#this has been going on for a while but I figured I should announce it here

[cv-nobody-and-associates]

EVERYTHING BELOW THIS POST IS NOW OFFICIALLY NON-CANON!

Well...sort of.

To explain, the character of Nobody is being rebooted. I've found she became a character too difficult to actually use for anything given the complexities of her lore and story, as well as her abundance of powers and skills.

So, I'm undoing things and starting from scratch. Kind of.

Here's the short version - all knowledge of Nobody has been erased from the multiverse, and Nobody herself was seemingly killed in a terrible and now unknown battle. I've been referring to it in my head as "The War That Never Was".

Nobody as she was has died, but a new version of her has reformed, lacking any of her prior self's memories and experiences. All characters previously associated with Nobody - such as Katra, Delgra, Nao, etc - lack memory of her and have had their lives reset to before they ever met her. Nao's case I'm not 100% sure on, I'll come back to that at a later date.

All of the prior threads and stories about Nobody have now essentially not occurred. Events like Nobody's past and origin are in a state of flux - it's unclear what is and isn't still true about her past.

[plutotheplum]

Resonance

sylus x fem!reader - read part 2!

summary: with the aether core's auction quickly approaching, you're growing desperate to resonate with sylus. fortunately for you, he has a suggestion... even if it is less conventional.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, fingering, teasing, spit kink, light choking, oral sex, praise kink, slightly ooc sylus?, minor canon divergence

wc: 4.5k

a/n: my first time writing a full fic or smut for that matter! given how many times sylus was trying to hold the mc's hand, i just figured he'd be into it. tried to be strong for zayne, but that didn't work out... sorry zayne. hope you guys like it! <3

also posted on ao3!

You’re starting to regret your plan to sneak into the N109 Zone. From being drugged to nearly being killed, you weren’t exactly faring well in the unfamiliar place. 

A deep sigh escapes you, fingers rubbing at your aching temples. The headache had gotten worse, the band around your head wrapping tighter and tighter. You couldn’t leave though, no matter how desperately you wanted to, not when the Aether Core’s other half was up for auction in a week’s time. Sylus had also been distant. Despite saving you from the night raid, he had hardly come to visit while you were staying at Onychinus’ base. The twins, Luke and Keiran had kept you company though. They weren’t as wicked as you thought them to be, only young men that were intent on working for Onychinus, driven by their own motivations. 

The week was bound to shorten however, and you were growing antsy. Any reservations you had about resonating with Sylus were fading quickly as the auction date grew closer. He was right in a sense, you two needed to resonate, especially after that night raid when the Wanderers had attacked. The auction wouldn’t go smoothly either, you knew that much. Sylus had money, but traitors were lurking everywhere. The shopkeeper’s voice rings in your head, reminding you that Sylus hadn’t been responsible for the explosions. Absolving him of being responsible had been hard enough.  

Plucking at the strap of your nightgown, you’re contemplating whether you should sneak out. Sylus had been accommodating enough so far, and you were tempted to push your boundaries. He had, after all, left a pile of clothes for you. Strangely enough, they were all in the right size, accompanied by Mephisto who had let out a loud caw before flying out, its claws making a playful swipe for your hair. 

A few more anxious plucks at the strap of the nightgown and you’re sneaking out. Feed pad against the floor softly, nightgown swaying as you move through the hallway. You pause when you hear voices, hearing the thud of your own heart as you hold your breath. It’s Sylus and another man. The conversation is too muffled to listen into, incoherent words blending in together.

The door creaks open and you’re tucking yourself behind a pillar, hiding in the dark. The sound of footsteps fades into the distance and the breath you’re holding escapes into a quiet exhale.

“You can come out now,” A voice drawls. Sylus. You hated how he could sense your presence. Stepping out from behind the pillar, your back straightens, walking into his room. It’s dark, just like him. Expensive furniture, books stacked onto a bookshelf and a bed on the other side of the large room. The curtains are open, moonlight flowing in through the windows, mixing with the ambient lighting. He sits behind his desk, eyes trained on you, nursing a cup of wine. “I see you’re wearing my gift,” he says, eyes dragging over the nightgown. You scoff, eyes narrowing at him, “It was hardly a gift, and it’s not like I could sleep in my Hunter uniform.”

He only takes another sip of wine, eyebrows raising. His nonchalance is making you feel irritated. “You’re avoiding me,” you announce, arms crossing over your chest, “is there any reason?”

He laughs, low and deep, “I thought you’d be grateful for the reprieve, or maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think you do.” That has you scowling. You want to wipe his stupid smug smile right off his face. “Relax,” he says, his fingers tapping against his desk as he leans back in his chair “I had more important things to attend to.” That catches your attention. More important things? Perhaps he’d have answers, and you needed answers, about the N109 Zone, about Onychinus, about anything . 

“Private matters,” he murmurs, red eyes keeping you in place “nothing for you to get involved with.”

Your scowl only grows deeper, almost forgetting what you came in here for. Your feet move across the carpet, hands landing on the edge of his desk in an attempt to look intimidating.

“I want to try resonating with you,” you say, deciding to change tactics.

He hums, red eyes boring into yours. “We already tried that, and unfortunately, you seem content on disliking me,” he replies.

A frustrated noise escapes you, “It’s your fault!” you accuse, glaring at him. 

He only stares back at you blankly. You feel like a child throwing a tantrum under his gaze. “Just- please? ” you ask, voice softening slightly. He’s letting out an inconvenienced sigh and your body is moving, red tendrils swooping around your body as he draws you closer to him. “Hand,” he demands. You reach forward, and his hand clasps yours, fingers lacing together. A deep breath gets sucked in through your mouth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to channel your energy and resonate with him. You think about his stupidly handsome face, his low voice and the times he had saved you. Both of your knuckles are white with how tightly you’re squeezing his hand. There’s nothing though, absolutely nothing. No sparks, no glowing light, no Evol resonance. Letting out a defeated sigh, you let go of his hand. He stares back at you, eyes searching. “There is something wrong with you,” he says, drawing his hand back to take another sip of wine.

“Maybe if you tried being more likeable, this would be easier,” you retort, sending him another glare.

Sylus only laughs, his head tilting, “You weren’t so intent on resonating with me earlier. So much so that you shot me.”

“You shot yourself,” you correct, voice sharp, “and the change in mind is because of the auction.”

He peers over at you, eyes calculating. You can’t tell what’s going through his head, you can never tell. It puts you on edge. Sylus is a dangerous man and you aren’t able to predict a single one of his moves.

“You’re afraid of Wanderers,” he surmises, hands clasping in his lap. 

His chair rolls out a bit from his desk and your eyes are dipping to see his legs spread as he gets comfortable. There’s a stretch in the black trousers as his thighs strain against the material and you’re swallowing harshly, eyes snapping back up to meet his gaze. If he noticed your wandering eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not scared!” you protest, feeling exasperated “I’m simply worried that something might happen. We both know that the Aether core might become unstable with energy fluctuations, and who knows what sort of Wanderers that flux might attract?”

“I am more than capable of handling any danger,” Sylus says, his tone dark, “or do you need a refresher of what happened after I saved you during the night raid?”

You wince at the memory. It appears he doesn’t like being underestimated. It’s even worse that you remember. There had been blood and screams when his Evol had eviscerated the men that had been there.

“No refreshers needed,” you reply quickly.

Your plan of resonating with him is ill-thought, you realise. You can’t get your mind to change, no matter how hard you try. Head hanging low, you decide to back off. Sylus is right at least. He would be capable enough of defeating any danger there, but his assurance isn’t enough to quell your doubts. Silence passes over you both, only interrupted by your feet shifting on the spot. 

“There is another way,” Sylus says slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “it is less conventional of course, hardly attempted at.”

Hardly attempted at? Was he planning to put your life on the line? Maybe that would work out for him, weaken you enough to get you to resonate with him and then steal the Aether core lodged in your heart.

“And this way is…?” you prompt, raising your brows. 

His grin only grows wider. Sylus stands up, long legs stalking towards you until he’s standing in front of you, his red eyes staring down at you. His cold hand reaches out, fingers grabbing at your chin to tilt your head as his own head dips towards your ear. You shiver, feeling his warmth breath against your skin. “Sex,” he whispers.

Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, gaze averted to the side.

He clicks his tongue, “Why so embarrassed? I thought you wanted to resonate, sweetie .” 

“You’re more insane than I thought,” you hiss, shoving at his chest. 

He lets out a throaty laugh, a smirk spreading across his lips as he stumbles back a bit at the force of your push. 

“You seemed desperate,” Sylus says when he stops laughing, “I was only letting you know of all the options.”

“That shouldn’t even be an option!” you snap, growing flustered by the second. Sex with Sylus ? He was a murderer and completely and utterly unhinged, not to mention the leader of an illegally run gang. You were not having sex with him. Your irritation festers, head falling into your hands as you stand there. He doesn’t say anything, only reaching for his wine and finishing off his cup. 

“Fuck me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing at your aching temples again.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies. Your head snaps upwards at that, glaring at him. Irritation has only led to you making a poor choice of words. 

“I’m leaving,” you say forcefully, holding your head high.

You should be leaving by now, storming off back to your room lying a few doors away. You should be, except your poor feet aren’t working.

He stares at you expectantly, a hint of smile on his face as his brows raise.

“I am leaving,” you repeat, voice hardening.

He only nods his head towards the door. Part of you wants to stay, to find out what he means, but the implications are clear and you won’t do that with him. Especially not him.

You don’t get very far though, the door lock fastening in place with a resounding click . His Evol curls around your body, the inky red and black lines tugging you back towards him. Sylus is reaching for you, his hand cupping your cheek. You have half the mind to lean into his touch. “I think we’ll both have more fun if you stay,” he whispers against your ear, arms drifting across your nightgown to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

He peers down at you, and your breath catches in your throat. Without thinking, you’re leaning into him, body pressing against him.

“I think you want to stay,” he continues, hands sliding up to pet at your hips.

“You- you don’t know what I want,” you manage out, voice airy, “and I want to leave.”

He hums, hand finding your cheek again. His thumb rubs across your skin, and it sets you alight.

“Did you forget?” he murmurs, head dipping to meet your height, “I can see what people desire the most, and it appears you, my dear Hunter, desire me.”

You’re letting out a soft curse. You had forgotten about that stupid detail, about his ability to see what people desired. Squirming in his grasp, you try to get away, but he holds you still, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“Will you not indulge yourself?” he whispers, voice lilting. You think he could be a siren in disguise.

There’s a shuddering breath escaping you. You don’t get a chance to answer, not when he’s smiling against your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to it. Your hands find his shirt, forming fists to prevent your knees from buckling.

“We are the same,” he reminds you, lips brushing across your skin as he backs you up against the wall.

You manage a scoff, “We are not the same. You’ve done terrible things and killed people. You do whatever you want, sacrificing whoever you want if it betters your cause.” 

“Such insolent words,” he purrs, his hand curling around your neck “I have treated you with far more kindness than others that have crossed my path.”

A squeak leaves when he squeezes around your neck, your fingers trying to pry his ones away from your neck. He only tightens his grip, landing another kiss to your cheek and there’s heat between your thighs, a whine escaping you before you can swallow it down.

Sylus laughs, his hand falling away from your neck to grab at your hips instead.

“Caught you,” he coos, and with that his head is dipping, lips pressing against yours.

You whine again, arms wrapping around his neck. You’re too far gone to care, feeling the plushness of his lips against yours. It feels as though he’s trying to devour you, trying to swallow you whole.

The kisses are rough and harsh and his hands are slipping under your nightgown, sliding up the backs of your thighs to grasp at your ass. You gasp into his mouth, scrabbling at his shoulders. He grunts against your mouth, guiding your leg to hook over his hip.

“You are far more eager than you said you would be,” he murmurs, finally pulling away to let you breathe. 

Soft pants escape you, chest heaving as your hands drop from his shoulders, landing against his chest instead. He stares down at you, crimson eyes bright with arousal as they flit about your body.

“You’ve done something to me,” you mutter lamely, a weak excuse for responding so eagerly.

He raises his brows, his thumb brushing across your lips. He repeats the motion, over and over again until you're tempted to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. You don’t get a chance, not when his thumb is pushing past your lips and meeting the resistance of your teeth. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head.

“You know I haven’t done anything to you,” he replies, “that would be too far, even for me. Now be good and open .”

He has to have done something to you. What other explanation is there for the way your mouth opens, sucking his thumb inside eagerly? Your head tips back as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans, deep and unabashed and it has your hips bucking. “Patience,” he whispers, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. You gag slightly, sending him watery glare. 

Sylus only smiles back, keeping you in place as you suck on his thumb. The ache between your thighs is too hard to ignore, and your hand is sneaking down in an attempt to relieve the ache.

You’re horribly wet between your thighs, feeling your thighs practically slip against each other as you squirm. Your fingers only manage two full circles against your clit before Sylus is letting out a growl, tugging your hand free from where it had snuck into your panties. 

“I- I need-“ you whine, trying to sneak your hand between your thighs again.

“You need me ,” he hisses, eyes hard as he grabs at your wandering hand, gaze locking onto your slick fingers. There’s a sharp gasp that leaves you when his own mouth is enveloping around your fingers, his eyes on yours as he sucks them clean. You feel weak at the sight, a dreamy sigh escaping you. He smirks, forgetting your fingers to kiss you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he licks into your mouth, his hands squeezing at your hips.

He’s picking you up before too long, dumping you on his bed. You hide shyly when he rips your nightgown from your body, his eyes staring down at your bra and panties greedily. The bra goes next and he’s lowering his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the pebbled bud. You don’t know what to do, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him there, trying desperately to seek relief. “So impatient,” Sylus mutters against your spit-slick skin, opting to suck on your other breast as his hand delves between your thighs. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, eyes slipping shut “please, don’t stop.”

He lets out a low laugh, fingers rubbing at you through your panties. “How obedient you’ve become. Squirming under my fingers like a little slut. Didn’t you say you hated me before?” he whispers. 

“I- I do hate you!” you grit out, but your hand is finding his wrist, keeping his hand there as you grind your clothed pussy against his fingers.

He scoffs disappointedly, body slinking down the bed until his nose is pressing against your panties and he’s breathing in. You feel as though you might faint at the depraved sight. His tongue laves across the fabric of your panties and you moan his name, fingers finding their home in his hair.

Sylus sucks at your clit through your panties, licking at the slick that seeps through the dampened fabric. 

“An intoxicating taste,” he comments, pressing a kiss to your thigh “I could do this for days.”

That little comment has you letting out a shuddering breath and words you might regret if your mind wasn’t so stupidly hazy. “I would let you,” you mumble, tugging his face closer to where you want him, feeling the press of his nose against your clit. He grins, red eyes staring up at you, “that can be arranged.” Sylus’s long fingers are pulling down your panties and he’s staring at your cunt, a deep groan escaping him. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

A strangled noise leaves you and his mouth is latching onto your pussy, sucking and licking like a man starved. Whines and whimpers escape you as you grind your hips against his tongue. He moans back into your cunt, the sound shooting up through your body, thighs twitching. Sylus keeps you pinned down, tongue laving against your wetness, drinking up your slick as it leaks. It’s almost too much, which is why your hand reaches for his. Sylus gives his own hand, fingers lacing with yours. You’re so lost in the haze of his tongue against you that you can barely hear his voice.

“Resonate,” he speaks into your pussy, his hand gripping yours tight. “What?” Your dazed eyes find his, bewildered. “I said, resonate ,” he repeats, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly. 

His teeth graze against the sensitive bud and your back is arching, hand squeezing his one back. Your Evol comes much easier this time, light emanating from both your hands as you resonate. The linkage takes place, and it has you reeling, body twitching as you come on his tongue. The light soon fades, his own Evol dimming down. He presses another soft kiss to your sensitive clit. “Some incentive and your body is reacting remarkably well,” he smiles down at you. You could hardly care about resonance at this point, pushing at his shoulders and crawling up onto his lap, lips pressing against his. He grunts at the sudden change in position, but kisses you back, his hands groping at your ass appreciatively. A whine gets swallowed up by his mouth, your hips rocking against his hardness wantonly. Your fingers pull at his shirt and he’s staring at you with spit-slick lips. He tugs his shirt free and you suck in a sharp breath, taking him in. While you do this, your hips pause in their movements and he’s letting out a click of his tongue, using his hands to guide you start moving again. “You resonated with me,” he whispers against your lips. “Hardly,” you murmur back, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t be like that,” he chastises, “I made you come on my tongue and this is how you treat me?” he pouts mockingly.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He coos, guiding your hips to move in the way he wants to, “moaning and whimpering for me. Perhaps I should’ve suggested this path from the start.” You try to glare at him, but he’s only gripping your cheeks, prying your mouth open before his tongue is lolling out, dropping a glob of spit into your mouth. “Swallow, baby.” You do so almost immediately, mouth opening eagerly for more. He laughs, almost in disbelief, kissing you messily this time, letting you suck on his tongue. “I need you,” you whisper, pressing his hand against your tummy “need you in me, Sylus.”

His eyes flash and he’s kissing you harder, clothed bulge grinding up into your bare pussy. The drag of his trousers is stimulating, catching on your clit in a way that has you shaking on his lap. “You’re filthy,” he hisses, sucking harsh kisses against your neck “such a filthy slut, begging for my cock.” You whine in agreement, nodding mindlessly. The world is moving then, your eyes finding the roof as he settles between your thighs. He kisses you over and over again, before he’s drawing back, slipping off the bed to pull his trousers down. A loud moan escapes you at the sight, his fat cock bobbing between his thighs. The tip is dark with arousal, veins prominent against the skin. Part of you wants it in your mouth, to swallow his cum and feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, and the other part wants it inside of you, filling you up. Embarrassment forgotten, you’re spreading your thighs in what you hope is an enticing manner, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes over at him. He glances down at your glistening pussy, licking his lips. “In me, please” you sweetly request. He hums, crawling over you. He grasps his cock, tapping the tip of it against your clit a few times. Pre-cum beads at the tip, a fat glob dripping down. Your hand shoots out before it’s wasted, fingers catching the glob. Smiling up at him, you suck your fingers into your mouth, letting out an appreciative moan at the taste. His eyes darken at the sight, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thigh as he squeezes.

“You’ll regret this when you have to leave me,” he warns, “I won’t be there to stuff your pussy full or lick that pretty cunt when you’re feeling needy.” “Then make it count,” you retort, legs wrapping around his hips. He lets out a short laugh, kissing you again. Soft whines leave you when he pushes in, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You think you might be able to feel him in your throat, his cock stretching you out so deliciously that it has you writhing. 

“So fucking tight,” he breathes out, kissing along your jaw “so warm. I can feel you clenching around me, baby.” 

“Fuck,” you mewl, nails scratching down his back as he thrusts into you. In any other situation, you might be mortified at the sounds.

The squelch of your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you. It seems like his favourite thing to do is to hold your hands, though.

“So pretty for me,” he sighs, hips grinding deeper into your wet heat “such a good girl, hm? My good girl.”

The praise has your heart fluttering wildly, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmurs, his lips latching onto your tits again, “my pretty, little slut, all laid out for me. You could’ve had this cock earlier, I would’ve given it to you. I could’ve stuffed you full, or bent you over my bike and pounded this tight little cunt until you were screaming.” 

