priceless."

Now that he's mentioned it, none of his friends got in touch or checked up on him after they heard about the accident earlier in the week.

"You can stay at home and rest for now. I'll look after Yuuji," Wasuke walked past the boy, a handbag with a few clothes in hand. Sukuna held his grandfather by the arm.

"I can't ask you to do that, ji-san."

"I don't recall answering to you, Sukuna. Go get some rest and get ready for school tomorrow."

Rest eluded him, though. Sukuna could hardly think of anything else but his little brother— nii-chan, I'll be okay, I promise!

He dropped the paper bag carelessly, accidentally spilling its contents on his floor. Among the worksheets was the plastic packaging of something…

It was a tortoise melonpan.

There was a lilac note stuck to it, too.

I know you're taking care of your family, Itadori-kun, but don't forget to take care of yourself too. Do your best! ⭐️

Ah, his head hurt just thinking about things, but when he realised he was running on adrenaline the whole day, he tore through the packaging and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth without a care.

That was his first meal of the day.

Fuck, he thought, chewing through the bread in tears. I'm so tired of being dirt-poor.

Sukuna showed up to school a few days later, feet still hot off his new "job" with the old man Jogo. He had a driving licence now even though he was still months from turning 18. Jogo must have pulled some strings to obtain that counterfeit.

He was tired.

He fell asleep in classes and slept through the lunch break, his stomach as empty as his head at the moment. When his friends came over to see him, they weren't at all sympathetic to his situation and even called him a wet blanket for all the gloom he brought to school.

Another tortoise melonpan was on his desk when he woke up a few minutes before the end of lunchtime, another lilac note attached to it. You weren't in your seat, but he found the same sticky notepad on your desk.

Have something to eat. Do your best! ⭐️

Good gods, I am trying, he thought to himself as he groaned inwardly and literally. How many more hours 'til this day ends?

"Itadori-kun, sensei is calling you," you nudged your seatmate awake and extended your English studies book to him. "I can share my textbook with you if you left yours at home…"

"Otome-san, I like you. Go out with me."

"Wh-What?" You squeaked, a mix of confusion and embarrassment painting your face. Why was he confessing to you?!

"Pretty sure you heard that," he grinned, or at least he managed to. "I don't have much, but I'll be good to you. I swear I'll be…"

He swerved and fell off his seat unconscious, startling you and the rest of the class. His hunger has reached breaking point and this was it.

"I-Itadori-kun?! Sukuna!"

"Sukuna…"

It was faint as a whisper, but Satoru heard it escape your lips unsanctioned. Even as you slept soundly beside him, the subconscious you wept for a time that has passed, for a person— only god knows— who was once part of your waking world and everything in between.

Satoru brushed a cold knuckle to wipe away the burning hot tear that ran down your cheek. "Must be a pretty deep void, huh?"

— Daylight.

The morning sun was warm on your back, the rays like wings you had no idea how to fold. You curled inward, gathering your blankets into your arms in hopes they might embrace you back.

And then you felt it— as quick as a butterfly beating its wings yet as soft as a little breeze— the warmest yet faintest kiss on your knotted forehead.

"Good morning. Go ahead and sleep in," Satoru's familiar voice murmured directly in your ear. He gently pulled the remaining covers from his side of the bed and placed them over your bent figure. When you came to, he was already half-dressed for the day, in another one of his impeccably pressed suits.

"Where're you goin'?…"

"Duty calls," he replied with a chuckle. "Suguru said we're making a trip to the coast since there's been a breakthrough in our investigation."

"The coast, huh?"

"We'll probably be out late, but don't worry," he sat down on the edge of your bed, slender fingers reaching over to cup your face. "I'll be home, I promise."

You sank into his touch and sighed as though you were defeated. Satoru brushed another kiss on your temple, with no hint of hesitation as he continued his show of affection. You grasped his wrist as he slowly pulled away.

"Can I come with you?"

There was an odd twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he caught your question. "You… want to come with me?"

"Only if I can," you managed to smile at him. "Though I doubt Geto-san would let me. Where exactly on the coast are you heading?"

"Natori."

"Oh, it's so close to my hometown," you replied, slowly sitting up from your position.

"Yeah, that's where the whistleblower's based," said Satoru. "I can make arrangements if you want to come with me, but I'm assuming you actually wanna catch a train to Sendai."

"If at all possible," you reiterated. "Hmm… I don't think I'm homesick at all, but why do I have this feeling that the coast is calling me?"

"Better answer it, then," he smiled at you. "And don't worry about Suguru. Just call in all the favours you want."

"I don't want Geto-san to dislike me more than he already does…"

Satoru would grant your every wish if he could since he was hardwired to do so, but taking advantage of that surprisingly pure heart of his would make you no different from the women who asked him for pretty and expensive things.

"Trust me when I say he's already warmed up to the idea of you, Otome."

But the scowl on the tall brunette's face when he saw you all dressed up next to Satoru was hardly an image of warming up to you.

"This ain't a field trip. What are you even planning to do in Sendai?"

"I-I know, I know. I promise you I'll stay out of the way of your business," you raised your hands in defence. "Sendai is my hometown. I think I'll pay a visit to my family and publisher while I'm there. You won't hear a peep from me."

Suguru narrowed his dark gaze at you before eventually letting out a sigh of defeat. "Ugh. Fine. It's not like Satoru here will agree to leave you now that you're here and all."

"Th-Thank you, Geto-san! I promise I'll steer clear of your business," you happily bowed before the man in the dark suit, only for him to smirk at you.

"Whatever, kid. Now come on, we're losing daylight. The drive's hours long and Nanami has been waiting for us since yesterday."

"Oh, you're driving? But we can take the Shinkansen if you're pressed for time. We'd get there in two hours tops," you raised a peace sign at Suguru, only for him to glare at you even more. "Whoops! There goes steering clear from your business!"

"No, on second thought, our supposed grand arrival might scare away the whistleblower," the brunette stated, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Nanami brought his car anyway, so the train's actually a good option."

"From here, we can ride the subway in Omotesando to get to Tokyo Station. Once we're moving, you'll both get off at the Joban Line to get to Natori, then I'll—" you started, only to be cut off by Suguru's ringing mobile phone.

"It's Nanami," he said, checking the caller ID. "Hello, Nanami?… Yeah, we're on our way. We might take the train since— He what?!"

The sudden angry rise in his voice made you jump.

"All right, I got it. Just… Hold onto that guy, no matter what. We'll handle things when we get there."

"What's the matter?" Satoru asked. The brunette turned in his direction as he slipped his phone back into his pant pocket.

"The whistleblower nearly made a run for it. Apparently, he wants to bring us to one of his conspirators, the one earning the most from their racketeering, their boss's pet or something," Suguru stated, the edge in his voice gone, with only traces of exhaustion left. "Change of plans, kid. We're going to Sendai with you. That's where their base of operations is."

"I see. You know, Geto-san, if there's anything I can do to assist you, I—"

"We're gonna have to part ways the moment we get there," the brunette stated, cutting you off again. "We're dealing with a possible crime syndicate here. We can't guarantee your safety if you stay with us."

You pursed your lips and solemnly nodded at the truth he spoke. "Yes, of course. We'll part ways in Aoba, then. If I finish my business early, I suppose I'll see you both back here in Tokyo."

"A sound idea," said Satoru as he took your hand. "Well, Suguru? We're losing daylight, aren't we? Let's get walking."