A hoarse moan leaves you. Your hands are squeezing his, legs tightening around him.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, “take my cock baby, it’s all yours.”

“Stop- stop talking like that,” you whine, writhing under his body.

“Why?” he responds, “does it feel better than you had imagined?”

“I wasn’t imagining-“

“Hush now,” he whispers, kissing you over and over again. You’re not sure how much more of this you could take.

His cock is pounding into you, punching out the air in your lungs. It feels too good, the throb of his cock and his whispered words against your ear. You hiccup, peering up into his crimson eyes. He stares right back at you, the look behind his eyes startlingly soft.

You shy away, head turning to the side, cheek squishing against the pillow. His hand turns your face back to him, nose nudging against yours gently. He kisses you softer this time, the sound of your kisses drowned out by the drag of his cock in your cunt.

“Come for me, baby” Sylus whispers, squeezing your hand “cream my cock.” 

It’s enough to have you shuddering around him, a whine of his name leaving your mouth as you cream on his cock, just like had told you to. He drinks up every noise, lips working against yours as he fucks into until he’s burying his cock deep inside, letting out a low growl against your ear as hot cum spurts from his tip, filling you up. 

You sigh at the feeling, body feeling limp. Sylus is slumped on top of you, his weight oddly comforting against yours. A kiss is pressed against his cheek and you can feel his smile from where he’s tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

It’s a little uncomfortable though, so you’re pushing at his chest to get him to roll off of you. Sylus does so with little noise and you’re curling up against his side, already missing the stretch of his cock.

“You were being nice,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

“Would you prefer it if I were rougher?” he asks in return, rubbing his hand against the curve of your hip soothingly.

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep. 

“The auction will go smoothly,” he announces, his hand drifting to squeeze your ass, “we did resonate, after all.”

You had almost forgotten about that. A nod is your response and he’s dragging you closer to give you another kiss.

“Training begins tomorrow morning,” Sylus continues, “I need to see how strong we can be together.”

You’re letting out a groan, swatting his chest and shoving him away. 

“Leave me alone,” you mumble, burying your face into the pillows.

He smiles, arms curling around your waist to tug you back into his warm chest.

“Now, now. You were being so good earlier,” he whispers “I’d be happy to reward you, if you perform well tomorrow.”

His hand smooths across your stomach, hand drifting lower to delve between your thighs. You muffle the noise that threatens to spill out.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut.

“I think you like that about me,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers curling up inside of you, beginning to move at a leisurely pace. 

“You’re the worst, Sylus” you whisper, hips rocking as you try to get his fingers to sink deeper.

“Yet here you are, trying to fuck yourself on my fingers,” he purrs, his arm winding around your neck. You feel him squeeze and you’re whimpering, sinking your teeth into his bicep as he holds you in place, letting his fingers fuck in and out of you.

It’s going to be a long night.

[gloomwitchwrites]

For call of duty, can you write how 141 would react to you coming home after being announced KIA?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️

Not gonna lie, anon, but I genuinely read this as us reacting to the 141 coming home after being announced KIA, not them reacting to us coming home. I literally dumped everything I had planned and redid it because I missed that ONE word. (oops). Still, it's an emotional one. Your tears fuel me. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Task Force 141!f!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, reunions, fluff, kissing, secret relationship, established relationship, grief/loss, swearing, mild humor, suggestive themes, mild sexual content

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Reality isn’t fair. It’s not kind or forgiving.

A week gone and John is simply floating, going through the motions, simply existing. This is why you don’t date military while in the military. It’s shit like this. It’s being told the person you love is fucking dead and now you’re the one left to pick up the pieces.

There wasn’t even a body. Vaporized is what they told him. Instant and painless. You felt nothing. It’s a small comfort, but John would rather have you in his arms than knowing you’re nothing more than atoms.

He sighs, and then puffs on his cigar. Smoke curls around him. It’s all quiet on base. Everyone is gone other than the routine patrol. John sits alone in his office, looking for files for an upcoming mission.

There’s a soft knock on is office door.

“Come in,” he says, not knowing who it might be but it must be important for it to be this late.

The door clicks and then creaks as it opens. John glances up, the cigar halfway to his mouth before the world around him completely stutters to a halt.

A phantom—a vaporized phantom—stands just inside, one hand on the doorknob. You are unharmed—clean. No scratches or wounds that John can see and wearing civilian clothing.

John is already standing, already moving, unable to resist the urge to remain in his chair and write this all off as a delusion. The cigar is forgotten, probably burning a hole in the wood of his desk. You match the forward momentum, shutting the office door, reaching out to him. When his arms go around you, and pull you in, John realizes that this is not an illusion. You are real and alive and here.

“You’re dead,” he murmurs, disbelief in his tone.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—”

John grasps the back of your neck in a harsh hold, pulling you in for a kiss. He silences your voice, only needing your warmth and taste. You melt for him perfectly, answering the kisses with your own. With a gruff groan, John presses you up against the closed door.

“John,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“How are you here?”

“I’m sorry. We had to. It was the only way to extract me safely.”

John presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. “Never again. Promise me.”

“Promise, John.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

One. Two. Three.

The seconds tick by, and still, Kyle refuses to move. For the last two weeks, Kyle has been cold and distant, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the living room.

He doesn’t read, doesn’t return the numerous missed calls and text messages, and he doesn’t turn on the television. He just sits, staring off into space, unable to figure out where his life will go next.

Why you? Why are you gone and not him?

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You should be alive and whole and happy. You should be home, wrapped in Kyle’s arms.

Kyle sighs, running his hands over his face. An overwhelming wave of grief bubbles up, threatening to rip a sob from him. Leaning forward, Kyle rests his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The wave crashes against his resolve, eroding some of the numbness.

The coffin is empty. No body to bury. He still hasn’t contacted your family. He can’t do it. Can’t face them. That fact that he is here and you are not is a failure on his part. Kyle promised that he’d look after you, and now you’re gone.

Around him, the air stirs—shifts. Kyle rubs at his face, sudden awareness slipping in. There’s an anticipation in it—a tension.

“Kyle.”

That voice. He knows that voice.

Shaking his head, Kyle keeps his face covered, his breathing becoming ragged.

“You’re not real,” he gasps.

Phantom fingers lightly brush across the back of palm, traveling to his wrist. Another set join them, and two warm hands gently wrap around his wrists. They tug, and Kyle surrenders, glancing up at the delusion his consciousness is creating.

Your smile is a beacon in the dark. It is everything he’s dreamed up these aching days, only wanting to see you again. And this is no dream, this is the waking world—reality. Somehow, you are standing before him, grasping his wrists, smiling down at him with such happiness that Kyle doesn’t entirely understand how this could be possible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Kyle.”

He’s standing, wrapping you up in his arms. There is no mistake. You are here. You are here.

Kyle murmurs your name over and over again like a mantra. He touches you everywhere, needing to know that every inch of you is real and not a figment of his imagination. You curl against him, tears forming, threatening to fall and stain your cheeks. Kyle kisses them away, grasping the sides of your face to steal your breath.

You melt beneath him, and Kyle’s only desire is to keep you near him, to relearn your every moan and whisper. He can get answers later. Later. Right now, you are here, you have returned to him, and that is enough.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny made the choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s his own fault for caring about you, for deciding that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He should have found a civilian. That way they’d be mourning him and not him mourning you.

Three months and the missive still burns a hole in his chest. It’s folded up nicely, faded and worn from him unfolding and refolding it, tucked into an inside pocket beneath his bulletproof vest. It’s right over his heart. Right where you should be. Right where you belong.

The missive doesn’t belong to Johnny. It’s addressed to Captain Price, but the man handed it over to him, because he knew—even though Johnny did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to share what he had with you with anyone. That was just for the two of you.

“You all right, Soap?”

Simon’s voice cuts through the static.

“I’m aces, Lt. Don’t worry about me.”

The words feel false on Johnny’s tongue. He hates lying—but he especially hates lying to Simon.

Even behind the balaclava, Johnny can sense Simon’s frown. But the big bloke says nothing, appearing content with his answer.

“Price wants you in Conference Room B.”

“Now?” asks Johnny. “We’re supposed to transfer out in a few.”

Simon shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Just said he needed to talk to you before we leave.”

Johnny sighs but he goes, patting Simon’s arm before jogging to one of the main buildings. It’s inconvenient—and Price could have just met him on the fucking tarmac.

“What do you need, Captain?” says Johnny, pushing open the door.

Captain Price stands just inside the doorway. And he’s not alone.

At first, Johnny doesn’t understand. It’s like all but one singular bulb has been extinguished, the remaining light illuminating the one ghost in the room. Because that’s what you are. A ghost. Unreal and ethereal. Not reality at all but a simple hope in the back of Johnny’s mind that has finally blossomed into delusion.

“Soap.” Price’s voice is gruff. He sighs and then takes a step away from you. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

He brushes past Johnny, lightly squeezing his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And Johnny does not move. He stands in the doorway like a bloody git, unable to understand how you’re standing before him.

You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.

Your smile is hesitant at first, your movements even more so. It’s a tentative walk to him, and you don’t touch, you only gaze at him, eagerness and hope in your eyes.

“Johnny,” you breathe, and he knows that voice.

So crisp and clear and real.

Johnny reaches out, and pinches. He pinches your arms, your waist, your cheeks.

“Ow,” you laugh. “What the hell?”

You are not cold, but warm. Solid.

Johnny laughs in disbelief. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

Your arms go around him and suddenly, like a firework bursting with color, Johnny is happy and whole.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shuts the front door and frowns.

Whenever Simon comes home, Bravo always greets him. The all-black German Shepherd is a singular ball of energy, turning in quick circles and tap tap tapping his paws against the hardwood in anticipation of back scratches and belly rubs.

For the past week, Bravo’s presence has been the one bright thing, the only bit of happiness keeping Simon going. The rest of it was snatched from him, torn apart and shattered, scattered to the wind. The letter is tucked inside the drawer of the bedside table. He only read it once. And once was enough.

You are dead. That’s what the letter says anyway. And it infuriates him more than anything. Every mission you’ve ever been on has been with Simon. Except this last one. And on this last one, you did not come home.

“Bravo!” shouts Simon, dropping his keys in the designated spot next to the front door.

Removing his coat, he hangs it up, and then kicks off his sneakers. Sighing loudly, Simon heads down the hall but Bravo does not emerge. Simon pokes his head into the living room and finds no dog. Kitchen, and still nothing. He even checks the backyard. No Bravo.

As Simon turns into the bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s Bravo on the bed, and sitting on the edge—

“You—”

You hold the letter in your hands, attention turning to Simon as he enters. Standing quickly, you extend the arm holding the letter while you bring a singular finger to your lips, implying silence.

Simon’s stomach flips, and then twists quickly. He moves across the room a couple strides, grasping your waist and pulling you close. He says nothing, only searching your face as you keep that finger pressed to your lips.

You flip the letter over to the blank side.

Compromised.

Everything clicks into place. Either you faked your death or someone lied.

Simon cups the side of your face as you drop your finger away from your lips. His mouth replaces, tasting and seeking, wanting to remember. You open for him, accepting it all. His hands tighten on your waist and it takes every ounce of Simon’s control to not throw you onto the bed and rut like an untamed beast.

But he does refrain.

Simon has the car loaded and the alarm system armed in ten minutes. Even on the road, Simon doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can. All he does is keep his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly, attempting to ground himself and keep his focus on the road.

At the safehouse, Bravo takes off, running through the tall grass as you and Simon enter the barn through a small side door. The moment the bags are dropped onto the floor, Simon is on you, fisting your clothes, tugging at them in a need to seem them gone.

“Simon,” you groan against his mouth.

He wants answers. He needs to know what happened. But reconnecting with you is far more urgent.

“After,” he begs. “Please.”

You nod, understanding.

The two of shed your clothes quickly, falling onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Simon’s hand delves between, fingers finding your arousal. You’re ready for him—just as eager as he his. He makes no gentle effort, just a quick thrusts until he’s in to the hilt. Your brief gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, tongue delving inside for a taste as he starts to thrust.

This is what he needs. More than anything.

Talking can come after.

taglist:

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[lemonlover1110]

Hi! For your requests could you do clingy reader in her early 20s and Toji in his mid 30s finding out she's pregnant and interacting with her strict parents? Please?

Whenever you get the chance, lysm!

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: You break the news to your parents that you're expecting.

Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Age Gap (Reader early 20s, Toji mid thirties), Toji being a nervous wreck, Strict Parents

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Finding out that your girlfriend should be great news; however, this news takes Toji by surprise and leaves him unsure of how to feel. It definitely wasn’t planned, though he shouldn’t be shocked since you two weren’t all that careful. Toji wants to get really excited for this but there’s something that holds him back– Your parents.

Your parents haven’t been very accepting of Toji, mostly because of your age gap. Of course, there are some other factors that lead to your parents not liking Toji, but your age gap is the main one. Your parents aren’t easy human beings to win over, and for some reason Toji is freaking out about it. Truthfully, Toji has never been more worried in his life.

“Can’t you just call them? Tell them the great news?” He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s freaking out when you’re standing at their doorstep. You’re holding his hand, trying to get him to calm down, but it’s not working and you’re just feeling his sweaty palm. Great.

“C’mon, they’re not going to eat you alive. You are the reason they’re getting a cute grandbaby.” You tell him, hoping it’ll calm down his nerves, but he just side eyes you.

“Like that makes it any better.” He mutters, and you roll your eyes. Toji’s acting as if your dad is going to grab a shotgun and shoot him– Even if that were to happen, you’re almost sure that Toji will somehow deflect a bullet. “Baby, can you have an ambulance on standby?”

“Toji, for the love of–” You’re cut off by the door that opens. Your mother greets you both sweetly. She figured that she can’t change your mind, she might as well welcome Toji into the family. Your father is a whole different story though.

Your father is less welcoming to Toji, but he tries to make some conversation with the man. It’s dry since your father doesn’t want to talk to Toji, and Toji is losing his fucking mind.

Dinner begins, and your mother is the one that carries the conversation. Toji feels as if your father glares at him every once in a while, and you notice how his breathing gets heavier. He’s freaking out, and you don’t know how to calm him down. 

Your hand goes under the table, going to Toji’s thigh and lightly squeezing it, hoping it’ll bring him comfort. Toji gives you an awkward smile before sighing.

“So why did you two want to join us for dinner?” Your father asks, knowing this isn’t just a bonding dinner. You’re here for a reason. You clear your throat before speaking,

“We have an announcement.” You sound awkward, and your father furrows his eyebrows while your mother smiles, thinking she knows what the announcement is. You and Toji exchange a look, and you can tell he just wants to sprint out of the house. It’s hilarious to think about since Toji is the biggest person in the room, and not to even mention that you two are grown adults.

“You’re engaged! Let us see the ring!” Your mother exclaims, and Toji’s face suddenly gets hot. If he wasn’t dead before, he certainly is going to die now. The fact that you aren’t married is surely going to cause an issue.

“I don’t think that’s it…” Your father figures that out, but he can’t figure out the announcement. You take a deep breath, and you shut your eyes. You can’t even look at them, Toji’s nerves transferring over to you.

“I’m pregnant.” You share, and you know that their eyes are wide. You know Toji is about to faint.

“We don’t know how it happened– Well, we know how it happened but… We weren’t planning it so soon, I had a wedding and everything planned but this just came out of nowhere.” Toji is rambling. Your Toji, a man of few words, is trying to explain everything to your dad because he doesn’t want to die tonight. He’s sure he’s still going to, though. 

Your parents are oddly quiet, making you open your eyes and see what’s up with them. Your dad ends up sighing before speaking up, “You two are adults, you know what you’re doing.”

Your mother nods in agreement, and you furrow your brows at the lack of reaction. Toji shares the same reaction as you do. 

“Is that all?” Toji is about to let out a sigh of relief.

“Yup. Can’t hold you for too long since you two have to start planning a wedding soon.” Is your father’s response, and Toji chuckles. That’s more like it.

At least he isn’t dead, which was Toji’s expected outcome.

[burreauxoxo]

people magazines new hollywood dads! - joe burrow

dad!joe x fem!reader

summary: in which, joe is featured in people magazines “new hollywood dads” section of the upcoming issue. take a look at how you two are handling bringing her home, the newborn stage, and the initial announcement!

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, babies, joe being a girl dad

word count: 2.9k

authors note: this is lightly inspired by the “hollywood dads” or even “hollywood moms” section in US Weekly’s magazine. i am not sure which issue i seen it in or if its a regular coverage topic, i just wanted to do my own twist on it which explains why i chose people magazine because it has a better ring to it haha.

let me know if you want the readers version for “hollywood moms” or even more about you two with baby girl!

divider below and pictures above are not mine! all credits go to the rightful owners!

~

your guys’ baby girl sat in her swing next to you as it made figure-eight motions to keep her asleep. she was the perfect bundle of joy and she sat at just two weeks old. she was fragile like the porcelain that sat in the cabinets, tiny like the football her father threw for a living, and just as cute as the angel everyone called her. she was the definition of perfect in your eyes.

“people magazine wants to feature the baby and i this month. are we ready for that?” joe asks you over a cup of coffee as you two sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and admiring your baby while doing so.

she eats good, she sleeps like her father (for long durations), and her little smile she does in her sleep is worth melting over.

these tiny, personal details weighed against the idea of releasing her to the public eye.

this magazine would be in an archive for someone to look at over one hundred years from now. she very well could be a part of history. this magazine could sit in a random doctor’s office for years, maybe even taken home by a patient. her debut in a magazine was coming a lot sooner than you and joe both had anticipated.

“i think… as long as we keep her face out of the public eye for a while, you should be okay.” you suggest.

“it’s for their ‘new hollywood dads’ section so that’s their explanation for contacting us so early.” joe adds and you nod your head.

“maybe we should post something about her on instagram so we aren’t hard-launching her through a magazine.” you reason.

“we shouldn’t have to launch her at all. i wonder if we would have been able to pull off having her without saying anything.” joe shrugs.

“i don’t want her to grow up and think we wanted her to be a secret though.”

“yeah, it’s her privacy and safety. that’s all.”

“you know, i adore that you are respecting that and take it as a priority. you are already such a great father, so it doesn’t surprise me.” you say as joe stands up and walks around the table.

he stops right in front of her swing and squats down to be at her level; even though she’s sleeping.

“her cheeks are growing.” joe points out.

he runs his finger over her chubby cheek, letting the soft baby skin fulfill his touch.

“the more i feed her, the faster she is going to get all chunky.” you say and it makes joe laugh.

“at her rate, she’s going to have croissants for legs in no time.”

eventually, joe submitted one photo to the publisher. it was a simple one. baby girl was dressed in a plain white onesie and joe had her on his knee as he burped her.

he was also going to post the photo on instagram. even though joe was reluctant, he decided to share the moment.

~

view all 323 comments…

lahjay_10 making it big time man. much love 💪❤️

↳ joeyb_9 thanks man ❤️

teehiggins someone’s been busy…

↳ joeyb_9 and someone has too much time on their hands…

y/n.burrow baby daddy is baby daddy-ing 😩

↳ joeyb_9 relax…

fanpage.one WHAT

fanpage.two SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

user.five didn’t even know he was married, let alone a father. congrats burrow!

gkittle sending our love to you! congrats dude!

↳ joeyb_9 thanks man, stay healthy this season!

justinherbert congratulations man!

user.four now go win a ring to complete the collection!

~

it’s been a dream for joe to be able to see not only your progress throughout this journey, but his mental progress as well.

you had your baby girl during the off season which you thanked any lord above for. the last thing you wanted as soon as you seen those two pink lines was for joe to be gone, leading to this possibility of him missing the whole labor and delivery process. but he was with you for the last couple weeks of pregnancy and the moment you realized you were in labor.

no emergency calls to anyone while he was out playing on the field, indicating that he needed to put the ball in the backup quarterbacks hands as he flew home as fast as he could. it would have been a race to see who got there first; joe or the baby.

none of that needed to happen though. he was there to line newborn sized diapers into the babies changing table that stood proudly in her nursery. he sat in the living room with you as you watched movies and folded baby clothes, each of you holding up various outfits and saying “i can’t wait for her to wear this!” throughout these last couple weeks, a major revelation was unfolding in joe’s head.

this wasn’t something small you two were preparing for. yeah, baby girl was small weight and height wise. but in the grand scheme of things, she was about to become his whole world; and that took some preparation.

as soon as he heard her first cry, his tears started flowing. as he sat there, holding her skin-to-skin while you took your first nap after many hours of labor, he felt a love he had never felt before. it made his chest tighten and he was unable to explain just how happy he was.

when he helped you load her into her car seat, a little bundle all scrunched up in a big mechanism compared to her size, he realized just how fragile she was. yeah, he was petrified the first time he changed her diaper, but there was something different. this car seat was going to instill her safety while they were in the car; everything needed to be placed and clicked-in correctly.

as you were discharged from the hospital, you were dressed in a black button-down pajama set, joe was wearing his blue seinfeld pants with a white hoodie, and baby girl was wearing a pink, knitted onesie with her name sewn on the front of it. she also wore some white, knitted socks to match.

you were ready to go home as you were sick of the hospital setting. you were excited to be bringing her home, you knew being home was where everyone was meant to be.

jim and robin were there to greet you. it was a bit later in the day and robin knew you were going to be hungry after the events of the last couple days. with that being said, she had dinner ready and set out. she had gotten a text from her son saying that they were getting ready to be discharged from the hospital and would be on their way home soon. as soon as robin got the text, she put all the food in the oven or on the stove to heat up.

she had also placed a small basket of necessities for a new mom on the couch where she knew you would be during parts of your resting period.

joe was quick to shut the car off and circle around the car to help you out. you sat in the back with the new baby. as you grabbed one of his hands, his other hand went to your back to help stabilize you.

“you want to grab her?” you ask.

“yeah, i’ll get her.”

joe had the most practice with the car seat and you were drained, you didn’t feel like fighting with it at that exact moment.

the door was already unlocked when you approached it. as soon as you opened it, the most delicious smell filled the air. joe was right behind you, car seat with baby girl sleeping in it in hand.

“hi, you two!” robin says kind of quietly.

you met robin with a hug.

“i’m so proud of you! you did it!” she says and kisses your forehead. you were the daughter she never had and she was like your second mom; even before you and joe got married. while your parents were states away, she was there to temporarily fill that missing place in your heart and she loved doing so.

joe then steps in and turns the car seat so his parents could take their first looks at the baby.

“oh my gosh, she looks just like you.” robin says as she looks up to her son.

“her features will change and that was a whole topic we discussed in the hospital.” joe says as he looks over at you.

“i was a little sad because she really looks like i had no part in making her but, i’ve come to terms with the fact that her and her father are just perfect so how could i be mad?” you say and robin laughs.

“let’s get you to the couch and we will plate you up some dinner.” jim says as he helps guide you to the living room.

joe walks with you to the living room, setting the car seat on the ottoman that sat in front of you. he reaches in and carefully clicks the button to release the straps that were holding your daughter in. really slowly and extremely careful, he took her out of the car seat and handed her to you.

“feeding time, right?” he asks and you look at your watch.

“right on time.” you smile up at your husband.

“let me run out and get your bags and pillows, i’ll be back.” joe says and jogs back to the car.

“so, how are you feeling?” robin asks as she sits a couple spots down on the couch.

“a bit tired, sore of course. otherwise, i think really good.” you say and she smiles.

“was he a good help for you while you were in labor? i know he isn’t exactly the best in fast and serious situations like that. on the field, yes. otherwise, maybe not.” robin jokes about her son.

“he was great. he was there if i needed water or a hand to squeeze. i couldn’t have asked for a better person to go through this with.” you say and robin smiles.

“what was her weight? she’s so tiny.” jim asks.

“seven pounds, nine ounces and she’s eighteen inches long.” you say as joe comes back into the house.

“she’s a tiny thing, isn’t she?” joe says.

“she’s not even a ten pound weight!” jim says.

once baby girl had eaten, you tested out her swing for the first time while you two ate. you knew that you had a couple minutes between feedings and diaper changes to eat so you took advantage of it.

but the second joe noticed that she was squirming, sticking her tongue out, and slowly blinking her eyes, she was awake and awaiting a change. he wanted her in something warmer now so he let you eat while he took her up to her nursery for the first time to change her.

“here you are baby girl, this is your room.” he whispers to her as he tries his best to show her around. her eyes are trying to take in everything as they slowly open and close. she was making a squeaky, grunting noise as joe talked to her. whether she was making a mess of her diaper or she was just making noises, joe knew she was still the cutest little thing he’d ever seen.

joe lies her down on the changing table and makes sure she is okay on it. he leans down to grab a diaper and a pack of wipes, cracking open a brand new pack.

while taking off her onesie, he is careful of her slowly shriveling umbilical cord.

“you’re going to be cold for a second but i’ll warm you back up as soon as i can, i promise.” joe says as he is focusing on being as careful as possible.

his suspicions on her noises earlier were correct. that’s what happens when you feed a baby though.

eventually, joe cleans her up perfectly and gets her dressed in a pink, long-sleeved onesie that had tiny purple flowers covering it. he grabbed a tiny pair of purple pants to match and he slides them on her. stepping over to a different section on the changing table, he grabs a swaddle and swaddles her.

he admired the work he has officially done all on his own for the first time and smiles.

“all done my little girl.” joe says and picks her up and holds her close to him.

he turns the light off and closes the door behind him. making his way down stairs, his mom was there to check on him.

“everything go okay?” she asks.

“couldn’t have been better.” joe says with a smile.

“she hasn’t cried once since being home.” robin says as she watches her son as he slowly descends the stairs.

“i think we’ve only heard her cry like four times these last couple days.” you say and robin looks in your direction.

“were you an easy baby? this one here cried any chance he got, even if he was just bored.” jim says.

“i’m not too sure. i never heard much of me being trouble but hey, you never know.” you say and he laughs.

“can i hold her?” robin finally asks as joe was now on flat ground and not paranoid of flying down the stairs with a newborn in his arms.

“of course. all i ask is for anyone who holds her, is to wash their hands before they touch her.” you say and robin immediately agrees.

“got it.” robin says and goes to the kitchen to wash her hands.

she was there for a good second, thoroughly washing her hands. behind her stood jim who was also ready to wash his hands.

this was how the next couple days went. lots of handwashing, lots of cuddling, plenty of naps, and tons of help from joe’s parents.

“we did the same when the other grand-babies were born, it’s only right to continue the tradition.” jim says as they were packing up their things to let the new parents enjoy themselves.

reality really hit when baby girl was experiencing her first bout of gas. you and joe came to conclusion that her burping sessions needed to be longer and if that wasn’t helping, then they needed to speak to her pediatrician. they had an appointment coming up soon anyways.

but when joe had pulled a tip from one of the many books he read, they started feeding her at a different angle and thoroughly burping her, then massaging her stomach. the gas worries soon slipped away and she was relaxed any time either one of you did the routine with her.

~

view all 265 comments…

bengals what size does she want her jersey in?

↳ joeyb_9 0-3 months is her go to. she might want it baggy though so maybe 3-6

↳ bengals new baby jerseys on the way 🫡

y/n.burrow baby fingers! 🥲

user.nine is that lyrics from “little bird” 😭

↳user.twelve OMG I THINK IT IS

lahjay_10 i think she should be our team captain the way she screams at certain plays

↳ joeyb_9 you’re right, i’m booking an appointment with the front office right now

~

GIRL TALK!

>>> With this being his first born, Joe Burrow, Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, was even more excited to welcome in the new family member once him and his wife found out they were having a little girl.

Burrow’s wife, Y/N Burrow, was the first one to announce the news through an Instagram post of the two holding up a miniature version of her husbands jersey. She captioned the post, ‘The Cincinnati Bengals select… Baby Girl Burrow, due in 2026, Newborn University.”

We sat down with Burrow himself to ask him some adorable questions about their new addition!

Q: What is your favorite memory from the last few weeks?

A: “Probably bringing her home. It made the whole journey feel real. The feeling of having her home is very special and the joy between all three of us is immense.”

Q: How has the team adapted to you bringing on a new member?

A: “They all love her and I am so thankful that she has the chance to experience such a unique type of love from them. She is definitely a key to our motivation and a special type of thanks to those who find her screaming cute- she’s definitely a talkative baby.”

Q: Would you want her playing sports like you did growing up? If so, which sport would best suit her?

A: “Maybe. Only if she wants to. I think the social aspect would be good for her as it is for anyone else. I see her playing some basketball. if she picks up my height and her mom’s precision, we might just have a star on our hands. even if she doesn’t play any sports, she’s still a star in our eyes.”

Q: Lastly, if you were in need of a babysitter so you and your wife could go baby-free for the night, who would you call first?

A: “Probably Ja’Marr. He has that instinct and experience. If he’s busy or even going out with us, then probably Mike or Trey. If we need to, I’d call Tee and they can “Three Men and a Baby” it for the night.”

i feel like joe would be way more self kept when it comes to big things like having a baby so this is way out of the norm lol. i still thought the idea was cute and if you want a part two for the readers version, just let me know :)

[bodyswap005]

"Borrowed Bodies, Reunited Lives".

Dylan’s Perspective:

I always thought a cruise vacation would be perfect: the sun, the sea, and the chance to disconnect from everything. But when your only travel companions are your parents, who can barely spend a minute together without arguing, the idea loses its charm. So, when my parents announced we’d be spending the holidays sailing to Miami, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and frustration.

They are Ethan and Susan, the perfect representation of a marriage that has lost its way. They argue about everything, from which channel to watch on TV to how to park the car. They never agree, and being in the middle of their endless arguments is a place I’d rather not be. That’s why the idea of spending weeks locked on a ship with them seemed more like a punishment than a break.

If only I could bring Alex and Joshua, my best friends from the gym, things would be different. They’re like my older brothers, always with advice, jokes, and that camaraderie that only forms between those who share long training sessions and complaints about the same exercise machines. Alex is more reserved, but he has a sarcastic sense of humor that always makes me smile, while Joshua is the extrovert of the group, capable of lighting up any room with his energy.

Of course, bringing them along was an impossible dream. My parents would never allow it, and they certainly couldn’t afford it. But sometimes, even the most unlikely things have a strange way of coming true.

One afternoon, as I was walking back from the gym, I saw an elderly woman trying to lift a heavy bag off the sidewalk. I stopped to help her; I didn’t think much of it, it just seemed like the right thing to do. When the woman thanked me, she looked at me with eyes that seemed to pierce through me and said something strange:

—Make a wish, young man. A real one.

I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was some kind of game or joke, but in the end, I said the first thing that came to mind:

—I wish my friends could come with me on the cruise.

The old woman smiled, murmured something I didn’t understand, and walked away. I didn’t dwell on it, although that night I couldn’t help but think about her words.

The day of departure arrived, and as expected, nothing extraordinary happened. Alex and Joshua weren’t there. Everything was the same: my parents arguing, me wishing I wasn’t there. Until, suddenly, things started to get strange.

As the ship set sail, I noticed my parents weren’t just arguing, their voices sounded completely out of place. My dad let out a rude “What the hell am I doing here?”, while my mom muttered a “No way, dude!”. They both looked at me with a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

Then my phone rang. It was Alex. Or at least, that’s what the screen said. I answered, and what I heard on the other end froze me. It was my dad. Or rather, his voice, saying something completely absurd:

—Dylan, it’s me! I’m your dad.

And just like that, my cruise adventure, which already promised to be uncomfortable, took a turn I never could have imagined, even in my worst nightmares.

Ethan and Susan Perspective:

Ethan woke up startled in a place he didn’t recognize. The room was small, with dull-colored walls, barely lit by a beam of sunlight filtering through the curtains. He brought a hand to his face and felt something strange: his beard was gone.

When he looked down, the shock was even greater. This wasn’t his body. His torso was strong, defined, and his hands, large and youthful, weren’t the ones he remembered.

—What the hell is going on?!—he shouted, jumping up.

On the other side of the room, someone else moved. Susan, or at least what should have been Susan, slowly sat up from a single bed. But instead of her slender figure, it was the body of a muscular young man with messy hair and a bewildered expression.

—What happened to me?—Susan asked, touching her face with hands larger than she expected. Then she looked at the mirror in front of her, and a scream escaped her mouth—It can’t be!

Ethan staggered slightly as he approached, trying to control his movements. He looked at both their reflections and confirmed the impossible: he was in Joshua’s body, one of Dylan’s friends, and Susan was in Alex’s.

—This has to be a nightmare…—Ethan said, running a hand through his short hair.

—This isn’t real!—Susan screamed, touching her arms and chest, feeling the muscles now belonging to her. Her gaze was filled with horror—This can’t be real!

At that moment, Susan’s phone—or rather Alex’s, which was in the pocket of her pants—began to ring. They both looked at each other, uncertain. Ethan took the phone and answered.

—Hello?

On the other end of the line, Dylan answered immediately, his tone filled with panic:

—Dad… it’s me.

Ethan squinted.

—Dylan? What’s going on?

—Dad, mom…—Dylan stammered, trying to explain while listening to Alex (now in Ethan’s body) argue with someone in the background—I think… I think you switched bodies with Alex and Joshua.

Susan, who had been listening from across the room, quickly approached.

—What did you do, Dylan?—she asked with Alex’s deep voice, snatching the phone from Ethan—What did you do?!

—I… I didn’t know this was going to happen—Dylan defended himself, his voice full of guilt—I helped an old woman, and she told me she’d grant me a wish. I just asked for Alex and Joshua to come on the cruise with me.

Ethan huffed, snatching the phone back.

—An old woman?! What kind of joke is this?

—It’s not a joke, dad—Dylan replied—This is real, but… I don’t know how to fix it.

—Of course you don’t!—Susan growled from the back, crossing her arms—We’re stuck in the bodies of two guys we barely know!

—Please, just calm down. We need to think…—Dylan tried to say, but his voice sounded weak, even to himself.

—Calm down?—Susan screamed—We lost our cruise, our lives, everything!

Ethan sighed deeply, trying to remain calm, even though his hands were trembling.

—Listen, Dylan. For now, we’ll look for that old woman, if she even exists. You stay on the cruise and try to keep those two idiots under control.

Dylan swallowed hard.

—Got it.

Ethan hung up and placed the phone on the bed, his expression hardened.

—This can’t be permanent, right?—Susan asked quietly, though she knew no one had the answer.

Ethan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at his new arms, so strong that it almost seemed like a joke.

—While we figure out how to reverse this… I think we should make the most of this vacation.

Susan glared at him.

—Make the most of it? Ethan, we’re in the bodies of strangers!

—I know, but we can’t just sit around feeling sorry for ourselves—he said, though a nervous smile crossed his face as he flexed his arms—I never had muscles like this…

Susan ran a hand over her face, frustrated.

—Maybe this is a sign—she murmured, more to herself than to him—A lesson for us.

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

—A lesson?

—To solve our problems… as a couple.

Ethan let out a snort but didn’t argue. Though they both knew that the only thing they could agree on was finding that old woman and returning to their lives as quickly as possible.

In the city, Ethan and Susan walked down a narrow alley, following the coordinates Dylan had provided over the phone. However, the place was empty, with no trace of the gypsy old woman who had set everything in motion.

—This can’t be, she doesn’t even exist!—Susan exclaimed, crossing her arms and shooting a reproachful glance at Ethan—This is your fault.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly tired of his wife’s constant accusations.

—My fault? Please! Dylan was the one who made the wish, and we’re the ones stuck in this mess with his little friends.

Susan snorted, turning around to head back to the apartment they were now sharing.

Once they arrived, they both collapsed on the sofa. Susan sighed with frustration, while Ethan stood up to inspect the small living room.

—This is a disaster—Susan said, bringing her hands to her face—I just want my normal life back.

—I wouldn’t complain too much, you know?—Ethan responded with a smile, taking off his shirt in front of the apartment mirror. He admired his defined and sculpted muscles, something he hadn’t seen in years—Look at this! When was the last time I looked like this?

—For the love of God, Ethan! Put your shirt on. This is ridiculous—Susan scolded, though her gaze briefly drifted to her husband, now in Joshua’s body.

—Ridiculous?—Ethan chuckled as he flexed his arms in front of the mirror—This is like turning back time.

Fed up with his attitude, Susan jumped up and, in a burst of frustration, decided to check for herself how she looked now. She stood in front of the mirror and, with some curiosity, slid her hands down the muscular arms of Alex’s body.

—This… this is weird—Susan admitted quietly, staring at her reflection. Her new body was strong and bulky, something she never imagined experiencing—I’ve never felt like this in my life.

—Weird?—Ethan said, approaching her with a teasing smile—Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it a little.

Susan rolled her eyes and stepped away from the mirror.

—I don’t care how I look now. What I want is to get my life back, not walk around showing off like you.

Ethan raised his hands in a peace gesture, although he still had a satisfied expression.

—Alright, alright. But, while we find the old woman, we could make the most of it… How about we go out for dinner?

—Dinner?—Susan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

—Yes, of course. But first, I think we should go to the gym. Isn’t that what Alex and Joshua would do? Besides, I’m sure these bodies need exercise to stay like this.

Reluctantly, Susan agreed. After all, there wasn’t much else to do.

At the gym, they faced the demanding routines of Alex and Joshua. Ethan, used to a much more sedentary lifestyle, tried to keep up with the weights, while Susan, clearly annoyed, followed the instructions she found on Alex’s phone.

—This is crazy—Susan murmured, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she watched Ethan drinking an energy shake—How do they do this every day?

—It’s a matter of habit—Ethan replied, smiling as he approached a treadmill.

Suddenly, a young man approached them. He was wearing tight athletic gear and had a relaxed attitude.

—Alex? Joshua?—Ethan asked with a smile, looking them up and down.

Sergio and Susan exchanged quick glances. They had no idea who he was, but decided to play along.

—Yes, it's us—Ethan replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

The young man nodded, as if he already knew them well.

—Great. Hey, I’m hosting a party tonight. You guys should come. It’ll be at my place, nothing formal, just friends.

—Party?—Susan repeated, surprised.

—Yeah, sure. It’ll be fun—the young man responded before giving them more details and walking away with a smile.

When the young man disappeared from sight, Ethan turned to Susan with enthusiasm.

—This is perfect.

—Perfect?—Susan said, crossing her arms—Are you suggesting we go?