It took every ounce of Suguru's patience not to react to everything Satoru did as you all made your way to Sendai, such as ordering every kind of ekiben the train had, having two beers halfway through the trip and constantly getting up to go to the toilet.

"Driving would have taken longer, but at least that man's just strapped in on his seat," the brunette sighed once more as his charge headed to the toilet for the third time.

"Is he always like that?" You asked the man seated across you. "Babyish."

"With me… and everyone else tasked to look after him? Always," Suguru replied, taking a sip of his canned black coffee. "But you'd mistake him for another man when he's with his flings."

"Yeah, Satoru's mentioned that."

"Come to think of it, you're the only one I've seen twice," he went on. "Satoru's usually in a hurry to leave his flings like he's gonna get caught at a crime scene. How he is now kind of scares me."

"Why does it scare you?"

"Because Satoru doesn't care about a thing in the world. He doesn't care about the company or his inheritance. His family can never disown him because he's their only son, so he capitalises on that and does whatever he wants. And the women he gets involved with… They don't really care as much, either. They all know they can never fit in his world, so they'll settle for a night or a pretty trinket. Him suddenly caring for someone is new to me."

"I'm pretty sure Satoru cares for you, Geto-san," you managed a smile as you held your canned milk coffee. The two of you sat in silence before you eventually spoke up again. "I don't really care if I don't fit in his world, either. All I know is I want him in mine."

"His world won't be ready for someone like you," Suguru chuckled. "You are something else entirely."

"Hey, what did I miss?" Satoru suddenly popped up from behind you, prompting Suguru to narrow his gaze at his charge once more.

"Sit your ass back down here, you no-good prince!"

The thought of coming home only after moving out a few days ago was funny. When you messaged your mother that you would be coming home to see her and everyone else at home, you'd expect an angry reply from her or possibly a joke about being homesick.

But when she replied telling you not to go to the old apartment you shared with your ex-boyfriend because some strange men had it staked out, you figured that something was up.

It was your editor Tatara-san who came to the station to welcome you back to your hometown. The publishing house was happy to see you doing well even though it had only been a few days since you last came to say your farewells.

"If you don't mind me asking, Otome-san, who were those two men you were with earlier? They don't look like tourists," your editor asked as they served you some tea.

"Friends I made in the city. They have some business to attend to here."

"I see. You don't suppose they're involved in that scandal with the local Six Eyes office, do you?"

Your curiosity was piqued now because the pair was certainly there to address something. What it was, you really didn't know. You couldn't ignore that awful, gnawing feeling you felt in your chest now. "What scandal?"

The tall blonde in a sleek beige suit handed his young master a tablet containing even more spreadsheets and numbers ranging from millions. Satoru did away with his long coat now, blue eyes running over the screen as he scrolled through pages, graphs and charts of data.

"So… These thugs take our products, force the regional head to alter the price market, then have those shipped overseas for even crazier prices, huh?"

"That about sums it up, waka," Nanami stated, tossing the other man's coat in the back of his grey sedan.

The trio of suits and the finely-dressed whistleblower were in an unmarked location near the Port of Sendai, an inconspicuous lot the whistleblower led them to in a frantic hope that he'll be redeemed for the crimes he partook in.

"Tell Ijichi I won't be accepting his resignation. He did nothing wrong," Satoru stated.

"All right," the blonde nodded his ascent. He and Suguru remained unfazed as their young master uncharacteristically grabbed the blue-haired whistleblower by his collar.

"What did you say your name was again?" The silver-haired man started, his grip on the other man's collar slowly evolving into a chokehold.

"M… Mahito…" Came the whistleblower's strained reply.

"And how long has this been going on, Mahito? How long have you been threatening my man to do your bidding?"

"Ghh… I-If you want to k-know who's running the show, I can lead you to him!"

Mahito paled by the moment, and he gripped Satoru's rigid arm in a bid to free himself from the other man's hold, only for him to be unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

Suguru lit another cigarette as he continued observing their surroundings.

"You know, Mahito, there's a reason why we aren't getting the police involved here, though we're technically dealing with a theft now. Your little outfit here has stolen goods worth around 500 million Yen from our company for the last two years. Now that we've caught wind of it, you came to us looking for a way to save yourself, right? As though everything's as simple as washing your hands from the crime. You can look for your salvation all you want, but one thing is for certain," Satoru stated with a wicked grin. "I am your god now, and right now, you're going to do exactly as I say."

— Leave as though fire burns under your feet.

The panic that set off in your heart gave no space for common sense to prevail. You ran to your old apartment as fast as your feet could take you, only for you to crash into an equally distressed Yuuji, the boy in tears as he scrambled back on his feet.

"Otome-nee! It's nii-chan! He's—!"

"Yuuji-kun, c-calm down!" You held the boy by his shaking shoulders, anchoring him to you. "Can you tell me from the start what happened?"

Yuuji nodded, though not at all calmed down by the presence of an adult he knew could help him."…Someone from my class called my brother a thief. They said nii-chan's been involved with some shady business for a long time now…"

What?

"Our house, my tuition, the money we buy food with… they said it's all stolen money! Of course, I didn't believe them because I know how hard nii-chan has been working! He even told me he planned on proposing to you soon!"

"Where is Sukuna now?"

"I… I don't know! He hasn't been answering my calls! I was so angry with him for not doing anything about you leaving town, but now there's all this… stuff about him being a thief! I…"

"Don't cry, Yuuji-kun. Let's… Let's go to our place together, all right? Only your brother can answer those questions for you, but I…"

No. All the pieces fit so strangely. I don't want to believe it, but…

When you and Yuuji arrived at your old apartment, you weren't completely surprised to find Satoru and Suguru already there, along with a number of men in suits you didn't anticipate at all. Their presence now confirms your suspicions, though you didn't want to believe it at first.

"Otome?! What are you doing here? Suguru said you—" Satoru tried to block your path to the apartment, only for you to hold his arm down. The lack of verve didn't go unnoticed by him.

"I know the man who lives there. The man you're looking for," you looked up at him with shining eyes once more. "He's… He's my…"

The words you wanted to say remained unspoken, but Satoru understood enough. "Otome, that man is party to a crime— a theft worth millions. We'd appreciate it if you can coax him out here. We really don't want the cops to get involved."

You nodded at him, taking a deep breath before eventually banging on the locked door. "Sukuna, it's me! Yuuji-kun is here, too! If… If you're going to feel sorry for yourself, you should at least apologise to your brother!"

Suguru disposed of his cigarette with a flick of his finger. "Damn. What a small world we live in, huh? You don't suppose she's an accomplice here as well, do you?"

"I don't think so, Suguru," the silver-haired man shook his head. "Otome left Sendai after some chick told her to get lost because she was that asshole's main woman now. Turns out that woman was just bluffing. When she was refused the second time around, that's when word got out about his job. He never even found out about Otome leaving until now."

Their heads whipped up when they heard the doorknob click open, only for you to be hastily pulled into the unit with the door quickly bolted shut behind you. From inside your shared apartment, you could hear Satoru's aggravated shouts as he banged on the door even louder than you did moments ago. "Otome!"

"Sato—" You tried to run back, only for you to be held back. You swiped your hands away from Sukuna's hold, not at all surprised by his lack of strength. "I didn't want it to be true at all, but when I heard from Tatara-san that you were… I… Didn't you even think of Yuuji-kun?"