—Of course. When was the last time we went to a party with young people? All we do is attend boring adult gatherings. This could be an opportunity to experience something new.

Susan looked at him incredulously, but deep down, something in his words sparked her curiosity.

—Suppose I agree… But no acting like an idiot, Ethan.

—Deal!—he replied with a triumphant smile.

Meanwhile, Susan couldn’t help but wonder if this experience might be more than just a bad nightmare… Maybe, even, an opportunity to rediscover something lost in their relationship.

The night came, and Ethan and Susan, more nervous than excited, tried to pick the best clothes they could find in Alex and Joshua’s wardrobes. Ethan chose some tight dark jeans and a white shirt that was a little too snug, while Susan, uncomfortable, put on a sleeveless shirt and shorts that left little to the imagination.

—This is ridiculous—Susan said, adjusting her clothes in front of the mirror—Do young people really dress like this?

—Relax—Ethan replied, straightening his shirt collar—We’re doing this to fit in, remember?

With little money in their pockets, they decided to stop for a coffee before heading to the party. Sitting at a small table by the window, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm. For the first time in years, they weren’t arguing.

—This is… strange—Susan commented, stirring her coffee.

—What’s strange?—Ethan asked, looking out the window.

—Us. Here, not fighting. As if… as if we were another couple.

Ethan smiled faintly.

—Maybe this change has something good after all.

Before Susan could respond, Ethan’s phone started ringing. It was Dylan.

—How’s everything going over there?—Ethan asked as Susan moved closer to listen.

—Fine... I think. Alex and Joshua are keeping it together, although it’s total chaos.—Dylan sighed on the other end of the line—Did you find the old woman?

—No—Susan responded with frustration—We followed the coordinates, but there was no sign of her.

—Well, at least you tried.

Ethan cleared his throat.

—By the way, we’re going to a party tonight.

—What?—Dylan exclaimed—What party? Whose?

—A guy from the gym invited us. We don’t know him, but he seemed insistent.—Ethan paused—Dylan, do you know who he is?

—No. Maybe he’s new in town or at the gym. Be careful.

They hung up shortly after, and Ethan and Susan finished their coffees before heading to the party.

The place was full of energy. Colorful lights blinked while music echoed in every corner. People were laughing, dancing, and chatting in small groups. Ethan and Susan looked at each other nervously before entering, trying to appear relaxed.

—Remember, act like we know them—Ethan whispered.

Inside, they recognized several people from the gym. Probably Alex and Joshua's friends. Susan tried to chat with a few people, but couldn’t fully connect, while Ethan helped himself to a drink at the table.

It was then that the guy who had invited them appeared. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a charismatic smile.

—Alex, Joshua, I’m glad you came—the young man said, shaking their hands—I’m Elijah, by the way.

—Nice to meet you, Elijah—Susan replied, trying to sound casual.

Elijah smiled in a peculiar way, as if he knew something more.

—So, how are you adjusting to... the new?—he asked with a tone that seemed both innocent and mocking.

Ethan felt something stir inside him. That phrase had been too specific.

—What do you mean?—Ethan asked, feigning disinterest.

Elijah shrugged, his smile barely visible.

—Nothing, just a way of saying. Enjoy the party.

As Elijah walked away, Ethan was left thinking. How could he know something? The idea that he might be connected to the old woman crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. However, something didn’t add up.

He decided to find Susan to talk about it, but at that moment, someone else approached him.

—Hey, Alex, wanna grab a drink?—a young man asked, calling Susan, or rather, Alex’s body.

Susan, unsuspecting, accepted the invitation and walked away, leaving Ethan alone.

Ethan sat at one of the tables, reflecting on what had just happened. He looked around, observing the other guests, but couldn’t get Elijah’s words out of his mind.

—So, how are you adjusting to... the new?

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed when Susan came back. But what really snapped him out of his reverie was seeing her without a shirt, wearing a swimsuit she had found in the apartment.

—What the hell are you doing?—Sergio asked, alarmed.

Susan shrugged.

—Apparently, this is normal here. Besides, who cares? No one knows who we really are.

Ethan put a hand to his face, stifling a sigh. This night was going to be longer than he expected.

Susan, still animated by the festive atmosphere and clearly affected by the drinks, approached Ethan with a radiant smile.

—There’s a pool!—she said excitedly—I need a swim, and you do too.

—Susan, I think you've had enough to drink—Ethan responded cautiously, noticing the peculiar gleam in his wife’s eyes.

—Oh, come on! Don’t be boring.—Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the pool.

Ethan, surprised by the gesture, felt a strange warmth rise to his face. It was something so simple, but it had been so long since he felt that spontaneous connection with Susan. Was he blushing?

When they reached the pool, the atmosphere was completely different: laughter, softer music, and a group of young people enjoying the water under the colorful lights. Susan, without a second thought, jumped into the water, while Sergio stood at the edge, watching her.

—Ethan, come on!—she shouted, splashing him playfully.

He sighed, finally giving in, and stepped into the water. However, just a few minutes later, Susan moved away again, leaving him alone.

Ethan got out of the pool, drying himself off while looking for Susan in the crowd. That’s when he noticed Elijah, standing near a table, looking at him with a smile that seemed more calculated than friendly.

—Hey, Joshua…—Elijah said, walking toward him—Sorry for what I said earlier, about “adjusting to the new.”

—No problem—Ethan replied, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe the apology—Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm looking for someone.

But Elijah placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

—Wait, let me explain why I said that.

With a mix of suspicion and curiosity, Ethan decided to follow him. Elijah led him to a room downstairs and closed the door behind them.

—So, what’s this about?—Ethan asked, crossing his arms.

Elijah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he got closer, his eyes locked on Ethan’s.

—You know, Joshua... there’s something about you tonight. Something different.

Before Ethan could react, Elijah surprised him by leaning in to kiss him. Elijah’s lips met Ethan’s, and for a moment, Etnan was frozen. He had never kissed a man, nor had he ever imagined being in this situation. Why wasn’t he pulling away?

Finally, he reacted and pulled back abruptly, his heart pounding.

—What the hell are you doing?—he said, breathless, as he stepped back toward the door.

Elijah showed no remorse, just a mysterious smile.

—Maybe… Joshua isn’t as different as you think.

Without responding, Ethan hurriedly left the room, determined to find Susan.

When he finally found her, what he saw left him stunned. Susan, in Alex’s body, was standing close to a young woman, talking in a way that was far too familiar. The girl was laughing while Susan touched her arm, as if she were flirting.

Ethan furrowed his brow as he watched them both head upstairs.

—Susan! —he called, rushing after them.

Susan stopped, turning to face him with an annoyed look.

—What now?

—What are you doing? —Ethan demanded, trying to stay calm—. This is not the time to pretend to be someone else.

—Oh, please, Ethan —Susan replied, crossing her arms—. We're stuck in this absurd situation, what does it matter?

—It matters because we need to take care of each other and stick together. The best thing is that we leave now.

Susan glared at him, shaking her head.

—Do you always have to ruin everything? For once in my life, I just want to have fun.

Before Ethan could respond, Susan turned around and left with the girl.

Frustrated and angry, Ethan decided he’d had enough. He returned to the changing room, grabbed his clothes, and left the party without looking back.

Back at the apartment, Ethan locked himself in the small room he was now occupying, throwing himself onto the bed with a sigh of exhaustion. He waited, phone in hand, for a call or message from Susan, but nothing came.

As he tried to calm himself, his mind drifted back to the kiss from Elijah.

Why didn’t I pull away sooner? he thought, bringing a hand to his lips. He’d never kissed a man before, but there was something about that moment… something that unsettled him.

—I’m not gay… —he murmured, as if trying to convince himself.

Still, he couldn’t ignore what he had felt. Was Joshua gay? The idea troubled him, but it also stirred a strange curiosity.

With conflicting thoughts and emotions, he closed his eyes, and eventually, exhaustion overtook him.

The sound of the alarm clock vibrated softly, and Ethan opened his eyes, hoping everything had returned to normal. But it hadn’t. He was still in Joshua’s body. He glanced at the clock: 11:15 a.m.

He got up sluggishly, running his hands over his face and walking toward the bathroom to do his morning routine. As he washed his hands, an unmistakable smell hit his nose: food. Who was cooking?

When he reached the kitchen, he found Susan, still in Alex’s body, preparing what looked like a balanced breakfast: eggs, avocado, oatmeal, and a protein shake.

—Good morning, “J-Machine”! —Susan said with a smile, using a nickname that seemed to belong to Alex for Joshua.

Ethan frowned at the use of the nickname but decided to ignore it.

—Good morning… —he replied as he sat down at the small kitchen table—. Do you feel alright after last night?

Susan shrugged.

—Yeah, nothing a shower and coffee can’t fix.

—Well, I wanted to talk about what happened at the party…

—About what? —Susan asked, not looking at him as she served a plate.

—About what you did —Ethan insisted—. You drank too much, flirted with a girl, and then left with her. What the hell were you thinking?

Susan briefly looked at him, then returned her attention to her phone, typing messages and smiling as though she wasn’t in the middle of a serious conversation.

—Yeah, yeah… I’m sorry. Do you want avocado or double oatmeal? —Susan said indifferently.

—Susan, listen to me! —Ethan exclaimed, tapping the table gently to get her attention.

Finally, she looked up, slightly irritated.

—What? What did I do wrong now?

—Everything! —Ethan replied with frustration—. You’ve been acting like this is all a game. Not just last night, but always. Even when we were in our original bodies.

Susan frowned, setting her phone aside.

—What do you mean?

—I mean you and I have been distant for years —Ethan confessed, his tone more serious—. But last night, while I was trying to take care of you in that body, I felt something… something I haven’t felt in years. That connection we had when we were younger.

Susan looked at him in disbelief, then let out a sarcastic laugh.

—Connection? Or are you confusing things? Are you gay now?

—What? —Ethan asked, surprised by the question.

—Yeah, because all of this sounds weird. You’re telling me you felt “something” for me while I’m in Alex’s body. What’s going on, Ethan? Are you falling in love with your friend son?

Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately.

—It’s not that… —he murmured finally, averting his gaze—. It’s more complicated than that.

—More complicated? —Susan repeated, raising an eyebrow—. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I hope this isn’t about the kiss with Elijah or something like that.

Ethan suddenly stood up, pushing the chair aside.

—You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I try to talk to you. You always avoid everything, even now that we’re not ourselves.

—Where are you going? —Susan shouted, raising her voice.

—Anywhere where I don’t have to deal with you —Ethan responded, leaving the kitchen and leaving Susan with an expression of confusion and anger.

As he walked toward his room, his thoughts swirled in his mind. Was Susan right? Was he confusing his emotions? Between Elijah’s kiss, Joshua’s body, and his accumulated frustration, nothing seemed to make sense.

Days passed in which Ethan and Susan barely spoke to each other. The resentment from breakfast still lingered, and each one had opted to focus on their own routines. Susan, in Alex's young and athletic body, had become the life of the gym; always surrounded by people, she generated glances and conversations wherever she went. Meanwhile, Ethan preferred to isolate himself in the apartment, playing video games and reflecting on what had happened at that party.

The image of Elijah continued to haunt his mind, especially the kiss they shared. Ethan felt confused, as if that experience had awakened something in him, something he still couldn't fully understand.

On the fifth day, finally, something changed. Tired of the awkward silence, Susan approached Ethan in the living room while he was playing.

—Can we talk? —she asked, in a softer tone than usual.

Ethan paused the game and looked at her, hesitating for a moment.

—I suppose so.

Susan sat next to him, settling into the couch.

—I want to apologize. Not just for what happened at the party, but… for everything. For how things have been between us, even before this strange exchange.

Ethan watched her, surprised by her sincerity.

—I’ve messed up too. I’ve been too wrapped up in myself… and, well, you saw what happened that night. I shouldn’t have scolded you like that.

—No, you were right —Susan admitted—. I’ve always been the type to avoid things instead of facing them. But after all this… I think it’s time to change, for Dylan. Although now, technically, he’s our best friend.

They both chuckled lightly, easing some of the tension.

—For Dylan —Ethan said, raising his fist.

—For Dylan —Susan repeated, bumping her fist against Ethan's.

For a moment, silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something in the air, a connection they both felt but didn’t know how to express. Susan looked at him with a mix of curiosity and nervousness.

—Can I ask you something? —she said.

—Sure.

—What happened with Elijah?

Ethan sighed and looked away.

—It was strange. I don’t know why he did it… but when he kissed me, I didn’t hate it.

Susan looked at him intently, processing his words.

—You didn’t hate it?

—No. In fact, I think… I liked it.

The atmosphere grew more intimate. Susan placed her hand on Ethan's, and he looked directly at her for the first time in days.

—Maybe all of this is a sign —Susan whispered—. A way to show us that we don’t have to cling to who we were before.

Ethan nodded, and before he could respond, Susan leaned in toward him. It was a soft kiss, filled with a mix of nostalgia, curiosity, and something new that neither of them had ever felt before.

What started as a kiss soon turned into something more. Their bodies, although not their original ones, seemed to fit in a way they had never imagined. They surrendered to the moment, leaving behind the doubts and conflicts that had separated them for so long.

Days later...

Life went on. They hadn’t returned to their original bodies, but it no longer seemed to matter. Ethan and Susan had decided to stop searching for the old woman and, instead, embrace this new opportunity to get to know each other from a completely different perspective.

Dylan, still on the cruise, was completely unaware of what had happened between them, but he would surely find out when he returned. In the meantime, Susan and Ethan found a new routine, learning to live with their new realities and with a relationship that, although unexpected, had given them a new perspective on what it meant to be partners, friends, and companions in this surreal experience that they now called life.

The end

[v4mpvelocity]

HWANG IN-HO X READER NSFW HEADCANNONS

pairing: Hwang In-Ho X female reader

SMUT MDNI

A/N wrote this half asleep i just woke up from a nap XD

Hwang In-Ho, the man behind everything yet so good at deceiving you all. Presenting as a reliable friendly man, so naturally when you met him for the first time, it wasn't long until you took to him. His manipulative nature making it very easy to seem a friendly approachable person and not a man behind the mass murdering of struggling and vulnerable people.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who noticed you just as you noticed him, wishing you could have met under different circumstances. You had been put on a team with him during six legs, chosen to play gongii. Failing two times in a row, you began to panic, tears threatening to spill, hand shaking. In-ho or 'Young-Il' as he told you his name was placed a hand on your shoulder. His words seeming much more intimate than they were.

'Just focus.....thats it just breathe' or 'Just play as if this is normal circumstances, you've got this okay?'

Hwang In-Ho, the man who you owed your life to and the man who believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself. Without hid encouragements, you and the rest of the team would have surely died. Your face plagues his mind, your youthful features contorted in a mix of fear and frustration. It made his cock twitch in his pants, you looked so adorable, scared for your life.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who manipulated you into seeing him as a figure of trust, coming to him when things went wrong, or you were bawling your eyes out wanting to go home. He swore he could've just dragged you to the bathroom and fucked your brains out when you revealed you were only 21, a whole two decades younger than him. That turned him on more than it should of.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who makes you believe he is the only one that you can trust, then has you taken to his private bedroom in the games. The announcement ‘player 267’ was eliminated echoed throughout the arena, he had faked your death all so he could have you all to himself.

Hwang In-ho, the man who has you face down ass up on the bed and he pounds into you at an animalistic pace, his hand on the back of your neck forcing your face into the mattress, muffling your whines and whimpers. The sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room at a frenzied pace.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who strives to bring you to tears on his cock, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you as if it were his only life goal. Your overstimulated pussy clenching and twitching around his cock, a white ring of your release gathering at the base of his cock.

‘you gonna cum again honey? shh…shh yeah you can…just take it c’mon…let go’ or ‘you can take it…that’s it…cum on my fucking cock..goood girl’

Hwang In-Ho, the man who forces you to watch yourself fall apart in the reflection of the mirror. Your fucked our expression staring back at you, eyes hazy and half closed, tear stained cheeks and drool covering your chin. You looked pathetic, but In-Ho loved it. He loved the fact he had reduced you to a mess with just his body.

‘look at you…so fucking ruined for my cock hm? oh yeah…feels so good hm?’ or ‘watch yourself while i ruin this tight fucking pussy….fuck’

Hwang In-Ho, the man who claimed you and made you believe you were ruined anyone else, holding your fucked out body close as he pet your hair. A stark difference to how rough he had been with you just moments before. Soothing the damage he had caused with sweet words and soft touches. He’s the only one who can protect you, right?

‘this is where you belong ok? with me…only i can love you like this’ or ‘nobody can love you like i love you….okay honey?’

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming. 

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be. 

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now? 

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place? 

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you. 

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life? 

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all. 

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that? 

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. ��No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?” 

“Was he like that with you before?” 

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty. 

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.” 

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point. 

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?” 

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.” 

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.” 

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.” 

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.” 

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet. 

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.  

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused. 

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?” 

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons. 

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare. 

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction. 

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband? 

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married. 

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else. 

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu. 

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal. 

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her. 

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman. 

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong. 

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own. 

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her. 

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.” 

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse. 

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line. 

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots. 

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.” 

Oh… “He bought more than one?” 

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony. 

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.  

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi. 

There was no you in that vision anymore. 

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband? 

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one. 

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free. 

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them. 

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest. 

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!” 

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy. 

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.  

“Ah!” 

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part. 

“Willow!” 

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell. 

“Willow!” 

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness! 

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all. 

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon. 

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” 

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!” 

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!” 

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension. 

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.” 

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you. 

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.” 

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.” 

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy. 

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?” 

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat. 

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.” 

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.” 

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…” 

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest. 

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.” 

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind. 

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right? 

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again. 

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself. 

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.” 

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever? 

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy. 

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital. 

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you? 

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed. 

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.” 

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son. 

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined. 

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse. 

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself? 

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage. 

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family. 

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight. 

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.” 

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?” 

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it. 

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.” 

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else. 

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired. 

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?” 

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.” 

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?” 

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.” 

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists. 

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there. 

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi. 

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera? 

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet. 

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.” 

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.” 

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life. 

Both choices had no happy endings. 

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind. 

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were? 

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse. 

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!” 

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?” 

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him? 

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them. 

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you. 

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in. 

How sickeningly sweet. 

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality. 

It was out of love that he let you go. 

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too. 

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife. 

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore. 

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses? 

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you. 

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off. 

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries. 

This woman was all he needed. 

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider. 

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important. 

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it? 

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman. 

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you. 

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it? 

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar. 

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life? 

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate? 

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third? 

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing. 

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions. 

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him. 

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you? 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.” 

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget? 

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?” 

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart.  “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.” 

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.” 

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore. 

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now. 

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway. 

As for you, well… 

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?” 

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire. 

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor. 

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon? 

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news. 

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.” 

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?” 

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy. 

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son. 

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.” 

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?” 

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.” 

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?” 

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself? 

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here. 

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth. 

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over? 

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now? 

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces? 

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.” 

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given. 

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi? 

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton

♡♡♡

A day late. No matter. At least you would be in London for the season, though you wouldn't be able to debut properly, much like the other ladies of the season.

It mattered not to you. You would rather keep to yourself than be shown off to the Queen in a satin gown, announcing to the ton you were eligible.