The sheer exhaustion he felt manifested itself on his face as you looked up at him. "Sukuna…"

"The job was a downward spiral. I knew that from the start," he stated. "When I first started out, that old man Jogo called me a street rat who had to work for everything he spent on when Yuuji got into that accident. And in everything I did, I made sure I did right. He said I had potential. He put me in charge of everything here, and that became my ball and chain."

You didn't pull away when he reached for your hand again.

"I know that telling you now that all I did was for you and Yuuji… doesn't really matter now because everything has gone to shit. And now Yuuji's being ostracised at school because word got out that I'm a racketeer… I can't even face him! I just wanted to…"

You were unexpectedly pulled with him as he broke down in tears on the floor.

"I just wanted to give you the world…"

"Sukuna… I never expected you to give me the world. All I wanted was for you to be in mine… But ever since that… job of yours, you…" And your tears, hot and unbidden, came falling down as well. "You were rarely there. For me. For Yuuji-kun. When Wasuke-san passed away, you had to leave as soon as the ceremony for him was over. And where were you when Yuuji-kun was about to enter high school? It was just us two back then and you promised to show up for him, but you…"

The rest of your muddled thoughts were drowned out by the sound of his sobs.

"Sukuna, I didn't need someone to give me everything, I just wanted someone to come home to. Someone who will come home to me."

File: RikuganKigyo_Sendai_Market_Case_File.docx The issue surrounding the anomalous market numbers in the coastal cities of Natori, Hitachi and Iwaki has been resolved by the following members: Gojo Satoru, partner and family shareholder Geto Suguru and company Nanami Kento Haibara Yu The enterprise did not want any police involvement with the issue surrounding the three coastal cities since it meant having to open the case to the media as well. The stockholders suspected of assisting in this market manipulation turned out to be innocent as well. The discrepancies were all the work of a smart underground syndicate.

"Writing a report, I see," you placed a cup of freshly brewed green tea on the dining room table where Satoru had set up his makeshift office. He raised his arms, stretched his legs and let out an unsightly yawn before eventually coiling his arms around your waist and nuzzling your chest. You threaded your fingers through his hair as he took a short break from his document. "You know, I'm surprised Geto-san allowed you back here with me."

"Yeah, he didn't like the string of coincidences and had your background checked without your consent. But you cooperated with our internal investigation and even turned over all the gifts your ex-boyfriend gave you for consolidation."

"If only I knew sooner, though…" You sighed.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You've done plenty. Just the fact that you managed to take the fight out of the man was a feat in itself," Satoru stated as he eventually let you go. "I'm glad we managed to keep the damage to a minimum. The shareholders don't know about all of this, but we're gonna have to come clean with it eventually."

"But I thought you didn't want the media all over this issue," you replied, taking a seat across from him.

"That's why we're presenting the thing as a whole, no loopholes for them to poke their fingers into, all the crannies plugged. Basically, we're going to tell them all about the problem and how we resolved it without their intervention. It's probably a bad move, too, but if word of this ever got out to the media, the people would lose faith in the company. They'd say the Six Eyes allowed a local small-time outfit to heist away millions."

You held your own cup of tea in your hands. "I see. You've really thought this out well, huh?"

"Suguru helped out a lot, too," he stated. You could hear him press the backspace key of his keyboard numerous times. "Apparently my old man's been wanting to retire for quite some time now. He figured that issue in the coastal cities would be a great springboard for me and my reputation. Now that it's been settled, he has no choice but to officially name me his heir."

"So you'll be president soon, then?"

"Pretty much," he nodded. "I told him to call off that stupid arranged marriage, though."

"Wh-What? W-Were you actually engaged to someone?!"

"I wouldn't call it an engagement," he thoughtfully looked up. "They just wanted my gallivanting to stop. Not that an engagement would have helped at all…"

"I see…"

"To be honest, now that my father has officially named me his heir and my parents and I are all right, part of me kind of regrets being such a brat to them. When people say Six Eyes, they consider it one of Japan's most timeless companies, and for it to withstand all of the tests of time was a treasure all in itself. That company will be mine to lead in the near future. Along with it are the hundreds of thousands of people working to ensure everything runs smoothly."

You smiled at him from across the table. "I'm glad to know you realised that much."

"Yeah, I'm pretty surprised myself," he chuckled. "Sukuna, wasn't it? This is just a personal opinion of mine, but I think he's actually a good man who just got caught in a bad circle. It was pretty honourable of him to take all the blame. Not even once did he speak about the ringleader Jogo."

You gasped. "Ah! That's—!"

"The man he owes his brother's life to."

During the internal investigation, Sukuna answered every question thrown at him by the investigators, all except for one.

"Believe it or not, that man was my only salvation back then. I don't care about the money anymore. Lock me up if you must, but please… I just want my brother to live a quiet life."

And when you pleaded his case in an attempt to earn him some lenience, the best Satoru could offer him was a chance to start anew in a foreign country— they'll have to start from scratch, though, in a new place with new identities. Sukuna had nothing but apologies for you when you last came face to face.

"And for what it's worth now, all the days I spent with you were the happiest I've ever been. I'm sorry things had to be this way."

"Sukuna… Thank you. I'll… treasure those days in my heart as well. But, please… Don't ever disappoint Yuuji-kun again."

The consequences were not at all heavy like you originally thought them to be. The young president-to-be was lenient, but that would be the first and last time he'd ever grant clemency to anyone who dared hurt the company. The pair of brothers were nothing but thankful for the decision. Being shipped off to China didn't sound like a bad idea to them as long as they were together.

"I don't have a brother, so I can't claim to know how he feels, but I do know this," Satoru reached for your hand from across the table. "I will never, ever lose myself trying to give you the world, Otome. I know well enough that you don't want it."

"You're right. I don't," you squeezed him back. "All I'll ever want is you and your boundless energy and all of your love for me."

— We've had the loneliest time.

In the days that followed, Satoru spent most of his time ironing out what would be his first business presentation as the president's named heir of the enterprises. Thus, his presence was required in every major board meeting that lined his daily schedule. The responsibilities rattled him, but not enough to scare him back to his old ways of running off whenever things got too overwhelming for him. He fronted every meeting with a game face and a gaze that would unsettle even the most seasoned businessman in the conference room.

However, there was no concealing his delight whenever he came home to you and your open arms.

When Suguru invited you out for coffee one morning to discuss Satoru and his plans for the future, you didn't expect him to spring a surprise on you.

"Good morning, Geto-san," you greeted the figure in black. He stubbed out his cigarette the moment you made your presence known to him.

"Hello, Otome-san," he handed you a menu. "Help yourself. My treat since I called you out here."

A waitress came up to take your orders. He ordered an espresso for himself. "And you?"

"Oh, I think I'll have a café au lait," you replied as you thoughtfully scanned the menu. "And a kaya toast, if it's all right."

"Of course."

It didn't take long for your coffee and toast to arrive, the sweet aroma of your milk coffee and the kaya jam filling your nose. "So, um, what was it you wanted to discuss?"

You heard from Satoru once that Suguru was given the nickname Bloody Obsidian by his fellow bodyguards and subordinates. He didn't like it much though many said it suited his rather cutthroat nature. And when he spoke, he always made sure it was straight to the point. Today was no exception. "Satoru will be taking up his business studies again. He'll be heading to New York in a week in time for the start of the semester."

"I see. Good for him, then," you remarked, halfway through a bite into your toast.

"He's asked me to arrange for you to go with him. We can start with your passport and work on your visa afterwards. Then we'll—"

"Aghk!" You coughed out your toast in complete surprise. "What?!"

Suguru pushed your milk coffee in your direction, brows furrowed as he watched you take small sips of the beverage. "Did he not tell you about this at all? Or ask you at all about any of this?"

You dabbed a napkin over your lips as you shook your head at him. "No, not at all…"

The brunette sighed, leaning back on his seat. "Then he must have assumed that you'd willingly go with him."

"I-It's not that I wouldn't! It's just… things are moving at a pace I can't seem to keep up with yet," You raised your hands in defence. "Satoru will need all the room he can get to grow into his role as the future president of the Six Eyes."

"I thought you wanted him in your life."

"I do. I'm so happy to have him around at home. I know it's probably strange hearing this from me now, but I don't think it would be right for me to be with Satoru. Not now, at least," you nodded before eventually lowering your eyes to your toast. "When he starts his studies again, I'm certain he'll meet people who will like him for the person he truly is. He'll make friends who will adore him for who he is and not because he's some rich kid."

Suguru watched as you helped yourself to your kaya toast, the flavours dancing in your mouth as you carefully thought of what to say next.

"And I… think I still have a lot of growing up to do as well. Uprooting myself from home was awful enough for my family. They'd probably lose their minds if I go to the States. And there's that thing with Sukuna, too… Our relationship didn't really end on our terms, and if I'm going to be completely honest, I don't think I'm ready for another one just yet," you said with a small sigh and a smile. "I adore Satoru, I really do. I appreciate his sentiment, too, but I think I'd rather not let men dictate the course of my life now."

The brunette nodded at your statement, a small smile on his face as he drank deep into his shot of espresso.

"What about you, Geto-san? Interested in meeting anyone? I have some writer friends at home who would love to date a guy like you," you beamed at the man in black, only to earn his signature glare once more.

"Oh, please! Do I look like I have the time to be dating when I've got my hands full with that manchild of yours?!"

Satoru recalled going to sleep with you last night on the very same bed he woke up in, but you were nowhere in sight the morning after. While most of your belongings remained in your apartment, the place was eerily empty. The only person he found outside your bedroom was Suguru, who helped himself to a freshly brewed cup of green tea.

"Good morning, waka," the brunette stated as he blew over the steam rising from his cup.

"Where'd Otome go?"

From inside his coat pocket, Suguru pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to his charge, Satoru quickly yet carefully ripping it open. In it contained a sheet of manuscript paper with your distinct handwriting.

Satoru,

I'm not sure when this letter will reach you. I'm not sure if it will, but Geto-san said he'll ensure it does. I suppose only you can say that for certain.

You know, I was about to earn a quick buck from selling that set of golf clubs in my room. Little did I know I'd end up threatening you with one on our very first meeting. Oh, god, seeing you drink milk straight from the carton annoyed the hell out of me even more than the fact that you were actually trespassing.

For the record, I'm glad I actually let you buy me fried chicken and beer. You spent that entire night trying to cheer me up and you never talked over me even once when the sadness came rearing its ugly head. You just let me be sad, but not be sad at the same time.

When you opened up to me about your own sadness, even though you had the world in the palm of your hand, it made me realise how everything isn't always as it seems. That behind all of that glamour in your world, you were still so human, so alone, and so hurt.

At the end of the day, we were just two human beings trying to exist.

I enjoyed every moment of 'just existing' with you. Just existing, orbiting around each other like the planets and the moons in the sky. For the short time we've lived under the same roof, you gave me all the love I never even dared to ask for, even though you were only filling the void.

I hope you know I still want nothing from you but you. That hasn't changed. Sure, the food was better when you were around, but listening to your shitty jokes and laughing with you always made our meals even more inviting.

We never meet the wrong people in our lives, and I know I met you for a reason. I can spend decades trying to figure out why you ended up in my apartment that fateful morning, but I wouldn't mind if I never come up with an answer. All I know is that you're a part of my life now, and I can only hope I'll remain part of yours.

For now, I hope you'll allow me this time to outgrow the grief that forced me out of my life in Sendai in the first place. I think it would be awfully unfair to you if I go with you as I am now.

I don't want to reach for you and think of a future long lost to me. I want to be able to reach for you and think of the road we'll walk on, hand in hand and side by side. I don't want you to fill this void anymore. I want you to exist as your own person in my life. And know this: I will want nothing more than for you to come home to me all the time.

Until then, go prove them wrong. Prove to everybody who doubted you that you aren't some pushover.

I adore you so, my president of the world. I apologise for not telling you earlier.

If you find yourself looking for your home after all of this, you'll know where to find it. The light is always on for you.

PS: I went home to Sendai for the weekend. My mother's been worried sick about me ever since that incident with Sukuna and your men. I left you a copy of your key here. Please don't lose it! Also, here's my e-mail address. You can also get in touch with me here once you land…

Love forever…

True enough, the envelope contained a certain weight just light enough for him to confirm that it was indeed a key to the unit. It fell into his palm, quiet and cold, just like how you left him this morning. Along with it was an adornment of the most recognisable Donald Duck holding half of a cartoon heart. They can only assume that half of the cartoon heart was held by Daisy Duck in your own pocket.

"Awfully thoughtful of her, isn't it?" Suguru stated with an uncharacteristically warm smile on his face. "I'm certain she'll work just as hard as you, but I think your world will never be ready for someone like her."

"Of course. She's so amazing, after all!" Satoru exclaimed with an equally bright smile. "I guess I'll have to work hard, for her sake, too."

"That's what she would have wanted, waka. Better not disappoint her, then."

— Epilogue.

~ two years later.

Tokyo Haneda Airport remained bustling with activity even as the years flew by. For Satoru, it almost seemed like nothing changed at all. Several flights from different parts of the world have descended on the Land of the Rising Sun, including his own, after finally concluding his long overdue studies in business administration in New York. He hasn't been home in months, being a slave to the grind in hopes of finally passing and successfully defending his thesis.

Today marks his homecoming, or a break, at least, after having masterfully defended his thesis to his professors at the esteemed SC Johnson College of Business at Cornell University. (It was the only school that would credit his previous classes and allow him to continue his studies after a rather lengthy hiatus from school.) Graduation was just around the corner, as well as his official inheritance of the role of President of the Six Eyes Enterprises. Despite his inheritance having yet to be announced, he has been making some major business decisions on behalf of his parents, making him the de facto leader of the company for the last few months.

"Oh, Tokyo. You and your relentless cold," he remarked as he stepped out of the passenger terminal, his arrival met by none other than his ever-dutiful all-arounder, Suguru Geto. The brunette gave his young master a quick bow before reaching for what little belongings he brought back home with him and loading them into his sedan's compartment.

"Welcome home, waka. How was your flight?"

Satoru's homecoming in a navy-coloured suit almost felt like the arrival of a dark horse meant to cause discord in the company. At least now, he meant it in a good way. "Good! But I've only had coffee and cola for the last 15 hours, so I'll probably be annoying."

"Like you aren't already?" Suguru scoffed at him. "Where to?"

"Where else?" The young president chuckled, finally removing his silver-rimmed sunglasses. "Home, of course."

The car ride from the airport to home was short and uneventful, with Satoru browsing through different radio stations in hopes of hearing something good. What he chanced upon was something even better.