If you were to find a husband, it would be on your own terms. You swore by that. You would play the game much like all the others, but without shouting about it and making a statement.

Yes, you intended to marry. Perhaps not this year, but soon enough. It had been something you had thought about a great deal over the winter. Still, you'll see what the ton has to offer this year.

Though you were not there, you had received word that a Miss Daphne Bridgerton had been called a diamond of the first water by Last Whistledown in her gossip column.

Everyone was talking about it.

Bridgerton was a name you had heard but not quite familiar with on any personal terms. They were known for being beautiful. Handsome sons and beautiful daughters. Dowager Violet Bridgerton was very proud of her children, even when they vexed her sometimes.

But that was all you knew. It did not surprise you that her daughter would have the eyes of the ton on her. She would find herself a wonderful match, surely.

You sit at your vanity table and watch the reflection of your dear mother in the mirror as she enters the room. She saunters in and places your gown delicately on the bed. She then turns so elegantly toward you and smiles, coming to stand beside you. Her hand settles on your shoulder.

"You will look beautiful, dear."

You only smile softly and look at your reflection. You have no intention of standing out at all. You would go in, make yourself acquainted, and perhaps dance with a few friendly faces.

Within the hour, you were dressed and decorated with pretty jewels and accessories. Your mother owned a fine collection of jewellery, some of the few things she still had from the old house. Since the passing of your father, your belongings had shrunk as you moved around the country.

"Thank you, Mama." You touch the necklace with your gloved fingers gently, admiring the way it glittered in the light.

Before you knew it, you were on your way to the ball. Lady Danbury, a well-known figure in the ton, was hosting. Apparently, it was going to be quite the night. Your mother was most excited to see you dance tonight.

That is, should anyone take a liking to dancing with you.

The ballroom was well lit and full of colourful gowns and sparkly necks. Fans fluttered softly, barely brushing the chins of the beautiful ladies present. Gentleman circled the room looking for a partner to either dance or converse with.

You mother gave your arm a squeeze as she smiled, looking around the room.

"You shall find a man in this room, I am certain of it."

"Mother..." You sigh. You knew you weren't getting any younger, but you still had time to find someone for yourself. You did not want to feel the pressure of society weighing down on you because you were looking for someone suitable.

Love matches were rare, and you doubted you would ever be so lucky to have such a connection with someone. Your mother had not been in love with your father when they married, nor up until his death.

Love was rare indeed.

You scan the room, watching people dance, other converse, some take a turn around the room. There was much activity. All debutantes were here looking for a match.

"That young gentleman over there, I believe that's Colin Bridgerton. Mrs Brooks told me of that family in quite some detail." Your mother says. "Handsome, is he not?"

You hum softly as you continue looking about the room. A young woman in a bright yellow gown seems to be watching Colin Bridgerton with interest.

People star to turn toward the entrance. You move your head in the same direction to find three beautiful people entering the room.

"Ah, that there is Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest of eight. On his arm, I believe that is Daphne Bridgerton, and that's their mother, Violet Bridgerton." Your mother harpers on.

There is no denying the beauty that family holds. Each one is utterly perfect. They all look so like, yet differ in the most wonderful ways. You wonder what it would be like to have so many siblings, or any at all, for that matter.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," you agree. Daphne was quite the sight. "She shall have no issue finding a husband, I am certain."

Your mother squeezes your arm. "Nor shall you."

You find it less likely than Daphne, but you will humour your mother for her own sake.

One such young man approaches Daphne, but after a short conversation with her brother, he scampers. You wonder what was said to leave a man looking so dejected. Surely she hadn't rejected him so easily. You begin to wonder if Daphne will have any ease at all.

You watch Anthony escort his sister around the room and decide you might do the same. No one was particularly paying you any mind anyway. You free yourself from your mother's hold and begins to drifting away from her side. She watches you go, sighing softly.

You stroll slowly along the sidelines, eyes fluttering from one couple to the next. A large group was already dancing. Everyone looked so dignified and elegant.

Not a single person was sparing you a glance. You almost expected as much. It was hard to stand out in a room full of such lovely people. You continued to watch other dance as you strolled.

With Daphne in Anthony's care, Violet Bridgerton felt she needed to take this chance to push one of her other sons in the direction of some of the fine ladies.

Colin was already out dancing.

Benedict was in her line of sight.

With a smile on her face, she began to approach her second eldest son. Benedict had been talking to Lady Danbury. However, when he caught sight of his mother coming over, he panicked. He bid a quick and barely audible farewell and hurried off into the crowds.

Violet came to stop beside Lady Danbury, knowing full well she wasn't going to chase her son down. The two ladies chuckled softly.

Not knowing his mother had decided to just let him go, Benedict fled further into the room. He was determined to put space between himself and his mother. He was so busy checking behind him, be wasn't paying attention to anyone in front of him.

It happened quite suddenly.

Benedict collided with someone. He moved so quickly, grabbing onto the other person and spinning them around to slow down his momentum and prevent them from falling over. He looked down and found himself looking into a pretty pair of eyes.

"I am sorry." You say, looking up at him. It clicks instantly that he's a Bridgerton. He looks like his brothers.

"No, no. Allow me to apologise. I wasn't looking," he says.

Benedict takes a moment to realise his hands are settled on your upper arms. He drops them instantly and takes a step back. No one seemed to take much notice, but he spotted a couple of people turning his way. People always notice his family.

You look at him silently for a moment. You feel awkward, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, good night," you curtsy and try to walk away, but he stops you rather quickly.

"Wait."

You turn back to him.

"Dance with me?" He asks suddenly. He can see his mother amongst the other faces in the crowd. She's looking for him, he is certain of it.

"Oh, um. Very well." You're caught off guard by his sudden invitation.

You take his hand and allow him to guide you to where the others are dancing. You get into position and begin. Benedict doesn't say anything for a while. He is keeping his gaze locked on the crowd. You break the silence between you by giving him your name. Benedict snaps out of his daze and looks at you.

"Oh, right. Yes. I'm Benedict. Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton." He gives a little smile.

"I've seen your other siblings here tonight."

"Yes. My sister is debuting." His eyes flicker back up to the crowd. Violet has spotted him she looks ecstatic. Benedict wonders if that's better or worse.

"She's breathtaking."

He looks at you again. "Yes. I suppose she is."

You get the idea that he isn't much in the mood for talking, and you keep quiet for the rest of the dance. When the music comes to a close, you curtsy, and he bows. The next piece begins to play.

"Well, thank you," you say softly.

Benedict snaps back into focus and looks at you. He takes your dance card and writes his name on it before excusing himself. You watch him go and sigh. You look at the card and see his neat penmanship.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Who would have thought." You mutter to yourself.

You leave the floor.

Your mother comes over quickly and snakes her arm around yours again. She looks delighted.

"You danced with a Bridgerton! That will certainly gain some attention for you." She sounded far too happy for your liking.

"Yes, I suppose it might."

As she begins to yap on in your ear, you turn in time to see Anthony and Daphne speaking to their mother. After a moment, they leave the ball altogether.

You wished you could do the same.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 -

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[vinjinssunglasses]

could you write something about Yamazaki shingen can be anything

· ════════༺ ✦⋆𓆩❀𓆪⋆✦༻ ════════··

♯┆character yamazaki shingen

♯┆summary you are somi park, the woman who conceived. Strangely, you and Shingen get closer?

♯┆cw oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, squirting, belly bulge, slight size kink (?)

♯┆w/c 4.4k

♯┆a/n first smut fic, i hope you guys enjoy!! <3 also I do not condone somi park’s actions, nor is anything in this fanfiction canon. none of this is an excuse for her actions ^-^

· ════════༺ ✦⋆𓆩❀𓆪⋆✦༻ ════════·

The day you gave birth, you were filled with a mix of joy and emptiness. That warm feeling of joy wasn’t for yourself, it was for your own clan. Everyone cheered for you, so you should feel content too, right? Yet all you wanted to do was cry, let yourself loose with tears, hands soaking wet and makeup dripping. That child, the one who was too unworthy to bare the Yamazaki surname, was yours. And you hated it.

It reminded you of the day and nights of endless moaning from your parents, reminding over and over that you are one of the ten women to try to conceive that man’s child. Intercourse is only for those who are inlove, you firmly believe and stuck to your whole life. However there you were, taking in the ruthless thrusts of his man. His hands rest a firm grip on your hips, while his cock mercilessly spreads your hole. Yamazaki was indifferent; keeping his usual stern attitude and quietness, not sparing a sound.

It’s for your family, it’s for your clan. Those dreadful words ran through your mind endlessly. It felt like your perception of love and sex were being ripped to shreds right in front of your eyes. As soon as he finished, the room was dead silent. Not a word or a sound, other than him flipping the blanket over himself. Getting up to clean up, you only sighed as you felt it running down your leg. The mirror showed the pathetic sight of tears running down your face again. And there, the bathroom floor, you sat there curled into a ball, letting the tears run down your red cheeks while you silenced your own woeful cries.

Upon the announcement that you had conceived, you didn’t know what to feel. Relief, knowing you want to have to betray your own beliefs like that again? Or grief, knowing that the baby in your stomach could be deemed useless, and all your efforts to keep your mental state together has been futile? Everybody cheered and congratulated you nonetheless. If only somebody even cared.

That son of yours. Every time clan members reminded you, murder ran through your mind. However you were only allowed to smile and thank them. None of the idiots spared a second thought about how you felt, nor did they even ask.

‘THE HOPE OF YAMAZAKI’

As soon as that forsaken child was born, everyone seemed to take their judging eyes off of you, and onto that mistake. It was the birth of a being that was fuelled with all your grievances. All your hatred shifted onto that child, the one who was worthless enough to take up your last name, Park. Pitch black eyes and a tiny body that giggled when played with. He couldn’t even say ‘mama’, and his mere existence was worth more than yours.

The only ones by your side was the other nine women who also slept with that beast. You all made jokes to lighten the mood, yet the lingering feeling of ‘it’s all your fault’ lay deep inside your hearts. None of them congratulated you on that child, they all experienced similar to what you have. It felt as if they were your only safe space throughout this whole home.

If you were going to live here, you figured you may aswell call it home. Nothing about this place felt like home to you. It was your place of endless suffering, that felt like you were paying the price for your sins.

The first day you had to take your punishment, was the day you were scheduled to sleep with him. Everytime you even think of your last digit, you remember your trembling hand against the knife that pointed at your helpless finger.

Yubitsume, where severing a finger signifies an apology and loyalty to the clan. All of you trembled with sweat when holding that blade. Terrified gazes exchanged, you had to go through with the yakuza tradition. The reason was simple — the desire for his seed. All of you were considered lowlifes, therefore you weren’t allowed to express your opinion. As a result of these actions that were considered sins, the blood splattered over the tissues provided.

Afterwards, you were responsible for his daily tasks: bathing, cleaning, etc. It was an awkward silence, though you weren’t expecting much since he was never a speaker. Dark eyes rested on your curves as you went for a towel, in his eyes you were beautiful. The reincarnation of Aphrodite. While he would never let the words flow off his tongue, you noticed the way Shingen’s gaze rested on you for longer than it should. Though he only sat there, otherwise resting his gaze on the bathroom tiles while you scrubbed.

════════════════════════

You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Gun was only young, unbeknownst of what was to happen. Born by unluckiness to serve the clan against his own will. It’ll be the only thing he knows from now on. To be a killing machine, just like his father, ‘Machine Gun’. To treat him like that, you felt terrible; absolutely ashamed.

Stopping him from having the childhood he was meant to, playing kendama with the friends he made, maybe you were part of the blame. You didn’t want to, but the vice-president presence looms over your shoulder, threatening that if you do not comply; it won’t go well. It’s not the child’s fault, he didn’t deserve any of this. If you had it your way, you’d him play kendama for as long as he pleased; never force him to fight. Still, you weren’t worth a dime to these people, therefore you were forced to your pesky mouth shut.

.

It’s strange. The contact with you two has always been the same — for the traditions of the Yamazaki clan. Then why does the air between you two feel a little lighter? It was odd enough being so casually naked around each other, even though you’ve already seen the other like this.

“How was your day?” Shingen muttered under his breath, and you paused in shock. The room fell silent as you stopped spreading the soap over his body. No, he’s not the type of guy to spare a moment of care for another. Ruthless, unforgiving and selfish is his nature; he tears his opponents limb by limb, not slowing them to spare a breath before they meet their demise. A man like Shingen doesn’t bother caring for his underlings, as they’re under him for one reason and one reason only: they’re weak, unable to reach his level.

Then why..?

“It.. It was okay.” You responded, mindlessly continuing with the task at hand. The room fell silent again, as per usual. It was a nerving stillness, one that has your heart racing. It was softer, less rough like his calloused, scarred skin, a result of all the treacheries he’s gone through. Shingen raises his brow as he studied his hands. You’d just realised — you had been staring at his hands for too long, and he had noticed.

“What is it?” Shingen spoke in a low tone as he inspected all the scars, callouses and rough texture of his hands, they were simply huge. One handshake could snap your wrist in two, not to mention the once soft knuckles that had hardened from the continuous strain from punching. The long, thick fingers which felt like rough sandpaper along his own skin, he had already gotten used to the sensation. So when your unfamiliarly soft hands run along his back, it successfully soothes him. Unlike his, your hands are slender and soft, with well-kept nails that are moisturised often to keep their ‘femininity’.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” You clear your throat, proceeding to grab the shower head. Even when you suddenly splashed water over his body, he never flinched, no matter the temperature. Most times you could never tell if the water was too hot, as he would just sit there in silence.

The next few days weren’t any better. When you were simply cleaning the house, he’ll take a seat near you, sipping at tea while minding his own business. When you moved rooms, he’d do the same, following along and silently observing. Occasionally he’d ask you questions, but that’s as far as conservations went. At first, you tried to ignore him, pretending his presence didn’t bother you and focusing on your work. But over time, the heavy silence between the two of you became more and more unbearable. Shingen’s eyes would follow your every move, his gaze felt heavy, as if he wanted something, yet he never spoke.

One afternoon, as you dusted the walls, you finally had enough. You turned around, forcing the words out of your throat in an attempt to find out what you really wanted to know.

“Is something the matter? These past couple days, you have been following me around.” Your hands become sweatier and you could barely maintain eye contact. Shingen withdrew the cup from his hand, resting it on the table before gazing right into your anxious eyes. He was surprised by your sudden outburst, yet he maintained his neutral exterior.

“Is it bothering you?” He simply spoke, waiting for your reply. Unsure of how to answer, you hesitated — one wrong word and he could snap you in half if he wanted to. But did it bother you? Perhaps at first, however it’s a feeling you can’t put your finger on. It was intrusive, but it left you curious. Why was he there? Is he hoping to see, or hear something?

“No…” You muttered, letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you had been holding. His eyes lingered in you for a moment longer than it should’ve, leaving you with a shiver running down your spine. Expression unreadable, as if he was weighing your answer. You shifted uneasily, wiping the sweat on your palms onto your clothes, trying to maintain your composure under the scrutiny of his deep gaze.

“I see.” He spoke, voice low like a well-tuned instrument. It was as if he learnt something from your hesitation. Unsure of what to think, you swallowed trying to understand his body language, yet it proved futile. You psychically can’t understand a man like him. What is even thinking right now? The air is thick, filled with words you wish you could say.

“Well, if you need anything..” your voice trailed off awkwardly, and he nodded as to acknowledge your attempt at conversation before turning his attention back to his cup of tea. You returned to your work, yet the question still gnawed at you. Everytime you moved, you could feel his unwavering gaze on the back of your neck.

“Why me?” The question slipped out of your mouth without thinking, and you started to silently panic. Turning back to face him, he simply looked down at his reflected expression from the ripples of the liquid. Now that it was in the open, it was too late to take it back. For a moment, Shingen didn’t answer. No matter how much you squinted to see a pinch of emotion, you couldn’t see past the barrier between the mask he wore and his raw emotions. Angry, sad, disdained — you couldn’t tell. It was like staring at a stone wall, unmovable and devoid of emotion. To your surprise, you notice his lips curve into a frown. Did you perhaps do something wrong?

After what felt like ages, he spared a few words. “You interest me.”

‘You interest me?’ Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t grasp. You tried to search his face for even a tiny hint, yet he remained unreadable, as always. Before anything else could be said, he stood and left with the room. The only thing you could do was watch him. He didn’t even look back, leaving you with the echo of his strange words replaying through your mind.

The following week, he personally invited you into his chambers. A cold shiver ran down your spine when he suddenly asked you to meet in his room that night. While you were cleaning the dishes, he quietly entered the room unbeknown to you. Suddenly speaking in a low tone, you flinched and raised your head to look at him. Those same, cold and dark eyes gazed down at you.

“Come to my room, tonight.” Simple, and sweet. Usually he’d keep a distance from his underlings, yet he was close enough that his arms brush yours. You dropped the sponge and took a moment to process the situation — his room? Tonight? What?

“Is there a reason?” You felt compelled to ask. What could he possibly be thinking? He’s unreadable, and you struggle to understand him.

“No.” Leaving no room for anymore questions, he turned around and left. Standing there, puzzled, you could once again only watch him walk away as you were forced to continue your task.

That night, the clock struck ten and you had just finished washing up. You got changed and put your old clothing into the laundry. It was bothering you, what was he doing to do? Did your parents do something outlandish again? The whole thought of it left you pacing around the hallways wondering if you should just say you forgot. But then you’d be going against his order, and who knows what your clan will shame you for now? Sighing, you took the chance and knocked at the door.

“Oyabun.” You called out, and he opened the door. He let you inside, and you took a seat on the bed where he sat beside you. The quiet of his chambers felt oppressive, the air thick with words unspoken. You shifted a little and fidgeted with your hands as your mind spun with questions. Were you over thinking? The silence stretched between you, his presence looming next to you, quiet and unyielding. You tried to shut these thoughts out, but you could only focus on how close he was sat, his body heat radiating against yours in the lamps dim light.

You cleared your throat. Hesitating, the question you’d been holding back forcing its way out. “… What did you mean by that?”

Shingen shifted his gaze from your fidgeting fingers to your jumbled expression that could barely maintain eye contact. “The other day, where you said..”

Did you say too much? You paused and instantly regretted saying anything.

For a moment that felt like ages, he didn’t say a word. You could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t make a move to speak. Anxiety coiled in your chest, and just as you were about to apologise for saying anything in the first place…

“You think too much.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you pulled your head up to looked at him. For once, he showed an emotion you could make out — troubled. His brows creased with worry, lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, struggling to look you in the eye. “You..” Shingen paused, as if carefully choosing his choice of words. “…occupy my thoughts.”

What? It wasn’t as you expected ever coming out of his mouth. He’s a gruesome man who doesn’t hesitate to tear limbs apart, yet here he is, in front of you, weak and docile. Between the cracks of his yielding facades, a hint of emotion shone through. It was as if your hand moved by itself, curling his hair behind his ear.

“Why?” You whispered, trying to grasp onto any sort of reason. “I don’t understand you.”

“There’s no need.” Shingen replied, his voice low and soft. This time, his eyes gazed longingly into yours, filled with an unspoken desperation, like he was hoping for something he couldn’t put into words. In all honesty, you were speechless. Before entering this room, you had no expectations, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Now you want to stay here, in this moment, forever. Seeing his face so soft was a sight engraved in your mind, one that you wouldn’t get tired of seeing.

“Just.. stay. Stay with me.” He bit his lip, his expression tender, waiting for a response he desperately needed. These words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten. His words resonated deep inside of you, and you couldn’t explain his new feeling.

The silence returned, but it didn’t feel thick and heavy, nor suffocating. It felt as if something growing between you two, something fragile and real.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, as your hand lands on his. Stroking his thumb, you noticed a faint smile creep onto his lips as a wave of contentment washed over him. It was a side of him that you had never seen — no, nobody has even seen — and it made you feel so special. *I was the only one to see this monster oh-so vulnerable. You saw it — how his shoulders eased and body relaxed, leaning into yours. As if he’d been holding it in for so long, and only now, in this room that he bared his suffering alone, has he been able to express it.

He turned his hand over, lacing his with yours. The feeling of his weathered hands felt so warm against yours, and you embraced his imperfections for what they were. That simple gesture sent a warmth through your body that made your chest ache. His other hand lifted, hesitating for a moment before resting it against your cheek, thumb brushing softly across your skin.

Shamelessly, you almost couldn’t keep your eyes off of his lips. And he couldn’t either. An eagerness that rested in your heart hedged for you to kiss him. You shifted closer to him, taking the chance and pulling him closer while your lips met his, hesitant but eager. Shingen’s mouth was warm, a firm contrast from his cold exterior. Your eyelids flutter close as you let yourself melt into the tenderness of his embrace. Restless, your hands finding themself gripping the hem of his robe, unable to get enough of him. Straddling his lap, you felt his hands naturally settle upon your hips. You finally take this chance to take a breathe, and you look into his eyes — hungry.

For the first time in your life, you felt as if you were in control — his gazed lifted to you, not looking down. You cupped his face,, watching how his cheeks squish against his lips, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, you didn’t dare part them.

It was a moment you never wanted to end.

Yamazaki lifted you by the hips, taking care to lay your body onto the bed before climbing in between your legs. Untying your robe, his hands eagerly explore each crevice of your body. From your breasts, to your hips, to your thighs — you were perfect. Shingen leaned towards your breasts, gently circling his finger around your areola. Your nipples ached to be touched, yet he only groped your tits, kissing at the sensitive regions of your neck.

His kisses travelled down your collarbone, chest and stomach, towards your dripping cunt. Shingen’s long hair draped along your thighs, his warm breath causing your pussy to tremble.

“Hurry.” Voice aching with anticipation, he complied; his tongue slurped up all your juices, taunting your clit with the feathery contact. Every glide of his tongue has you loosing control of your pesky mouth once more, moans carelessly spilling, making his own neglected cock throb. Moving the strands of hair from his forehead back, you can see the lust and hunger embedded in his eyes, as if he’s holding back from having his way with you. It’s so sexy, seeing those glaring eyes gazing right back at you. His fingers grip deep enough into your skin that it could bruise, pulling you in closer to ravenously lavish in the juices of your leaking cunt.

Shingen leaned in closer to circle your clit with his tongue. A pleasured gasp came from above, which encouraged him to keep going. What if someone heard? You tried your hardest to suppress your moans, covering your mouth. Why’d he stop? A hand grips onto your wrist, pulling them away from your panting mouth as he looks up into your eyes.

“Don’t hold back your moans. I want to hear them.” He slowly pushed a finger through, thrusting in a come hither motion. Those hands, they were fucking huge, and your cunt struggled to spread around them. The once rough, sandpaper like hands melted into your love juices, becoming soft and creamy. A smirk ran across his lips as he rubbed his own erection, watching your face contort into a slutty mess.

Oh, what’s that? He presses against your g-spot, and you shriek in pure bliss. Each thrust leaves you breathless, bolts of pleasure running through your spine. What’s worse is the view of your juices spilling all over the sheets, creating a pool under you. Shingen can’t help but love what he’s doing to you, enjoying every moment of your helpless self.

Oh gosh, you could feel yourself getting closer, while he leans in to circle his tongue around your nub. Shamelessly attacking your weakest spot, you grip onto his hair as you could feel the pool of pleasure inside your stomach hollowing, and your voice becoming louder. In three last plunges against your g-spot, a squeal escapes you as you squirt all over his abdomen. Vision hazy, you felt his fingers pulling out and him panting himself. Shingen lapped up the aftermath of your delighted orgasm, hungrily devouring every last drop.

Next thing you know, his cock is hugged between the wetness of your folds, lined up against your hole. How the fuck was that thing going to fit inside of you? No matter how wet your hole was, the tip could barely push its way in.

“Relax,” His hands rested on each side of your hips for support, while he tried to push it in slowly.

“It’ll fit.” He spoke as if he knew what you were thinking. Shingen groaned as in one final thrust of force, he abruptly dipped into your heat. You let out a surprised squeal, as you both pant. One hand finds its way to grip onto your thigh that nestled around his waist, while the other grips onto your hips. Only three inches has found its home in the depths of your pussy, yet you’re already panting for air. It’s only just begun. He doesn’t dare push any further, afraid that’ll hurt you.

“Give me more. I.. I can take it…” Your voice trembles, trailing off at the end.

Of course, he indulges; pushing his length on further, six inches in. Even further now, seven, eight.. just how big is he?! The girth of his cock makes your head spin as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girth. As he pulls out, you noticed the glistening of his cock dipped in the wetness of your pussy, yet the remaining few wasn’t. Giving slow thrusts, you could feel the motion of his cock hitting so deep, making your whole body shiver in pleasure.

“You feel so good..” He groans into the crook of your neck, hungrily kissing your neck to your lips. That spongy spot inside of you is being tortured by his fat tip, and your joke shudders every time he does. Shingen’s never been this loud — breathlessly loosing control of himself, his precum already leaking inside of you.

“Shingen,” You pulled him in closer with your legs, causing another inch or two to slip in. “Gi.. Give me all of it. I told you, I, I can take it..”

You whine as your eyes start to water, having your toes curling. An instant regret floods his body as he saw the tears running down your cheek, yet he was feeling way too good to acknowledge anything else. Reluctantly, the last few inches fill you up, and oh, you could see his cock bulging out on your stomach.

Shingen faintly smiled as he pushed down on that spot, his hips unapologetically moving faster. It was so sensitive — him pressing down on your womb only made you scream in ecstasy more. Your hole tightens and squeezes him, and you could feel every twitch and pulse his desperate dick let’s out. His strong hands grip onto your hips, squeezing them while thrusting as fast as he could — a bolt of cum building inside his balls.

“Shingen..!” Your voice wails in heavenly bliss, yet he’s too pussy-drunk to even listen to a word you’re saying. “Agh..! W-Wait, I…!”

The sinful sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt drowned out the noises of your moans, and a sheen sheet of seat drips down your bodies.

“I’m.. I’m cumming.. T-Take it all..” just a little bit more and..!

He’s filling you up, mumbling all sorts of profanities. As soon as he pulls out, a rush of juices land on his chest yet again. It made him satisfied to see your hole bubbling with his sperm, dripping onto the wet sheets. It was an achievement to see you trembling, gasping for air, gripping into the sheets for some resolve. He plants a kiss on your cheek, biting on your earlobe before whispering into your ear:

“One more time, please?” And you couldn’t refuse.

[mayanneaa]

sparkling - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : enemy!rafe cameron x kook!reader

SUMMARY : the country club announces a carnival ball, and your parents make you go there with the last person you’d want to be around — rafe cameron.

WARNING(S) : drinking, minor violence, swearing, not proofread

A/N : we're going full kook baby (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 4.6k (bear with me. BEAR WITH ME)

first part, "nights like this" is here!

masterlist.

You clench your teeth as you walk around the room, waiting for the dress to arrive.

To your surprise, it’s white outside the window, the soft snow covering most of your garden. You sit down on your bed with a sigh.

In two hours you’re supposed to be walking through the door of the country club, your dress flowing on the floor as you move plastered to Rafe’s side.

The last part still makes you fuming.

Obviously, it wasn’t your idea— your parents decided you’d look perfect with the oldest of the Cameron siblings. They seemed to forget that you literally despise him. And you’re pretty sure he feels the same about you.

If this ball was happening a year ago, you wouldn't mind. You'd probably be already all giddy, waiting for your prince on his white horse to come pick you up.

All because of a stupid party. Your birthday party.

It still replays in your head, as if there wasn't anything better to remember.

Rafe kissed you on the rooftop of Tanney Hill. Rafe, the guy you've been obsessed with since, well, fifth grade, kissed you to fulfill your birthday wish. Little did he know he actually fulfilled two of them that night.

But, nothing that's tied to Rafe is easy. Just as you were supposed to leave with him, you caught him with a girl all over him.

Is that enough of a reason not to be happy about being there, showing off by his side at the ball?

“Sweetie, your dress is here!”

Soon after that, your door creaks, and your mother comes in with a long dress in her hands.

It’s beautiful, that’s for sure-- silver, sparkling with tiny glitter pieces. The straps are thin, almost nonexistent.

"Isn't carnival all about being, I don't know, fun?" you say skeptically. "This is going to be so tense. Apart from the fact that I have to be there with Rafe."

Your mother glances at you, her eyes softening. "Ward asked us a long time ago, and you know how your father is about his 'promises'..."

You huff, resting your chin on your hand.

"Plus, you still didn't tell us what happened between you two that made you dislike him so much." You feel a similar sting in your heart. "And you don’t have to, just so you know.”

You give her a defeated look and get up. You trace your fingers down the fabric before you speak up. "I should probably try it on..."

Your mom gives you an excited nod. "Go on!"

She gently hands you the piece of clothing before disappearing behind the door. Do you have any other choice than to get ready? Not really.

You slip into the dress, your figure sparkling in the mirror with every minor movement. It flows over your body most beautifully— a little tighter in all the right places, but not tight enough to feel uncomfortable while sitting, eating, or dancing.

You spin around on your tiptoes, checking yourself out, and a small smile creeps up your lips.

The night before, you used all your most expensive skincare and had a very everything shower. If you have to suffer, at least you’ll look pretty.

You match your makeup to the theme—a whiteish sparkly eyeshadow and lots of highlighter, making you look like a mirrorball—in the best way possible.

With the last run of fingers through your hair you realize it’s almost the time to go.

It’s already dark outside, the moon radiating from the snowy beach in the distance. You grab your heels and bag, hearing your mother calling you from downstairs.

You take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. It has to be.

The Camerons have just pulled up, their car’s engine dying soundly as you jump off the last step. You look down at your hands and can’t help but notice them slightly shaking.

The doors open, and Ward comes in first, with Rose close by him. Then, Wheezie runs in, dragging Sarah by her hand.

Rafe follows them like a ghost, all quiet when he closes the door behind him.

“Well, look who’s there!”

Your father directs these words to the oldest of the Cameron siblings. You glance at Rafe and see his eyes slightly widen as your dad comes up to him. Almost as if he’s thrown off by it.

He quickly regains his typical confidence and shakes the man’s hand, steady and sure.

“Hi!” Sarah comes up to you, a cheeky smile spread on her face. She looks as gorgeous as ever— her blonde hair pinned up in a half-updo, some strands hanging out and curling around her face.

You hug her, lingering for a bit before pulling away and noticing Wheezie looking at you.

“Well! There goes the princess,” you say, bowing in front of her, so low you’d fold in half. The young girl giggles, and you feel your heart warm up.

"Come on, girls! We're going to be late!"

Rose is already waiting by the door, tapping her heeled foot on the wooden floor.

You glance at the Cameron sisters, rolling your eyes.

"I saw that, young girl."

Sarah snorts behind your back, and you send Rose a sheepish smile. When you run your eyes around the room, you notice Rafe staring at you.

He has a total poker face. Not a single muscle moves when you examine his features, but his eyes speak, or rather scream a million words. There's a hint of anger, making you grimace.

You just have to show off for a little while by his side, and it will be over before you even notice.

You tell this to yourself as you walk out the door, still feeling his gaze on your back.

It's going to be a long night.

The parking lot outside of the country club is already filled with expensive cars when your family and Camerons arrive.

You get out and the cold air quickly hits you, a sharp breath sneaks out of your lungs.

“Okay…” You whisper to yourself, watching Rafe slam the car’s door as he and his family come out. “Remember, just a few hours.”

“Are you ready?”

You turn around and see your father already standing there with Rafe. How the hell did this boy get here so quickly?

“Do we really have to?” You try, eyeing Rafe and noticing his jaw clenching.

“Y/n…” Your father tilts his head and gives you one of his looks, and you know there’s no point in arguing any further.

You turn to Rafe, feeling a lump in your throat appear.

“You’re cold.” He says, looking you up and down. You grimace.

“Excuse me?”

Rafe gestures at your body, “You’re literally shaking.”

You look down, and he’s right— in all these emotions, you didn’t really see it. “Whatever.”

Now it’s him who twists his lips, as if he wants to say something, but changes his mind at the last moment.

“Why do we even have to show off together like some monkeys in a—”

“Are you two coming?” Your mother interrupts you by exclaiming, already waiting at the door.

You glance at Rafe once again and let out a muffled huff. “Let’s just get this done.”

The silent treatment is nice, you have to admit. He follows you without a word, and soon enough you are on the last step.

You take a shaky breath. Most of the people are already there. All the thoughts hit you at once— what if you accidentally slip? Or spill your wine? What if—

Rafe doesn’t let you finish that sentence in your head, because he opens up the door and clears his throat, giving you a signal to finally move.

You startle and quickly get in, immediately getting hit by the wave of warm air and the heavy smell of candles mixed into it.

Rafe’s presence by your side is radiating. You feel it, almost as if he was burning, just inches away from your arm.

You can’t help but remember the memorable night it all went down. It felt the same, yet so different.

Suddenly, Rafe puts his hand on your waist, making a shiver run down your spine. His touch is soft and barely even there as if he’s disgusted to even touch you. Despite yourself, you feel a sting in your heart, and can’t help but wonder how many times it will happen again tonight.

An older man comes up to you two. You know him from the golf field, or at least that’s what you think. He sends you both a smile, before reaching out for your hand and shaking it with such a power you’re almost sure your arm popped out of its place.

“Hello there, Ms. Y/L,” he says, then directs a nod towards Rafe, “Young Cameron. Tell me, what do you think about this?”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking around properly for the first time.

The whole place is decorated with such elegance— silver elements mixed with black and white. The glasses on the tables are already filled with champagne, waiting for the guests to come and try it. And, Lord, is that a live band performing on the stage?

The lights reflecting from the crystal accents gleam in your eyes, and you don’t even notice when the corners of your mouth have risen.

They must’ve spent a fortune on this.

“I’m glad you like it,” Mr. Cohen, if you remember his name correctly, says, his eyes trailing off to the dance floor, slowly being filled up with pairs ready for the opening dance. “Oh! Perfect timing. You’ll still get to join. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Your face falls. You discretely steal a glance at Rafe but aren’t able to see anything past his stupid neutral face. You look down, and he takes his hand off your hip in a second, stretching it out as if he got burned.

“Come on!” Mr Cohen hurries you, and you look at him while clenching your jaw. You send him the most polite smile you can make up on your face at the moment, and, defeated, slowly make your way to the crowd.

“You don’t have to do this.”

This is the second time Rafe has spoken up this night. Did he vow to only speak in single sentences for the whole ball?

You look at him skeptically, “As if you don’t know my parents. And Ward. Let’s just— get it done. After that, you can go to your friends, and I can go my separate way.”

He raises his eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. A few women smile at you when you and Rafe squeeze through the other pairs, finally finding a decent place.

The musicians start to play a soft and slow melody. The violin goes first, the sweet notes sounding through the whole room, accompanying the moving pairs.

Rafe’s hands find their way to your body. He holds you close, so close you can feel the tension in his muscles.

You try not to look at his face, because every time you do, your mind wanders. To the moments before that stupid kiss, to when it was just you and Rage against the world. If only you didn’t kiss, maybe everything would’ve been different.

You’d eventually move on, and seeing Rafe switch out his girls after less than a week would hurt less.

But, what matters is present. And right now, want it or not, you stand on the dance floor, so close to the boy you once swore you’d marry you can feel his irregular breath on the top of your head.

Rafe spins you around, and you realize you have dissociated for a while. He stares down at you, a shadow of a grimace sneaking up on his face. The heat rises to your cheeks, and you’re not really sure if it’s from anger, or maybe something else.

You swear you feel his touch on your waist tighten, the place where he’s resting his hand burning through the material. You clench your teeth. You’re almost sure your heart racing can be heard by the pairs near you.

It’s almost done.

You look around, trying to focus on anything else. The piano joined the melody, making it heavier. It builds up the rhythm, nearing the end. There are, what, two spins left before you’re finally free.

Yours, as well as Rafe’s movement, loosened up, his broad shoulders less tense than before, your body moving smoother as well.

When your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, at every feature. For the first time, you see something else in his eyes.

Regret.

He notices he’s been caught, and doesn’t seem to care. His eyes lazily move across your face, but the emotions change as quickly as they appear. You furrow your eyebrows as he spins you around for the last time as if you are the only ones on the dance floor.

Someone accidentally bumps into you, pushing you even closer to Rafe. Does this have to happen to you?

He grips you a little harder. The last chord plays out, essentially ending the dance, and you pull away as fast as you can. His breath hitches, almost unnoticeably. His hand lingers in the air for what feels like an eternity to you. You look in his eyes you’re unable to decode for the last time before giving him a stiff nod and getting off the parquet, your heels’ clicking lost between the steps of others.

The crowd thins out slowly, and Rafe’s gone from your eyesight before the next song starts.

You sit down at the long table. Dinner is about to start, and the waiters are smoothly spinning around, either getting all the food ready or adding champagne to the crystal glasses.

You lean back on the chair, take a long, deep breath, and explore the table with your eyes. Many people are still dancing, so not all the seats are taken. Each of them is already assigned. You’re reading the cursive letters on the note left by the seat next to you when someone’s voice appears behind you.

“I fear that we don’t know each other.”

You jump up in your place and turn around. A tall, dark-haired boy your age, or a little older, is standing there. He smiles and sits down on the chair beside you before he introduces himself, “Callum Brown.”

“Y/N Y/L,” you answer, resting your chin on your palm. “I haven’t seen you around.”

Callum laughs, and you hold back from furrowing your brows. “I’ve been gone for my studies, but, finally, I’m back.”

You open your mouth to say something but get interrupted by the clinks of some utensils. Both you and the boy look up.

Rafe’s sitting down right there in front of you. His jaw tightens when he glances at you.

“Cameron? Is that you?” Callum says, and you raise your eyebrow. “Man, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Rafe looks him up and down, forcing a smile that doesn’t even reach halfway to his eyes. “Yeah, and I wish it could stay this way.”

Your eyes widen while Rafe doesn’t look bothered. Callum grimaces and opens his mouth, so you quickly interrupt him by getting his attention back on you, “So, what are these studies about?”

The boy regains his confidence and starts rambling a seemingly learned-by-heart speech about some law studies in LA. You can’t help but sneak glances at Rafe between nodding and humming.

He sits still at the table, his broad shoulders straight as he looks around, obviously avoiding the sight of you.

Soon enough, the seats are full, and the president of the country club starts his speech. His monotonous voice makes it hard for you to keep your eyes open, forcing you to constantly blink in order not to fall asleep.