"…back, everyone! We're in the second hour of Seishun Book Club. Talking with us this hour is the rising novelist and scriptwriter from Sendai who…"

"Oh!"

"…jo Otome-sensei!"

"Good morning, friends and listeners! It is such an honour to be live on air with you!"

The sound of your voice on the radio was music to his ears. "It really is her!"

"Ah, but the honour is all ours! You are one of Sendai's 'living treasures', after all. And you've brought your craft to the city and have given so many people something delightful to read."

"I'm so happy a lot of people found my new novel an entertaining read. I had such a wonderful time working on it for the last two years. Of course, I must thank my kind editors Marin-san and Tatara-san from Sendai for keeping track of things. Without them, people probably wouldn't have been able to rea…"

"She sounds so relaxed. This probably isn't her first radio show."

"Yeah, she's been doing more radio shows after her second book got popular. She's been to a few TV appearances, too. Nanami and Haibara have been driving her around town for every interview she's been invited to."

"…nd people both young and old have been captivated by the story you delivered in 'Up The Winding Stairs', particularly the enduring love of the Crown Prince for his long-lost childhood friend, but there are also elements which parents of young children also…"

"…suppose you could say some elements of the story were inspired by real-life events…"

"She's a living treasure, Suguru," Satoru stated, sitting there in content silence as he listened to the first part of the interview, which was mostly about your book and the working process, most of which was composed of endless nights of writing and typing and random video calls with each other. The second part was composed of producer and listener-sent questions pertaining to your personal life this time.

"…rious about your marriage to the president of Nikkei 225-listed company Six E…"

"…toru will be graduating soon and I'm very proud of him and his achievements. We haven't seen each other in months since he's been busy preparing for his thesis defence, but he'll be returning home soon. I'm actually a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to seeing my husband fo…"

The said president could only contentedly smile to himself as he listened to his wife sing his praises.

"Well, don't you look awfully smug," Suguru chuckled.

"That's my wife talking on the radio, Suguru! How on earth can I not be so smug and so proud?!"

The two of you got married sometime in the last two years in a simple, uncomplicated beach wedding ceremony that only included your closest family and friends. Satoru's family may have had some qualms about your dubious origins, but they recognised how much of a positive influence you've become in his life. You made it clear to them that you could live without any aid or part of his family's fortune, eventually earning their respect, and later on, their adoration.

But every once in a while, you'd allow your husband to spoil you with a pretty thing or two. It was his pleasure, after all.

Perhaps his greatest pleasure and treasure was coming home to someone who wanted nothing at all from him but him.

"Satoru! Welcome home!"

…And the smile that lit your face whenever he walked into the door of your shared home.

"How was your flight?"

"Pleasant, but awfully long," Satoru replied, carefully dropping his luggage to tenderly pull you into his arms. "I heard your interview on the radio on my way here! You were fantastic!"

The world may have been messy and imperfect for you not too long ago, but that may have been because you had too many pieces in your hands. But now… Everything that you needed now was always only an arm's length away from you.

And with your husband now in your arms after months of being away, you were well and truly content, and everything in your world was absolutely perfect.

Author's notes:

Hello, friends! 💛 I decided to publish one of my most favourite Gojo fics here.

This fic's namesake is one of my fave songs by Carly Rae Jepsen and it speaks of an unfinished love! (And here it pertains to Sukuna and Gojo but mostly yn's love for herself too.) If I went with my original plan for the fic, it would have definitely ended with yn going with Gojo to the US and thus forgetting her book!! So I said, well fuck it better stay at home for now. This must have been incredibly fast-paced too, but I'd like to think that stuff like this happens in real life! The premise of this one-shot is from a dream I had after a night of drinking with my sister sometime last year.

This fic follows a true-to-life timeline, with yn, Gojo and Sukuna aged around 27 to 28. Also, forgive me for my awful attempt at writing a business fic— I only realised now that I can't do serious fics like this ever again because I have no idea how offices and companies work lol.

Something about the way the manga's going has disillusioned me, and I know a lot of us would prefer ignoring canon altogether. Others will argue that Gojo's death was necessary and all of that… Okay, cool, point made, but please let us ignore canon in peace, please! Gojo wasn't even dead yet when I wrote this but this serves as a perfect escape for me… I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much! 💛

💛 Here's the AO3 link, too. This was originally published on 10 January 2023.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's archive 🌴#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #this is mari's gojo satoru shoujo leading man agenda #my josei leading man too 🥺

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familyabolisher · 6 months ago

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I am far less interested in the narrative of The Talented Mr. Ripley as one of psychological profiling—as its reception points to, a tale of ‘psychopathy’ or other such voyeuristic projections of lazy and essentialising psychology—as I am in picking at the discourse by which Highsmith and Minghella constitute queerness as a peripheral threat to the confines of heterosexuality; I find that zeroing in on these questions of sexual norms and deviations thereof makes for a useful exegetical practice. [...] Tom Ripley enters the narrative as the threat of homosexual embodiment—though it might be more precise to name him as homosexual contagion. He acts initially as a disciplining structure towards the governance of the family, tasked as he is with the mission to bring Dickie Greenleaf home to America and, presumably, set him on a path that involves gainful employment and reproductive futurity pleasantly ensconced in heterosexuality. Dickie’s having absconded to Italy ushers in the kinds of potentialities encoded in, for instance, a lingering shot of two men embracing on a street corner, or the classical homosexual tradition invoked by Peter, or Freddie Miles’ campily foppish (though heterosexual) demeanour. For all that Dickie Greenleaf is presented to us as rather assuredly straight, the possibility—threat—of deviation from hegemonic sexual paradigms constantly mediates his relationships with men and women alike, and such a deviation comes home to roost when queer contagion in the form of Tom Ripley takes on the form, language, and desires of the American family unit.

back on my patreon bullshit—this time i'm trying out writing some (relatively) short commentary on whatever piece of media piques my interest at the moment. so if you want to read me chucking some ideas together about homosociality, social contagion, & mirrors in 1999's the talented mr. ripley, you can do so for £1/$1 at the link.

this piece will become free for all a month from today.

#.txt #for the curious—my short stories will still be on wordpress for free :~)#i have not been writing consistently for a few months now for a handful of reasons (lol)#but at last appear to be solidly Back On My Bullshit.

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little-diable · 2 years ago

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Pen Pals - Tommy Shelby (smut)

Boy, do I adore working on fics with @zablife – thank you for adding your beautiful touch to this fic and for writing Tommy's letters. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy and the reader have been pen pals as teenagers, though ripped apart by the war. Now, as she is trapped in an abusive marriage, she finds Tommy's old letters again, and she can't help but wonder if he had made it home from war, and if so, could if he could be the helping hand she's desperate for?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, mentions an abusive husband and a gun, a very happy ending

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (5k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

(Y/n) could still remember the call she had found in the paper as she had been a young teen, asking children and teenagers from the United Kingdom to send in their addresses, to find pen pals they could practise writing with. She had been filled with excitement, and even though her father had told her to not follow the call, undoubtedly worrying about the mail they’d receive, she still had run all the way to her post station to send off a letter, asking them to pair her up with a pen pal.

It had taken weeks for the first letter to arrive, addressed to (y/n) in a slightly wonky handwriting, introducing himself as Tommy Shelby. Back then she hadn’t even dared to guess the kind of friendship that would form between her and Tommy, the young boy from Small Heath, a city she has never been to before.

Ever since Tommy had written that very first letter, (y/n) had started to share her deepest secrets with the boy, confiding in the one she’d eventually fall for, without ever meeting him. But life hadn’t been kind to the two, ripping them apart before they could have even tried to grasp the chance to meet, before she or he could board a train to finally cross the endless hours laying between their homes.

War had been cruel, to both their families, killing innocent lives before they could evolve into the people they were destined to be. (Y/n)’s heart had ached in her chest when Tommy’s very last letter had found its way to her, saying goodbye to the woman that had been by his side for the past years, at least on paper, one with the ink soaking through the expensive paper they’d steal from their family members close by.

She had collected every letter he had written, stored away in a box she hadn’t opened in years, long forgotten like the words she had once known by heart. Within the first few months of the war people would talk about for decades to come, she had found it too painful to think of Tommy, wondering if he was still alive, breathing in the smell of gunpowder, of dirt and blood. The mere thought of said vile mixture had brought tears to her eyes, clutching the fabric of her blankets when she was laying awake late at night.

The years had passed and with those years the memories of his letters had faded, allowing her heart to make peace with the ghost of old times she had run from. It was almost ironic how she had found the wooden box again, trying to hide the gun she had bought from a man down the street, needing to find something she could use to protect herself against the man she had married, one with the alcohol he’d pour down his throat, with the money he made from gambling, and the anger he’d unleash upon her in moments he’d call ‘moments of weakness’.

Her hands had trembled as she had grasped the first box she could find hidden in the back of her closet, freezing she felt the all too familiar wood beneath her fingertips. Tears had welled up in her eyes, fingers stroking along the outlines of the box before she slowly opened it. The gun had been long forgotten, placed on the ground next to her kneeling frame as she started reading the letters, mind racing, just like her heart.

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) reached for the last letter she had received from him. She could still feel the pain his words had unleashed upon her, forcing the young woman to accept that he may never write to her again, buried with those that left their homes with hopeful hearts and strong minds, set on winning the war.

“Dearest Y/n,

I am writing to thank you for your last letter and the photograph you enclosed. It will surely bring me comfort when I am far from home. I must admit that I have been thinking of you often as I prepare to leave, knowing we will not be corresponding as frequently or perhaps at all. I never realised how much my happiness depended on you and the words we exchanged over the years. I know now that you’re the only girl who has ever mattered.

Take care of yourself whilst I’m away. I will do my best to return if only to see your lovely smile in person one day after this war has ended.

Yours, Tommy”

While her heart screamed at her, cursing (y/n) for forgetting about the man she had once planned to marry, crossing the country to make her way to him, her mind started questioning if there was even just a slight chance of Tommy being still alive. Perhaps it had been her own moment of weakness, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from searching for a piece of paper and some ink, starting scribbling down words she could barely read with the tears blurring her vision.

“Dear Tommy,

God, it’s been years, hasn’t it? And yet I can still remember the endless hours I’ve spent pressed against the window of my parent’s living room, waiting for your letters to arrive. How oblivious I’ve been, too naive to understand that life would rip you from me. For years I’ve tried to make my peace with the thought of you amongst other fallen soldiers, but it seems as if the pain has never quite subsided.

Sometimes I catch myself dreaming of the life we could have shared, the house we would have lived in and the children we could have had. An easy life that now seems more far away than ever before. Perhaps it’s foolish of me to rip open the wound that hasn’t properly healed, but just the slightest chance of you still being alive seems a price worth paying.

The naive child living inside of me is hoping for your reply, anxiously awaiting the darkening truth to be revealed. But if you’re receiving this, know that I’ve never stopped loving you.

Yours, (y/n)”

For a moment she had debated telling him about the situation she found herself trapped in, the loveless marriage she was a hostage of, but she didn’t have the heart to do so, scared that somebody besides Tommy would read the letter. And so she folded the paper, staring at it for a few moments before she rose from the floor of her walk-in closet, praying to whoever was listening, that the old address of his would still be the right one.

…

Weeks have passed since (y/n) had sent off the letter, using the address she still knew by heart, a shot in the dark that would probably never be returned to the light. It had been foolish of her to write the letter, forcing her further down memory lane, a path she couldn’t retreat from, stuck in the emotions her younger self had carried deep inside of herself, loving a man she hadn’t ever touched before, a man she hadn’t ever spoken to before, only knowing his handwriting and the thoughts plaguing him.

And while (y/n) had spent most of her past days trapped in her thoughts, her husband had found his way back home, drunk off his mind, smelling of places women like her wouldn’t be allowed to enter. Fear simmered deep inside of her, mixed with the slightest bit of hope, praying to God that Tommy would reply, or at least somebody who knew of Tommy Shelby.

It was early in the morning by the time her doorbell went off, forcing (y/n) out of bed with trembling limbs, arms slung around her waist to try and shield herself from the cold of the morning. Slowly she moved towards the door, opening it just enough for her to take in the body on the other side of the door, “Morning, (y/n), here I thought this may be of importance to you.”

A letter was pushed into her outstretched hand by the postman, sharing a slight smile before she murmured a “Thank you, Frank”, watching him move away. Her heart picked up its pace, eyes staring down onto the address of hers that had been written by a handwriting she didn't recognise. Slowly but surely the daunting realisation began to settle in, this hadn’t been written by Tommy. Times may have changed, but if there was one thing she was certain of it was Tommy’s handwriting. Was this what she had been fearing? Was he no longer human but bones and rotten flesh?

Tears welled up in her eyes, making it harder for her to see as (y/n) found her way back to her empty bed. She stared at the envelope for a few moments, trembling hand wiping away the falling tears. It felt worse than she had imagined, a pain so biting, she felt bile rise in her throat. A pain that was guided by her anger, anger addressed at those greedy men that have ripped millions of people from their families, greedy men whose decisions have forced Tommy to part from their evolving bond.

A deep breath was exhaled as (y/n) opened the envelope, careful not to destroy the parts that had the address of the sender written on them, an unfamiliar street she hadn’t heard of before. Her trembling fingers unfolded the letter, freezing as she read the first few words.

“Dear Miss Y/L/N,

I apologise for any delay in correspondence as my secretary is unfamiliar with this address.

Of course, I remember you and the years of our acquaintance before the war. As you say, much has changed with time. I’ve a business in Birmingham, Shelby Company Limited, as well as several race horses which occupy my time. I cannot give quite so accurate an account of my time in between as you have done. My memories of the war and the subsequent years are not pleasant ones. However, I confess I keep your photograph by my desk as a reminder of simpler times when the world was a better place.

It is my hope that you have found happiness in your life. I am told it is a choice one must make for themselves though I still seem to be deciding. Perhaps I should flip a coin as I would have done in the old days?

Sincerely, Thomas Shelby”

He was alive. Tommy Shelby was alive. A sob wrecked through her, followed by another. (Y/n) pressed the letter against her chest, holding it tight as if she was hugging Tommy. A man that had changed like the tide rolling in, a man who had left behind his happiness on a warfield, a man who no longer addressed her by her first name. Changes (y/n) didn’t care about, rising to her feet in a frenzy, this was her chance. A way out.

(Y/n) didn’t worry about the chances of Tommy pushing her away, didn’t even think twice about the what if’s, the chances of him not wanting to meet her. She had been desperate to find a place where she could hide away from her husband, and if Small Heath – the city she had been supposed to move to years ago – was her calling, she’d follow it blindly.