When he ends, you automatically join the applause, softly clapping your hands with a taught, polite smile.

Everyone gets to eating and chatting, and you immediately curse the person who set up the seating arrangements.

“So, Miss Y/L, how’s it going at school?” Ms. Thornton asks as you pour some juice into your glass.

You look up, your fingers intuitively tightening the grip, only to see everyone sitting close by looking at you with a curious expression— including Rafe, although his fave is more of a typical Cameron poker face.

“Well,” you start, and you feel your cheeks warm up from the attention. “It’s… fine. I started volunteering at the hospital, and—”

“Ooh, how ambitious!” Some older man exclaims, cutting his steak in half. “Isn’t it the same place our Rafe volunteered in his sophomore year?”

You lock eyes with him and watch as he takes a breath. But, instead of saying anything, he just nods.

“Speaking of Rafe,” An elegant, adult woman says, “Do you have anyone? You know, my cousin is already engaged with his fiancée. I’m sure someone has caught your eye!”

You almost choke on your drink, covering it with a small cough. Callum looks at you with wide eyes, but you dismissively wave your hand at him.

Rafe’s eyes are burning holes in you as he speaks up, his voice steady and calm, “I don’t think so. Not lately, at least.”

The woman gives him a hum and starts talking about her cousin’s upcoming wedding, and Rafe falls silent.

You can’t help but knit your eyebrows. You’ve never seen Rafe this quiet at an event like this— usually, he’d be chatting with some golf buddy or his father’s friend, or at least Topper or Kelce.

Tonight, they sit a few seats away, exchanging worried and suspicious looks.

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t bother you. His well-being is not your business or your misery.

And yet, that’s all you can think about for the rest of the dinner.

After everyone has eaten, the time for the dessert is very relaxing. Some people stayed at the table, and many returned to the dancefloor.

You now sit with Sarah and Wheezie, drinking one of the drinks offered to you by a waiter.

"And so, you know, I told her what I think about her, and she—" You don't get to finish because Ward comes up to the three of you.

He kisses his daughters on their heads and smiles at you.

“How are you all doing?” he asks, leaning on the chairs.

“All good, dad!” Sarah answers before she takes another sip from her glass.

“What about you?” he turns his head in your direction, a sly expression slowly creeping up on his face. “I must say, you and Rafe made a beautiful pair at the opening dance.”

Your breath hitches, unnoticed by the others. “I’m glad you liked it.” That’s all that escapes your lips.

“You know, I’m very grateful you agreed upon this. I’ve heard Rafe talking about you a lot, so I figured out I could ask your parents…”

He goes on, but you don’t catch any more words. It feels as if the world stopped— the music suddenly much quieter, overflowed by the racing pulse of your heart.

Rafe was talking about you.

All you’ve experienced from him for the past months were grimaces, snarky comments, or looks that could kill you.

And now Ward is telling you his son was fucking talking about you?

You open up your mouth, about to form a respond, when you hear gasps cutting through the air, followed by a loud bang.

You exchange a look with Sarah and both dart up to your feet.

“What the fuck is—” you say in between panting, going through the hall after your best friend.

You two have to squeeze through the people surrounding the scene. Sarah makes it out first.

“Rafe!” she calls out, and you practically feel your heart go all the way to your throat.

When you finally push the last person and manage to take a big breath, you can’t help but curse loudly at what’s happening in front of you.

Callum is on the ground, holding his hand to his nose, all covered in blood. Rafe is standing above him, irregular pants coming out of his lungs as he stares at the boy. He’s fuming.

Your eyes and Rafe’s lock together, and you see his expression change for a second before he shakes his head and storms out the room, going straight outside in the cold.

You come closer to Callum laying on the ground, quietly throwing cuss words under his breath. You’re frozen to the spot you are standing in.

The only thing you can hear in your head is your heartbeat. All the talking melts together. People pass by, accidentally bumping into your shoulders, but you can’t care less.

You should help Callum.

It’s the right thing to do. He was polite for the whole night, making small talk and passing you every juice you wanted, unlike Rafe who constantly shot glares at you and acted as if even the thought of touching you disgusts him.

But when you look out the big windows, and see Rafe’s tall figure making its way through the snow, you know. You just know.

Isn’t that a reoccurring thing? Whatever you’d do, you always end up near him. No matter how hard you’d try to stop it.

It’s like the gravity pushed you into his arms. Like the universe made it clear.

You and Rafe.

The little voice in your head calls you. You’re not sure if it’s real, or if maybe it’s just the illusion from the drinks you’ve had, but the word rings in your head.

Go.

Go.

And so you listen.

The freezing air hits you like a slap across the face. Your shoulders are fully exposed and you start to regret not grabbing your fur bolero on the way out.

“Rafe!”

He slows down and turns his head to you. His eyebrows are arched and knit, and you notice he clenches up his fists— the knuckles still painted red.

“Go inside,” he grumbles in a voice soaked with anger. “You’ll get sick. Leave me alone.”

You huff. “No. No, no, we’re not doing that,” you say as you almost catch up to him. He doesn’t stop, so you pull his arm. “Rafe!”

Rafe stops in his tracks, and you feel his hand shaking under yours. “Wha- What the fuck are you doing?! Now you’re just punching people? Talking about me so much that Ward himself asked my parents to make me—”

His face goes paler than the snow surrounding you.

“How do you know that?”

Your lips twist in a grimace. “Ugh, fuck that right now. Why did you punch Callum?”

Rafe looks down at his knuckles, and his voice comes out confidently, “He deserved that.”

“But why?” Your voice raises, and you feel the anger that’s bubbling up inside you going dangerously close to the edge. “Do you just hate the idea of me even talking with someone else? You can’t bear seeing me enjoying something or—”

“I did it because I care about you!” he shouts out, his voice trembling. Your eyes widen.

“You care about me, so you decide punching the first guy I’m just talking with?”

“He was talking shit about you!” he finally spits out, now animating with his hands. “Talking about how you’re just a dumb bitch who knows nothing about life because she lives off of daddy’s money. Was I supposed to just- just let him say that?”

You hold your breath, your brows furrowed, and Rafe continues. “Well, I couldn’t. Because, for fuck’s sake, I love you, Y/N!”

The bubble bursts with the last words. You push him away, your vision blurry by the tears hanging of your eyelids. “Yeah? You love me? Well, I think you presented that perfectly at the birthday party. When you decided it was a perfect timing to make out with some bitch while I was literally standing outside the door—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rafe stops you mid-sentence. You wipe your tears, and when you can see clearer, you see the frightened look on his face.

“Don’t act stupid, Rafe. If you wanted to just kiss me and check it off your list, you could’ve just said that instead of acting like you felt what I did too.”

He grimaces. “I have no idea what do you mean—”

You let out a frustrated laugh, still speaking loudly through the night. “Oh? You don’t remember? Taking some touron to your room when you were supposed to drive me home?”

You see the moment it clicks in his head. His face falls, and he turns around from you, letting out a shaky breath. “I have never kissed her.”

“Wow. You can’t even say that to my face—”

Rafe looks at you again. “I have never kissed her. I don’t know what the fuck did you see, but nothing happened. If you stayed there for longer you’d know that I pushed her away in a second and went to look for you, but you were already leaving with Topper.”

Your heart misses a beat. Or maybe two. He must be lying, right?

“No. Nononono, but- but if that’s what happened, why didn’t you…”

He snorts. “What? Talk to you after you admitted it was a mistake?”

You throw your hands in the air. “I freaked out! I thought I was just a new notch in your belt, so this was the only way I could protect myself from being hurt even more!”

“Do you know how I felt? I’ve liked you—fuck it, I’ve loved you—for two years and I finally got to kiss you, and then you just tell me to forget it?” Rafe says, his voice much quieter now.

You feel your cheeks grow red when he gets closer, his lips inches from yours. “I thought it was for the better-”

He doesn’t let you finish. He cups your face and pulls you closer, connecting your lips together.

Someone has to pinch you, because this does not feel real.

You cautiously wrap your arms around his neck, letting all the emotions spill.

If the kiss on the rooftop wasn’t like in all your bedtime scenarios, this one definitely gets closer.

It’s passionate, fierce— just like Rafe. It’s out of the world. He’s burning, the warmth going everywhere: from your lips to your cheeks, to your heart. You are almost sure his is beating louder than yours.

He sighs into your lips, breaking the kiss to get some air, and you feel your mind spiral. Rafe’s eyes meet yours, and there’s not a glimpse of the emotions from earlier.

“Do you believe me now?” he whispers, softly brushing his lips on the corner of your mouth.

You hum, “Maybe.”

“Good.” He pulls you to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. You try your best to remain calm, although, if you were alone, you’d probably be jumping all over the ground. “By the way. Ho told you I was talking about you?”

“Ward... Didn’t know you were so devoted, Cameron.” You say with a giggle. He snorts and rolls his eyes.

“That old…” he mumbles, “Well. I can’t imagine otherwise.”

The corners of your mouth rise. You turn your head to the country club. “Don’t you think we should—”

You step back, or rather try to, but Rafe quickly pulls you back to him. “They’ll be fine.”

You let out a hitched breath.You don’t know what this exactly is. Or how it’ll go.

But you trust the universe with this one.

okay well !!! since you’ve reached this moment of the post i’d like to thank every single one of you for being as excited as i am for this one shot to come out, and sharing your energy with me through the comments asks etc. while i didn’t answer every single one of them, i want you to know that i see them, and i’m so so grateful.

this was super fun for me to write and for the first time i’ve felt such a motivation!!!

i know it’s kinda weird to get this dramatic about it but seriously, it means the world to me, especially considering that i started what, a month ago??

there’s not a SINGLE nonchalant bone in my body

i’m rambling now so as the ending note i hope you all enjoyed it ;)) tysm for waiting and sticking around, love youuu

| ۶ৎ taglist (thank you for liking it sm!! love you) :

@maybankslover @hypnotizedstarkey @akobx @f4irywor1d @binforfeelings @belle101200 @jkrafe @enjoymyloves @eloiavicki @thescooponsof @drewwhor @fallingwallsh @pillowprincess4him @mima116 @lex1031 @stayjellasbitches @dedpoetess @teenwolfbitches28 @drewrry @wellwellhereiam @tequilawithissues @houisfuck28 @midsoulz @whydoineedastupiduser @ltristessedureratoujours @eloiavicki @emeloyy @rafecameronsbitch @perfectmenarefictional @sunflower-hood @buckyssbestgirl @faithywaithy2006 @angvl3tears @lmg-stilinski24 @crybabyreads @enjoymyloves @lvrsvfx @drewstarkeytruelove @otheliesstuff @watersquirtpewpewboomm @drewstarkeyslover

if i missed anyone i'm SO sorry i tried to keep up

[deadpresidents]

"Mr. Trump's election demonstrates how American tolerance for the unacceptable is nearly infinite. There are hundreds of absolutely mind-boggling things I could point to from the past decade...But three election in a row, Mr. Trump has been a viable Presidential candidate and our democracy has few guardrails to protect the country from the clear and present danger he and his political appointees will continue to confer upon us. Clearly, Mr. Trump is successful because of his faults, not despite them, because we do not live in a just world...And now Republicans will control the executive branch, the Senate and the House of Representatives. There will be few checks and balances...

...Mr. Trump's voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity.

We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.

These are adults, so let us treat them like adults. Let us acknowledge that they want to believe nonsense and conjecture. They want to believe anything that affirms their worldview. They want to celebrate a leader who allows them to nurture their basest beliefs about others. The biggest challenge of our lifetime will be figuring out how to combat the American willingness to embrace flagrant misinformation and bigotry.

As Mr. Trump assembles his cabinet of loyalists and outlines the alarming policies he means to enact, it's hard not to imagine the worst, not out of paranoia but as a means of preparation. The incoming President has clearly articulated that he may dismantle the Department of Education and appears to be giving the wealthiest man in the world unfettered access to the Oval Office. He plans to begin mass deportations immediately and has announced his pick of a Fox News host as the defense secretary -- the list goes on, each promise more appalling than the last.

We would like to believe that many of the ideas on Mr. Trump's demented wish list won't actually come to fruition and that our democracy can once more withstand the new President and the people with whom he surrounds himself. But that is just desperate, wishful thinking. As of yet, there is nothing that will break the iron grip Mr. Trump has on his base, and Vice President-elect JD Vance is young enough to carry the mantle going forward for political cycles to come.

Absolutely anything is possible, and we must acknowledge this, not out of surrender, but as a means of readying ourselves for the impossible fights ahead."

-- Roxane Gay, "Enough", The New York Times, November 17, 2024.

This is one of the best, most spot-on pieces about where we are and what we must prepare ourselves for in the aftermath of Donald Trump's re-election to the Presidency. These gift links will allow you to bypass the NYT paywall and read the entire article, and I urge you to share these links with as many people as you'd like.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

How do I stop being anxious all the time in relation to being trans? I have an appointment to go on T in 2 weeks. I'm anxious about coming out. I'm anxious about someone figuring it out before I come out. Ahhhh. I have a therapist for anxiety but I don't think it's helping.

Hoping I don't make you even more anxious, but the bottom line is some folks *will* find out and you just gotta learn to roll with it.

What has helped me:

Getting good at identifying red and green flags in cis people

It's become a habit of mine to scope out people when I join a new community. I look at profiles, what people post, etc. It's a little tiring, but I try to find the allies and other trans asap in a new fandom or whatever.

Planning for the worst

To be trans is to always have a plan to Get Out of Dodge.

A lot of times, The Worst is really only temporary embarassment. I deal with this by keeping my head held high and leaning into the more "don't fuck with me, I am tired" part of my personality.

Fake it 'til you make it -- I used to have a paralyzing fear of public mortification, and over time have ripped that apart. Sticking to my boundaries helps a lot, and I am not afraid to say, "I will not answer that question."

Here's the thing, though -- people tend to be impressed when you weather the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, and you'll likely find yourself as someone to be looked up to. Cis folks routinely ask for my advice about their own Big Life Changes, because they have been impressed to see me go through mine. I've also helped crack a few eggs.

Sometimes The Worst is truly bad, and you should always be vigilant here. Again, I know it is exhausting, but always plan for your personal, emotional, and financial safety. Build an emergency cash fund. Cultivate friends who have your back. Always be looking for new job opportunities. Lots of stuff you can workshop with people.

Cultivating a very matter-of-fact relationship with Coming Out.

I focus on any relevant logistics and keep out my emotional backstory. Most people do not need to know how much of a mess I used to be. And I firmly state what I am doing with my future, rather than ask for permission.

My last HRT-related Coming Out email (to one of my orchestras, which is a very gendered biz) was essentially: "FYI, I am medically and legally transitioning from female to male. Just a heads up, as I'll look and sound a bit different at rehearsal -- I have a tux already for the concert. See you Friday!"

That's it. At a company, you can work with HR on your announcement, assuming one will even be necessary in your case based on your transition timeline.

When I changed my name years later, I was also direct:

"I am legally changing my name to Nicholas. It may take a while to update all my clients, so you're welcome to tell them, "Oh, [deadname] goes by Nicholas now. Thanks!"

And when I came out to my spouse in tumblr chat before our first date, it was literally: "Hey, jsyk, I am 35 and a trans man, in case that changes anything."

It takes a lot of practice to get to this point, and is something you can roleplay with your therapist.

Don't be afraid of your past

I am at a place where I will sometimes casually out myself to make a point ("No one ever needs to change the gender field for this form? I recently needed to.") or a stupid joke ("Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted to be...").

There is a lot of value in the trans experience. You can decide how much of it you want to casually share, but it does get easier each time.

I hope this helps. Being trans means you will be coming out for the rest of your life (obviously, there are times where stealth = safety), so cultivating a no-nonsense, and even humorous, approach will go a long way for your mental health.

[caitlynsrighteye]

Walk with me, caitlyn and fem!reader at a gala celebrating who knows what, cait is in a beautiful suit that fits her sooo well and the women at the party can't stop staring. Before the conflict with noxus she already had several women falling at her feet, but after the war? well, I suppose the status of hero of piltover is quite attractive. Anyway, these women are whispering how hot cait is, circling her like a flock of vultures and practically undressing her with their eyes and reader, feeling jealous, just says "yes, MY wife is very hot, thanks for pointing it out" and no one has the courage to remind her that she and cait are girlfriends, not married

Sorr if it is a little bit confuse, english is not my language so i'm using google translate

SO CUTTEEE HOLD ON💍👈😝 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏼‍♀️🧍🏾‍♀️

Gala engagement

Caitlyn Kiramman x reader

Contains: wlw, fluff, jealous!fem!reader, amused Caitlyn, s2!cait, after the war with Noxus, established relationship

wc: 1.2k

Masterlist

“Baby come here, your jacket’s crooked,” Caitlyn peeks down at her chest before stepping towards you. Your fingers grab the collar of her sleek navy blue blazer, adjusting, and folding it down neatly. Fixing the knot of her tie and patting down her torso to even out any wrinkles.

While your hands work, her blue eye stares. She watches as you fix her suit, one that she had gotten tailored to fit her lengthy form perfectly. It hugged her curves and defined her slim waist, and the Kiramman crest was stitched on the cuffs of her sleeves and the folds of her jacket. The sight caused a buckle in your knees and your teeth to nip your bottom lip. Once you’ve finished helping her, your gaze darts up, meeting hers.

You look deeply into her uninjured eye. Her other is behind a soft eyepatch protecting the wound. She leans in, your palms still on her chest as her lips meet with yours, glossy and soft.

After another peck, you both pull away. A comfortable silence between you two as you stare at each other’s cleaned up form. Tonight, her and her father were hosting a gala. Not their usual ones filled with champagne and rich laughter of wealthy aristocrats.

No. Tonight, Caitlyn is officially announcing her role as head of the Kiramman name. Taking up the responsibility of her mother's leadership role, but not her seat on the council.

It has been a few months since the battle with Noxus. Her scars are still healing. You look over every cut and scarred skin along her face, standing higher on your toes to place a soft peck on each mark.

She closes her eye, hands on your waist to balance you, sighing into your soothing touches.

You wore only your best dress, one that matched Caitlyn’s. Strapless, yet modest. Neck and wrists covered in jewelry, gifts from your loving girlfriend who spoils you like a Goddess. 

“You’re stunning as always,” she says, soft enough for only you to hear, even though you both were secluded in the privacy of her room in the Kiramman manor. “And you are… distracted, my love. Can’t even fix your own suit?” You tease. “Apologies, darling, you know I hate going to these galas.”

You raise your hand to hold her cheek, and the tip of your thumb gently caresses the bottom seam of her eyepatch.

The tall woman taps her fingers nervously on the sides of your hips, feeling the fancy pattern woven into the corset part of your elegant gown.

"Tonight is about you. Everyone is here to celebrate our victory against Noxus..." You press your forhead to hers while your hands hold onto her fidgeting ones, hoping it'll calm her nerves. "To acknowledge your bravery and heroism, Caitlyn."

Her glare that was once on her shoes rose to meet yours, bouncing between both of your eyes, trying to figure out which orb to focus on more.

For what feel like a long moment, yet you wouldn't mind staying like that forever, you eventually give her one passionate kiss before parting. You look towards a clock hanging on her wall. "We should go before your father gets overwhelmed, entertaining the guests on his own."