Clothes were thrown into her old suitcase, not caring what she was packing, too focused on the racing of her heart, the blood thumping through her veins like alcohol. A blind happiness that drowned out the sound of her bedroom door being pushed open, exposing her stumbling husband.

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/n) froze, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before she slowly turned towards him. He was drunk off his face, could barely balance himself, God’s timing seemed to be perfect, he’d pass out soon, giving her a chance to blend in with the dark morning. “I asked you a question, woman.”

“I,” (y/n) stumbled over her words, fisting the fabric of her thin dress as she was wrecking her brain for a lie to distract him with. “My mam’s sick, I need to visit her for a few days, you know how she is, I can’t leave her alone.”

He stared at her for a few moments, either too drunk to notice the tremble of her voice, or too distracted by the tiredness clinging to him. With a nod thrown her way, he found his way to their shared bed, no longer paying attention to her movements. Relief flushed through her, guiding her through the next moments, closing her suitcase, and with one last glance thrown at her husband, (y/n) pulled her ring off her finger, placing it down on the small reading table placed next to their door.

The morning was cold, a sensation her busy mind paid no worries to, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. Slowly her doubts began to resurface, doubts that distracted her from the dark path to the train station, hoping that she wouldn’t have to wait long for the next train she could take, leaving this very life behind.

Her eyes found the dark ones of the ticket seller, smiling at the grim looking man, “I need a ticket to Birmingham, please.”

…

As a teen (y/n) had imagined the very first time she’d make it to Birmingham, to Small Heath. Back then she had been filled with excitement, a giddy feeling that had left her insides churning, wondering how it may feel to hug Tommy, wondering about the places he’d show her. Naive dreams that had evaporated into a cloud of anxiety, a cloud she was now trapped in.

It had taken her hours to find her way to the streets of Small Heath, but even though the day had turned into evening, (y/n) felt no tiredness clinging to her fleshcage, no exhaustion she was slowed down by. No, by now her confidence had passed, turning into worries that ate her from inside out. Would he even want to speak to her? Would he accept her, or force her to turn away?

With every further step (y/n) took, clinging to the address she had found on the back of his letter, the worries began to grow. A part of her screamed at (y/n) to turn around and leave, to forget about this trip and to tell her husband that her mother didn’t need her help. But her curiosity forced her to keep on moving, till she came to halt in front of the house the address had guided her to.

Trembling fingers were balled into fists, knocking on the heavy door with a deep breath exhaled. There was no turning back, no way out of this mess. She counted the seconds fading by, wondering who’d open the door. (Y/n) knocked again after a few moments, taking a step back as the sinking realisation began to broaden in her system. Only as she turned away from the door, shoulders slumped, legs suddenly feeling heavier than before, the door was ripped open.

“What do you want?” A man had opened the door, presumably younger than she was, and yet his eyes carried something that made (y/n) wonder what cruelties he had been forced to see.

“I’m looking for Tommy Shelby.” (Y/n)’s words were quiet, nothing more than a whisper, and yet he seemed to pick up on them perfectly fine.

“Why? What do you want from him?” Her eyes flickered down to the letter she was holding, wondering how to explain to the man that Tommy Shelby was the lifeline she was clinging to, needing to be pulled from the soaring waves before she’d drown.

“I’m an old friend of his.” While (y/n) was looking for more words to speak, trying to find a way to beg the man to guide her to him, he kept studying her, gaze focusing on the letter she was holding. It took him a few moments to reply, taking in her tired features before he stepped out into the evening, taking her suitcase from (y/n) before she could speak up.

“He’s down at the Garrison, I’ll bring you to him, ‘m John.”

…

“I can’t do this.” (Y/n) froze as they arrived at the Garrison, eyes set ahead on the entrance. Should she really do this? Was this the right decision? She didn’t even know what Tommy looked like, hadn’t ever received a picture of the man she had once planned to marry.

“What’s wrong? Thought you’re an old friend of Tommy’s?” John alighted another cigarette, curious eyes not wandering from her features. On the way to the Garrison they had exchanged a few words, getting to know one another, even though he hadn’t asked any questions about her relationship with Tommy, not one question had been wasted on the man’s name.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” (Y/n)’s eyes found John’s, sending him a sad smile that was frozen on her lips as his hand found the back of her shoulder, giving her a slight push forward.

“Don’t you worry, ‘m sure he’ll be happy to see a pretty face like yours.” Before she could even try to inhale another breath, (y/n) was pushed into the pub, taking in the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that lingered in the air. Her heart was pounding, not able to pay attention to the greetings thrown John’s way, wondering if Tommy was any of these men. Would her heart recognise him before her mind would?

“Look at that, John, did you finally find a woman interested in you?” A man with a prominent moustache spoke up, arm finding its way around John’s shoulder, pulling the man against his chest. Too many curious eyes were focused on (y/n)’s frame, making her feel rather uncomfortable. But while she tried to find comfort in her coat, hiding away from their gazes, John shook his head, murmuring something about Tommy to them.

“A friend of Tommy’s, eh? Alright, come, let’s bring you to him.” The older man took her by her wrist, a gentle touch (y/n) couldn’t focus on, realising that she was truly about to meet the man she had once known better than her friends and family members. No words threatened to leave her, lips pressed together as the man guided her through the pub, coming to halt in front of two smoking men.

Piercing blue eyes found hers, and something inside of her clicked. She tensed, unable to inhale any air her aching lungs were desperate for. Time seemed to stand still, earth had stopped rotating, no longer guiding her through the passing by seconds.

“You’ve got a visitor, Tommy, says she’s an old friend of yours.” It truly was him. The man with piercing blue eyes that reflected no emotions, a stoic glance that could freeze hell. The other man sitting in front of Tommy rose from his seat, nodding at him before he blended in with the other men, making room for (y/n).

Silence engulfed the three of them, seconds Tommy used to take in her frame. Did he recognise her? She had changed over the years, looked nothing like the girl in the picture Tommy had apparently kept close, but if he felt the same pull she was currently feeling, he must know it’s her, guided by the heart that had been broken one too many times.

“Leave us alone, Arthur.” The man squeezed her wrist before he parted from them, sending Tommy one last curious glance. Tommy reached for a cigarette, alighting it before he pointed his hand towards the empty chair. Her trembling limbs forced her to sit down, unable to speak up with her dry mouth. “Flipped a coin, you know, wasn’t sure what it was trying to tell me, but I guess I finally have my answer.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology bled from her lips, eyes not daring to move from Tommy, taking in the handsome face she’d never be able to forget again. “I’m sorry for just turning up like that, but I needed to take my chance, even though I’m a few years too late.”

“Does your husband know you’re here, (y/n)?” She froze, wondering how he knew of the man she had left behind, even though she wasn’t even wearing her ring.

“He’s no longer my husband, at least I no longer want to call him that. You know, I thought you were dead, no further letters have found their way to me, my mother told me to move on, to marry before I get too old. But ever since your last letter I’ve felt everything but happiness.” Tears welled up in her eyes, she fumbled with her fingers, feeling pathetic and yet overly relieved to finally be in Tommy’s presence.

“Small Heath is no place of happiness, and it’s certainly not safe for a woman like you.” (Y/n)’s throat began to tighten up, unable to bite down the anger simmering inside of her, not understanding what he meant by his words.

“I’m safer here than I’ll ever be around my husband.” It took Tommy a few moments to reply, finally realising why she was fleeing from her home. He stubbed out his cigarette, rose from his seat and stretched his hand out for (y/n) to take. Shudders ran down her spine, feeling his skin pressing against hers for the first time, an unfamiliar sensation Tommy also seemed to be distracted by for just a fraction of a moment.

“Let’s get you home then.”

…

“Drink?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, taking in Tommy’s office, the books her fingers ached to touch, the paintings her eyes couldn’t stop admiring. She felt awfully at peace, finally calm enough to exhale the built up pressure.

“I have to admit, I didn’t imagine that being at your place for the first time would play out like this.” Her chuckles left him smiling, staring down into his drink before Tommy took a sip, leaning against his desk.

“How did you imagine it?” Her eyes found his, hand tightening its grip on her glass as she took a step closer towards him, just close enough that she could easily touch him, if the alcohol would give her the confidence to do so.

“I don’t know, I guess young (y/n) didn’t worry about anything but finally being with you. God, I was ready to leave everything behind for you, and if I’m honest, I think this is one of the few things that has never changed over the past years.” His hand found her side, pulling (y/n) against his chest before she could begin to understand what Tommy was doing. He was holding her close, chin placed on top of her head, arms slung around her middle. Both deeply exhaled as if all weight had finally been lifted off their shoulders, no longer carrying the pain the past years had unleashed upon them.

(Y/n) lifted her head off his chest, eyes finding Tommy’s, wordlessly communicating the love that has never subsided, forever etched into her racing heart. His eyes flickered down to her lips, making her awfully aware of their closeness, a thought drowned out by the feeling of his lips meeting hers for the first time. For a moment both froze, minds unable to realise that they were finally kissing.

He tasted of alcohol and cigarettes, a taste she’d forever remember, a taste she’d take to grave, cherishing every part of Tommy, even on her deathbed. He was the darkness she’d walk through, rising with the shadows he had once sent to hell, calling him home once his time was running out.

Her gasps urged Tommy on to add more pressure to his touch, hand finding her chin to keep (y/n) in place. The kiss was unexpectedly sweet and soft, not rushed by the endless years they’ve spent wondering about this very moment. (Y/n)’s hands found the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging on his roots in a desperate need to deepen the kiss.

“You have to be sure about this.” Tommy murmured the words against her lips, eyes even more piercing than before, finally giving away the whirlwind of emotions he was stuck in. His fingertips danced along her sides, gently caressing her skin through the thin fabric of the dress she was wearing, sticking to her limbs since this very morning.

“I’m more sure about this than about anything else, are you?” Her whispers left him chuckling, forehead pressed against hers to release a deep breath.

“I’ve waited for this moment for years, of course I’m sure about this, about you.” Another kiss was shared between them before Tommy interlaced their fingers, pulling (y/n) towards his bedroom. The giddy feeling she hadn’t felt for years began to fill her, an emotion so familiar and yet so new, making her blood grow warmer, filling every inch of her body.

They came to halt in front of his bed, eyes not daring to break contact as he pushed the straps of her dress down her arms, falling to the ground to expose her naked chest. He took his time admiring her, eyes wandering up and down her frame, not able to break down the small smile widening on his lips. Impatient as one can be, (y/n) pulled him closer, hands working on the buttons of his vest, finding its way to the ground with his shirt soon following.

“I want to take my time with you, love you properly like I should have done years ago.” His raspy words left her trembling, only able to nod her head. Slowly she sat down on the mattress, crawling up the bed with Tommy following her every move, lips finding back together as he towered over her. He kissed his way down her throat, sucking on her skin, leaving marks he’d renew with every rising of the sun. Cold hands explored her chest, tugging on her hardening nipples, wanting to coax every sinful sound from her swollen lips.

“Don’t ever stop touching me, Tommy, promise me.” Her whispers filled the room, words caught in her throat as his mouth replaced his fingers. (Y/n) arched her chest further against him, high on the feeling, not once had she been touched like this before, not used to being treated like a woman that deserved to feel pleasure.

“I promise, even if it may be the only promise I’ll ever keep.” Tommy’s mouth moved further down her body, hands tugging on her panties, exposing every inch of her body to his wandering eyes. He cupped her heat, felt her arousal dripping from her tightness, body begging for his touch, needing to feel his hands on every part of her. Her moans rumbled through her, guided by her pleasure, the unfamiliar desire she had to adjust to.

His mouth found her bundle of nerves, a touch that left her gasping in surprise. Not once had her husband wasted his time on pleasuring her, not once had he used his mouth on her, a sensation so intimate, (y/n) was grateful that she got to share her first time experiencing it with Tommy. His eyes found hers every now and then, as if he was checking in to see how she was feeling, if she was enjoying the way he was touching her. And great heavens, she was.

“Feels so good, fuck, never been touched like this.” Her confession left Tommy smirking in pride, grateful that he was the one to push her into the soaring waves of her orgasm. Two of his fingers teased her entrance, giving her a moment to stop him should she feel uncomfortable, but (y/n) didn’t dare speak up, too caught in the web of pleasure he had spun. He fucked her slow at first, fingers moving in a steady pace, before he began to build up the pressure, curling them against her swollen spot.

Her moans grew louder, walls clenching around him, not able to stop herself from giving in, calling out his name as her first orgasm of the night flushed through her system. Tommy gave her a few moments to cling to the feeling before he pulled away from her, watching her panting frame while he undressed, exposing his naked body to hers. He was gorgeous, a perfect man made for her only, a man she’d never willingly part from again.

Tommy interlaced his fingers with (y/n)’s, staring down on her as he pushed into her, a movement that coaxed a heavy moan out of the both lovers, needing to adjust before he could start fucking her. It felt like their bodies were made for one another, one with the love they’ve shared for a decade, the love so intense it had never managed to fully let go of them.

(Y/n) searched his lips, drowning out the sounds that left her, swallowed by the kiss that left both panting. Her eyes fluttered close and for a moment (y/n) felt like her teen self, remembering all those nights she had spent wondering how being with Tommy would feel like, how he’d touch and love her, but nothing would ever manage to describe what she was truly feeling in this very moment.

A moment filled with love and adoration, a moment so perfect no human mind would ever fully grasp it.

His fingers found their way back to her pulsing bundle, pushing her further into the darkness he had her trapped in, wanting to see the pleasure tugging on her features once again. (Y/n) choked on his name, eyes squeezed shut as her second orgasm rocked through her, robbing her of any strength lingering in her system.

Tommy kept moving, chasing his own high as his eyes watched his cock disappear inside her tightness, coated in her arousal. The sight left his cock twitching, about to release himself on her walls. He managed to pull out just before his orgasm would rock through him, jerking himself for a few moments before he painted her thighs white, letting go with a deep moan.

Both were panting, bodies searching one another, not fully realising that the past moments have truly just happened. They still had their fingers interlaced, not daring to let go just yet, not even as Tommy reached for a tissue to clean her skin, not even as he alighted a cigarette to fill the quiet bedroom with blue smoke.

“There were times where I thought I may have found love again, and yet it had never been the same love you’ve managed to make me feel with your letters. I’m not a good man, (y/n), I’ve done things worse than you’ll ever be able to imagine, but I’m selfish, I won’t let you leave again, not when I finally have you to myself.” She rose from her position, body fully turned towards Tommy, and with her lips kissing his once again, (y/n) murmured a soft “I won’t leave you, not now, not ever”.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine

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