She flashes a smile, one where her tooth gap shows. A quick nod to her head before interlinking her arm with yours, guiding you to the event wing of the manor.

Upon arriving, the space was piled with Piltover and Zaunite civilians, enjoying the sweet melody of a pianist playing on an expensive piano. All guests enjoy champagne while conversing amongst each other.

You find Tobias, Caitlyn's father, who was mid conversation with a group of other weathy men.

He spots you both approaching, and you immediately greet him with a polite gesture, a hug with a kiss to his bearded cheek. A gesture that won the hearts of her parents when they first met you.

Caitlyn does the same to her father. "Yes, yes, this is my daughter, Caitlyn," he pulls her closer to introduce her to these seemingly powerful looking businessmen. "Ah, the Sheriff, your father speaks very well of you. Along with the rest of Piltover. We were wondering if you'd be interested-."

You nodded off, whispering to your navy-haired partner quickly that you grab some drinks while they talk about some deal you had no business with.

A table of beverages and gourmet foods is where you pondered off to. You grab a couple of glasses of champagne for yourself and Caitlyn. Taking a few sips of the light colored liquid, you hear a few mutters just a bit further down the table.

Taking the glass away from your lips to peer at the small group.

Women, maybe around your age, all giggling and blushing in their gala dresses. Doe-eyeing someone across the room. You paid no mind till you heard one of them say, "Gods, she's so handsome."

The other two chuckle with their hands hovering over their mouths. "Piltover's finest war hero," she bites her lips, seems to be glancing up and down from a distance. "I heard she's the Sheriff now-" one lady interrupts her, "Oh, she can come arrest me."

Steam practically fumed out your ears. With the glasses still in your hands, you storm over to the group.

Right behind them, you put on your best fraudulent smile that you needed to blind them with. Fixing your posture into a confident demeanor that made you seem clueless, yet possessive.

You clear your throat, getting the attention of the woman. "Oh, my wife? Yes, she's very hot. Thanks for pointing that out."

Oh, they saw a physical depiction of your emotions floating behind you. A dark, angry spirit ready to pounce on them as you smiled with squinted eyes. They embarrassingly and fearfully shuffled away from you, disappearing into the crowd of guests.

You blow a loose strand of hair from your face. Content with the reactions you received from them.

"Wife, huh? Last I checked, we were just girlfriends," You looked behind you and turned in the direction where your gorgeous navy suited, tall lover stood. You look off to the side to huff a small chuckle before looking back at her.

"We better fix that. I want a ring right now, or else I'll have to duel those women for you," you tease, handing her the glass of champagne you had grabbed just for her.

She takes a sip before lowering it down. Her free hand came up to swirl a finger around the tip of the glass. "There wouldn't be any competition," her stare leaves the glass in her hand and towards you where she admired the face she's fallen in love with, yours.

She steps to your side, reaching a hand to hold the small of your back, pulling you in closer.

"Well then, what would this pretty lady want for a ring? Diamonds? A custom engraving?"

You were stunned, yet falling head over heels once again, like you've done many times before when it came to Caitlyn and her sweet words, that knew how to make your heart race in a second.

"Anything, as long as it comes with you forever," you both looked disgustingly cute to the naked eye. Faces so close your noses nuzzled together, lips barely grazing.

In one swift movement, Caitlyn tips you over plants a long, passionate kiss to the delicious pads of your mouth. One of your legs flew up as she kissed you. Your glasses clank together when they make contact.

You knew you had Caitlyn Kiramman from the start. She was in love with you and needed nobody else, but you by her side. Forever, till death do you part.

Note: Thank you for another amazing request! I hope I wrote what you were expecting :)

I love executing replies and am glad you trust me writing what you ask for. Hope you enjoyed it and have a wonderful day♡

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! I hope you’re doing amazing!!! I really like your megumi works, so id like to request a fic where him and the reader have a very under cover secret relationship and yuji,nobara and gojo try to figure out why fushiguros been acting so weird. I’d love to see it! And more megumi works 🙏🏽. It’s just a request it’s totally okay if you don’t want to!! Hope you have an amazing week!! 💗💗

Okay, I probably never laughed this much while writing a fic lmao, this right here is ridiculous y'all

Keeping your relationship with Megumi a secret until you can't anymore

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader; pure comedy friendship with Nobara and Yuji lol

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro’s secret relationship with you has been going smoothly—until his friends start noticing his odd behavior. Yuji and Nobara grow suspicious, launching a hilariously relentless mission to uncover what he’s hiding, while Gojo sits back, amused by the chaos. Will the two of you finally confess?

Warnings: y'all, I almost died writing this hilarious piece of work lmao, I never praise my own work but that bonus has me rolling, if you're looking for a bandage for your broken heart there it is, fluff fluff fluff

Please let me know what you think! If this does well, I might write some more about the chaotic trio lol

You never thought keeping a secret would be this much fun.

Your relationship with Megumi started quietly, just like most things with him. There was no grand confession, no dramatic kiss in the rain. It was slow, understated, like the way shadows stretch out under the setting sun. You had been drawn into his orbit naturally, like you’d been waiting for it to happen all along.

Still, it wasn’t exactly planned. One moment you were sitting next to each other in silence, and the next you were sitting a little too close. Your fingers brushed. His eyes lingered. The air between you became charged with unspoken things, and soon enough, stolen moments were the only thing keeping you sane. The decision to keep it quiet came easily: neither of you had any desire to deal with the chaos that would break out if anyone found out. And besides, it was kind of thrilling.

But now it’s starting to get tricky.

It’s a normal Wednesday when the subtle shift in the atmosphere begins. Megumi is acting just a little too normal - stiffer, as if he’s hyper-aware of everything. He’s not good at this, at pretending everything is fine when there’s something simmering underneath. And unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for his odd behavior to catch some unwanted attention.

“Hey, Megumi,” Yuji calls from across the room, his eyes squinting suspiciously.

“You’re acting weird. Are you okay?”

Megumi doesn’t even flinch, though his eyes are literally glued to the ground.

“I’m fine.”

That’s it. Flat, simple, closed. He’s good at short answers. It should be enough. It’s not.

Yuji leans over the back of the couch, brow furrowed in confusion.

“No, you’re definitely acting off. You haven’t been sarcastic all morning. And usually by now, you’ve threatened to hit me at least twice.”

Megumi sighs, fingers twitching in his lap, the only outward sign of his discomfort.

“I’m fine, Yuji. Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

Yuji is definitely not convinced. He glances at Nobara, who’s lounging nearby with her arms crossed, already suspicious. She had been eyeing Megumi the second he walked in, catching onto his strange energy faster than Yuji had.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed it too,” she adds, voice sharp.

“Something’s up. You’ve been... I don’t know, distracted?”

“Seriously, I’m—” Megumi starts, but Nobara cuts him off, grinning.

“You’re not hiding anything from us, are you, Fushiguro?” Her eyes gleam with mischief, and you can tell she’s just playing around.

For now.

“Oh, I think I know it!”, Yuji suddenly announces with his arms stretched in the air.

“Do you really, idiot?”, Nobara remarks.

You almost lose your cool, cold sweat dripping down your neck while waiting for Yuji’s next words. He didn’t catch it, did he? Not when you’ve been carefully avoiding being too close to Megumi while they’re around since you first joined Jujutsu High. He simply can’t know it-

Megumi’s eyes flick to you, a barely noticeable glance paired with his reddened cheeks, but it’s enough. Too much. Your heart skips in your chest, and you quickly look away, hoping no one else caught it. But then-

“Oh.” Yuji’s eyes widen in realization, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, I get it now.”

Megumi’s spine visibly stiffens.

“No, you don’t.”

But it’s too late. Yuji has already decided he’s figured it out.

“You’ve got a crush on someone, don’t you?” Yuji practically shouts, leaning forward in his seat with excitement.

“That’s why you’ve been all weird lately!”

Nobara sits up, clearly intrigued by this new development. “Wait, what? Megumi has a crush?”

“I do not,” Megumi says, but he’s starting to lose his calm now.

You can tell by the way his hand runs through his hair a little too harshly, as if he’s trying to ground himself.

You bite back a smile. Megumi can be as composed as he wants, but when it comes to things like this, he’s terrible at hiding it.

“You’re totally lying,” Nobara declares, standing up and crossing the room to get a better look at him.

“Who is it? Do we know them?”

Megumi groans, pressing his fingers to his temples as if he’s already getting a headache. You’re trying hard not to laugh because if you do, they’ll turn their attention to you. You’ve been careful this whole time to stay out of the line of fire, just a silent observer to this chaos.

But you know it’s only a matter of time.

“I’m not lying,” Megumi grumbles, clearly regretting every decision that led him to this point. “There’s no one.”

It’s almost convincing. Almost.

Yuji leans back, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Nah, you’re definitely lying. You’re terrible at it. You get all tense, like right now.”

“I’m always tense,” Megumi shoots back.

“True,” Nobara agrees,

“but this is different. You’re acting sketchy.”

Megumi shoots her a flat look, but Nobara only smirks back. She’s having way too much fun with this.

“Is it the one we’ve met at that pizza place yesterday, the one with a big ass and those nice hair?”, Yuji shouts into the conversation.

“The girl from yesterday?”, you repeat before you can stop yourself, arms crossing in front of your tightening chest.

“You guys are gross.”

Megumi’s gaze meets yours, panic shimmering underneath the surface while he fumbles with his own hands.

“What? No! It’s not that one!”

“Oh, not that one, huh? Who is it, then?”

“Fine,” Megumi says, standing abruptly.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Before they can say another word, he stalks out of the room, leaving you alone with Yuji and Nobara. You let out a quiet breath of relief, grateful they didn’t notice you.

Yuji turns to Nobara, eyes wide.

“This is huge. Megumi’s got a crush.”

Nobara hums thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.

“He’s never shown any interest in anyone before. It must be serious.”

“I wonder who it is,” Yuji muses, glancing around the room as if expecting the answer to jump out at him.

Your pulse quickens. If you stay here any longer, you’re going to blow your cover.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” you announce quickly, standing up.

You manage to make it halfway to the kitchen before Nobara’s voice calls after you, filled with sudden realization.

“Wait a minute. You were with him all morning, weren’t you?”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Weren’t you two on a mission yesterday?” Yuji adds, piecing it together far too quickly for your liking.

“And last weekend, too?”

Panic rises in your throat, but you manage to keep your expression neutral when you turn back to face them.

“We’ve just been on a few missions together. That’s all” you say, voice steady.

Nobara narrows her eyes, scrutinizing you.

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t notice him acting weird?”

“Not really. Maybe he’s just worn-out” you lie, doing your best to stay calm.

Yuji tilts his head, still unconvinced but willing to drop it for now.

“Yeah, maybe.”

But Nobara isn’t so easily swayed.

“You sure? Because you’re looking a little-”

“Nobara,” you interrupt,

“you’re overthinking it.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, with a final hum of suspicion, she shrugs and lets it go.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, a new voice cuts through the tension.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Gojo saunters in, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. He must have been eavesdropping because he’s grinning like he’s just hit the jackpot.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to figure out what’s up with Megumi,” he notes, voice dripping with amusement.

“That kid’s an enigma even to himself.”

Yuji perks up at the sight of Gojo, excited to rope someone else into their investigation.

“We think he’s got a crush.”

Gojo pauses, grin widening.

 “Oh, is that so?”

You stand frozen in place as Gojo’s eyes slowly slide over to you, lingering for a beat too long. He knows. You don’t know how he knows, but he knows. He’s always been good at reading between the lines, picking up on things that most people miss. Megumi that traitor, did he really leave you all alone with these two and now even Gojo?

His smirk deepens.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, leaning casually against the wall, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“I wonder who it could be.”

You’re going to kill Megumi. You’re both dead. This is it. The end of your secret.

But before Gojo can say anything else, Megumi walks back into the room, his expression darkening as he notices Gojo’s presence.

“What are you doing here?” Megumi asks, his voice flat.

“Oh, just catching up with the kids. They were telling me about your little crush” Gojo replies innocently.

Megumi’s eyes dart between you, Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo, clearly calculating his next move.

“There’s no crush,” he replies, exasperation creeping into his voice again.

“Yuji’s just being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Yuji protests, but Megumi ignores him.

Gojo chuckles, pushing off the wall with an exaggerated stretch.

“Well, I think I’ll let you all handle this. Good luck with the investigation.”

He winks in your direction before sauntering out of the room, leaving you tense and trying to avoid Megumi’s gaze.

Yuji and Nobara are still watching him, and you can tell they’re not going to let this go anytime soon.

“So,” Nobara says, crossing her arms. “Are you going to tell us who it is, or are we going to have to follow you around until we figure it out?”

Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly fed up. “There’s no one.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Yuji mutters, shaking his head.

Megumi’s about to respond, but then his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and his expression softens for just a split second before he tucks it away again.

You know who it is. He knows you know.

You’re barely holding back your laughter at this point, trying to keep a straight face. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you have to look away before anyone else notices.

But Megumi, in his ever-stubborn way, is still trying to salvage this mess.

“I’m going for another walk,” he announces abruptly, clearly done with this interrogation.

“Uh-huh,” Nobara calls after him, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse.

“Sure, go clear your head, lover boy.”

You can’t help but chuckle quietly as Megumi shoots you a helpless look before heading out the door.

As soon as he’s gone, Yuji leans over to Nobara, whispering loudly.

“Do you think he’s texting his crush?”

Nobara grins, leaning back in her chair.

“Definitely.”

You bite your lip, doing your best to keep your composure while peeking at your phone.

Sorry for the mess. Meet me later in my dorm?

This is going to get much harder to hide.

Later that night, when you and Megumi finally have a moment to yourselves at his dorm, he sighs heavily, dropping down onto the couch beside you. He looks exhausted, and not just from the missions. The day’s events have clearly taken their toll.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.

You smile softly, leaning into his side.

“It’s kind of your fault, you know.”

Megumi groans.

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both sit there, the weight of your secret relationship pressing down on you. But it’s not a bad weight. It’s more like a blanket, warm and comforting, something shared between the two of you. Something that’s just yours.

Still, you can’t help but tease him.

“You’re really bad at lying.”

Megumi turns his head to look at you, a small, exasperated smile pulling at his lips.

“Shut up.”

You laugh quietly, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension melt away as his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. For now, it’s just the two of you, and that’s all that matters.

“Maybe we should tell them,” you suggest softly, half-joking.

Megumi’s body stiffens for a second, but then he relaxes, a soft hum escaping his throat.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, voice low.

“But not yet.”

You smile, content with the secrecy for now. It’s your little world, and as chaotic as it is, it’s yours to navigate together.

And for now, that’s enough.

Bonus:

The decision to finally tell them wasn’t exactly well-planned. In fact, it wasn’t planned at all.

It happened after another long day of training. Yuji had been particularly insufferable, constantly pestering Megumi about his “mystery crush,” while Nobara was fuming over how Megumi wouldn’t let her in on the secret.

You and Megumi exchanged looks all day, the unspoken question hanging between you both: Should we just tell them?

By the time the sun set and everyone was lounging in the common area, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Nobara was pacing the room, practically radiating with frustration, while Yuji sat on the edge of the couch, watching Megumi like a hawk.

You were sitting next to Megumi, trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. You hadn’t expected the pressure to mount like this. They’d been relentless for days now.

“Okay, I’m done!”

Nobara throws her hands in the air, eyes narrowing at Megumi.

“I can’t take it anymore! You have to tell us. Who is it?”

Yuji nods rapidly, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, man, just tell us! The suspense is killing me.”

Megumi lets out a long, exasperated sigh. He’s been handling this for a week now, and it’s clearly taken its toll. He shoots you a quick, sideways glance, silently asking for your input.

You shrug with a small smile, mouthing.

“Your call.”

With another sigh, Megumi straightens up and clears his throat.

“Fine,” he says, his voice firm.

“I’ll tell you.”

Both Nobara and Yuji freeze, their eyes going wide with excitement.

“Finally!” Nobara yells, nearly vibrating with impatience.

“Okay, okay. Who is it? Is it someone we know?” Yuji questions, leaning in closer.

Megumi looks at you again, and you give him a reassuring nod.

Then, with a small smirk tugging at his lips, Megumi casually slips his hand into yours, right there in front of them.

At first, there’s silence. Complete, deafening silence.

Yuji’s mouth falls open, eyes flicking between your joined hands and your faces, his brain clearly short-circuiting.

Nobara, on the other hand, just stares. Blinks. Then her hands slowly rise to cover her mouth, her eyes growing impossibly wide.

“Wait—” Yuji finally speaks, voice squeaking a little.

“YOU—YOU AND—”

Megumi sighs.

“Yeah. Me and (y/n). We’ve been dating for a while now.”

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“WHAT?!” Yuji practically screams, jumping up from the couch and pointing at your intertwined hands like they’re some sort of mythical creature.

“NO WAY! This whole time? You guys were dating this whole time?!”

Nobara just starts shrieking incoherently. It’s a mix of disbelief and outrage, her voice a high-pitched wail as she dramatically collapses onto the couch like she’s been personally betrayed.

“YOU HID THIS FROM US?!” she yells, clutching a pillow like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“HOW COULD YOU?! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every choice that led to this moment.

Yuji is pacing now, running his hands through his hair, still trying to process everything.

“How did I not see it? I mean, I thought you had a crush, but I didn’t think it was… this!” he gestures wildly between the two of you, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh my God!” Nobara yells again, standing up suddenly.

“This is insane! You’ve been sneaking around this whole time? That’s it. I demand details! Right now. How long has this been going on?”

“Yeah!” Yuji chimes in, pointing accusingly at Megumi.

“How did you manage to keep this a secret from me of all people?”

You laugh again, raising your hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, calm down! It’s been a few months. We just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“A few months?” Nobara shrieks, grabbing Yuji’s arm like she needs to hold onto something before she passes out.

“That’s practically a year in relationship time! How did you keep this from us? I’m so offended right now.”

“I knew you were acting weird!” Yuji exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

“All those times you disappeared, Megumi! I knew something was up!”

Megumi groans, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened all year and you hid it from us! You’re for the streets, Fushiguro!” Nobara echoes, voice high-pitched with disbelief.

Yuji nods, agreeing way too quickly.

“Yeah, we need details. Dates, first kiss, how did it start, everything.”

Before you can answer, a familiar voice interrupts the chaos.

“Oh, you guys are just figuring this out now?”

You all turn to see Gojo leaning casually against the doorway, a smug grin plastered on his face, arms crossed like he’s been watching this unfold for a while.

“What?” Nobara screeches again.

“YOU KNEW?!”

Gojo shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Obviously. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out.”

Yuji’s jaw drops to the floor.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Gojo tilts his head, grinning.

“And ruin the fun of watching you two idiots freak out? Why would I do that?”

Nobara looks like she’s about to combust.

“So, you just let us suffer, while you were sitting there knowing the whole time?!”

Gojo shrugs again, completely unbothered.

“You’re welcome.”

Yuji groans, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside Nobara.

“I can’t believe this. I feel so betrayed.”

Nobara crosses her arms, huffing.

“Yeah, same. This is worse than the time Yuji ate my fries.”

“Hey, that was an accident!” Yuji protests.

Nobara glares at him.

“It was not an accident.”

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